Page 48 of Blood Feast

Hoyefe folded it back for him. The Ashes’ virtuoso swordsman somehow managed to look groomed and gallant while they were all covered in soot or sweat. “I can have you looking your best in minutes, but even I have my limits.”

“Can we help with anything else?” Karege’s legendary cloud of hair was frizzing around his head in the dry heat. The burly mercenary took a step closer, and glass crunched under his sandal.

Mak winced. “Not much we can do at this point. Lio’s using the last of the glass he made from the ingredients everyone brought, and it took nights for that to reach the proper consistency.”

Callen eyed the failed attempts that littered the floor. Perita’s husband had abandoned his shirt too, his Tenebran constitution clearly unused to this heat. He picked up a chipped cup without a stem and carried it over to the worktable. “Anyone else need a drink?”

“I wouldn’t use that one,” Uncle Argryos advised. “It exudes unstable jinn magic.”

Callen carefully set the vessel back down. Uncle Argyros poured him some coffee in a mundane copper cup, then added a generous splash of liquor.

Lio snatched his work in progress out of the heat, levitating it back to him. He took his tongs to the molten glass, shaping the rim of the chalice with the greatest care. To reveal the flowerpetals trapped within, he thinned the glass. But if he thinned it too much, all his effort to preserve the magic inside would be ruined.

“We should let the fellow concentrate on his art.” Hoyefe shooed Tendo toward the stairs leading up into the tower.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tendo said. “I’ll drag this silkfoot out of here myself before I let him leave Cassia at the Ritual circle.”

“I would never do that to her!” Lio said. The glass panes in the shelves rattled. The chalice before him whined.

“I’d better stay too,” Mak said.

Lyros nodded. “In case we need more wards.”

“What this artist needs is inspiration.” Tendo’s eyes narrowed. “Threats are very inspiring. Work faster, or I’ll break your toes. You don’t need those to make glass.”

“I need them to stand for the ceremony!” Lio protested.

Tendo waved a hand. “You heal fast.”

Lio paused to bite his tongue and lick his tongs. He applied the bloodied metal to the cup again, painting the rim with his blood. More magic infused the glass. He prayed the fragile material wouldn’t shatter this time. A scrap he had trimmed off the piece exploded at his feet.

Mak and Lyros trapped the flying glass in a warding spell, then shoved it out of the way into the pile.

Hoyefe strolled through the cleared path. “I shall work some magic of my own upstairs and be waiting with everything ready. The moment the cup is finished, I’ll melt our wayward Redblood down and pour him into his avowal robes.”

“That sounds painful,” Lio muttered, “but thank you.”

Hoyefe beckoned to Callen. “Come along, fellow warrior. It falls to us to save the day.”

Callen grabbed the bottle of liquor and followed Hoyefe out. Their auras drifted upstairs while Lio kept his gaze on his work.

“It looks finished,” Tendo said.

Lio shook his head.

Lyros peered over Lio’s shoulder. “The magic isn’t complete.”

Tendo sighed and threw up his hands.

Lio gathered his thelemancy. Mak and Lyros conjured another shadow between the glass and everyone else.

“It is no easy feat to capture eternity in a single object,” Uncle Argyros said. “The ceremony will wait.”

As grateful as Lio was for the reassurance, he knew that if this cup broke, too, it would be too late to start over.

What’s wrong?Now it was Cassia’s turn to ask.

If I tell you it’s nothing, I suppose you won’t believe me, either.

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