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I should’ve seen this coming, but not even I could have ever guessed Dimitar and Alasdair’s alliance. But the Magistrate officers’ arrival after my father’s death could only be orchestrated by the Amur. He wanted revenge against Astoria. He wanted to seize power over the city. And Alasdair handed him both on a silver plate to keep the Order unaware until he was ready.

But all that buries deep with me when the wave of shock lifts. A cracked keen escapes my throat, my eyes wide and fixed on the way Astoria is frozen, screaming, and the way Jinx clutches her heart, like she could save her.

Alasdair’s starved, “Perfect,” sends my skin crawling.

If I wasn’t muzzled, I’d make a powerful stand, a speech to sway the weavers who glare distrustfully at the Guild. This is a weakness I could exploit, an opening to turn the Order against Alasdair. But he muzzled me.

I quickly scan the masked weavers, the rafters, the dark corners, anything that could be a good hiding place for my sister. My heart pounds, and I swallow.

Come on, Emilia. Make your move already.

I quickly drop my gaze so no one catches me searching when Alasdair’s cheerful voice sings through the hall. “Set her up right here so she has a good view of what’s about to transpire. I’d hate for my sister to miss such a thing.”

Everything is happening too fast. Antonia’s statue is wheeled past us by four magicians, and Lucas lunges towards it, but the weaver standing at his side yanks him back.

Atticus’ wheeze is barely heard over the murmuring from the assembled weavers. “Astoria?”

“This is my gift to you, Papa.” Alasdair rests his hand on the Archweaver’s shoulder, and he leans down to speak in his ear. “She can never threaten your reign again.”

“You’ve done this?” He sits up higher in his throne to better scan his trapped daughter.

“For you, Papa. I did it to honor you.” Alasdair kneels beside the throne and grips the Archweaver’s hand. “You never stopped trying to save me. You never doubted that I could return. Now you can ensure your rule will remain strong like you’ve always wanted.”

Atticus’ breath rattles. The Archweaver scans the statue, taking in the proof of the kind of twisted, dark magic his Heir has inflicted upon his wayward daughter. The pain, the horror. The bastardization of Atticus’ grandmother’s memorial to keep Tori’s brutalized body preserved in endless suffering.

A few of the weavers shift, frowning at the statue. A tentative hope seeds in my chest.

Atticus trembles as he grips the armrests. Alasdair watches with a dark glint in his eye as the Archweaver stretches to his full height, his spine popping and cracking until he stands straight. His gaze lands on Lucas, and the hope in me dies. “Well, Dimitar. Take your payment.”

Dimitar’s rumbling growl is too close. “Gladly.”

Lucas gasps, and I whip towards him. Dimitar drags Lucas back towards the gathered magicians by his jacket and shirt collar. I gasp against the iron burning my mouth, my heart tearing, and his name muffled on my lips. I nearly topple over, but manage to remain upright.

Lucas snarls, thrashing against the hold, his eyes burning with rage. “Get the fuck off me!”

Alasdair laughs. “You are welcome to stay and watch the show. In fact, I may insist. I’d hate for Lucas to miss what’s about to happen to his lover.”

Dimitar crouches down and pins Lucas to him. He holds Lucas’ jaw in a firm grip, his chest pressed against Lucas’ back. He whispers something to Lucas, and violence flashes in Lucas’ warm eyes.

A wet clicking sends prickling shivers up my spine. Slowly, I turn to face the dais where the Archweaver and his spawn stand. Alasdair’s gaze is trained on Tori’s frozen, stone-coated form, and some of his mask slips. His skin takes on a waxy, yellowish hue that tightens around the hollows of his cheeks and eyes. The look of raw starvation flickers a mere moment before his form shifts back to that of the handsome weaver, but his eyes don’t leave the statue.

The toll of keeping her imprisoned after Lucas cut his tether to her soul must be draining him. My only hope is that Tori doesn’t fall for his trap and keeps away from her body. If only there were some way for me to warn her, but there are no mirrors in this room.

Atticus’ voice booms powerfully again and reclaims my attention. “Valentin Bauer the Sixth, you are found guilty of treason and malicious intent against your Archweaver. Against the Order you swore to serve.” My eyes close briefly, my head bowing. “For your crimes, you shall be executed. Your bones scattered across the continent. Your flesh fed to the beasts of the deep Weave, so for all eternity, you will know nothing but suffering.”

I swallow, fighting to keep the tremble that quakes my bones from showing. I know Alasdair will ensure my bones fossilize so that I won’t be able to pass to the Tapestry. Any hope to warn Tori before it’s too late flits away.

Lucas is screaming, but I cannot face him. It will break me, and I want my last moments before the torture begins to be lived in dignity.

I open my eyes and stare at the Archweaver who damned me for loving his daughter, for at the root of all that I’ve done, that is my greatest crime. I stood against him to save her in this very hall. I had a father who loved me, who was willing to sacrifice everything to ensure I escaped so that Atticus couldn’t take my life.

I’m sorry, Father, I whisper within my mind in hopes that his resting soul can still hear me. Your sacrifice was in vain.

Atticus raises his hand, steady for the first time since we were dragged before him. Disgust for this vile man makes my throat and chest ache. My one regret is not asking Emilia to save Lucas and Tori in my absence. Hopefully, my demise will fill her with righteous vengeance that will burn bright within my beloveds. Astoria and Emilia allied will be a force that not even Alasdair could stand against, not to mention when combined with Lucas’ powers. I trust in that. I trust in them.

Atticus’ eyes glint with magic as he prepares to seal my fate with his final proclamation. I meet his stare and pour all my smug satisfaction into it so that he knows he will fall. Killing me will be his greatest mistake when my beloved is free. When my sister finds him. When Lucas rips into him. Perhaps even when my mother recovers from her grief. He has no chance against them.

The skin around my face stretches and pulls painfully when I smile.