Chapter Seventeen – Cassian
“Oh my god, how—how did you even get here?” Allegra’s hands move to Elaria’s shoulders, checking her, trying to make sense of the bruises, the blood. “What did they do to you? Are you—”
Lorenzo stands nearby. Watching her. His brow is furrowed, mouth pressed into a hard line.
Her gaze hasn’t left mine.
Allegra touches her face, tries to lift her chin, but Elaria moves past her gently, like water slipping around stone.
She walks toward me. I’m still holding the journal.
My hands tighten around the cover without meaning to.
She stops in front of me. Soft fingers brush mine, taking the journal.
My eyes search hers.
There’s damage there. The side of her mouth is split. Her cheekbone is turning dark. Her wrists, when she lifts the journal, bear the trace of rope.
I feel it swell in my chest—something sharp. I don’t know what it is.
She holds the book against her ribs. Her mouth parts, breath shallow.
“Thank you all for your concern,” she says.
Her voice barely reaches above a whisper, but it cuts.
“I had a conversation with my uncle. This is a family matter. We’ll handle it privately.”
She holds up the journal slightly.
“I just came to take this.”
“Elaria, wait—” Allegra steps forward.
Elaria turns slightly but doesn’t look at her.
“Thank you for saving me,” she says.
Then she turns to Lorenzo. She lowers her head in a quiet bow. When she turns away from me, something in my chest closes.
Elaria walks out of the door. I stare frozen for a few minutes and then I run after her.
Allegra’s just behind me, Lorenzo at her side.
We reach the front steps. She’s already down them. We catch up to her at the gate.
Fausto leans against the black car. His arms crossed, his smile wide.
When he sees us, his grin deepens.
“I see you brought your little friends,” he says.
Elaria doesn’t acknowledge him.
She pulls open the back door.
Allegra reaches for her arm.
“Elaria, I don’t know what he’s told you—”
“Oh please,” Fausto says with a small laugh.
He tilts his head toward Elaria. “She’s only helping you because she feels guilty.”
Allegra snaps. “Shut up!”
Fausto’s men step forward. Two of them. Broad-shouldered. Suited. Blocking the car without needing to speak.
Elaria looks at all of us.
“I’m not my sister,” she says.
Her voice doesn’t rise. It settles like dust.
“You don’t have to be nice to me because you pity me.”
She looks at Allegra, then Lorenzo.
Then, finally, at me.
“I can handle things from here on.”
She gets into the car.
Fausto doesn’t speak. He only watches us, then follows her inside.
The door closes.
The car pulls off, the tires whispering over the gravel.
None of us move.
Allegra turns on me.
“What is wrong with you?” Her voice is high, sharp. “You’re letting her go?”
I stand in the center of the hall. The journal is gone. My hands feel empty.
For the first time, I didn’t see her sister at all.
Only Elaria.
I don’t know what to do with that.
I’ve been mourning Giovanna for so long that it became a constant. A shape I could fold myself into. I knew what I was when I was grieving.
But now—
Now there’s something else rising. Something that doesn’t have Giovanna’s face. Something I didn’t choose.
And it’s not grief. And I don’t know how to want her without betraying everything I buried.
The hallway is empty behind me.
Allegra’s voice hasn’t echoed again. Lorenzo hasn’t followed.
I reach for the study door. The handle turns under my palm. The journal is gone, but my hand still curls as if it’s holding it.
The door shuts behind me with no sound.
Books line the walls. The chair sits at the same angle I left it in. Nothing’s moved, but the room feels different. Lighter in the way something hollow does.
I cross to the panel. The ridge beneath the rivet fits beneath my thumb.
Click. Stone grinds open.
I step inside.
The staircase descends in a tight spiral. The limestone walls close in around me, rough and unfinished.
I keep walking.
My heel brushes the last step. The passage opens.
The ache has changed. It isn’t grief the way it once was. I lower myself to the floor and I feel her almost immediately.
Giovanna sits near me.
Her dress folds around her like mist. Her hair is gathered away from her face. She doesn’t speak right away. Her hand lifts. She rests it gently on my shoulder.
I lean into her. My head touches the curve of her neck.
She strokes my back with her palm.
Her voice is quiet.
“It’s time to let me go.”
I shake my head.
She waits. Her hand keeps moving.
“Elaria needs you,” she says. “If you lose her, you’ll lose that spark in your eyes. She made you happy, you know.”
I keep my head down. Giovanna looks at me, and I feel her watching.
“It’s time,” she says again.
I shake my head. Her hand rests between my shoulder blades. The pressure is light.
“You’ve carried me long enough,” she says. “You’ve bled for me. Waited in rooms I couldn’t return to.”
My throat tightens.
She kneels beside me. Her form doesn’t shift the candlelight. She exists just beyond it—defined but not solid.
“Elaria needs you,” she says.
I close my eyes.
My hand clenches against the altar’s edge.
The taste of stone fills my mouth.
“You’re not betraying me,” she says. “You’re answering me. I told you. If I wasn’t here… I wanted you to find her.”
My hand moves to the edge of the altar. Then stops.
Beneath the cloth, I know what’s hidden.
I don’t reach for it. My hands won’t lift.
Giovanna leans in. Her fingers brush mine. She guides my hand.
My fingers close around the container beneath the linen. I draw it out. The lid twists under my grip.
The alcohol rises. I pause.
My chest tightens. I can hear my own pulse in my ears.
Giovanna nods once.
I pour. The linen darkens. The marble drinks it in. I set the container down. My fingers don’t leave it right away.
I reach into my coat. My thumb hesitates.
Giovanna is beside me. She doesn’t touch me this time.
She just says, “It’s time.”
The lighter clicks. I close my eyes. Flame rises.
I lower it to the cloth. The fire catches.
At first, it smolders. Then it finds the line of alcohol.
It spreads across the marble. Orange licking through black. The bond carved into the stone glows, then begins to vanish under flame.
I step back. The heat reaches my face. My skin doesn’t flinch.
Giovanna stands behind the altar. Her hands fold in front of her.
Tears line her cheeks. But she smiles.
“Go,” she says. Her image flickers once. “Find her.”
My hand rises to my face. My thumb kneads beneath my eye. Wet. I wipe it away.
The flames stay behind. The passage waits ahead.