Chapter Forty-Five Viola
Aurelia, your thirst for revenge reminds me of what it’s like to be a Mortemagi. What if I told you there was a way to bring back your daughter? All you need is The Founder’s Book of Relics. Bring it to me, and I will grant you eternity.
forty-five | viola
Sylas.” I open the door of Founder’s Room to let him in. “Beau’s accompanying Lyria to St. Fabian’s in Riverview. They won’t let her stay at the infirmary—”
He doesn’t give me a second. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. I relax in the warmth his body provides, and he lowers his head until our foreheads meet.
Time stills.
His every breath plays the strings of my heart like a fiddle. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me, and I wish he would. I wish he would make me forget the horrors that await us. I wish we could go back to when our biggest problem was each other.
Pulling away, he stares at me for a second and lets out a slow exhale.
“Come with me.” He drags me past the kitchen and Lyria’s room, through the living room, past his bedroom, and behind the study area and Beau’s room to the large balcony outside.
In the daylight, the magnificent range of Mount Chazal stands in all her glory.
With the clouds gone, we can see its long waterfall cascade like silk into the sea.
Three spitfire hawks fly in a circle, their screech piercing through the distance.
Gorhail is so beautiful. One day, if Death allows, I wish to explore Mount Chazal and collect these tiny moments of nature’s perfection.
“Did you know your grandmother killed my mother?” He lets go of me, flexing his fingers.
For a moment, I don’t speak. Because I don’t know what to say.
His words are so ugly in contrast to the beauty that’s in front of us.
Of course Nan didn’t kill his mother. She was wrong for not telling me about my mother and sending Olivia to Gorhail to hide me, but now I know she had her reasons.
If Lyria’s predicament is a small glimpse into what Grimm’s magic can do, Nan was right to hide the cuff.
“Why would—”
“I saw it.” Accusation laces his words with venom. He finally looks at me, but I don’t recognize the Sylas I know. This one glowers at me like I’ve betrayed him, like I’m withholding truths that I’m unaware of.
“Sylas,” I start.
“Viola.” He stops me, and takes a sharp inhale. “Rhea Corvi didn’t just murder my mother. She killed your mother and father, too.”
“Enough.” I back away from him. His venom holds no truth. Is he spewing these lies to make me go away? Did Beau tell him of my plans to stand as bait?
He lifts his right forearm, and Scar slithers along, glaring at my cuff and hissing at it violently. It’s one thing to reject me, but must the traitor aspier so vehemently remind me of how she hates this side of me?
“It’s no surprise Scar refuses to have anything to do with you while you wear this.” His mouth curls at the cuff in disgust. “This cuff was used to kill her Aspieri, your mother.”
Scar’s head bobs.
The air around me grows thicker. I struggle to swallow, struggle to breathe.
My head is spinning. Nan would never kill Dad.
She mourned him every single day, kept him alive through every single story she told us about him, through every one of his favorite meals she made.
Why would she hurt so much for someone she murdered?
“You’re wrong.”
“Viola, you are my reason to breathe. Fuck, I’m in love with you.” Sylas cups my face, the gentleness of his fingers a stark contrast to the anger in his tear-filled eyes. “I have no reason to lie to you.”
One breath. He’s in love with me. Two breaths. Nan sent Olivia to her death to protect me. Three breaths. Was it to protect me, or my magic, or the cuff she knew I would inherit? The cuff that helped seal Willow away so Grimm couldn’t regain his magic.
I hold his stare for a moment, notice the tears pooling in his eyes. Gods, I love him, too, I love him like I’ve never loved anyone before, like I’ll never love anyone after him, but I can’t stand here and let him slander Nan.
“It could have been poachers.” The excuse spills out of my lips, a poor attempt to quell my racing thoughts.
Sylas’s mouth draws into a line.
Nan knowingly sacrificed Olivia, so the harrowing possibility of her murdering our parents for the same cause rings true. Gods, have mercy.
“We know there are Mortemagi poachers.” I offer yet another feeble attempt to defend her. I don’t know why. Maybe I owe it to the person I thought she was, to the years when she was the only one who kept me safe.
“My mother died because she was protecting you.” His voice breaks as he drops his hands to his sides. Tears stream down his cheeks, and I want to reach out to him. He is fighting against himself… over me, over whether I am worth the pain of the constant reminder of his mother’s death.
“Nan isn’t a murderer.” I gently push him away. “Maybe someone lied to you.”
“Vi, I saw a collection of memories from my parents, your nan, and you. A reader’s magic is always true.”
“Paltro has a million reasons—”
“Vi,” he says, his voice softer, his eyes drilling into mine. And right then, I realize this is the end of us. He will never let go of his prejudice of Mortemagi, and I will never apologize enough for the sins of my kin.
“I have no reason to lie,” he says, and it breaks me.
“Yes, you do,” I retort, my chin wobbling.
“You hate death magic. You’d latch on to any excuse for me to rid that part of myself.
” As the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back.
Sylas bonded with me, inherited my magic, which I now claim he despises.
But words, once sharpened, can only cut.
“Is that what you think of me?” He backs up toward the door, shaking his head. “That I am telling you all of this because I hate death magic? That I have some ulterior motive for you to destroy a part of yourself?”
I don’t know what I think. My mind is a collection of broken memories and the sudden revelation that my life is a lie. He’s telling me I was brought up by my parents’ murderer, who sent my sister to her death and killed the mother of the man I love.
“Gods, Viola.” He looks out to the skies, balling his fists.
My throat lumps with unspoken words. I am terrified that if I utter anything at all, I will unleash a river of rage. My head tells me that Sylas is telling the truth, but my sanity begs for a different story.
“Nan loved me.” I am trying to convince myself. My insides are numb. A knife could cut through my heart right now, and I would feel nothing at all.
“Did she?” His eyes flinch. At the same time, Railesza and Raiku awaken. They both look back and forth between Sylas and me. “Is it out of love that she killed your father? Your mother? Then sent your sister to her death?”
I say nothing.
“Your grandmother reported the highest number of unregistered crossmages to DOTS in the history of Gorhail.” He shifts his weight, and his aspiers won’t even look at me anymore, not even Railesza.
“Corvis are notorious purists. Why else would your mother, one of the deadliest mages to ever exist, give up her life to hide you?”
The reminder that I am the reason our world lost the Deathbringer slashes through my insides. If my existence is the cause of so much death and misery, then my choice is clear. The only thing I can do is to stop Grimm from regaining his full magic.
“My mother died protecting you.” Something inexplicable flashes across his eyes. At first, I think it’s anger, but it’s the slow realization that this will always hang between us, keeping me at the mercy of his forgiveness.
“What do you want me to do, Sylas?” I bite, hoping it drives him away. The sooner this is done, the sooner I won’t have to worry about his stopping me. “Apologize? For other people’s choices?”
“Vi.” He runs a hand across his face, blowing out a steadying breath. “Just give me your cuff, and let’s put an end to this. Paltro—”
“That’s what this is about?” I step back until my body presses against the concrete parapet surrounding the balcony. “Paltro hates me. He’s probably made up a mountain of lies so you stay away from me. Why should I give you my cuff?” What I don’t say is that I need the cuff to stop Grimm.
“If anything, do it for Lyria,” he pleads. “She… the night before… she went to the library to figure out how to return your lifeblood.”
My heart sinks. I would give up my life if I could return Lyria’s mind.
“So you’re using Lyria to manipulate me now?” As I speak the words, I want to throw up. I love Lyria like my own sister. “I’m not giving you my cuff, Sylas.”
Sylas takes a step forward, then stops himself, his expression morphing from disappointment to anger.
“Paltro was right. Mortemagi know nothing of loyalty.” He shakes his head.
“If you don’t care enough to sacrifice one stupid relic, don’t bother visiting my sister at St. Fabian’s.
In fact, don’t bother seeing any of us again.
I was wrong about you; in the end, you’re just another corrupt Mortemagi. ”
“Grow up, Sylas,” I force out, hoping my words push him further away. As his eyes flare at me in surprise, my insides fracture. “Life isn’t black or white. Maybe if you stopped trying to fit everything that goes against your beliefs into a box, you’d not have so much blood on your hands.”
I feel sick, but I need to be certain that he won’t come for me.
Without acknowledging the poison I just spewed, Sylas takes one last look at me, turns, and walks back into Founder’s Room with Scar still wrapped around his arm. I look out over the twisted beauty of this place, praying that crushing my own heart will be worth it.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” I climb the stairs of the Poisoned Stairwell without an aspier.
Ysenia is quiet for a short while. Then she sighs.
I’m sorry. I asked around. You need to understand her choices.
I’ve known Grimm, Viola. I’ve seen all he can do.
Rhea placed her duty toward the people first. Although, I don’t agree with her actions—she could have explained the situation to the Deathbringer instead of murdering her and your father.
Sylas was telling me the truth, and I made him believe he was selfish and threw his vulnerability in his face.
I hope that someday he understands why I did what I did, even if he never forgives me for it.
If I hadn’t driven him away, he would’ve tried to stop me.
Of course, none of it will change the ugly words spoken today.
Footsteps echo behind me.
Bloody saints, I wish Sylas had left me alone long enough for me to wallow in self-pity about losing the greatest love I’ve known, to grieve a life I could have had, to further bury the pain of Nan being a murderer.
I’m not ready to talk things through, and I am certainly not ready for him to talk me out of stopping Grimm.
Viola, Ysenia screams.
I sidestep Delaney’s hit by a second, nearly tripping on the stairs.
“Clever girl, foolish heart,” Delaney says, regaining her footing. I don’t wait for her to summon Gods-know-what, and I bolt. Ysenia guides me to the House of Death. Delaney won’t risk being seen in public. By now, Paltro must have notified Firstline, and everyone must be looking for her.
I find the door to my hallway with ease. Damn the Gods, it’s empty. I run across until I reach Circle Three. Empty. Where are all the students?
In the far corner, light filters out of Lorne’s office. I jerk open the door and bless the Gods.
“Lorne,” I scream. Never in my life could I have thought I’d be happy to see him. “Delaney… she… help me.” I stumble into his arms, and he catches me effortlessly, pressing me against his chest.
“I will most certainly help you, darling.”
Then everything goes black.