“Ha!” The barked laugh echoes, and a few books slither closer to eavesdrop. “There’s no way Ali can successfully refuse a political marriage. I doubt he has the same control over the Order as Father does.”
Valen scoffs. “No. He does not.”
A languid ease curves my body. “How does the Archweaver feel about that? Did Ali get a spanking from Daddy?” I ask instead of voicing what I desperately want to know.Does he know that Alasdair is cursed? And if he does, does he know it’s because of me?
Valen grumbles with a sneer. “You know him. Stubborn and prideful to the end.”
My heart hammers, eyes bright as I say the words I’ve been dreaming of for seven years. “I won’t insult you by pretending to care. So please, do me the favor of telling both our fathers this: I am not coming back to fix the mess they made by choosing fucking Alasdair Androclaria as Heir to the Archweaver overme. I’ve spent too many years of my life fixing his fuck-ups while he reaped the glory and I’m not going back to do it again. So, no. I’m not interested in being a pawn in their games. Goodbye, Valen. You can see yourself out.”
But Valen doesn’t move. He stares at me, his face unreadable, until his eyes slide down to my lips. “What if I told you that I’m here for more than that?”
I should lean back to regain space and perspective, but I can’t. My heart is beating too fast, my insides trembling. “Oh? What else has brought you here, Valen?”
His eyes flick back to mine, and the look in them steals my breath away. He whispers, low and soft for only me to hear, “I miss you, Tori.”
Pain. Want. Grief. My knees weaken; the counter is the only thing keeping me up. He’s close, his breath against my lips, his cologne a heady spice that weighs down my soul with memories. My heart nearly tugs me forward when he breathes, “Come back to me.”
Yes, says a voice, one from when I was eighteen and in love. So painfully, all-consumingly in love. The kind of romance that etches itself on one’s heart like a carving on a tree.
His nose brushes mine and a small, needy sound escapes me. So close. All I need to do is tilt my head and our lips will touch.
I swallow, my voice cracking with the pain of denial. “No.”
His breath shivers, gaze flicking from my lips to my eyes. “Tori.”
I permit all the heartbreak and betrayal to consume me in a mighty wave, making my throat tight and eyes burn. “It’s Astoria to you now. You lost the permission to call me anything else when you abandoned me for power.”
I lean back, straightening up to my full height.
Pain shutters his gaze, and he straightens as well to keep me from towering over him. “Idid nothing. In fact, we never were against you, Tori?—”
“Astoria!”
“Fine!” His eyes burn. “Astoria. We were always there for you. My father wanted us together. Mom even had the wedding plans ready to go. It wasyouwho left.”
“Yes.” Hatred is so easy to feel after the heat of lust. It’s one flame swapped for another. “Because instead of having his son on the arm of power—real power,mypower—Vincentius permitted a malleable pawn to be Heir, all so your sister could be Lady Archweaver and you the Bauer Heir.” My voice drops low, soft, and fills with loathing. “And where would that leave me, the lowly abomination? Married to the next Preservation Councilor, but not of the preservation line to rule the domain beside him. Stowed away within the Bauer estate for safekeeping so my father can forget I exist.”
Valen’s jaw tightens, but doesn’t deny it.
Pain throbs and my smile turns cruel. “Hope he’s enjoying the results. I sure am.”
Valen looks down and traces the whorls of the wood. “It was a mistake not to support you as Heir. My father admits this.” Hiscold gaze flicks back up to mine. “He’d like the chance to tell you himself, if you’ll come with me.”
The temptation hits me hard and I suck in breath. There’s nothing more I want in life than to see Vincentius Bauer the Third get on his hands and knees and beg me for forgiveness. Even more than seeing my own father do so.
My father showed what a weak, crazed man he was when he chose Alasdair as his Heir over me. He can suffer the consequences of his poor choices. But seeing Vincentius grovel will ease some of the rotting pain lingering in my soul.
But I can’t. I broke the first rule of magic when I cursed Alasdair. To return to the Order would mean death. A corrupted abomination to finally be purged. A mistake for my father to fix.
Fear lances me, the tight ache in my chest burning. My shoulders set. “I’m not going back.”
The disappointment in Valen’s eyes is too much to bear, so I cast my gaze away, lest I lose myself and confess.
Valen’s voice is pleading again. “Astoria?—”
“No.” I step away from the counter, arms folding. “You made your choice.”
His jaw flickers again. “I did not?—”
