Valen stares at the silk long after it stops moving.
I smooth my hands over the countertop. “If you’re done, please go.”
The faster he leaves, the faster I can go back to trying to forget him. The operative word being try. I can never truly forget him. He’s like a ghost lingering in my house.
Valen says softly, “We’re not the only ones who want you back. Viola misses you.”
This time, the surge of emotion has me stumbling back, my hand clutching my chest to alleviate the painful throb. My eyes burn, and grief that I try to ignore overwhelms me. I swallow painfully, my voice rasping. “Aunt Vi?”
He nods and I close my eyes briefly. I can see my aunt as clear as day. We have the same high cheekbones, impish nose, and Androclaria green eyes. The rest of me reflects my parents, from my father’s deep-set eyes to my mother’s coppery hair.
Viola is a powerful Creation weaver and a third of the age of her Archweaver brother, but still holds all the beauty of a woman in her prime, even at a hundred and twenty-six. Where my father is a withered, ancient husk refusing to die, Viola holds her powerfirmly with both hands. The same hands that shoved money and a list of contacts at me before disappearing into the darkness, the day I fled. Both proved to be the lifeline I desperately needed to start my business. Many of those contacts are still my most valued customers, who pay well for the grimoires I supply.
Crinkling snaps me out of my thoughts. A crisp, white envelope withAstoria Rose Androclariainked in beautiful script sits on my counter. I blink, recognizing the writing instantly.
Valen taps the paper before withdrawing his hand. “For you.”
A letter from Aunt Vi.
It’s been over six months since that last letter. It’s the longest gap we’ve ever had, and the tight internal bindings that keep me held together are beginning to fray because of it. I tried writing to Vi multiple times, but the enchanted paper we used to communicate wasn’t working. No matter what I did, the ink that I scrolled across it would not shimmer away to appear on her matching set.
Never in all my life would I guess our new method of communication would be through Valen, regardless of how close his mother and Vi are. Not after they abandoned me to serve Vincentius’ gambit for power.
The possibilities of what is hidden within that letter are boundless. My curiosity and desperate need to reconnect burn, nearly stealing all logical thought.
A crisp little card taps down next to it. “And if you change your mind.”
I stare numbly at it.Valentin Bauer VIis elegantly scrolled upon it with an etched rune. A magical calling card.
Valen’s voice is a soft whisper. “It was good seeing you, my love.”
I blink, looking up, but he’s gone. The only hint that this wasn’t all an elaborate illusion is the tinkling from the front door, still echoing.
CHAPTER 3
It would take the Amur ripping through my wards with a small army of Guild thugs to stop me from opening Viola’s letter.
The wax seal with the Androclaria star crest pops free and I pull the crisply folded paper from the envelope.
My aunt’s elegant hand has crafted a lovely letter, one that any niece would expect from a doting family member. Sweet words bemoan my long absence and beg for a visit back home. All of it skillfully composed to impart maximum guilt in any normal recipient. That is, if the recipient hadn’t already been in secret communication with the sender for seven years.
This letter is a fraud. I can taste it with each false word.
My vision blurs, and my eyes glow bright until the white paper tinges green from the light. A glint behind the ink sparkles. I run my index finger over it before flicking my long nail, snatching up the spider-silk-thin thread of magic. I pull coaxingly, the delicate thread snagging on the neatly scrolled words hidden within the ordinary ink. They don’t budge, and I rotate my hand, as if picking a lock in an attempt to free the message.
“What is that?” a voice in my ear asks.
The scream that rips from my throat is earsplitting. Both Lucas and I jump, Lucas’ hands held up in a placating gesture. My heart beats painfully in my chest, the letter crinkling as I clutch it with clawed hands against my sternum.
I snarl, eyes still bright, “For the mercy of the arachnid gods, Lucas. Wear a fucking bell!”
He snorts with a grin. “And ruin my fun? Nah. I think not.”
I roll my eyes and Lucas leans against the counter beside me, his tall frame towering over me like he’s one of my too-tall stacks. His smile is beautiful, his overgrown hair falling in his face without his cap. Barely into summer and the parched brown strands are already greedily soaking up the sun. Before I know it, he’ll be in his summer form: blond with dark, bronzed skin. A true Southern Delornian boy trapped in this foggy, northern port city.
He didn’t shave today; strands of his hair catch on the scruff, accentuating his strong jaw. I reach to brush them back, but his next words have me pausing.
“Who was that?” He nods towards Valen’s card still sitting on the counter.
