I sidestep Delaney’s hit by a second, nearly tripping on the stairs.
“Clever girl, foolish heart,” Delaney says, regaining her footing. I don’t wait for her to summon Gods-know-what, and I bolt. Ysenia guides me to the House of Death. Delaney won’t risk being seen in public. By now, Paltro must have notified Firstline, and everyone must be looking for her.
I find the door to my hallway with ease. Damn the Gods, it’s empty. I run across until I reach Circle Three. Empty. Where are all the students?
In the far corner, light filters out of Lorne’s office. I jerk open the door and bless the Gods.
“Lorne,” I scream. Never in my life could I have thought I’d be happy to see him. “Delaney… she… help me.” I stumble into his arms, and he catches me effortlessly, pressing me against his chest.
“I will most certainly help you, darling.”
Then everything goes black.
Announcement:Dispatch Firstline along all borders. No one leaves any province until we’ve apprehended Grimm and Aurelia Delaney. Kill poachers on sight. Lock up all crossmages—sealed or unsealed.
RODRIC PALTRO, NEWLY APPOINTED CHIEF OF FIRSTLINE
forty-six | sylas
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1939
The woman I love is the reason my mother was killed.She didn’t choose her fate, I tell myself for the tenth time today. Of course she was in denial and lashed out at me. I broke the tapestry of her life and expected her to weave everything back together with the snap of my fingers.
I come to terms with a single truth: I am an idiot who could’ve handled things better.
“I cannot tell if you’re sad about Lyria or sad that Viola isn’t here yet,” Beau whispers in a poor attempt at a joke as we stand outside of St. Fabian’s Ward for Altered Minds, the white two-story building that looks like a coal factory with the sheer number of black uniforms going in and out to visit Lyria. So many people. Except Viola.
“Shut up,” I tell Beau between clenched teeth. I haven’t told him about the memories Paltro showed me yet, and I wish he would stop reminding me of what an asshole I am.
At the same time, Lorne walks out of the building. He notices us, sighs, then approaches us with slouched shoulders and sunken eyes, pausing a couple of steps away.
“Thank you for coming,” Beau and I say at the same time, our tones clipped.
“Lyria doesn’t deserve this.” He shakes Beau’s hand, then mine, holding the handshake a second too long. His gaze trails past us, landing on St. Fabian’s brass name plaque. He blinks a couple of times, the beginning of a tear forming at his inner lid.
Beau and I exchange an uncomfortable glance. I cannot decide whether this is part of his usual theatrics; he’s not known Lyria for long.
“I’ve recommended her for an honorary Magus Principalis promotion. I cannot believe we’ve lost such a brilliant mind.”
Beau tenses at my side. We haven’tlosther, but he’s not the first to be talking about Lyria like she’s dead—even Paltro commented on his disbelief that Lyria wasgone.
“Thanks.”
Lorne nods and walks down the steps toward his car. Perhaps he thought it was a nice gesture, but what’s Lyria going to do with a promotion when she can’t even function?
A moment later, Gryff steps out the front door, his Firstline uniform traded for a House shirt and black trousers. Whoever stands before us is a morose version of our friend, like he’s the one who died instead of Lyria’s mind. He rubs his eyes, the dark circles more apparent in the daylight. “Grayson says they’re assigning her a private room, and they’ve commissioned some of DOTS’s best readers to untangle her memories.”
“It’s the least they can do,” I reply, considering that Lyria’s mindtrap was irrefutable proof that Grimm has infiltrated Gorhail. News caught on like wildfire, and by the evening, even the Common Ministry of Draterra was aware and pressuring DOTS to come clean about the real reason behind the Gorhail murders.
“Come with me,” Gryff says. Beau and I follow him inside the ward. It’s as sterile as Riverview Prison, terrifyingly white. I hate it. Hate that my sister has to spend her days staring at white walls or out a window facing a frozen lake and dead trees. But we had no choice; our home in Iserine is too dangerous, and Gorhail is now a minefield of Firstline officers who are quick to throw any remotely suspicious mage in prison.
Grayson reassured us that he would personally oversee her treatment, and as our guardian, Paltro signed off on her admission because one of DOTS’s readers deemed both Beau and me as too emotional to make rationaldecisions. He wasn’t wrong. Beau has fought with two healers and three readers since yesterday. And between learning about my mother’s killer and watching my sister’s unblinking eyes, I cannot stop thinking about Viola. I called her a corrupt Mortemagi, when all she’s ever done is prove that Mortemagi can be good. If she hadn’t refused to hand over her stupid cuff, it wouldn’t have gotten as ugly as this. She was angry; I’m certain she didn’t mean her words. Maybe after we leave Riverview, I can apologize and convince her to surrender the Corvi cuff and get her own.
“I’ve resigned from Firstline,” says Gryff, pulling me back to the present. My jaw falls open. Firstline has been his dream since we were five years old; it was his reason to live and breathe, much to my sister’s chagrin.
“Someone’s finally seeing reason…” Beau drawls, and I glare at him.
“Why?” I frown.