Water could choke, could even render someone unconscious in seconds if I were ruthless enough. If I didn’t hesitate. With the vial I’d brought for protection, it’d be one thought, one decision. That’s all it would take.
Behind me, Wickett’s breathing had become carefully controlled. Professional. His body coiled with readiness for violence if it came to that.
I gathered my magic tighter, preparing to?—
Something dropped onto my shoulder.
The sensation made me pause. Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for doubt to creep in.
What if it wasn’t Vitoria out there? What if I attacked Wickett, and it turned out to be Tiberius, and we were discovered because I’d acted on hope instead of reason?
The thing on my shoulder moved.
Crawled.
Eight legs walking with methodical, horrible precision toward my collarbone.
It was a spider.
Every muscle in my body went rigid. The magic I was gathering scattered as pure panic took over. All I could feel was the creature exploring my skin, each step magnified in my mind until it consumed everything else.
My mouth opened, an instinct I couldn’t control.
Wickett’s hand tightened on my face, palm warm against my lips. His other arm locked tighter around my waist, holding me so still I couldn’t even shake the spider off.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the crawling sensation and the desperate need to get it off. Get it off. Get itoff!
It crept lower, across my collarbone. Down toward my chest with its patient, relentless movement.
Wickett shifted behind me, and I felt his sudden awareness of the spider. It was in the slight change in his breathing, the way his entire body tensed, reading my panic through touch alone.
His thumb moved against my jaw. Slowly. Deliberately. A small circle of pressure that saidI know. I’m here. Hold on.
Too late now. Too late to act on my plan. The spider had stolen my chance, and whoever was out there was already moving again.
The spider reached my upper arm, moving steadily down toward my elbow.
Then a voice shattered the silence.
“Guards!”
The roar was so sudden, so violent, that I nearly jerked despite Wickett’s iron grip.
Tiberius.
Not Vitoria. Not my best friend come to reclaim what was hers. Just the Magistrate, discovering our theft, but in his mind, too late to catch the thieves.
The crack of wood splintering was met with the sound of the broken drawer being ripped completely from the desk and hurled across the room, crashing against the wall right beside us with devastating force.
“The Phoenix was here!” The Magistrate’s voice shook with a fury that rattled the walls. “The blades are gone! She took them!”
Footsteps pounded across the floor. More crashing. Papers scattering. Books tumbling. The violence of his rage made the entire office tremble.
“Hunters! Where the hells are you!”
Silence answered him. No footsteps rushed to help. Had they caught Silas? Were they preoccupied with my familiar?
A sound of pure rage tore from Tiberius’s throat. Then came the groan of wood, the shriek of metal, the catastrophic crash of his massive desk being overturned. Inkwells shattered. Glass exploded. The destruction was so complete I could picture it even without seeing. His own domain torn apart by his hands.
