Vincentius grabs Valen by the bicep. He shoves his son towards Lucas and me. “Go! Get out while you can.”
Valen stumbles, but obeys. He sprints towards Lucas, throwing his hand forward, and tears through the estate’s wards like paper. Lucas runs with him and I’m held tight in his arms. I look back over his shoulder.
My father hisses, “Traitor.”
Vincentius’ lip curls. “I should’ve done this when you went for Vi. I made a mistake then and I won’t repeat it a second time.”
The assembled weavers start to shift, half moving to stand behind the Archweaver, the others to stand next to Vincentius. Vincentius points a powerful finger. “I didn’t save her, but I’ll save the rest of us. Your rule is over, Atticus!”
The magic that surges prickles my skin and steals my breath. Such power. I miss the clash when the front doors slam shut, but I feel it. The foundation shifts from the shock. My breath shivers.
We tear through the gardens, Valen’s head on a swivel until he leads us to a secluded sitting area with a nice, smooth flooring. Valen pulls out a piece of chalk with trembling fingers, but he draws with an eerily steady hand. Blood drips from his nose and he hastily wipes it away before it can fall and taint the circle. He darts glances back towards the house as he works, forming the circle around us so that we’re in the center. Valen grabs Lucas by the back of the neck and shoves their foreheads together. His other arm wraps around me as well. I suck in breath, nearly crushed between the two of them.
Valen hisses in the ancient tongue, “Travel,” before the circle flares to life and teleports us away with a crack.
CHAPTER 21
HAVENPORT, DELORNIA
Havenport takes form around us, the marina fog so thick that the shop-lined streets are indistinguishable. Unlike my circle in Monument Park, Valen’s didn’t have a twin to go to. It’s a lot more complicated and needs a lot more energy to accomplish, and even the most skilled weavers have inconsistent results.
I suck in a sharp breath and try to look around, but my head spins from the effort. All I can make out in the darkness are the electrical-powered streetlamps that offer the most miniscule of lighting within the deep, oceanic fog.
I turn to my two companions. Valen’s hand is still on Lucas’ neck, their foreheads touching. Valen’s chest is heaving and brow glistening. A sickly sheen turns his pale skin sallow. Still, his lips quirk in a smirk, “Saved your life.”
Valen’s slightly glowing blue eyes flick down, his thumb sliding over the column of Lucas’ throat to touch the edge of his tattoo. Lucas’ inhale is sharp and his lips part, but he turns away quickly. “It’s the least you could do after betraying us. What the actual fuck, Valen?”
Valen steps back, but his eyes are trained on Lucas. He notices me watching from behind Lucas’ shoulder and quickly drops his gaze. “I had no intention of betraying you. Trust mewhen I say things didn’t go as planned for me either. All I could do was ensure that I was the one pinning you to the door.”
Exhaustion, both magical and mental, weighs too heavily for me to handle this information. I ask the only question I care about, “Did you know about Viola?”
Valen’s gaze meets mine and his voice cracks in a pain-filled whisper, “No.”
I nod and let my head weigh heavily against Lucas’ shoulder. Lucas peers down at me, his brow tight, then turns on his heel to better take in our surroundings. “Where are we?”
“I’m… not sure.” Valen’s breathless answer is worrisome. He must really be drained after the fight.
Lucas’ throat works and he whips around to try to figure out our location in the large city. “Okay, let’s start with where you intended to take us and work backwards from there.”
Valen rakes his hand through his disheveled hair and steps from the circle to lean heavily against the streetlamp’s post, ignoring the cold sting. “Peripeteia, obviously.”
Lucas nods, squinting at the nearest street sign. “Well, at least you got the right district. But we’re far?—”
Lucas pauses, his eyes fixed ahead. Valen straightens from his lean and Lucas nods towards the nearest alleyway. For someone so large, Lucas moves with a silent grace that makes him a master of his trade. Valen follows until Lucas ducks behind a grouping of trash bins. Valen sneers at the mysterious, pungent stains on the brick, but Lucas grabs him by the collar and practically slams him against the grimy wall, pinning him there with a warning glare to stay silent.
Shuffling along the streets has my heart clenching. My fingers twitch, but I have no strength. I am a rag doll with a pounding heart. Lucas carefully shifts me over to Valen’s embrace and pulls his knife from his boot.
Hushed voices murmur. My ears strain. They’re inspecting Valen’s circle, which left a singed imprint upon the sidewalk.
“Summon the Amur. Weavers are here.” That I hear clear as day. Cold sweat coats me and Valen’s arms tighten on me.
Lucas keeps perfectly still, his hand coating his blade’s handle with blood that oozes out from under his rings. We are too exposed, too trackable. If not by magic, then by the magicians who can transform into beasts. Blood and the acrid scent of magic waft from us.
I glance up at Valen. His name could potentially protect him, or it could turn him into a hostage for ransom. Best-case scenario, they’d turn him into the Magistrate for illegal crossing into the city. Just like humans need permits to board the train to the Astrum Forest, weavers need to declare intention at the train gates to enter the city. Using a circle to bypass that checkpoint is grounds for arrest. Only Monument Park’s platform is permitted as the sanctioned neutral zone.
“We need to get off the streets,” Lucas whispers.
I nod and he tucks his blade away. He reclaims my limp body and quickly weaves his way through the alleys, Valen following close behind. I lick my lips and manage a whisper, “We need to get to Peripetia.”
