Nash presses a brief kiss to my temple. “It said you were not meant to wake?”
“Yes.”
“Then waking changed something,” Malachi says.
Genie gives a reluctant nod. “It may have shifted more than one path.”
“Speak plainly,” Hart growls.
“Plainly?” Genie repeats. “Fine. Daphne and Gwyneth were born to deny the Idols their power. But then Daphne dying and refusing to stay that way has elevated her into a realm-wide problem.”
I blink. “That is both rude and flattering.”
“It wasn’t meant to flatter.”
“Yet it did.”
Hart sighs. “Focus.”
Thisisme focused. “The voice felt—” I search for the right word and hate that it comes so easily. “Big. Like the All Knowing if he were less dusty and more threatening.”
Genie swears under his breath, which draws everyone’s attention.
“What?” Gwyneth asks.
Before he can answer, something thuds against the door leading to the library.
Everyone is on their feet in an instant. Nash shoves me behind him. Hart has a dagger in hand. Malachi reaches for Excalibur. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot launches himself off the sofa in a righteous blur.
The second impact is softer. A scrape, followed by silence.
Hart moves first, crossing the room with predatory calm. He yanks the door open, but no one is there, just a small bundle on the floor, tied with black ribbon.
“Well,” I say, peeking from behind Nash’s shoulder. “That’s less threatening than expected.”
Hart crouches, examining it without touching it.
“Don’t open it with your hands,” Gwyneth warns.
“Wise,” Charming murmurs.
What else are they going to use? Their feet?
Hart uses the tip of his knife to lift the ribbon. Oh, that works. The bundle unfolds into a sheet of parchment so white it glows. Words bleed across it in shimmering gold.
I shove past Nash because patience is not one of my virtues.
“What does it say?” Theo asks.
Hart’s eyes skim the page, and a frown settles over his face.
“Read it,” I demand.
He hands it to Gwyneth. She looks once, then twice, her expression shuttering. That’s worse. Why are they being so dramatic? I snatch it from her.
The words writhe for a moment beneath my gaze before settling into place.
The Stone Sisters are commanded to present themselves on the next full moon. An audience has been prepared. Come willingly and unarmed. The Idols await in the Temple of Eternal Narrative.
