“Can we redirect it?” Lucien asked.
“Possibly. If both of you speak willingly at the exact moment and force the blood sequence to cross instead of descend.”
“How exact?”
Maeven looked at him.
“A breath.”
The room went silent.
Sabine felt the weight of it settle.
One breath.
Too early and the chamber would reject the deviation as improper.
Too late and her blood would already be in the consumption channel.
“This is almost impossible,” Lucien said.
“Yes,” Maeven answered.
“If we fail, Sabine dies.”
“Yes.”
“If Serast notices before the break point, he can order Maelor to force the orthodox sequence.”
“Yes.”
Lucien’s jaw locked.
Sabine touched his wrist.
“It is the only chance we have.”
“I cannot wait until the chamber has you.”
“You can. Because I will still be there.”
“You do not know that.”
“Then listen for me.”
His gaze held hers.
The bond pulsed.
Not command.
Listening.
Footsteps echoed in the outer corridor.
Lysa appeared in the doorway, face tight.
“Temple wardens. They are collecting ceremonial music connected to prior sacred unions. Purification before the final public trial.”
