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“You and your brother, I swear. This isn’t stealthy.”
“Fuck stealth. We need to free Valen and stop Alasdair.”
I keep pace with her as she weaves through the halls. “How does the Ascension work? What will happen?”
She throws open a patio door and leads the way through the dark gardens. The old temple sits in the heart of the greenery, its tall dome of a roof obscuring the stars. “Usually, the ceremony begins with the burning of the previous Archweaver’s body, then the Heir enters the sacred mirror to ensure the Archweaver’s soul rejoins the Tapestry of Magic. But no Heir has ever taken another soul with them before. Whatever Alasdair has planned, it can’t be good for my brother. Now shut up and stay quiet. Luciana locked the rest of the Order out of the temple.”
She nearly dives into a crouch, keeping low down and silent as she leads me around the perimeter of the building. The remains of a funeral pyre sit in ashes with a few bright embers glowing. The Order is indeed gathered out front, some watching in awed silence, others frowning in disapproval. Alasdair clearly doesn’t care about maintaining loyalties. Then again, he was going to kill them all.
Wisteria grows thickly up the sides of the round temple’s stone walls, vines digging into the gaps of the stone. Most of the flowers are gone, leaving behind seed pods that hang heavily in the lush leaves. Emilia tucks her skirt into her belt and begins to climb. Tilting my head back, I study the vines. Given my size and weight, they don’t look the strongest, but I’ve completed more difficult climbs, and I’m not about to let a weaver blueblood show me up. I have a reputation to keep.
I climb after Emilia, keeping pace with my rings dark so I don’t draw attention. The problem with glowing threads and rings is that they tend to be giant “We’re here” flares at night.
The dome is perfectly smooth glass, and Emilia perches precariously to peer down into the temple. I join her. There’s no iron running through this glass, but the relief is short-lived.
A giant mirror ripples with a twisting power that burns my eyes. It stands in the middle of the temple. No other furniture or decorations adorn it. The wisteria, having climbed and weakened the round temple’s walls, hangs down into the room with heavy fronds.
The Archweaver Heir stands before the mirror, eyes wide and completely black. Valen kneels before him, Alasdair’s hands digging into his shoulders. His eyes are rolled back so only the whites are visible. There is no reflection in the mirror. Just more of the swirling power that seems to be sucking them inward.
Luciana stands beside her son, her eyes trained on him. There’s no fucking way she doesn’t know something is horribly wrong with him. His eyes are black, his veins engorged and pulsing. Yet, she looks upon him with all the motherly concern one would expect if she were gazing upon a newborn.
There are at least ten other weavers present. I sweat. Those odds aren’t great.
Emilia whispers, “Luciana’s family. The Krolls run the Transformation Domain. Sort of like the Bauers of Transformation, but they haven’t held power as long as we have.”
“So, they’re like a dozen mini-Dimitars?” Fuck me, I hate these odds.
“I can stop their transformation, but I need to catch them by surprise. You can kill all of them if you’re able, but leave Luciana for me.”
“And you want me to…” I trail off, not sure I want to know the rest of her plan.
“Be the distraction, obviously. Shatter the glass and drop down. When they go to kill you, I’ll get in range. They don’t know I’m back in the forest. They won’t expect me.”
“Why don’t we just kill Alasdair from here?”
Her lips thin. “I don’t know what would happen to Valen. I don’t want him to become a lost soul while he’s in his current state. The best we can do is get the iron off him so he can escape and return to his body.”
I sigh. “Fuck it. Fine. Just don’t let me die.”
She snorts and arches a brow at me. “And risk my brother’s lovesick wrath? I’d rather Astoria skin me alive like my father.”
“She didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter. Just go.”
I scan the temple one more time. “Who is the most powerful?”
She points to the burly man in the center, his arms bulging as he crosses them. “Luciana’s cousin. The next in line for Councilor and head of their line.”
“Fantastic. What do they all turn into?”
She scoffs. “Anything? They are Transformation.”
“Right. Fuck me. Okay. Wish me luck.”
“Don’t die.” She pats my shoulder awkwardly.
I soundlessly crawl along the glass. Thank fuck it’s a new moon so I don’t cast a shadow. The mirror is lightly glowing, but it’s pretty damn dark down there. I position myself right above the burly one. I let out a slow breath.
