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Tears soak my face as my fingers tingle with the power I pour into them. I have seconds before the Bauer signet ring becomes impossible for me to sense. It’s a miracle from the Tapestry that I saw a glint of it at all.

A prickle of magic, so faint that I almost doubt my own senses. I gasp, eyes snapping open to stare at the body. The right hand holds the ring, not the left. I scan the form over and over. I’ve memorized Valen’s body, and the shoulders are too wide. Valen is slender, whip-like and elegant like his mother.

No, this is not Valen. This must be his father, Vincentius. I snap my hands back as if I’ve been burned.

Vincentius. How? When? But Valen was just summoned to return to him hours ago. Is Valen safe?

Then cold horror shivers down me as my own words from days ago echo through my mind.

For what you’ve done, Vincentius, I will skin you alive like the snake you are. I will use all the magic I have to keep you a living, writhing wreck for as long as possible so that you return to the Weave forever remembering the pain of my vengeance. That I swear upon the Weave, you worthless, backstabbing piece of shit.

Did I do this? Did Vincentius appear at my shop in the dead of night, and I killed him to fulfill my oath of vengeance? No. Surely, I’d remember glimpses of it.

No, I didn’t do this. I’m being framed. I feel it with absolute certainty down to my bones. Someone murdered Vincentius Bauer the Third and dumped him in my shop. Someone so powerful that they could take down a Council of Four member, sneak him alive past my wards, and soundlessly slaughter him. The possible list of suspects is short.

My heart pounds, sweat chilling me when I press my trembling hands to my chest. Valen is going to kill me. His father is his whole world, and he witnessed my promise to kill Vincentius. There’s no way Valen will believe that I didn’t do this. Hell, Lucas doesn’t even believe me, and the man is blindly besotted with me.

Tingling begins in my toes and fingers. Dizziness has me swaying and I plant a hand down for stability. I can’t tell Valen who this is. I can’t tell anyone, not even Lucas. If Valen found out Lucas knew, he’d kill him too. No, I cannot incriminate Lucas in this more than I already have. It’s for his safety.

I’ll burn the body like we agreed, so no one will ever know. I’ll take the truth to my grave.

My fingers twitch, but do not ignite. Tears well in my eyes, surging sickness adding to the constricting within my chest. Could I do that to Valen? Hide the body of his beloved parent from him as he searches for his father? Burning the body would return Vincentius’ soul to the Tapestry, but he was the head of the Bauer family. It’s not that simple. There’s a passing of power ritual that must be done, for which Valen would need to be present.

The pressure from the Magistrate’s sigil builds, pummeling my mind as the officers outside grow impatient.

I make my decision. I can’t burn the body. Valen might’ve chosen the Order over me, but I love him too much to hurt him like that.

Warm hands slide over my shoulders and I gasp, whipping around. Lucas’ honey eyes pour into me, his brows and lips tight. He strokes me, and I nearly crack wide open and tell him everything, but I resist. I can’t afford breaking more than I already am, and speaking of it will definitely break me. Later, I’ll tell Lucas everything. For now, I’ll tell him just enough to get us through this.

“It’s a weaver.” My heart convulses, and I ignore the pain.

Lucas’ eyes widen before his head snaps towards the body. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can’t burn him, not yet. I need to figure out if I did this. Because if I did…” My hands tighten. “Besides, he might be someone important.”

Lucas scans the body. “Do you think…” Pain tightens his features, and it softens his voice to a rasped whisper. “Valen?”

“It’s not Valen.” I don’t mean to snap, but the surge of panic makes me lose control. I wet my lips and try again. “I’d know if it was Valen.”

Lucas nods. “Alright. We’ll hide it until you get the answers you need.”

Relief washes through me. The weight of the summons is staggering, and I lean into Lucas’ warmth for strength. “We need to preserve it. Every moment the body is exposed to the air is more evidence rotting away.”

Keeping the body from disintegrating is my gift to Valen as an apology for this tragedy. He should be the one to burn the remains to ash. Then maybe Valen will believe I didn’t kill him.

I take a trembling breath and scan the body. I’ve never done something like this before, but the spell shouldn’t be too hard to piece together based off my expansive knowledge of magic. I slowly drag myself to stand with Lucas following my lead, his arm wrapped around me in case I fall. My hand stretches out, my magic surging once again, but pain rocks through me, my eyes flaring wide.

Flashes of the last preserved corpse I saw race through my mind. My beloved aunt, Viola. My father’s throne room. The drips from her corpse onto his chair. The bubbling along her face. Her scars from catching me at birth distorted from the pull of the ironwood crucifying her. Such agony on a soul all because she loved me.

Pain lances through my heart, and I snap my arm back to clutch it to my chest. I bow over, shaking my head wildly as I try to clear the memory of her body, of her last battle. I couldn’t even burn her body properly. I left her there. She sacrificed everything for me, and I couldn’t even do that for her.

Now I’m too corrupted to remember my own crimes. What would she think if she saw me now? Finally the Heir, but falling apart.

Suddenly, the embodiment of my curse throws its bony arms around me, its rotten breath all I can smell. “Are you sure you wish to dispel me?”

I’m gagging, acid crawling up my throat and threatening to add to the mess on my floor, but then Lucas pulls me in tight. His heat chases away the sickening sensation of the curse’s touch. “I can’t… I can’t…”

I swallow down all my fear, all my regret, all my shame, and shove it into the box within my mind of things I want to forget. Valen’s face resurfaces, and I push him back in there too. Later. For now, I need to focus. I straighten and wipe at my face harshly. My body hurts from the fire damage, but I can ignore it. I’ve endured far worse than sore hands and feet.