Chapter XXXIII. Domenic #3
Domenic laughed. “Yeah, well, you could’ve worn a fresher shirt.”
She made a rude gesture, which only made him laugh harder.
Then she scooted around to face him and leaned her head against the brick wall.
“I think if I wasn’t so determined to resent you, I would’ve seen it years ago.
That you didn’t bond with Syarthis because you really were destined for something else.
Having now spent a thousand hours with your predecessors, I’m pretty sure you and I didn’t find Valmordion thawing that night in the Vault.
I think it started thawing that night, like it sensed you near it.
” Domenic blinked—he’d never considered that. “Also, you were a weird kid.”
“Yeah, I was.”
“Kind of a bummer to admit that my destiny is now Sy’s, though. What? Don’t look so creeped out. I don’t get a nickname for my wand?”
Domenic remolded his expression. But he couldn’t quite lift his eyes from Syarthis, still grasped in her hand. “How bad has it been?”
“Eh.”
“I’m serious. Please be honest. You know I’ve always worried about you.”
Hanna gulped and twisted Syarthis in her lap. “I might not be the Chosen One, but I’m a good magician.”
“I never suggested otherwise.”
“I know. I just … I don’t hate Syarthis.
I know I should. And part of me does. Not a day goes by when I don’t wonder if I could’ve crawled to it sooner.
But Syarthis isn’t like the other Living Wands.
I could wander its Archives my whole life and barely scratch its surface.
Do you know what it’s like to have lived the most intimate memories of people who’ve been dead for centuries?
To see the country debate the same problems over and over?
Sometimes I want to strangle Sharpe. He’s the kid, not me. ”
As she spoke, Syarthis’s tongue coiled around her pointer, and she twirled it absentmindedly, pleasantly.
“I don’t pretend it thrills me the way people duck for cover when Sy and I walk by,” she continued.
“I can feel their fear, you know. I can feel their hearts quicken, their muscles tighten. And the ones who don’t run away, they call themselves brave.
They have no idea how corporeal emotions are.
That when I focus, it’s all of a nudge, and they’re breathing easier. We—”
“Hanna,” he said tightly. “You can’t do that.”
“You mean I shouldn’t.”
“Yeah. You shouldn’t.”
“Well, it’s either that or I’m alone,” she challenged. “The day Iseul retires, either one person doesn’t flee from me, or it’s just me and Sy.”
Domenic didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t tell if she wanted him to condemn her to be alone or give her permission for it.
“So our suspects,” Domenic spoke instead. “Kester’s clean?”
Hanna shifted out of the way of a dripping icicle.
“Oh, Kester’s just bitter at the Order for not accepting them as a kid.
So they brave it up here and throw parties and commiserate with fellow academy rejects or dropouts.
Not exactly a mastermind. And that Norwood kid.
Based on Kester’s memories, all he’s done is show up here a week ago and blabber about Ellery.
Who’s his ex-girlfriend, by the way. That’s why he hates you. ”
Domenic stifled a smirk; how ironic that the once king of the academy favorites was jealous of him. Then he forced himself to sober.
“But Kester and Norwood both think they’re Winter magicians,” Domenic said. “Everyone in that bar does. Are they right?”
“Yeah. I think they are.”
He wrung out his hands. “So what do we do next, then? We still have no suspects on the traitor. We—”
“We do have a suspect, Dom. Kester wants Ellery to side with them. To make a case for Winter. To—”
He jumped to his feet. “No. Ellery already told me everything.”
“Really? And you still don’t think—”
“I said no, all right? It’s not her. I know it’s not her.”
Hanna grimaced. “So it’s like that?”
Domenic had never admitted it to himself, but he couldn’t deny it. Of course it was like that. It had always been like that.
“I’m sorry I was such an asshole about the two of you,” Hanna said. “I mean it. I see why you like her. You’ve always liked her. But what if you really are destined to fight? Half the Council thinks so. Kester thinks so. And if it came down to you or her, I’d take a torch to Ellery myself—”
“Don’t say it. Fuck, I love you, and I’m sure you mean it, but—”
“Well, what else am I supposed to hope for? Tell me, Dom! Tell me what to hope for! Because I’m not giving up. Not until you’re gone.”
Domenic considered telling her that the past wasn’t a guarantee of his future. But after poisoning Hanna with false hope for years, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not without being sure.
Yet without a word from him, Hanna stared vacantly into the distance. When she squeezed her eyes shut, so, too, did Syarthis.
Then their eyes shifted to him.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “If that’s how you feel about her, I …
I don’t have to tell the Council about the seeds, about Kester, about any of it.
I can keep looking for the traitor. There’s still plenty of Order magicians we haven’t questioned.
And there’s less than two weeks of Winter left.
Some cataclysms take years. We could still have time. ”
Domenic managed to nod, even as his doubt warred inside him—doubt that he and Ellery would live, doubt that he and Ellery would die.
But worse was his hatred, such hatred. Not at Hanna, but at everything.
Everything except the one person he was potentially meant to hate.
The true monster he’d maybe been born to slay.
Domenic paced, yet as he strayed onto trampled, snow-packed grass, his muscles automatically locked tight. His magic simmered. Like it knew he stood on Winter’s land.
A horrible realization dawned on him.
If Ellery Caldwell was truly his enemy.
If he couldn’t kill her.
If he loved her.
Then all along, Summer’s traitor had been him.