I don’t like the sound of that.

“I’m moving our wedding up,” Cormac says.

“Okay. Why?” I ask. It’s honestly the last thing I expected to hear, and the last thing I think we should be worried about.

“To send a clear message to Arras that these are joyful times.”

“Oh, definitely,” I say in a flat voice. “Why not just alter everyone?”

“It’s not merely a message to our citizens.”

“It’s a warning to the terrorists, too?” I guess.

“Exactly. I want them to know they can’t scare me.”

And yet these are clearly the actions of a desperate man. Surely the revolutionaries will see that.

“So when?” I ask.

“I was thinking next week, once Alixandra has confirmed the new security measures are stable.”

“Next week?” I struggle to wrap my head around this. Marrying Cormac will give me access to his home, his office, his life. Everything I need and all that I hate.

“You will stay within the Coventry until security has prepared to transfer you here,” he informs me. “Say goodbye to Amie while you’re there.”

“She’ll be at the wedding, though?” My throat constricts on the question.

“Absolutely not,” he snarls.

“Why punish her? She has nothing to do with this.” My words are thick, coated in a mixture of fear and anger and disappointment.

“Someone tried to kill you tonight,” he reminds me. “I won’t put Amie in harm’s way. End of discussion.”

I’m frozen to the spot, trying to understand why Cormac Patton cares about what happens to my sister. I know there’s something missing, but I can’t quite add it up. “She’s not in danger.”

Cormac’s fist slams against his chair. “I will decide that. Amie will not be risked.”

“So you can use her against me?” I guess, glaring at him as my fingers twitch inside my gloves.

“Not everything is about you, Adelice.”

“What reason do you have to care about my sister?”

He presses his index finger to his temple. “You think I’m heartless, but perhaps you’ll finally understand me once we’re married. Thankfully, we’ll be married within the week.”

I gasp at this further change of plans. “I’m not ready.”

“It’s time to grow up, Adelice.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” I say in a quiet voice, not to be argumentative, but because it’s the truth. I thought I would have more time. Time to forget Erik. Or at least time to find another way to stop Cormac.

“Why? Because of your destiny?” he mocks. “Because you’re the Whorl?”

“I didn’t ask to be.”

“You think because some madman gave you a nickname it makes you special?” he demands. He grabs me and shoves me against the wall. “I determine who is special in this world.”

“What you do is far worse than a simple determination.” I brace myself against the plaster behind me. I can no longer keep it from spilling out. “You twist, Cormac. You twist the truth, nature, and worst of all, people. Especially yourself.”

“And now the Whorl will stop me, right?”

I consider this. I want to stop him. I need to. “I’m not sure anything could stop you.”

Except one thing.

My fingers lash out and grab for his strands. If I can catch them correctly, I can control him.

The only thing left is to manipulate him. Once he’s under my command, I can even unwind him. The possibilities are endless. All it took was realizing that he would never redeem himself—that he doesn’t want to.

But my fingers catch on his shirt.

Instead of ripping through it and down into the very matter that composes him, my fingers catch, fire bursting through them. I fall back as the flames dance inside my skin. I try to pull off the satin gloves, but Cormac grabs my wrists, pinning them in his strong grip.

“Do you think I would be stupid enough to remain unprotected around you?” he asks.

“They’re gages?” I say, and Cormac nods. “So much for trust.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Adelice. This is not a relationship based on trust. It never will be,” he says. “More gloves await you at the Coventry. You will always wear them in my presence until a more permanent arrangement can be reached.”

A tremble races through me at his threat. “And if I don’t?”

“I’m protected. Remember that,” he warns me.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“What is your plan? Are you going to kill me? Take my face? Alter my memory?” he asks with a laugh, stumbling back toward the mantel.

So he’s known all along that I planned to alter him. I showed my hand when I attacked Kincaid, and Cormac was smart enough to protect himself even after our arrangement. “You still want to continue this charade?”

“You cannot possibly understand how far I would go for Arras.” Squatting down, he reaches past the grate and places his hand in the fire, withdrawing a remnant of wood as I stare, unable to move.

He stands to face me, crushing the smoldering wood between his hands. It turns to ash, blackening his burned palms. He’s beyond anything mortal, like pain. He’s evolved past it.

Instead of staying pressed to the wall, I saunter toward him and jab a finger at his chest. “There will come a day, Cormac, when no amount of technology will save you, and not only will I be there, I’ll feel your life in my hands.”