“Paltro’s looking straight at us from the balcony,” she whispers between clenched teeth.
I want to tell her that she’s wrong and kiss her in the middle of Hollow Tree without a care in the world. But she’s right. I might not care about what Paltro thinks, but she’s still a Mortemagi, and he won’t let me hear the end of it.
She runs a hand through her loose hair; the waves cascade to just below her chest, conveniently covering the House of Poison crest on the left pocket. I should probably send Lyria to Viola’s room to grab her some fresh clothes. Still, I fight back a smile. Lorne’s about to lose it.
“Viola,” Lorne barks as he stops in front of us. He appraises her from head to toe, his mouth twisting in disgust when his eyes land on the second Poison crest on the sleeve—Haal, she’s wearing one of my old Second-line shirts. “You’re inhisshirt?”
Viola looks at me, looks down at her shirt, then looks at me again. “This shirt fits you?”
I bite down my laugh, but Beau isn’t so gracious. He turns to the side, hiding the sound with a mockery of a cough that only antagonizes Lorne further.
“Report to Circle Three immediately. Lockdown has begun. And cover up that hideous serpent, for the love of Death,” he sneers, his eyes fixed solely on Viola.
My fists clench, but my sister catches on before I can say anything. “Magister Lawton… Lorne,” she says hesitantly. “Would you grant me clearance to continue research on my lifedrain theory? Given the circumstances…”
Lorne’s eyes shift to Lyria as he considers her request. “Of course, Grand Magus Archyr.” He loses his bite, his face relaxing as he speaks to my sister. “We could use your brilliant mind to give our mages an advantage through these unprecedented times.”
Unprecedented times. Funny how Lorne seems to forget that our ancestors lived through the Age of Grimm. And now he may be back.
“Please give me until this afternoon to get your request approved by Overseer Delaney,” he tells Lyria, and my sister thanks him with a smile.
It’s bizarre seeing him so docile, and my sister so civil with him. But Lorne has always respected Lyria for her work ethic, and while she thinks he is peculiar, she admits that he’s perhaps one of the brightest Mortemagi at Gorhail.
“Let’s go, Viola.” He steps to the side, stretching his arm ahead. “I don’t have all day.”
Viola inhales abruptly and briefly glances at me before beaming at Lorne. “I have to stop by my room for a shirt,” she says.
“Fine. I’ll grant ten minutes because I cannot stand the sight of this atrocity.” He shudders.
I wonder if he’s still talking about the shirt, or about me.
As I watch Viola walk away with him, something stirs in the pit of my stomach, that same feeling of belonging, of home. There might not be a bond, but Viola’s mine all the same.
“Horrible bond, isn’t it?” Beau drawls, and Lyria stifles a chuckle.
I elbow him in the ribs, and he gives out a pained laugh.
Right before she steps out of Hollow Tree, Viola turns to me, and for the first time since Mom died, my heart comes alive. Her eyes hold every beginning, every middle, and every end of all the stories I ever want to tell.
“Sylas.” Overseer Paltro touches my elbow, snapping me out of my reverie. Haal, why now? He beckons Beau, Lyria, and me to follow, and we fall into step with him as we head toward his office.
“Railesza is back where she belongs, I see,” he muses, nodding to my forearm. “Beau, I cannot demote you further. Going to the crypt to retrieve your father’s aspier without my authorization was… bold but foolish. So please compile the last twenty-five years of Hansel Archyr’s field reports. I want them on my desk by Monday.”
“Uncle,” Beau groans.
“Lyria, sweet child, please report to the infirmary. Darro is getting discharged today, and he’s been asking for you. Dismissed.”
My siblings leave at the same time, Beau cursing and Lyria telling Beau he needs to get started on the reports immediately.
“Sylas, you have the most powerful aspier in existence. You’ve been assigned to one of the most prestigious divisions of Firstline, and you’re well on your way to become Grand Master of this fine House one day. Yet you’re throwing everything away because of this… woman,” Paltro says as he leads me out of Hollow Tree. “Your parents would be so disappointed. A Mortemagi?”
I’m at a loss for words. He keeps reminding me, but I know in my heart that they would’velovedViola. And I’ve never said anything about wanting to become Grand Master. Was the whole Firstline reassignment his idea?
As the thought crosses my mind, he confirms it. “I’m pleased about your performance yesterday: fourteen kills. Viv Rowan had to throw away her case for dismissal. She was livid.”
The words are stuck in my throat. I can’t believe Paltro set this up just so I wouldn’t be dismissed from Firstline, when I’d rather give up my patch than contribute to what I now know are senseless murders. Iknowthat he’s trying to be a good guardian, that he’s trying to do what he thinks is best for Lyria, Beau, and me, but with every passing day I realize that this isn’t the life I want. “I want to resign,” I say.
Paltro stares at me. “You don’t mean that, Sylas. Especially not when we’re about to face one of the worst poacher uprisings since Grimm.” Paltro’s steps are heavy as we walk out of Hollow Tree. I wonder if now’s a good time to tell him about what Viola’s ghost said, or maybe he already knows, and he isn’t sharing.