Humans were free, but they relied on the weavers for the comforts magic gave them. That is, until recently.
After a thorough sweep of the area to ensure I’m alone at this early morning hour, I make my way through the lingering tendrils of mist towards the park’s center. There, I wait for Valen to arrive, silently gazing at the monument before me. A massive slab of polished black slate expands over the earth with five large white marble statues of the weavers who ruled during the end of the Revolution. Decorative bronze pathways connect points of a compass with the Council of Weavers sitting at each tip. Creation is north, Preservation in the east, Entropy sits on the southernmost point, with Transformation in the west. At the center is the fifth statue, the Archweaver.
The statue of the Archweaver Antonia, my great-grandmother, stands taller and grander than the other four. Fierce and formidable, she stares out towards the human lands, as if daring them to challenge her authority again. Her diaries were my favorite reading material as a child and the start of mylove of old books that led to my career as a dealer. I used to sneak down into the estate’s deep underground archives to read them in blissful, musty silence. Antonia’s diary that recounts how she ripped off Leon’s hands before decapitating him in a bloody show of raw, magical force was a particular bedtime favorite of mine.
Once I finished making my way through each diary, I convinced Viola to teach me how to read the entombed Archweaver grimoires. Only a select few have the power and skills to do so. After all, they are far different to any other weaver grimoire. The Archweaver’s Soul Thread is a rope of all four sources and the bindings hidden within the book’s spine hummed with power like a forbidden song. The elevation of their spells was beyond my young mind’s comprehension. Getting my hands on any of them now would be a dream.
I hesitate before stepping onto the bronze path. Slowly, I follow it down towards the southern point, where my other ancestor stands.
I crane my neck to look upon my great-great uncle, Gerald Rosemont, the most powerful leader the Entropy Domain has ever had. Rumors spread that he was so skilled at wielding Entropy that he could suck the soul out of a human with only a prolonged glare. But I’m better educated than that. I know he burned them with the Entropy Flame, the Rosemont line’s most formidable magic and most horrific weakness. A black flame, mirroring the power of the Creation Flame, that burns cold as ice and reduces its victims to ash, including the Entropy weavers that wield it too carelessly.
I search my uncle’s face like I do every time I visit, hoping to see something familiar within the stone features. But alas, there’s nothing. I only resemble my father’s side of the family.
My shoulders roll, the phantom of Aunt Vi’s comforting hands chilling me. It was always Aunt Vi who took me here totell me stories of the Rosemonts. My little heart clung to those slivers of a long-dead family with both hands. Now, it’s Viola’s presence that my heart yearns for, but there is nothing that can be done about that.
With a sigh, I look away from Gerald’s face to drift down to his shoulders, where a stone cat lounges. Statue Jinx is as elegantly bored as ever. The artist must’ve known the Rosemonts’ one and only familiar to capture her so well. I huff a small breath and smile, my tension easing with the distraction.
A low voice speaks from behind. “Jinx does look stunning there, doesn’t she?”
Shivers ripple up me and it takes all my control not to squeak when I jump. Valen’s lips brush my short hair and he chuckles darkly in my ear, “I’ll take your surprise as the highest compliment to my stealthiness and not an insult to my integrity. Surely you knew that I’d come when you called.”
I blame my fluttering stomach on my nerves and not Valen’s proximity. I sorely miss being in my shop, where I could use the front counter as a barrier between us. Now there is nothing but my own self-control to keep me away from him, and that’s rapidly eroding by the second.
The wind shifts, and I breathe in the scent of his cologne. Clean, with a hint of spice and flowering citrus that I can’t recall the name of. A wave of nostalgia sends me falling into the past, where I’d press my nose into his neck and breathe, the warm skin there a haven from the harshness of our world, and the vice around my chest would loosen until all that kept me standing were his arms around me.
Pressure behind my eyes builds and my throat tightens. With my breath held, I step away from his warmth and wrap my coat around myself like a shield. I try to hide my retreat by following the path that leads to the Preservation Domain’s statue. The fresh air helps center me, hints of cedar from the borderingforest calming my racing heart. I cannot afford to be distracted, and I breathe in deep to purge my nose of Valen.
Whatever happens here, I must keep Valen from realizing how much I need his help. If he smells even a hint of my true desperation, he’ll use it to force my hand. I don’t know how much I would sacrifice to get the unicorn hair, but I’m out of options. To walk away without the strand would mean death for Lucas.
I smile at Valen and nod towards the statue of his ancestor. “The likeness is astounding.”
He hums in agreement, his icy blue eyes tracking me like a snake eyeing a mouse. His hands are in his three-piece suit’s pockets, his shoulders relaxed under his coat. I permit myself a long, lingering look down his slender frame. Damn, he does look good.
My fingers slide along the white stone, and my eyelids lower as I meet Valen’s steady gaze. “Thank you for coming.”
His lips tilt upwards, but he doesn’t move closer. “Of course. Though, I did not expect you so soon or to ask such an unusual request.”
My heart pounds, the resulting lightness tilting me towards him. “Did you bring it?”
Valen’s smile widens, and my heart plummets. I showed him my cards. Again. My fingers twitch, but I force them to stay limp instead of curling tight.
Valen’s expensive shoes click on the slate tiles as he draws nearer. “So, tell me. Who was poisoned?”
Cold sweat blooms across me, but I keep my tone unaffected. “Poisoned?”
His head tilts, eyes disapproving. “Please. You of all people should know better than to try to fool me about such things.”
I abandon the statue and step towards him. I need to get the upper hand, and fast. Lucas’ cold, listless body is all I can see as Iimitate Valen’s earlier hum. “Did you ever get to travel and train with the healers like you wanted? Without a wife weighing you down, you had plenty of opportunity to do whatever you wished, free of responsibilities.”
His jaw flickers, his eyes tightening, but it washes away with a playful smirk. “Are you asking if I ever married?”
My breath freezes and I ask before I can stop myself, “Did you?”
All he does is smile. Something dark and heavy grips my stomach, sickness rising with the cold rage. It must show in my eyes because he laughs. The sound,fuck, it does something to me. I want to wrap around him, laugh with him, feel him in all his authentic glory. I always made Valen laugh; it wasmything. If he has a wife and she makes him laugh too, I’m going to skin the traitor before me alive and feed his cooked remains to Jinx. She’d be overjoyed to be gifted such a treat.
Valen shakes his head, turning away, and I lose my damn mind. He follows the path to the center of the compass and I join him, moving quickly to close the remaining distance between us. I whip in front of him before he can reach Antonia’s statue and step forward to go toe to toe with him.
His eyes dance ruthlessly. “Yes, my love?”
