The argument between the Androclaria siblings shakes the estate’s foundations. Magic and words are hurled at each other, my aunt ripping through his shield for the satisfaction of slapping him across the face and screaming, “You selfish monster!”
But nothing sways the Archweaver. Hours pass and Viola’s voice rasps from yelling. Then Vincentius, followed by Valen, enters the room. Ice crackles along the walls, Vincentius’ eyesnear white as he turns to my father. Icicles drip down the chandelier when he hisses, “You swore she would be safe.”
My father folds his arms, head tilting back. “And you swore she would be controlled. We’re both disappointed now, aren’t we?”
My head spins too much to pay attention to the argument that follows. Valen’s ashen face appears before me. His fingers tremble as he attempts to break the muzzle, frostbite nipping at my cheeks from his flares of power.
Valen is roughly yanked away and I blink up at Vincentius. His pale face is splotchy with a trembling rage I’ve never witnessed from him before.
Raw power crackles around me when Vincentius grabs the muzzle. His magic tears through the locks and a layer of my skin peels from my face as he rips the muzzle from me. My magic restores after days of nothingness in a fiery pain that robs me of sound, my vision flashing as the air seizes in my lungs.
My brain throbs within my skull, ribs aching like they’ve been partially cooked from my Dual Threads reigniting. Blood trickles down my throat and I slide along the wall until collapsing to the polished floor.
Vincentius’ voice echoes oddly in my ears, “I’m taking her. Any attempt to stop me will be brought before the Council, Atticus.”
My father growls, “You dare to threaten me?”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
But I’ve had enough of the foolishness of men. It has been eighteen years of suffering under it. Vincentius and Valen may have appeared to assist Viola in freeing me, but it is because of them that I am in this situation. They trusted my father not to be cruel when they should’ve known better. The Archweaver always planned this end for me the moment I showed whatlittle sway he has over me. Becoming Heir, being recognized by all the Order as being worthy, had been my only hope.
Valen’s fingers brush me and I flinch away. With all my remaining strength, I hiss, “No. I’d rather die under that thing than to be under you again.”
Pain lances across Valen’s face, his eyes shining with brimming emotion. I glare all my hatred upon him, not breaking eye contact even when Aunt Vi wraps her thin arms around me. Only when she carries me from the office do I look away.
Breath sucks into my tight lungs, my throat barely open enough to permit the air through. I shift my gaze to the bedroom’s fireplace. With trembling fingers, I pull my robe up and tighten it around me.
A crackling hum raises my hair, and I whip around to face Valen. Something dark washes over him, seeping into the cracks of his composure. The shadows deepen, his voice deceptively calm. “You asked if I’d kill Atticus?” He leans forward and the power flows from him, so heady that I sway towards it. He hisses, “Gladly. With a fucking smile.”
Heat curls in me. My eyelids become heavy and my lips part. He slides my hair behind my ear and speaks softly, almost tenderly. “I will never forgive him for what he did. I will never forgive that it made you run. I was an idiot for not seeing the threat he is, and even more of an idiot for not going after you. We hoped—hell,Ihoped—that you would find your way back. I should’ve known you wouldn’t return. You’d survive and excel at it.” His gaze drifts to my lips and back. “Tell me I’m not wasting my time here, Tori. I need to know.”
There’s not enough air. “Valen.”
Such sweet words, full of hope that maybe if I reached out, Valen would catch me. That it was all reversible. But if he knew what I did to Alasdair… He might not stay with me. My fingerscurl. I don’t know this adult version of Valen and I was already disappointed by the younger one. “I… don’t know.”
A small tremor in his fingers betrays him. “Do you think there’s hope for forgiveness?”
“Valen.” It’s torture to keep from comforting him.
His hand spasms like he wants to grip the back of my neck and pull me forward, but he resists. “What do I need to do? Anything, Tori. Tell me.”
There it is. My window. I need to seize it, though the mental effort to do so is tremendous. “Then help me, Valen, and do it becauseyouwant to make amends, and not because this is your chance to force my hand with the Order.”
Silence rings as he searches me over and over, like if he keeps looking hard enough, he’ll be able to unearth all my secrets. I hold my breath, my nails biting into my palms. The pain centers me, keeps my face distressed and needy.
His lips thin. “Perhaps… I could trade the amulet and my help in exchange for you agreeing to meet with my father and hear what he has to say. If I cannot convince you to return, then perhaps he can.” His hand slips away. “But I require you to make this decision, here and now.”
I release my breath in a huff of poorly concealed rage. “I just said I need to talk to?—”
“I know what you said.” His head tilts back and he pins me with a harsh stare. “But you’re asking a lot of me and getting a good deal in return. So, I ask to be let into the fold.Youmake a deal withme. Show me you’ll honor it.”
Like all Bauer deals, there’s something sneaky underneath. If I agree now, then I’m snubbing Lucas. Valen needs that small betrayal from me to show favoritism. If he wants me back, then he needs to drive away his perceived romantic rival. And this will definitely drive a wedge between Lucas and me.
But it’s a good deal. A really, really good deal.
Valen withdraws his pocket watch. The gold glints in the light. He holds it up. “This deal expires in thirty seconds. Then you’ll be locked in here until my father comes home.”
My breath shudders. My eyes dart to the wall that separates me from Lucas.
