2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Mace
W hen I wake, the sun is higher than I thought it'd be. I blink furiously at the brightness that smacks me across the face. What time could it possibly be? I was sure Viola would wake me at some point during the evening to discuss strategy, switch watches, or maybe just sneak in some alone time with me.
I was really hoping for the latter.
It's hard to get time to ourselves when traveling with a group of five. Sure, we have slipped away a few times, but it all feels clandestine and overthought. It would be nice to just exist together under the stars while the others slept.
Instead of waking any of us, Viola selflessly let me and the others sleep, and truthfully, I am grateful for it. I really do love that woman. All of our bodies are weary, and a bit of extra rest is not a bad thing, so knowing that she sacrificed her sleep so we could feel refreshed today just cements how much she's changed. I need to make sure I return the favor tonight so she can benefit from this divine boost of energy. We are working against a clock, but it's not so dire that we shouldn't be allowed moments of rest.
I stretch, shaking out the tension from another night spent on the ground. Despite what Tulip has said, I have not gotten used to it, and I am not sure I ever will. But it has gotten to the point where it is no longer disrupting my sleep. Tulip stirs next to me and yawns, the exaggerated motion giving me a glimpse of the gap between her two front teeth.
"Where's Lola?" she asks sleepily, looking around.
I finally sit up, resting my elbows on my knees, and look around our campsite. Morrow is up on his feet, stretching out his back, and Plume sits serenely with her legs crossed as she braids her hair. "She must've gone to grab us some food or water," I reply, eyes scanning the area around us and seeing no sign of the Shadowweaver.
Tulip nods and stands, going to her pack to pull out a fresh shirt. "Ah shit, wrong pack," she says quietly when she pulls out one of Viola's shirts. She moves to place it back, but her hand freezes before she can. "Mace," she says quietly, squatting beside the pack and dumping the contents on the ground. "Look at this."
I move beside Tulip and peer at its contents, rubbing the space between my brows. "I'm not sure what I'm looking at," I say.
"No blades. All three are gone."
"Wouldn't she take all three while hunting?" I ask, something foreign and poisonous churning in my gut.
"No. The third was the backup to her backup. She always kept it stored just in case." Tulip's voice is quiet like she doesn't want Morrow and Plume to overhear us, but I can still sense the tremor of fear within it.
My mind starts to spin with all the possibilities, searching for any logical reason Viola would be gone upon waking up. "That doesn't mean anything," I say, more to convince myself than to Tulip.
"Her whip is gone, too," she says, even quieter than before.
That is what startles me. Viola's whip has no real use for her in hunting, and she's rarely brought it out since we began traveling. Why would she have it with her now?
Morrow and Plume have noticed our hushed whispers and stand in front of us, staring at the contents of the pack with confused faces. Tulip points out the missing weapons and the remaining journals and clothing.
"What does this mean, Mace?" Tulip asks, looking at me with watery blue eyes.
"She's gone," Morrow says, bitterness lacing his voice. "It means that the Shadowweaver left us." With swiftness, he stalks away from the pack and engulfs a nearby patch of vegetation in flame. Fury radiates off him, and with it, my mind spins with memories of all the times Morrow pledged his allegiance to Viola. "How could she do this to us?" he bellows, "We trusted her! We believed in her! She was supposed to be different."
Did she betray us?
I begin to spiral, lost in the fear and worry that Viola has abandoned us. "How? How would she have left us?" I scan the horizon again, a pitiful hope that she would appear as a smudge upon it, signaling she's finding her way back to me.
Morrow contains his flames, panting heavily as he walks back to us. If it were possible, I'd swear that his ears were smoking. The four of us stand there quietly, and my brain turns over every possibility of why Viola would have left us. Silent tears fall down Plume's face, her hand pressed over her mouth as she shakes her head in disbelief.
Viola is gone.
But I just can't believe she would choose to abandon us and not return. She was as dedicated to this cause as any of us, even if hers initially stemmed from obligation rather than pure belief.
As my fear ratches up, my magic curls through my veins, begging to be released. My fists clench, nails cutting half moons into the soft flesh of my palms. Would Viola leave me? After everything we told each other, the way we feel for one another, would she really just leave me?
Going off on her own is a risk that even someone as cocksure as her wouldn't be stupid enough to take.
She was taking some risks, sure, but every move she made was for the ultimate goal of cleansing Krillium of Himureal's influence.
It seems so obvious when it hits me that it feels like a brick to the face. I don't know how I didn't see it before. My fury at the realization lights the magic in my veins, and I release a bolt of lightning far from our campsite. My friends look at me with stricken faces. It's not like me to lose control of my emotions so much that I need to expend some magic, but here I am. I run my hands down my face, scrubbing it hard to hide the fear-induced groan that leaves my mouth.
"The shadow visions. Himureal took her."
We stayed an entire day at the makeshift campsite, hoping that Viola would appear no worse for the wear to explain herself. When she didn't, I directed everyone to begin packing up their things.
"We're going to Feria," I say to my companions. "We're finding that seed."
"What's the point?" Morrow asks, his hands clenched into fists. "Why bother if we've lost the Shadowweaver?"
"She'll come back to us," Tulip says, placing a small hand on Morrow's forearm. "I believe she'll find us."
"She'll come looking for us in Feria. She'll know to find us there." My words hold more conviction than my heart, but I am working hard to convince myself of their veracity.
Viola Mistflow may have entered a shadow vision without talking to the rest of us, but she would never abandon us here on our own. I believe she wouldn't do it to me, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt she wouldn't do that to Tulip.
She wouldn't leave Tulip alone on purpose.
"The plan doesn't change," I say with more force. "We find the journal and the artifact, and we hold onto them until we find Viola." I pin Morrow with a glare. "And we will find Viola. Or she will find us." My tone brokers no argument, remnants of Mace the Patrician bleeding into my tone.
"Whatever you say, Nightroot," he grumbles, throwing his pack over his shoulder.
As we walk through the sparse land under the heat of the afternoon sun, Plume keeps pace with me, surprisingly quiet even for her. But she keeps glancing at me from the corner of her eye. Eventually, I exhale heavily. "What, Plume?" My voice is snappier than I want it to be, but I am wound tight. Viola has been gone for over a day, and despite how tough she is, I can't help but worry about her.
"Mace, I just worry that you may have unrealistic expectations about Viola's return," she says softly, placing a hand on my arm. "I believe that she wouldn't knowingly put us in danger by stranding us here, but after everything that has happened to her, is it possible she's stopped fighting?"
I slam to a stop and spin to face Plume head-on. "What are you saying, Plume?"
"Viola has undergone severe trauma recently. Is it possible that maybe she's done fighting?" Repeating it doesn't help my brain comprehend what Plume is suggesting.
It's silent around us but loud in my head. Reflections of conversations we had, images of Viola nearly naked and covered in blood after being violated, and memories of her in my arms flicker behind my eyes.
There are a lot of things that can be said about Viola Mistflow, the Shadowweaver.
She's selfish and rigid, unwilling to waver from her ideals.
She's cruel and cold, an embodiment of the Winter magic she revived.
She's broken.
But Viola is also fiercely loyal and will burn the world down for someone she loves.
She's brilliant, and her sense of humor is awful, but somehow that makes it even more endearing.
But she's not a quitter.
She wouldn't give up on me.
…Would she?