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Sweat stings my eyes, blurring my vision. This is pointless if I can’t see straight. There’s no helping it. I risk discovery and remove the mask and hood for the small moment it will take me to strengthen the runes to counteract the humidity, wiping the sweat clear of my eyes.

Then movement from within my periphery has me lunging back. But it’s too late. I’m grabbed and thrown back against a statue. The shield holding my shoulder blade together bends with the impact. The air knocks free of my lungs, and my magic that sparks at my fingertips dies when my vision flashes with agony.

A hand slaps over my mouth, and I’m forced to breathe through my nose. There’s not enough air, and I grab the wrist holding me. My vision clears before my magic recovers, and I stare into unmistakable amber eyes. Lucas holds a finger up to his lips and I stop breathing. Movement through the jungle rustles, and birds take flight.

Lucas’ hand releases my mouth with the relaxation of his body. His full attention snaps back to me. He whispers quietly, “Thank fuck you took that shit off. I was about to slit your throat.”

I can’t speak; all I can do is suck in breath. Everything I was about to say leaves me. He’s alive. He’s actually alive. Thank all the nonexistent gods within the Weave.

He searches me. “What are you doing here? What about Alasdair’s influence on you?”

I swallow, but still nothing comes. I can’t stop staring at him, my heart pulsing with the fickle hope that everything I want might be achievable.

His hand flattens against my heart as he scans me. “Are you okay? Is it your shoulder?”

“I’m no longer influenced by Alasdair.” My stomach jumps with nerves, and all I can manage is to grab his hand with my right one. I grip it hard and gasp out, “I want it.”

His brows furrow, and his gaze flicks to our hands before snapping back down. He inspects my frostbitten fingers before grabbing my left, where my old ring sits. His eyes meet mine again. “What… What does⁠—”

“I gave the ring to my sister so you’d know the depth of my feelings when I tell you I’d leave it all behind. My power. My position. Everything.” My hands shake as I hold his. “I can’t live this life without both you and Tori. I trust you, Lucas. If you believe Tori is here, then I do, too.”

His lips part. And then he’s kissing me. Our arms wrap around each other, our combined strength keeping the two of us up with the intensity.

An explosion in the distance lights up the night sky. The dome’s glass cracks and shatters, raining down sparkling enchanted glass all around. A shield flares into existence around us with a ripple of my fingers. The glass bounces against it with a series of soft chings.

Lucas cups my jaw, his thumb stroking me as he sucks on my lower lip. I smile, one hand snarling in his hair. I murmur against him, “My letter should’ve said ‘I’m scared at how quickly I’m falling in love with you’ because I was. I was terrified. Tori and I hurt each other so deeply, but I’m tired of being broken and afraid. I love you, Lucas, and I love the woman who has enslaved our hearts.”

He purrs when I pull him tighter against me. “Thank fuck. I don’t think I could choose between you two otherwise. I love you, Valen, and I look forward to punishing Torment slowly with you.”

I laugh, pulling back enough to see him. “Let’s go save our beloved.”

He smiles brightly. “Let’s.”

“Well, isn’t this romantic,” a voice croons from behind us.

Alasdair stands there in his immaculate cream suit, his green eyes dancing. The whites of his eyes are just that, white. If it wasn’t for the starved look he gives Lucas’ chest, I’d wonder if the cursed creature I met within Lucas’ nightmares ever existed.

Lucas’ rings ripple power, and he growls, “Where is she?”

Alasdair laughs. “You read my mind, but we’re searching for two different things at this point. You want to know where her body is, and I want the location of her slippery soul. But no matter. She’ll reappear now that I have both of you.”

“Bold words from a dead man.” Lucas’ rings explode with threads. Alasdair jumps back to avoid the attack.

Magic sizzles up my arms, the darkness lighting up with a blue glow as my magic answers my call. Ice crackles along Alasdair’s leg, and he punches himself free, the glittering shards of ice raining away. He barely has time to recover to block Lucas’ punch and sends the magician’s fist into one of the statues. It explodes from the gloves, and Alasdair cackles, “My, those are fun.”

Lucas goes to punch again, but Alasdair has freed himself from my hold, his smile wide. “Playing with you both would be delightful, but sadly, I’m pressed for time.”

Weavers flood into the atrium, swarming around Alasdair and blocking him from us. The hairs along my arm lift with a crackle of power that surges towards me. I turn in time to raise a shield to block the vicious spell that would’ve torn my arm off. With an arc of my right arm, I encase the nearest weaver in ice that shatters when Lucas punches it with his rune-covered gloves. But more weavers pour into the atrium. The birds are flying free into the night.

Lucas’ back presses against mine, and he twirls the black blade over his wrist. There are too many for just the two of us to take down. Unlike last time we faced these odds in this very estate, we don’t have my father and his allies to save us. Weavers from all four domains surround us, awaiting Alasdair’s command.

I was right. Our allies did betray my father to save themselves. Anger burns within me with the surge of grief at his painful demise. But if they sold my family out, then why didn’t they storm the Bauer estate to claim me? What is it that Alasdair needs from us? It’s a mystery that threatens to distract me, but Emilia is right. I can’t become fixated on one aspect of the puzzle. I need to step back to see the big picture.

Alasdair’s voice rises over the crowd. “Capture the magician unharmed. I have plans for him. The Bauer spawn? Optional.”

Lucas’ eyes meet mine. A heartbeat passes and whispers a thousand unsaid wishes between us. I refuse to lose the hope that we’ll be together again.

He needs to run without me. I do not trust these backstabbing worms that dare call themselves weavers to restrain themselves. They could follow Alasdair’s directive while maiming him beyond repair. I cannot allow that to happen.