Chapter Thirty-Four Sylas #2
Following Viola’s directions, Lyria pulls up in front of a two-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac, the only one in the circle with a vaulted roof. “Be quick; we have less than an hour before we have to get back to Gorhail,” my sister warns as she and Beau settle in to wait for us in the car.
Viola opens the front gate with a squeak and we walk up the steps, our boots crunching the dead leaves and slightly overgrown grass.
To my left, rows and rows of dead rosebushes welcome me.
Viola pauses at them and sighs. One day, when this nightmare is over, I’ll take her to our home in Iserine.
We have three gardens, each twice the size of this lot. I’d love to show her the flowers there.
Every corner of the front patio crawls with spiderwebs.
Viola flips the switch next to the door, but the light doesn’t turn on—that’s the problem with nonmagi electricity; it is so inconsistent.
She reaches under the torn cushion of a bench and retrieves a silver key.
I hold in my surprise. Nonmagi have an interesting sense of security—anyone could get into their house with ease.
Viola unlocks the door and cracks it open. “Mother,” she calls out, catching herself. “Ava—”
No one answers, probably because no one’s here.
After two more calls, she gives up and we step inside.
This kitchen is the smallest I’ve ever seen, the dining table taking up most of the space.
As we squeeze between the chairs and the sideboard, I make out several pictures of Olivia and none of Viola.
I follow her up two flights of stairs to the attic that houses Rhea Corvi’s famed personal library.
She presses on a switch, and an old chandelier lights the room softly.
Piles of books sit in every corner, and old wooden crates are stacked on top of each other.
Viola crosses to the far-most bookshelf.
She runs a hand across the middle shelf, studying her fingers.
My eyes scan the room. Rugs are lifted, dressers uncovered, drawers half opened, and rows of shelves are missing books. “Someone’s been here.” Viola confirms my suspicions.
“We can’t worry about that right now, look for any book on relics.
” She doesn’t linger and, she runs through every book on the shelves, pauses to grab two letters from DOTS and tucks them into her jacket pocket, then moves on to the books on the floor.
She opens a box, half closes it, before moving on to the next.
She’s gone through nearly every crate in the room and found nothing.
Finally, she kneels next to a box bearing the embossed Gorhail logo.
“These are… Olivia’s belongings. They must have sent them back after she died. ”
She shuffles through the boxes, pulls out a book, holding it close to her chest, then tucks it inside her jacket pocket. When she notices me looking, she sighs. “Olivia’s favorite collection of stories. Fairy tales.”
I nod in silence and resume my search. I peek in one of the boxes.
It’s filled with all sorts of herbs and rare ingredients we use in classes.
An open crate holds several textbooks we’ve used across our apprenticeship to Magus.
Rhea Corvi didn’t only hide Viola from DOTS, she gave her everything she needed to teach herself how to be a mage.
“There’s a book missing,” Viola grumbles as she empties the contents of Olivia’s box on the floor. “Olivia came home the Monday before she died. She took a book with her, but I can’t find it.”
“What are you looking for?” I ask. “It’ll go faster if I help.”
“Ornate fabric cover, woven red, blue, and silver spine,” she says.
I freeze. There’s only one book in existence with a tricolor woven spine. The Founder’s Book of Relics.
“This is not your home anymore,” a voice snarls.
I whip around, Raiku on my hand. No one answered the door when we knocked, so I thought we were alone, but the woman who sat next to Viola at Olivia’s funeral stands in the doorway.
She pulls her frizzy braid over her shoulder, flattening her hair.
When she notices Scar around Viola’s forearm, her mouth twists in disgust. “I should have known you were the daughter of a who—”
“Do not—” I warn, but Viola shakes her head at me. Raiku’s eyes are on Scar. She coils and uncoils around Viola’s forearm, her eyes never leaving the woman’s. One wrong move, and Scar will kill her.
The woman walks up to Viola, paying Scar or me no heed.
I take a step, but Viola steps between the woman and me, tucking her arm behind her back. Scar hisses in disapproval, and both Raiku and Railesza watch her carefully. This is the first time I’m afraid that an aspier won’t heed their Aspieri’s command. But to my surprise, Scar stays put.
“Olivia was only a couple of months old.” The woman shakes her head like a madwoman.
“The old crone came back with my dead husband and a bastard child. For ten years, I had to watch her raise you, love you more than she ever loved my Olivia. When she died, I wanted to throw you on the streets, but Olivia loved you so much, I let you stay… then she was killed because of you.”
Viola’s lower lip quivers, and it takes every muscle in my body to not move. I want to whisk her away, to tell her she doesn’t have to suffer through the atrocities coming out of this woman’s mouth, that she has a home. With us. With me.
“You can blame me all you want”—Viola holds her head high—“but I didn’t kill her.”
“I wish it had been you they killed,” her so-called mother spews. Scar’s tail lashes against Viola’s arm, but she holds her in place. Raiku moves instead.
That’s all I can take, and I don’t want Raiku or Scar to slip and murder a nonmagi. I cross the room, my shoulder nudging Olivia’s mom as I weave my fingers with Viola’s, pulling her away from that vile woman. “Let’s go home.”