There was such certainty in his voice, as if he was truly willing to take on the devastating force of his rulers for me. It seemed impossible, but I refused to doubt him. “I’ll wait, then. As long as it takes.”
The goodbye hurt almost as much as Syagros’s horn had. Still, I couldn’t fight the unavoidable forever. When Iaso guided me past the retreating guards, I followed her without protest.
My last sight of the den showed Theron standing in the ruined chamber, magnificent, furious, and utterly alone. The brand on my hand pulsed once more, then went dark.
Chapter 6
The Challenge
Theron
TheMoiraesummonedmeat dawn. Later than I’d hoped, but sooner than I’d expected.
Loxias had approached me earlier with a brief warning. “The Moirae see all threads,” he’d said, his voice heavy with distant authority. “Keep your temper in check, brother. Sacred space demands restraint.”
“Restraint?” If not for the presence of the other Weaveguards, I’d have attacked him right then and there. “You bid against me too.”
“I had my reasons.” His tone had remained carefully neutral, but I’d caught the faint tension around his silver gaze. “The Moirae’s will, not personal choice.”
“It’s easy to blame the Moirae for everything, is it not?” I’d snarled. “Was it really your duty, or was it your desire?”
He hadn’t answered, but it hadn’t really been necessary. He was no ally of mine, and his warning told me very little I didn’t already know.
Still, as I walked into the Weavers’ Hall, something about his words came back to haunt me. The Moirae’s thrones, a familiar sight to any harvester, had never seemed so threatening before. Something was going to happen here today, and I wasn’t going to like it.
The Loom of Fate cast jagged shadows across the hall. Ancient tapestries stirred in drafts from high windows, and the scent of burning oil filled my nose.
Phonos was already kneeling on the cold marble, perfectly composed. He didn’t even acknowledge my arrival. I bared my fangs, but the only sign he gave that he even noticed was a slight flutter of his wings. The certainty radiating from his scent made me want to tear his throat out. He genuinely believed he deserved her.
Behind us, Enyo commanded space near the eastern wall through her sheer presence. The Keres matriarch stood at her full imposing height, each black feather groomed to perfection. She arched a brow at me and shot me a thin-lipped, taunting smile.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to rein in my hellfire.Stay calm, Theron. Don’t lose your head.
As I joined Phonos and dropped to my knees, the Moirae’s magic filled every corner of their domain. “The formal challenge has been invoked,” Clotho announced. “Phonos of House Keres contests Theron’s right to Callista of Agrion.”
If the words had come from anyone else, I would have howled in outrage. But Clotho was the Spinner, the youngest of the Moirae. Her maiden-like facade hid a power no one would dare to contest. Her will, the will of the Moirae, was absolute, and so, I waited.
Lachesis leaned forward in her throne, tapping her bronze measuring rod against the stone. “State your case, Keres. What grounds do you present?”
Phonos got up and faced our most revered leaders. “Honored Moirae, I ask for the hand of Callista of Agrion by right of first claim.”
I shot to my feet, no longer able to contain my temper. “First claim? I’m the one who found her.”
Phonos’s smile was sharp enough to cut flesh. “Were you really? I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
I glared at him, marveling at the fact that I could still express myself in coherent sentences. “Stop speaking in riddles, Phonos. What is this about?”
“It’s quite simple. Without my family’s intervention, Callista would have never come to Asphodelia.”
His family’s intervention? I didn’t like the sound of that. Whatever Phonos and his kin had been involved in could only be bad news, both for me and for Callista.
Atropos cleared her throat, her wizened voice heavy with age and secrets. “Explain your logic. What actions do you consider so important?”
For a few moments, no one dared to speak. The Cutter’s words always left terrifying echoes behind, ones we felt all the way to the center of our beings.
In the end, it was Enyo who stepped forward. She bowed so low her wingtips dragged across the floor. “Honored Moirae, we preserved the death-touched woman’s life. She faced execution in Agrion.”
Clotho nodded, unsurprised by the news. No doubt both she and the other Moirae had been familiar with Callista’s tale. “She did, yes. The villagers would have killed her for the supposed curse of barrenness. We have seen it, in the weave.”
