“Thirty days hence, let judgment fall. Life for life, may the debt be paid.”
The magic slammed into us.
Not gentle binding. Not careful ritual work. Pure violence that drove me to my knees. The starfall runes exploded with light. Such valuable stones wasted as the circle burned brighter than the sun. Power tore through my body like there was molten metal in my veins.
Silasroared.
Something had just gone very, very wrong.
But I couldn’t help him, nor could I breathe. The magic was rewriting me from the inside out, carving new purpose into my soul whether I wanted it or not.
We’d made a monumental mistake, Calder and me. We hadn’t just bound ourselves to finding Vitoria. With Tiberius’s interjection, we’d just sworn an unbreakable oath to hunt her.And we only had thirty days to do it, or the starfall rune would take our lives instead.
Chapter 17
Syneca
To walk willingly into a cage is either the highest bravery or the most profound ignorance. The difference only becomes clear after the lock clicks shut.
I’d seen Chancellery House a thousand times. Connected by a pristine lawn manicured by scorched workers, the Chancellery and the House shared more than just grass. They shared a purpose. Where the office processed the mundane horror of witch registration and taxation, and tyrannical government, the House was home to the Magistrate’s special projects. The ones that required closer observation.
Four stories of gray stone rose before us, built in the years following the last Burning when the world still smelled of ash and ambition. Not ancient, but old enough that the mortar between stones had darkened to black. Old enough that every surface bore runes, protection marks, binding symbols, tracking spells carved so deep most were foolish enough to believe it would survive the next Burning.
Movement in the shadows caught my eye before Silas stepped into view. He’d kept himself small, only slightly bigger than a house cat, but his talons still clicked against stone with deliberate menace. His blue eyes found mine, narrowed to slits, and his beak, sharp enough to punch through a skull, parted in what could only be described as a bird’s scowl.
“Still pissed then?” I muttered.
He snapped his beak once.Yes.
“An unregistered familiar.” Wickett’s voice carried that particular hunter tone, halfway between accusation and interest. “That’s a capital offense.”
I lifted a shoulder, keeping my voice light despite the way my pulse jumped. “Good thing I’m not bonded to him then.”
His eyes sharpened. “A griffin just happens to cross the House’s yard and come to your heel, and you expect me to believe?—”
“He just prefers my company.” I flashed him a smile. “I’m a fucking delight.”
Silas made a sound that might have been agreement or might have been him choking on his own disgust. Hard to tell with him sometimes. Grumpy griffin and all that.
“Delightful people rarely need to announce it.”
“And hunters rarely need to state the obvious, yet here you are.”
Wickett took a step closer, and I hated how my body noticed the way he moved. “You realize lying to me about this is pointless. When we hunt, I’ll see exactly what he is to you.”
“Will you?” I tilted my head, meeting his stare. “Because from where I’m standing, you see what you expect to see. Witch equals criminal. Friendly beast equals violation. Must be exhausting, viewing the world through such a narrow lens.”
I was afraid of this. I knew the second they found out I had an unregistered familiar, I’d be locked up. But I also knew Silas would not avoid me for the last thirty days of my life. So...
Wickett’s jaw flexed. “The law?—”
“Oh look! A kitty!” Pip had been studying the building, but her delighted squeal cut through our standoff as she dove toward Silas, her tiny hands already reaching for his feathers. “Such pretty black wings! And those little paws!”
“Don’t.” Wickett snapped. “Griffins are notorious biters. They’ll take a finger off without?—”
But Pip was already scratching behind where Silas’s ears would be if he were actually a cat. My familiar made a low, rumbling sound in his throat that vibrated through the air like a threat.
“He’s not a biter,” Calder said dryly, appearing at my shoulder with his usual perfect timing. “He’s just particular about who touches him.”
