The crowd rumbles, then one by one, they step forward.
A tear rolls down Celine’s cheek—the first to fall since we set foot on this realm. She brushes it away and holds her hand up, thumb turned in. The angels murmur, surprised expressions appearing on almost every face. One hand shoots shakily into the air, mirroring her gesture. Dozens more follow until the room is full of raised hands.
The old woman speaks again, her wrinkled hand held high. It never wavers.
“She says we must secure the perimeter,” Lyklan says. “Branthe is head housekeeper here. She’s lived on this estate since before Celine’s mother was born.”
Branthe drops her hand and snaps her fingers twice, speaking in a loud, sharp voice.
Dozens of angels rush to follow her orders, streaming from the room in droves.
Celine turns to face us, her eyes glittering with tears. “I need to connect with the estate’s magic. The gates won’t hold forever, but there are other protections I can try.”
Branthe comes forward and speaks again. “She’s having rooms prepared for you,” Lyklan says.
“Room,” Ciprian adds, smiling widely at the older woman. “Please tell her one room is perfectly fine as long as the bed is huge.”
Branthe eyes him with suspicion that gradually shifts to amusement as she listens to Lyklan’s translation. She smirks at Celine and nods at Ciprian, disappearing after a quick bow.
“They expect my father to return from the summit tomorrow,” Celine says. “If no one tips him off, he’ll be blindsided.”
“And when he arrives and figures it out?” Luca’s voice is soft.
“Expect blood. Lots of it.” She turns and leaves the room before anyone can respond.
THIRTY-FIVE
Traditionalnish thatshabetrothal vow:
I promise to be your order, your peace, your quiet, and your rest when you need it most.
CELINE
I press my palm to the panel, unlocking the access door that leads to the spine. I’ve only been inside once before, when Mom told me it was time I saw our legacy. Father found out later, and we both paid dearly for her act of rebellion, but before that, before he sanded the shine from the memory, it was one of the best days of my life.
Embedded in the base of thethatshaechelon itself, the spine stretches all the way to the top of the house. A liquid rope made of pure radiant magic; it’s golden and nearly translucent—as big around as an airplane fuselage and ten stories tall. If you look at it hard enough, you’ll see burnished runes floating around in the molten magic. A different one for eachthatshaborn of my mother’s line.
My knees lock. Heart racing, I cling to the railing at the top ofthe spiral staircase. Truth runes wallpaper my skin without me calling for them. It’s the spine itself, feeling me out—testing my body, heart, mind, and soul. I’m being judged.
Malach’s face flickers in my mind. He’s never judged me, but the spine’s examination feels like I imagine his word would. Fair but immovable, reaching to the core of a person to determine what they’re made of.
The spine ripples. I shudder.
I know what it wants, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.
Peeling my fingers off the rail, I thrust my hand into the golden mass before I lose my nerve. It’s warm, and the chill I’ve carried since walking through the front door falls away.
The magic caresses me, and I see my rune, repeated hundreds of times in the fluid column. A handful of them hover around my arm. There’s no sound except my heavy breathing, but I know the spine’s question without hearing it.
“Keep him out,” I whisper. “He doesn’t belong here. He never did.”
I sense the agreement, then another unspoken question. This one makes me wince.
“I know I left. I don’t belong here either, but I’m going to make things right.”
Following my gut instinct, I walk down the stairs, circling the spine and keeping my arm buried to the elbow. Faster and faster, I accelerate until I’m practically running. My eyes never leave the magic. Clustered around my hand, truth runes trail after me, forming a thin golden ribbon that gets longer the deeper I go.
The exhaustion from lending Sheena my magic? The spine snuffs it out quicker than a pillow over an open mouth, giving me strength I didn’t know I needed. It’s welcoming me home.
