Beau and I leave Sylas and Lyria chatting with the officer as we walk down the corridor and make our way to the holding room.
When we step in, I bite down a gasp.
Victor sits in the middle of the white room, at a lone white table, hands cuffed and feet bound. His head lifts at Beau. “Was this really necessary?”
Beau adjusts his collar but doesn’t reply.
Firstline is still so cruel, my ghost comments.
I clear my throat. “Hi, Victor… er, I… I’m sorry about the restraints.”
He cleaves your life in four, and you are offering sympathy. She’s been a lot more vocal since our conversation in the library last Thursday, and right now, I wish she wasn’t.
Victor nods, then lowers his head.
“Tell me about Olivia’s last day.” We don’t have long, and I refuse to leave here without answers.
Victor looks up, considers me for a moment. “The last time I spoke to her was the night before I died. She mentioned she was going to leave Gorhail. Otherwise, business as usual.”
My breath catches. She was trying to leave. Does that mean she was really considering coming to Osneau with me? Did the killer find out? “Who else knew?”
“Everyone. She wasn’t distraught or anything. Lorne had planned a getawayfor them to Wanora after her promotional exam. I think he was looking to move there for a research position at the local museum.” Victor holds my gaze. He chews on his lower lip, then sighs. “I’m sorry, Viola. I really am.”
Oh. Olivia wasn’t going to leave for me; she was planning to leave with Lorne. Now her hesitation when I mentioned Osneau makes sense. I blink hard; I’m not crying here.
As I stand to the side, trying to quell the knot in my stomach, Beau takes the seat opposite Victor. He pulls a form from his jacket and lays it flat for Victor to see. “We think there’s a link between the dead family lines and stolen relics. Most of these families went to school around the same time. The only person still alive is your—”
“Mom.” Victor jerks his hands forward, but the chains hold him still. “Mom’s been through enough. She doesn’t even speak most days. Did anyone even tell her where I was?”
His eyes are red with anger or despair, I don’t quite get a read. But my heart breaks all the same, watching him hang on to Beau’s next words, and knowing that our ask will shatter him.
“Could we…” Beau tries, looking straight at Victor. “Could we take a reader to her?”
“No.” Tears well in his eyes, and my heart drops at the agony in his voice. “You can’t do that. No one’s authorized to see her other than me. And… I haven’t seen her in weeks. Please, Beau.”
Beau holds Victor’s gaze for a moment, then, without acknowledging him, coldly slides the form in front of him. “This is an authorization form. We’ll make sure she’s taken care of in case anything happens to you.”
“Beau…” Victor pleads, slightly shaking his head. “Please don’t do this.”
The room begins to feel small, and I feel like an intruder. I clear my throat, and Beau glances at me, then sighs. “We don’t have all night.”
Victor looks at him a second longer, then nods.
“In case anything happens to me…” Victor mulls over Beau’s words, lowering his head, tears dripping on his manacled wrists. “You’ve just confirmed they’ll put me on death row for a crime I didn’t commit. Myonlycrime was misleading you, Viola, and I could beg for your forgiveness for eternity, but it wouldn’t return your years.”
I look down, remembering Priya charged him with the murder of a Mortemagi who doesn’t exist.
In a way, he murdered you, the ghost comments. By Death, I wish she would stop.
“You don’t get it. People like you and your siblings, and even you, Viola,” he says through his tears. “What do you even have to worry about? The Archyrs could murder a room of people, and Paltro would erase all their charges. While I’ve had to fend for myself since I was a child.”
Beau flinches but doesn’t say a word. He cannot. Sylas was indirectly responsible for the death of a unit, and nothing happened to him.
“And you, Viola, the Corvi cuff is so valuable, they’d bend over to let you step on them.”
I think of how Priya saved me from execution and how leadership at Gorhail kept quiet. Victor is right. This world is unfair, but we don’t choose our blood; we can, however, choose to alter our legacy.
“I’ll testify that there was no Mortemagi,” I say, and Beau’s head snaps toward me. “As long as you sign the form.”