Page 38 of The Threads Between

He was trying to save me from my mother’s fate.

And he’d destroy the world to do it.

CHAPTER 12

LILY

The morning of the opera house, I woke with the taste of ash in my mouth and the phantom sensation of August's magic burning through my chest. Two hours. Maybe three. That's all I'd managed before the nightmare dragged me back—the same one that had haunted me since childhood, darkness spreading across a night sky, shadows reaching for me that I could never outrun, now wearing August’s face instead.

I lay there in the grey pre-dawn light, listening to the house creak around me, trying to remember what it felt like to sleep through a whole night.

“You look dreadful.”

I turned to find Syra in my doorway, already dressed, her expression carefully neutral.

“Good morning to you too.”

“It’s not a good morning. It’s the morning before we walk into certain death.” She moved into the room.” But you do look particularly dreadful, even accounting for that. Come downstairs. Everyone’s waiting.”

I followed her down to the kitchen where the others had gathered. Mira stood at the stove preparing tea. Garrick leaned against the counter beside her, too close to be casual, saying something that made her mouth twitch despite her obvious attempt not to smile.

“—completely serious,” he was saying. “The opera house has seventeen exits. I counted, personally, on three separate occasions.”

“You went to the opera house three times?” Mira’s tone was skeptical.

“I’m very dedicated to our collective survival.” His smirk was shameless. “Also, the architecture is stunning. Very romantic. You’d appreciate it.”

“I’m sure your interest was purely architectural.”

“Absolutely pure.” He reached past her for the teapot, his arm brushing hers. Mira moved away, but the faint color in her cheeks stayed.

Adeline stood by the window, rolling her eyes at her brother. “Garrick. Stop tormenting Mira and make yourself useful.”

“I am being useful. I’m providing crucial intelligence about escape routes.” He pushed off the counter. “And offering to escort our resident healer through said routes. For safety purposes.”

“Purely insufferable,” Mira muttered, but something soft flickered across her face when he wasn’t looking.

Marigold perched on a stool, quieter than usual, watching the adults with those too-old eyes.

And Beatrice sat at the head of the table, her leather satchel open before her, papers spread across the scarred wood.

“Lily.” She looked up when I entered. “Good. We need to go over the sequence one more time.”

Mira pressed a cup of tea into my hands. “Drink,” she said quietly. “Then eat.” A plate appeared—bread, cheese, something that might have been jam. “You haven’t eaten properly in days.”

I sat and drank. The tea was too hot, burning my throat on the way down, but it was real. Solid. Something to hold onto. My hands shook slightly around the cup—exhaustion or magic depletion, I couldn’t tell anymore. The room tilted just enough that I had to focus on Beatrice’s papers to keep the floor steady.

Mira’s eyes tracked the tremor. She didn’t comment, just pushed the plate closer.

“The demonstration begins at eight,” Beatrice said, pulling my attention to a rough sketch of the opera house layout. “Doors open at seven-thirty. We need to be in position by seven forty-five.”

She tapped the sketch. “Adeline and Garrick take orchestra seats here, center section. Mira and I sit front row—we're unknown to Elias, so we go as ourselves.” Her finger moved. “Lily, you're in the orchestra section as well. Close enough to reach August when the suppression takes hold.”

“A fire?” Garrick asked.

“A fire, but small and controlled. In the prop storage area backstage—here.” She pointed. “Close enough to create panic. Far enough from the stage that it won’t actually endanger anyone.”

“A fire,” Adeline repeated slowly. “In the Royal Opera House.”