Our sister always seems to know every little thing happening around Gorhail. If we are the only two with the ability to retrieve the cuff, and I didn’t retrieve it… “We’re not going to solve anything by standing here. Let’s go,” I say. “Lyria will knowsomething.”
Before we leave, Beau pauses in front of Viola. “I’m sorry we can’t bring Olivia back, but I promise we’ll stop at nothing until we find the killer. We owe you that at least.”
“Sy, we’ll meet you outside of the catacombs,” Beau says. “Take the left tunnel before the guardian’s chamber, and it’ll lead you back.”
I nod, and as I watch Beau cross through the walls behind Victor, I allow myself a smile. I owe more to Viola than she’ll ever know.
“Would you like to go first?” I ask, one foot out of the chamber.
“No,” she answers quietly, so I take the first step.
Now that we’re leaving with my brother, the darkness is less daunting. The quiet drip of water on the rocks is music to my ears, and the faint whistle of the wind through the cracks in the stone brings me calm.
Viola follows closely this time. Every so often, our fingers brush against one another as we walk, and every time, she lets out a quiet gasp and looks straight ahead until I move again.
“I owe you,” I say in a low voice.
“We’re even.” I hear her stifle a smile through the words.
This woman is an enigma. How can someone be from the same House as Rafael Grimm and be so… kind? Grimm destroyed lives, and Viola does the opposite. This is no longer about her magic or her sister. She didn’t have to bring Beau back. Victor was her end goal, not Beau. She brought him back for me.
“We’ll find out what happened to them, and we’ll bring Olivia justice.” I make her a promise, real this time.
Viola stops, turning her head toward me. Her eyes search mine for any truth to my promise. I don’t know if she finds it because her gaze cuts to the floor. “It was cruel, the way she died.”
After a brief pause, she continues, “Whoever killed Olivia wanted her to suffer. They knew about her fear of water, knew she didn’t know how to swim. She was forced to spend her last moments with her greatest fear until it swallowed her.”
I wince. I never thought of Olivia’s death that way. Unlike Beau and Victor, hers feels personal.
“It’s not Olivia they intended to kill.” Sometimes, I wish my lips would glue themselves together. Her eyes snap toward me. Even in the dim light, I can make out the hollowness.
“Doesn’t that make it worse?” She lets out a dry laugh.
“Why do you grieve someone who didn’t care enough to tell the world she had a sister?” It slips out suddenly, the burning question I’ve wanted to ask since I met her.
Sylas, you idiot. I almost hear Lyria chastising me, telling me I don’t get to police other people’s grief. She would be right, but I couldn’t stop the words. Viola cares too much about people, and it upsets me in ways I refuse to understand. Iwanther to be selfish for once.
“Despite everything”—she lifts her chin—“Olivia didn’t deserve to die, especially not in that way. I should never have let her go to a place full of monsters—”
“Is that what you think we all are?” The hurt in my voice takes me by surprise. Her words cut me open; even the aspiers awaken. “Monsters?”
Viola looks straight ahead, her throat bobbing when she realizes her face is inches away from a bone protruding out of the wall. Muttering a curse, she casts me a furtive glare before squeezing her way in the opposite direction.
But I’m faster. I reach for her hand, and… she lets me hold it.
We stand side by side, in between walls of stone and bones that reek ofseawater and decaying algae. The moment her eyes land on me, she tugs her hand away.
She huffs out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, monsters. Now I am stuck in a place I despise, because if I step out for even a second, someone will kill me for magic I never wanted. And who knows if we’ll ever find the killer? We’re powerless compared to Firstline, and they’ve given up.”
We’re notpowerless. There’s Lyria, whose brain works faster than all the Firstline officers combined; and Beau, who’s resourceful, with a reach that spans the Ten Provinces; and Gryff, who’ll always fight for justice; and me… I realize I’ll do anything for her.
“Viola.” I stumble on my words, swallowing them instead. I hate her magic perhaps more than she does, but she’s not a monster. None of us are. We’re different, but we’re not all bad.
“I’m not a fool, Sylas.” This is the first time she has said my name. It sounds so soft against the sharp edges of her tone. I want her to say it again and again, until it’s no longer an enemy to her. “The only reason you’re tolerating me right now is because I materialized Beau’s ghost and might be able to stitch it back with his body.”
It isn’t the only reason. The words die on my tongue. I cannot go there.
Her shoulders shake. Is she crying? No, she’s laughing, but it’s empty. “Will I ever have a choice in this life? I didn’t choose to have magic, didn’t choose to be born a Corvi. Gods, I didn’t choose to attend Gorhail. What is my life if I have no free will?”