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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A va woke up in her room in the Din’Glai. She wasn’t surprised she wasn’t still at the foot of the enormous dead tree in the center of the Maze. And she was also extremely relieved, honestly.

She was, however, surprised to see she wasn’t alone. There was a large, warm weight curled up on top of her that she was confused by for a long moment. It was until she woke up enough to really focus that she realized it was…a gigantic cat.

A gigantic, orange and black cat with a face that reminded her a little bit of Ron Perlman.

It was a Maine Coon cat, but even larger—as if it had been crossbred with a bobcat.

It was half on top of her stomach, and half draped over the sheets, sprawled out on its side.

Its long, extremely fluffy tail was draped over her arm.

She knew precisely who it was by the markings.

Lysander.

“Y’know, this does count as invading my personal space,” she muttered at the cat, before poking him in the stomach.

“Pprrt.” He opened an eye before yawning, revealing his dangerously large and sharp teeth.

He stretched easily to a length of five feet before hopping over to the end of the bed, licking a paw, and wiping it over his ears.

With a shimmer, he was once more his slightly more humanoid self.

“You really have to get over your concerns, dear Ava. I was only enjoying the coziness.”

It was rather nice, she had to admit, waking up to a cuddly animal. She’d never really had pets growing up—her father had been allergic. But it was exceedingly weird when she knew the cat was also a man who was not-so-subtly trying to sleep with her. “How long was I out?”

“Sixteen hours. The day has already come and gone.” Lysander frowned over at her. “Valroy told me to bring you to him the moment you awoke. He seemed concerned about whatever could have transpired that put you into such a deep stupor.”

Sixteen hours. Letting out a breath, she slipped out from under the sheets and headed to the bathroom. The tattoo didn’t look like it had changed. But now she knew the truth—that it was just a fucking lie.

She wanted to weep. Wanted to scream. Wanted to rip out her hair. She didn’t know what to do. Everyone was dancing around a great big secret that no one was willing to say. But she had a thread. And she could pull it. And she kind of wanted to pull it.

Even if it changed everything. Even if it destroyed everything.

Splashing cold water over her face, she combed her hands through her hair and did what she could to try to make herself a little more presentable. Walking out of the room, she let out a breath. “I’d rather talk to Serrik first.”

“I don’t think I have that choice, Ava. I’m sorry.” Lysander frowned.

Well, fine. Whatever. Might as well ask them both. It wasn’t worth fighting over.

Cracking her neck from one side to the other, she stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment. Christ, she looked exhausted. Heading back into the room, she picked up Book—still in its carrying sling—, and threw it over herself. “C’mon, goober.” Like it or not, it was bound to her .

“Did you…” Lysander looked absolutely perplexed. “Never mind.”

“Yes. I did, kitty.” She smirked. “Let’s go.”

“You liked it, don’t lie.” Lysander got up from the edge of the bed, stretched with both his arms over his head and yawned again, his tail swishing behind him lazily.

“I never said I didn’t. I just made it clear that I didn’t think it was appropriate.” She went to the door and opened it. “Where’s Bitty?”

“I honestly am not sure. Probably hiding in her room.” Lysander headed out before her. “Would you like me to fetch her?”

“No, it’s all right. If she’s resting, let her. She’s…had it rough, too.” She glanced over at Bitty’s door for a moment, frowning. Something hummed through her mind, low but present—but like a dream, it was fleeting. A thought she couldn’t quite grasp and couldn’t quite hold onto.

Whatever.

Lysander was already leading her down the hallway. She was lost in thought as she was brought through the rows of trees that were pretending to be a building.

Valroy was waiting for her in a chamber she hadn't seen before.

They went down a flight of stairs that led into the ground.

Unlike the other rooms of the Din'Glai, with their organic structure of living trees and branches, this space was carved from obsidian.

The walls gleamed with a slick darkness that devoured light rather than reflect it.

Braziers of silver hung from the ceiling, casting blue flames across the room.

The Unseelie King sat upon a throne fashioned from what appeared to be bone and antler, his wings spread behind him like a living cape.

He wasn't alone—Queen Abigail stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

The contrast between them was striking—he, all darkness and sharp edges; she, radiant even in the dim light, her gown made of living moss and tiny blooming flowers that shouldn't have survived in this lightless place.

“Ah, the fledgling Weaver awakens,” Valroy's voice echoed in the chamber. “You were gone from us for quite some time. ”

Ava approached cautiously, not sure who she should be more worried about, the king or the queen. So far, Valroy was a known entity. Vicious, but somewhat predictable. Abigail was still a wild card. “Had an interesting chat.”

“I imagine you did.” Valroy's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. “What did the heart of the Maze show you?”

Ava paused, weighing her words carefully. Something whispered in the back of her mind to be cautious—to hold some cards close to her chest. “Um. Not the Maze, actually. I had a conversation with someone else. Mom says hi.”

Abigail's eyes widened slightly. “You spoke with her?”

“She never actually confirmed who she was. But sure, yeah. She appeared and disappeared really abruptly. Made of ravens. Big creepy stone circle. Tall. Loomed a lot. Sound familiar?”

Valroy and Abigail exchanged a meaningful glance.

“The Morrigan rarely speaks directly to anyone,” Abigail said softly. “Even to us, her children.”

“Yay me,” Ava muttered. She resisted the urge to do jazz hands.

Valroy leaned forward, his blue eyes intent. “What did she tell you?”

Ava crossed her arms. “Nothing straight, that's for sure. Lots of cryptic bullshit and gobbledygook.”

“She has always been fond of puzzles and prophecies.” Valroy rolled his eyes, sounding almost bored. “Clarity was never her strongest trait.”

“Seems like it runs in the family, to be honest. I'm getting pretty sick of riddles.” She tried her best not to sound a little bitter about it, but failed. “Seems like everyone around here has a fetish for them.”

She was not going to tell Valroy that she was fairly certain that hidden inside of her grimoire were the two mirror shards. Including the one that he’d stolen from within the Broken City.

That was probably a pretty sure-fire way to get herself stabbed. Or at least really, really piss him off. And she didn’t want to see a pissed-off Valroy. Especially not when she was his pseudo-willing houseguest.

“She did confirm that it’ll be my choice in the end, whether or not I remain myself or if I become some empty-eyed puppet of war.

But I did have two questions. First, this thing.

” She held up her wrist again to show the golden, thin bracelet that Serrik had given her.

“I’m getting the feeling it’s the same kind of spell that Nos was using to make himself look not stitched together.

Or make him look stitched together. I don’t know which one’s fake and which one’s real.

Or the one that Serrik uses to make him look like a man. ”

“A glamour,” Abigail provided. “It is one of the most common and simple fae spells. It allows us to mask our real selves.”

“Is that what this is? Just a ‘common and simple’ glamour? To hide the fact that the fucking tattoo is still spreading?” Ava knew the answer. But she wanted to hear it.

“I believe that is the case.” Valroy shrugged, dismissively. “I can sense no deeper magic within it. Certainly not one that could withstand what you are becoming.”

Shutting her eyes, she sighed. Great. Fucking great, Serrik. “A nightlight. He was giving me a nightlight to make me feel better. Not because it did jack shit.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Abigail’s tone was gentle. “But he would not have done so if he did not care about your well-being, as you just said.”

“He cares about her well-being, my love, only because he needs her to side with him against us. He feels his control over her slipping. His great scheme is starting to unravel around him, isn’t it?” Valroy was so utterly pleased with himself, it made Ava vaguely disgusted.

“In what way?” Again, Ava knew. But she wanted to hear the asshole say it.

“You are beginning to work out what is happening. I can see it in you. Whatever transpired between you and the Bitch Mother herself”—he waved a hand dismissively—“you can see it, can’t you? The fault in the glass. The crack in the proverbial mirror. ”

The crack in the mirror. The shards. “I asked her why Serrik said I needed the shards to become the Web. And why here, I’m still transforming. One of you would have to be lying. She said both of you, and neither of you, were.”

“She is, regrettably, correct.” Valroy leaned back in his throne.

Ava waited.

Valroy didn’t continue.

She growled. This was getting real, real fucking old. “And?”

“And, what?” Valroy laughed. “I told you, it would be up to you to piece it together on your own. To simply tell you the secret would be pointless. You have what you need. You have it within your grasp. If you wish to know, then simply know.”