Chapter 3: So This Is What Favoritism Looks Like

Aria’s POV

The crystal in my palm flickered with a rune. That’s Black Fen, the spirit-walker who had once traded part of my wolf’s essence for Lycus’s life. Our transaction had ended. Why was he calling me now?

A chill crawled down my spine. I rejected the call and muttered, “Wrong rune. Spam.”

Lycus looked up from the table. “Foreign signatures again? I’ll have someone re-ward your crystal pattern tomorrow.”

Before I could reply, his own wristband chimed. It was soft, private, a tone I’d never heard him use for council business.

It must be Sandra.

Guilt flickered across his face. He declined and said quickly, “Council matter. I’ll take it in the hall.” Then he left.

I stared after him, my fingers tight around the crystal. Beside the window, the moon-glass whistle I used for ward tuning glimmered faintly. It could pick up the nearest conversation if I wanted it to. I’d never used it that way until now.

I drew a thread of energy into it. The bowl of light brightened, clearing to show Lycus in the hall, back turned, voice soft and low. “I’ll come to you soon.”

Sandra’s voice answered, sweet and bright. “You’re wonderful. Listen, tomorrow’s unveiling at Vane Hall, the Devotion ward set… May I come? They say it’s Sundar’s work. Everyone knows that you are hiding behind Sundar’s name.”

Lycus hesitated. “I’m not Sundar.”

“Oh, don’t lie,” she said playfully. “Whenever the Vane name rises, Sundar’s patterns appear. Heart of the Ocean, River Spine. Those designs speak of you. Who else would weave for you so faithfully?”

My throat tightened. Every line she named was mine.

She continued, softer now. “I always wanted to be a Weaver. But fate won’t let me. We’re bound, my love, so let me borrow Sundar’s name for a day. Let them see me the way they see him.”

I gripped the edge of the table.

After a pause, Lycus murmured, “Tomorrow… I’ll tell them you are Sundar’s hand.”

Joy burst from the whistle. “I love you, Lycus!”

The bowl dimmed as I cut the link. My stomach turned. Years of work, my sleepless nights, handed over to please her. So this was favoritism.

I steadied myself and reopened the crystal to Black Fen.

The spirit-walker’s voice came dry and amused. “Well. The little Weaver returns. Shall I take Vane’s wolf this time instead of saving it?”

“I don’t care what you take,” I said. “I need something done.”

He chuckled. “Five years ago you swore you’d die for love. What changed?”

“I stopped dying for it.” My voice didn’t shake. “Deal?”

A pause, then a hiss of laughter. “Deal. Tell me.”

I told him. He sounded almost pleased. “Simple enough. Watch your crystal closely.”

The connection faded.

Moments later, Lycus came back, composed again. “Aria, you can’t come to the unveiling tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

He avoided my eyes. “Sundar’s identity must stay secret. After tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you.”

He left before I could answer.

My crystal glowed again. It was a formal missive from the Council: Aria Thorn, you are invited as an honored guest to Vane Hall’s Devotion unveiling. A second pulse followed from Black Fen: A courtesy for a debt remembered.

So Sandra wanted Sundar’s glory? Let her try to hold it.

I didn’t sleep. By dawn, I was dressed in a plain pearl-white gown, hair braided, cloak clasped tight.

Vane Hall loomed over the ridge, its marble towers cutting through the mist. Wolves in fine robes filled the courtyard. I stepped through the archway and felt eyes turn toward me.

At the far end of the hall, Lycus stood with Sandra on his arm. She gleamed in gold and soft fur, his hand resting easily at her waist. He looked at her the way he’d once looked at me.

I straightened my shoulders and walked in.

The murmur spread as I crossed the floor. Lycus’s head snapped up. Surprise flashed, then anger. He shook off Sandra’s arm and strode toward me.

“Who told you to come?” he demanded, gripping my wrist.

“The Wardens’ Circle,” I said calmly.

A senior warden appeared beside me, robes heavy with sigil thread. “Alpha Vane,” he said evenly, “Miss Thorn is an honored guest. Please.”

Lycus released me, jaw tight. “Stand at the back. Don’t speak.”

He turned away, returning to Sandra’s side. She leaned close, smiling against his ear, her gaze sliding to me with triumph.

I moved to the edge of the hall. At the front, under a hanging tapestry, stood the display table draped in silver cloth. Beneath it waited the Devotion lattice, my work. Twelve interlocking rings bound by a crescent arc, every sigil carved by my own hand.

Lycus guided Sandra forward. Murmurs rose in approval.

When the cloth lifted, gasps rippled through the crowd. The lattice shimmered like water.

Lycus’s voice carried. “We owe Sundar more than words. His hands—”

“Her hands,” Sandra interrupted brightly, stepping into the light. “Surely it’s time to tell them, my love. Let the hall know who has been hiding behind Sundar.”

Whispers swept the crowd. Lycus hesitated, then raised her wrist. “In honor of our bond, the Weaver of Devotion is—”

A clear chime cut him off. The warders’ truth-bell. No one had noticed it set above the dais until it rang.

The senior warden smiled thinly. “Before declarations, a demonstration. The Devotion lattice answers its maker. It lights up to their pulse.”

Sandra’s smile faltered. “Of course.” She pressed her palms to the silver frame and pushed energy into the rings.

Nothing happened.

She tried again. A faint flicker, then darkness.

A ripple of murmurs.

Lycus’s expression hardened. A bead of sweat traced Sandra’s temple.

The warden folded his hands. “Perhaps the true maker will indulge us?”

All eyes turned to me.

Sandra’s voice dropped, desperate now. “The moonlight weakens the net. That’s all.”

Karl Draven, Lycus’s beta, stepped forward. He pressed his hand to the lattice. It flared weakly, enough to prove the ward still lived. He withdrew, gaze brushing mine. “Sundar is not here today,” he said evenly. “But his student is.”

The hall went silent.

I could have stepped back. Instead, I crossed the floor.

I laid my hand on the lattice. The sigils recognized me at once, awakening with a soft hum that spread like breath through the rings. Light rolled outward until the entire structure glowed. Silver, then white, then pale blue like moonfire on water.

The hall drew a single, stunned breath. When I lifted my hand, the lattice stayed bright, alive.

Lycus stared as if he’d never seen me before. Then pride flickered, quickly buried under guilt.

Sandra’s lips trembled. “Pretty trick,” she said too lightly. “Anyone can mimic resonance.”

“Anyone,” I agreed. “But not everyone can create it.”

The senior warden bowed slightly. “Thank you, Weaver.”

The word struck the air like a gavel.

Lycus started toward me, but I stepped back as he reached me. 

Let him learn what devotion looks like when it stands on its own feet.

I turned to the crowd, the light of the lattice reflecting in their eyes. In ten days, I would be gone from this place, from him, and everything that had kept me small.

Favoritism had built these walls but my craft had opened the door. And I intended to walk through it.