Chapter 19
ARCHWEAVER ESTATE, ASTRUM FOREST
Sneaking into my childhood home is less traumatic than I expect.
Nothing has changed. The gardens are still as lavishly wild as they were in my memories.
So is the sprawling house with its Gothic spires and stone gargoyles guarding it.
Even the wards are the same. The ease with which I broke in should fill me with snobbish glee, but it doesn’t.
“This is too easy.”
Lucas’ quiet hiss mirrors my thoughts. Vincentius’ plan to sneak us into the grounds clinging to the underside of a carriage was executed with a perfection that shouldn’t be possible.
But this is Vincentius. The only scheme of his that didn’t go exactly as planned was the naming of the Heir and its fallout.
I nearly regret not trying harder to convince Valen to come with us, but he needed to stay close to his father and assist with distracting the Archweaver.
My throat tightens, eyes darting around the familiar halls of the east wing.
The crystals in the ornate glass cages are unlit, leaving only the plump full moon to ease the oppressive darkness.
Lining the hall are floor-to-ceiling windows with iron slicing into the glass to create elegant designs.
All the windows within the estate are like this, the iron providing both decoration and security.
No weaver can break those windows with magic and no human can easily force their way through.
It’s why I snuck us inside through the tunnels Aunt Vi showed me as a child.
The moonlight streams through the windows, creating deep, twisting shadows that shiver across my spine.
Massive canvases that depict long-dead magical worlds glow in the shafts of blue light.
Their ornate gilded frames glint against the arsenic-painted walls.
Most have stripped this deadly green from their homes, but not my father. Traditionalist to the end.
My voice is barely above a whisper as I answer Lucas. “Perhaps, but it could be symptomatic of the curse. Carelessness and all that.”
“I don’t like it. This whole place is rotting.
Don’t you sense it?” Lucas is pale, his rings rippling with faint magic to create a shield.
It’s a necessary risk. Magic drips from the walls like a pungent ooze.
The rotted smell of dark magic is suffocating, a sticky sweetness that lingers in the back of my throat.
My skin crawls and my throat rhythmically swallows to try to rid myself of it.
And yet… I breathe in deeper, slower, my eyelids lowering. My fingers flex to lightly skim against the toxic walls. The oily film that clings to it stings my fingertips like little needle pricks and a delicious shiver ripples up my arm.
The fissure within my chest eases, the ache lessening.
Even the tight scarring across my arms and chest releases until I’m no longer aware of the discomfort.
The relief loosens my shoulders, rolls my steps.
The desire to arch my spine into the wall is irresistible and I slip closer, letting the temptation tease me.
Lucas’ gaze slides to me, a crease in his brow forming.
I step before a hallway opening that leads deeper into the estate. My fingers catch on the edge of the wall. Then my nails snag. My heart flutters, stomach tightening. My feet pause, my fingers still on the corner. A shaft of moonlight slants over my chest and legs, leaving my face in darkness.
A tugging.
I look in its direction, towards the hallway. The oppressive darkness of the windowless hall greets me like the yawning mouth of a beast.
Lucas tenses, his voice a low whisper. “What is it?”
My head tilts. “I…” Another tug, so strong that I step towards it. I try to shake it off, try to focus.
I face forward again, staring down the window-lined hall.
Down there is Viola’s room. I always liked the gardens in this wing and her room has a beautiful view of the large, decorative fountain that birds and sprites enjoy bathing in.
That is the way to go. There is nothing for me to the right.
Investigating the darkness will not help me on my mission to speak with Viola.
I step, but not in the direction I mean.
Another hard tug and I take another step to the right, the moonlight slipping from my heart.
Then I’m walking down the dark hallway. Lucas’ voice muffles distantly as if there’s cotton in my ears.
A ringing deafens me, dulls me until all that is left is the tugging that comes harder.
And harder. My walking breaks into a run.
Footsteps. Am I being chased? Faster. Tug. Faster.
The moonlight is long gone. Darkness consumes me. I don’t need sight. I’m being pulled and I must go faster.
I round a corner, my lungs burning, eyes too wide, and slam into something solid.
I gasp, falling back, but something firm grabs my arms and stops me from hitting the ground.
Blinking, I look up. My eyes don’t need to adjust to the pitch darkness.
I can sense my brother as if we’re standing in daylight.
My lips go numb, my fingers trembling. “Ali.”
Alasdair holds both of my biceps, his green eyes peeled wide. His chest pumps in the same rhythm as mine, his large hands too tight on me. I’m bruising, but I can’t speak. I stare up at my half-brother.
He’s thinner; the muscles he used to have from the physical magic he preferred have wasted away.
A shimmering of magic whispers to me, crawling over my skin.
Runes along a metal band around his neck flare softly to offer a hint of light.
My breath stutters. A binding collar. The lock is welded closed.
A permanent tether that keeps my brother imprisoned within the estate’s walls.
Sickness surges and my throat works against it.
Alasdair’s lips stretch into a too-wide smile, his eyes glassy. “Tori!”
Distantly, I track Lucas catching up to me. The light from his rings illuminates Alasdair’s pale, ghostlike skin, as if he hasn’t stepped into sunlight for years. My skin tightens.
He knows.
Lucas freezes, body tense. Alasdair’s gaze snaps up. A boyish fear ripples over his gaunt face, his limp blond hair falling in his dim eyes. “Who’s that, Tori? Who—who is that?”
I swallow rhythmically, my body shivering in a growing cold. The smell, the oozing magic; it’s from Alasdair. He reeks of the curse, and its dark power pours from him in weeping waves. My arms sting where it pools against his grip on me.
Fear coats my insides, softening my voice to a trembling whisper. “Ali.”
Light flares behind me and the fresh scent of Lucas’ magic fights against the acrid air. Alasdair hisses, eyes shutting tightly against the brightness.
We need to get out of here. We need to warn Valen and Vincentius that this may be my father’s trap and run. My fingers faintly tremble when I rest them on Ali’s elbows. His grip on my biceps turns white-knuckled. I gasp, “Let go, Ali.”
My brother looks back at me, his dull eyes sharpening. His rotten breath washes over my face. “Tori…” His smile stretches his clammy face oddly. “I’ve missed you. I’ve… I’ve missed you…”
His grip tightens. My mouth stretches open as a hint of pain jolts through my arm. Lucas’ strong voice snaps through the discomfort, his magic surging, and I heave in a grateful breath of freshness. “Let her go. Now.”
Alasdair’s shaking, his odd smile twitching. “No… No. I’ve… I’ve missed you…” My breath shutters. “I’ve… I’ve…” The smile falters. I need to get free of him. Now. “I’ve…” The smile slips away like oil dripping. Matte black bleeds into his eyes. The eyes of a corrupted weaver. “Dreamed of you…”
Fear pierces my heart and I nearly beg. Cursed magic builds, the putrid, sweet scent intensifying.
A thrum hums over me and I flinch violently, a sob nearly ripping free.
It calls to me, tugs at me. Yanks. I choke on a scream, eyes squeezing shut, my fingers tingling and growing pale from the lack of blood.
My soul. He’s trying to rip out my soul.
A ripple. Then light flares. Warmth envelops me and I shudder, body going limp against a strong chest behind me. My eyes flutter open. Tendrils of light dance around me, Lucas’ threads weaving and slipping under Alasdair’s fingers. Then a pulse, power throwing outwards.
Alasdair’s fingers snap in the wrong direction.
My brother screams and rears back. Sickness rises in my throat, but Lucas’ left arm wraps around my middle.
His right palm slams forward, striking Alasdair over the heart.
Magic flares; Lucas’ rings bright like suns.
My brother is thrown bodily away from us.
He cracks into the wall, the green arsenic splintering like a web around my brother’s white skin.
His veins glow with blackness and something falls from his pocket.
That bear he loved so much as a child plops limp on the ground.
It has a name, but I can’t remember. Alasdair screeches.
Sharp, burning pain radiates in my chest. I clutch at it, gasping as I struggle to breathe. My lips form words, but nothing comes out. My vision tunnels. Lucas’ chest heaves against me, centers me, brings me back to the world around us. I shudder, sagging, and take a breath.
Then I notice it. Lucas’ extended hand. Blisters bubble under his rings.
The cold that washes over me is the refocusing I need. “Run.”
Lucas doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs my wrist in a firm grip and bolts. His magic hums and it helps draw me, helps force my feet under me. The tugging makes me falter, but I force all my senses ahead, on the glowing beacon holding me.