“High Magus Archyr, please begin your scene report,” Paltro interrupts her. He gives me a nervous glance. So much for having faith in me. Then he turns his back to me, addressing Rhodes and the two overseers.
Lorne pulls Viola aside, and my legs jerk forward, but Raiku gently tightens around my wrist, reminding me that I shouldn’t cause a scene that could get me thrown out of this investigation.
Pulling out a notepad and a pen from my jacket, I begin to draw thescene and scribble some words in between stolen glances. I need to make sure Lorne isn’t encroaching on Viola’s space.
“Should we send the students home?” Paltro asks quietly, drawing my attention to his conversation. I stop scribbling. Sending students home is the most divisive topic at Gorhail. The institute will never concede to not being able to offer the protection they promised at enrollment. They’d rather allow more students to die than admit failure.
“Overseer Paltro,” Rhodes says. “We don’t know that these murders are connected.” The dean’s thin lips lift ever so slightly, and her face flushes with a faint tinge of red. “This one happened within our walls, but the other ones were unfortunate poacher incidents—you’ve read the DOTS reports.”
Paltro’s eyebrows shoot up. “Dean Rhodes, pardon me, but it is too big a coincidence to have four student deaths so close together and not become suspicious. Have we considered that the murders could be a distraction from something else?” he tries. “Something… bigger.”
“He has a point, Matilda,” Delaney agrees. “It seems like we’re dealing with a serial murderer. Missing relics, two young men killed by Mortemagi poachers, and two young women killed in a near-identical way.” I never thought I would ever agree with Delaney, but here we are. She’s making more sense than Rhodes.
“Are you saying that I’m failing to run my institution?” Rhodes smiles without her eyes, and Delaney pinches her lips together. “On that, classes should still resume today. It’s high time we return to some normalcy within these walls, lest you and Rodric continue to fabricate more murder mysteries.”
Both Paltro and Delaney try to argue, but I drown them out. “Vi— Magus Corvi,” I call out. “May I have your witness account to report to Firstline?” I hate that my initial act as a Firstline officer is to misuse my rights to speak to her.
Lorne grabs her elbow, and Raiku hisses, nearly falling from my hand.
Delaney rolls her eyes and beckons Viola forward. At first, she doesn’t move, but then Delaney huffs out, “Magus Corvi, for the love of Death, we don’t have all day.”
Viola still doesn’t look at me as she drags her feet toward me, and a strange feeling stirs in my gut. I couldn’t possibly have done anything to upset her; this is the first time I’m seeing her since we came back from Priya’s house. Could she be sad that I’m leaving for Firstline?
Delaney clears her throat, and I look past Viola. “Magister Lawton will also be happy to give his account after Magus Corvi.” Delaney pats Lorne on the back. He puffs out his chest like a peacock, reeking of self-importance. I don’t intend to hear him out.
Viola follows me away from the crowd toward one of the gazebos, her fists balled at her sides. This can’t be about me. Did Lorne do something to upset her? I tuck the notepad and pen back in my jacket and pull out the honeyfig bread.
“Are you—” I’m about to ask her if she’s all right when she interrupts me.
“When did you find out that Olivia was a nonmagi?” The coldness of her voice takes me by surprise; it cracks through the wall I’ve built between us.
My eyes trail over to the pond, and I sigh.
Fable Rowan was a pain when she was alive. In death, she is worse. Using her last words to ruin my life is something only she would do. It wasn’t even about her secret affair with Lorne; it was always about her blaming Dad for her mother’s death.
“Viola—” I hold my breath, knowing the second the wall breaks, every carefully placed brick around my heart will break, too.
“Answer me.” Her voice nooses around my neck; it’s chilling and terrifyingly calm. Her eyebrows twitch, her lips quiver, and she searches my face for an answer I don’t want to give.
“The night she died,” I say, certain it will pull the noose.
I look her straight in the eyes. If this is the last time, I want to memorize every shade of brown, every flicker of red in her irises. I have never regretted trading a secret as much as I am right now, as I watch her complete the puzzle. Every piece she stitches chips away at her heart. And I can only watch as it shatters, alongside mine.
“You—” She chokes on her words, her eyes filled with sadness.
I want to close the distance between us. I want to hold her and wipe away her tears.
“You are the reason Ole left Gorhail that night.” Her face tilts up, daring me to contradict her.
I want more than anything to tell her that none of it is true, that I did it out of despair to try to save my brother. The longer my silence lasts, the more her eyes well with sorrow. She thinks I’m responsible for her sister’s death.
“I told Sierra she was a nonmagi.” I reach for her, trying to explain, then stop halfway, letting her decide if she wants me to hold her. She looks down at my hand and shakes her head.
The tears are free-flowing now, down her cheeks, down her neck. She is breaking in front of me, because of me, and I cannot put her pieces back together. I suck in my cheeks and look up at the sky. Haal, I don’t know how to fix this.
“It wasn’t your truth to share,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I— I can’t believe I trusted you. I can’t believe I…” She frowns, tears still trickling down her cheeks. She looks down at my hands, then back up at me, sucking in her lower lip.
“Vi—” I press my hands into the honeyfig bread I got for her this morning.