Chapter Forty-Six
NIC
I fish out the last of the bullet from Laurel’s chest, trying not to glance at her lifeless face. In it, I see Paol Chen’s body going limp and Lola’s eyes rolling back in her head.
Enzo flits around Lola’s bed.
“How’s her heart rate?” I ask, trying not to betray how worried I am.
“It’s not her heart rate I’m concerned about,” Enzo says, pulling a thermometer from her mouth. “I can feel that, and it’s steady. Her temperature is concerning, though.”
My stomach jolts. “Fever?”
“No. She’s freezing.”
I whirl to the closet and pull down a pile of blankets. “Put these on her. Then get a fire going in the hearth over there.” I nod toward the corner.
He sets to work tucking the comforters around her body as I return to Laurel’s wound, and we work in tense silence for several moments. Enzo’s movements are as rigid as mine, and I don’t have to share a heart with him to know he’s scared, too.
What if Lola doesn’t wake?
“I have something I’ve been curious about,” he says, as though to distract himself from the fear, “ever since the tournament.”
I pull medical thread through a needle. “Hmm?”
“The bioluminescent algae in that pond near your vault . . . Was it supposed to look like Donnic? The constellation?”
I let out a strained chuckle as I stitch Laurel’s wound closed. “It’s surprising you’d remember your constellations, considering how little you cared to learn them.”
“Pops told Donnic’s myth about a hundred times,” Enzo says, finishing with the blankets and crossing to the fireplace. “Remember my first midnight service? He took the liberty of telling the story of how you got your name during my anointing.”
I finally meet his gaze. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
Enzo grimaces. “Yeah. But you were a pretty special kid. I looked up to you a lot back then.”
A sour lump rises in my throat. Hearing him speak of our childhood together unravels something deep in my soul I didn’t realize I’d knotted up.
For years, I’ve been craving connection, wishing I could share my thoughts and memories with someone, and here he is, remembering all those moments himself.
I don’t need to be able to speak my truth to Enzo. He lived it with me.
“I guess I thought you didn’t believe that stuff anymore.” He digs through the small basket of wood next to the hearth for kindling.
“Things like that constellation,” I say carefully, picking through my words so I can convey my meaning without triggering my curse, “can carry meaning beyond the religious observances they represent to some.”
Enzo nods, arranging the kindling. “You know . . . I used to think you spoke like that to be an ass.”
I laugh as I tie off the medical thread. “You weren’t cagey about that particular opinion, brother.”
“You’re really cursed, too, aren’t you.” He says it like a statement instead of a question.
I cannot confirm, so I just shrug.
Pursing his lips, he nods at Lola. “How long until she wakes up?”
My stomach churns. “An Unbreakable Lie has never been broken before.”
“So you don’t know?”
I try not to let the panic of that statement affect my work on Laurel’s wound. “There’s nothing we can do but wait.”
He grimaces, striking a match and tossing it into the fireplace. “She’s never going to trust me again.”
“If you wanted her to trust you,” I say as I clean blood from Laurel’s skin, “maybe you could have tried being trustworthy.”
“I would die for her.” His tone hardens.
“Die for her . . . and yet keep her from her family while also hiding her own magic from her. Seems reasonable.”
He scowls, turning to me as the fire crackles to life. “I was going to tell her.”
“When, Enzo?” I fling the pile of soiled cloth into the hamper across the room with far more force than necessary. “When were you going to tell her the truth?”
“When the curse was broken and we were free.”
“So when you didn’t need her anymore.” I cross to the cupboards and riffle through for gauze and tape to dress Laurel’s wound now that it’s clean.
“I’ll always need her,” he retorts.
“Want her, need her . . . ,” I say through gritted teeth. “Funny how neither of those things are about loving her.”
“I do love her. She’s my closest friend. The sibling I needed.”
I flinch as my anger flares. “Loving people isn’t about what you want or need, Enz,” I say coldly. “It’s about their wants and needs mattering as much to you as your own.”
He stalks back to Lola’s bed and presses the back of his hand to her forehead.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I recognize that if I hadn’t convinced you to help me steal that moonshard, Laurel never would have become what she is now, you wouldn’t have been cursed, Lola would have gotten to live her life the way she always dreamed, and I .
. . well. I would probably still be a thief, but at least you wouldn’t hate me. ”
“You believe I hate you?” I ask, low and quiet.
He avoids my eye. “You should.”
My stomach sinks as my heart breaks wide open. I set the gauze on the bed next to Laurel and cross to him, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You’re my little brother.”
I cannot say I love him. The words are trapped in my throat, locked away behind the magic that keeps my truths. But I hope he hears them anyway.
He deflates with a sigh, dropping into the chair next to Lola’s stretcher and propping his elbows on his knees to knead his fingers through his curls.
I look down at Lola. She’s so pale, so still. Gods, if my Unbreakable Lie is the reason for . . .
No. I can’t go there.
Gritting my teeth, I lean over her bed and press my lips to her frigid forehead.
“Why did you let me think you were the villain?” Enzo asks, so quiet I almost miss it. “Why did you pretend to be one?”
I straighten, tearing my eyes away from Lola’s face to look at him. “Why were you so eager to believe it?”
“It was easier to blame you,” he says slowly, “because I didn’t want to confront what I’d done.”
I nod, returning to Laurel’s side to finish taping the gauze over her wound. “You were not the only one who made mistakes, Enz.”
“You were trying to take care of me. And while I may have resented you for it, I will admit I might not have survived my youth if not for you.”
“Oh, that is definitely true.”
He nods once, sniffing. “Thank you.” He turns back to Lola, checking her temperature yet again. “Wait,” he says, and my heart stops.
“What?” Alarm cracks my voice. “Is she all right?”
“Her eyes moved under her lids.” Enzo leans over Lola, peering closer. “You know, like how they do during sleep?”
“Lola!” I say, crashing past Laurel’s bed and grasping Lola’s hand. “Lola, can you hear me?!”