Chapter Twenty-Eight Sylas
Alyria Parrish, Gorhail’s Deathbringer, youngest Firstline chief in history, MISSING since early January. She was last seen patrolling Gorhail Woods. DOTS offers half a million gold coins upon her safe return.
twenty-eight | sylas
Paltro leads me to the Penbryn Gardens behind the House of Arcane.
Nel Penbryn, one of the four founders of the House of Arcane, designed these gardens as a sanctuary for the winged insects of Gorhail Woods.
Six gazebos enclose a marble fountain in the center, and each gazebo acts as a trellis to multiple bright varieties of flowers.
On the rare occasions when it doesn’t rain, colorful wildflies flap their thin wings, buzzing from flower to flower until they stop at one of the brass bird feeders.
But today, the wildflies fly in circles far above the fountain.
“This is your first assignment on Firstline,” Paltro commands as we approach Rhodes, the overseers of the Houses of Arcane and Death, Lorne… and Viola.
What is she doing here, and why is she looking at me with murder in her eyes? I don’t have time to mull over the answer because everyone steps aside the moment we reach the fountain.
My knuckle flies between my teeth at the sight in front of me.
Fable Rowan’s body floats in a pond of rust-brown water, her once yellow hair splayed around her head like a peacock’s tail. Her razor-sharp eyes stare vacantly at the clouds above. It’s a sorry sight. I don’t like that she’s dead, but I also don’t care for Fable.
“Must we stay longer?” Lorne stifles a gag. He looks like he’s about to spill the contents of his stomach on the ground. In his defense, it reeks of stale blood and the sourness of death.
Around Fable’s neck is a clean cut across the throat. Nothing like—my eyes lower to her breastbone, where her Arkani dustmaker relic, an ornate silver pen, used to sit.
Now it’s gone.
This is the third heirloom relic taken—fourth, if we count Olivia’s fake one, the killer’s only mistake. I remember Mara’s comment at Dearly Departed, about how they were looking for more relics. How many more?
Different rituals have different requirements. And so far, they have one Aspieri relic, two Arkani relics, and we know they need Viola’s Mortemagi relic. We need The Founder’s Book of Relics now more than ever. I turn to Paltro to discuss my theory, but the slight flare of his eyes shuts my mouth.
“Why the hurry now, Magister Lawton?” Delaney asks. “Instead of running to us, you should have seen to it that this area was blocked off.”
“Of course, Overseer.” Lorne lowers his head. “But I was in the middle of a lesson with Magus Corvi when we happened upon the scene.”
Lorne is teaching her? My left shoe would do a better job at teaching her death magic.
Lorne knows nothing but a few party tricks.
The only reason he’s even a Magister is because he follows Delaney around like a wandering ghost. He is diligent, I’ll give him that, but he folds so quickly in the face of any danger.
As I watch him step closer to Viola, my fists clench. Suspicious or not, I don’t want him around my bonded mage, and Haal, she’s been avoiding my gaze since I arrived.
“Overseer Paltro—” Delaney adjusts her glasses.
“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 the scene 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.
The look in her eyes is worse than the first time I met her, when she actually thought I was a murderer. Now she looks at me with pain and contempt. She backs away, her voice breaking. “I hope you rot in the Underworld.”
Lorne notices her moving away from me then and hastens his pace. Fantastic. He’s just what we need.
“Viola, what happened?” He pulls her even farther away from me, and Raiku hisses. Lorne’s eyes drop to my aspier, and he scoffs.
“We’re late for our lessons,” Viola replies without looking at me. She forces a smile, then beckons Lorne along. “Let’s go.”