21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Mace
T he wait is agonizing.
The first hour, Viola was pure fury, foaming at the mouth to get access to Tulip. She screamed and hit and threw herself at the door of the room Tulip was taken to. It was so bad I had to pin her arms to her side, wrapping her tightly in my body to keep her as still as possible.
After only ten minutes of restraint, she screamed out, "Boots! Boots!" It took every bit of strength I had not to let her go as that word ripped through me. "You said if I said it, you'd stop. Let me go! Please, Mace, just let me go! Make this stop!"
It hurt me more than she'd ever know to ignore her, but this was not the bedroom, and this was for her own good, though it killed me to do it. I whispered platitudes, apologized for not letting her go, and got rewarded with her freezing my hands and smacking me with shadows until I dropped her.
Morrow threw a shield over the door to the triangle room, where Plume was diligently working her healing magic on the young woman to keep Viola from bursting through the door.
Now, two hours later, Viola is a crumpled heap on the floor outside the door, her fingers nearly blurry with the speed she's tapping them on her collarbones. Morrow notices and raises an eyebrow at me, but I shake my head. The last thing I wanted was for him to call attention to the one thing that seems to calm Viola in moments of stress.
"We joked about this, Mace," she whimpers.
"What do you mean, numen?"
Her jaw trembles a bit, and I realize the stark difference between this emotion and what she had after Max's death. After Max's death, she was completely frozen, her emotions burrowing deep under layers of stoicism because there was nothing she could do.
Now, she is struck helpless, unable to provide any help to her friend.
All the responsibility she felt over Max's death is surfacing to rear its ugly head again.
"We… I called her my family. I warned her though that all my family dies."
She did not intend it, but that blow reminds me of all the wrongs I have done, all the ways I do not deserve to sit here with her. I wrap her tightly in my arms, tapping down her arms. I can't do much but attempt to offer a small reprieve. "Do you need me to Influence calm, Viola?"
She whimpers pitifully but shakes her head. "No. If this is happening, I deserve to feel it."
Morrow sits on the floor with a deadly stoicism on his face. There is no emotion in his features, his brown eyes so empty I would be concerned if I didn't see his broad chest rising and falling. Blood coats his shirt from where he carried Tulip down here.
Viola tried to insist on carrying her, but we were all worried about her bloodlust taking over. Her eyes went nearly black whenever she got too close to the young woman. We couldn't risk her seeing something in the blood that would break her spirit even more.
Every so often, we hear Plume retching, still seasick from the boat's movement. "Why doesn't she heal herself of that sickness?" Viola states through shaky breaths.
"Just as your Frost doesn't chill your skin, her Healing won't touch her. She's stuck with it, unfortunately," I say softly in her ear.
The stomping of footsteps on the stairs calls our attention, and Jaz appears shortly after. They duck their head to enter the hallway. Eyes flicking between all of us, they nod. "No news, then?"
I shake my head. "I've never known a healing to take this long, but I've also never seen her heal a human outside of a cut on Viola's arm," I state.
Viola stiffens. "She's never healed a human? Does that make a difference?"
Morrow sighs deeply. "Who knows, Shadowweaver. All we can do is wait."
Jaz nods, eyes on Viola. "I'd tell you to eat something, but I know I won't be able to get you to leave. Just promise once you have word, you'll come to the galley to put something in you. All of that magic must have depleted your body." Viola nods slowly, the overwhelming emotions she had earlier beginning their journey to rest under a layer of denial. "But don't think you're not going to talk to me about how you're doing all that magic."
I wave Jaz away, shooting them a glare at their tone.
The door to the triangle room opens, and Plume appears, skin gray, hair matted, and sweaty. Her hands shake, and she's covered in blood.
We're all on our feet in an instant, crowding her. "Where is she? Is she okay?" Viola cries with desperation.
"I don't know. Her heart still beats, and I stopped the bleeding. We won't know more until she wakes." Plume sighs. "If she wakes."
It's been twelve hours.
Viola hasn't eaten. She hasn't drunk anything. She hasn't moved.
I've tried several times, but it's like she's no longer there. An empty shell. Even Shadow is listless, unmoving from his location around her neck. I am reminded of the moments after Max's death when Viola stood unmoving and had to be shaken out of the darkness by Tulip.
But this time, Tulip isn't here to help.
I sit down next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She doesn' t lean into me, doesn't move or acknowledge my presence at all.
Is this love? This level of devotion, this catatonic reaction to the potential for tragedy?
Viola feels very responsible for Tulip, that I know. I also believe she sees in Tulip the life she wished she had. But do all those things translate to love?
Morrow appears at the top of the stairs, dark bags under his eyes. He's twisted all his braids up into a knot on his head, but other than that, he is the same as he was when Tulip got injured, bloody shirt and all.
Plume is sleeping and recovering in the circle room. I sat with her as she choked down a small amount of food and a seasickness tonic the chef made. As much as I've wanted to be with Viola the entire time, Plume needed someone as well.
It's not like Viola noticed I wasn't there.
With Viola refusing to engage at all, I turn to Morrow and motion for him to sit across from me. "You care about her a lot, huh?"
He chuckles and shrugs. "I can't explain it. The first time I saw her, I felt like I woke up. I have never felt anything like that before."
I nod, understanding the feeling. The jolt I felt the first time I saw Viola in person was so overwhelming, I almost blew everything by revealing I knew her name because I was just so excited to see her in the flesh. She exceeded my wildest expectations, surprising me every step of the way.
Even this, the catatonic reaction to Tulip 's injury, is a surprise. Viola isn't one for outward displays of emotions. Most of the time, it seems like the only thing she feels is anger or resentment, but I have seen that grow since she came to Ytopie.
What will become of her if we lose Tulip?
Will we lose Viola too?
It certainly looks that way from this vantage point. How could she possibly continue on with another tragedy under her belt?
"I don't know much of her story," Morrow says honestly, wringing his hands and snapping me out of my spiral. "I wish I did."
Stroking Viola's hair, I smile at him. "She's resilient, that one. It's how I know she's going to pull through." I raise my voice on the last part, hoping to break through Viola's stupor. "She lost her brother in the Race this year. Her twin. It was their Ascension year. And what did she do after he died?" I chuckle quietly. "She stumbled upon Viola Mistflow and insisted she be brought along with her and her friend Max."
Morrow blanches. "She was grieving and decided to tackle that bushel of thorns?" He nods at Viola. I can tell his words are an attempt to get a rise out of her, but she doesn't even blink in his direction.
I can't help but laugh louder now. "Tulip Goldtide is brave. She chose Viola and made Viola choose her too. She is going to pull through this. I just know it."
Viola's eyelids droop. Her fingers have long since settled, unable to move anymore. If I didn't know better, I would think someone slipped her a drug to shut her body down.
I have no doubt she assumed that with the Race being over, she could have a glimpse of safety despite the circumstances. She has spent most of her life avoiding connections for this exact reason. Having a connection means you can be destroyed in a split second.
This is love, I decide.
Love has different layers and stages, but what I am looking at is absolutely one of them.
I brush off what that could mean about my feelings towards the broken woman in front of me.
Jaz comes back, loudly stomping down the stairs. They raise their chin before crouching to peer into Viola's eyes. "What is this?" they ask me, turning Viola's face side to side as if it would reveal secrets. Viola doesn't blink, flinch, or wrench her face away. "Is this some kind of magic?"
I shake my head. "Unfortunately not. This is compounded grief. Viola has had so much loss in such a short time."
"So much? What's happened?"
"It's not my story to tell. Viola has every intention of telling you, but it won't happen until we know that Tulip is okay." My voice is firm as I glare at Jaz. "You understand, right?"
They nod and straighten. "I do. Keep me posted. Everyone is worried about the poor girl."
"She's a woman," Morrow says weakly at Jaz's retreating figure.
That one comment seems to wake Viola up because a raspy laugh bubbles out of her. "She'd love that you just said that." Her voice is rough, like gravel has been shoved in her windpipe. I stand up and go to grab a glass of water that is sitting on the chest in the circle room. When I hand it to her, she sips it gingerly, her mind waking up to the fact that her body is still alive.
I pull Viola to my chest, overwhelmed with emotion now that she's present with us again. Seeing her awake and moving lifts a weight off of me. It's like I had been holding my breath, waiting for her to come back to me, and I feel the tightening in my chest from worry loosening.
"I'm sorry I restrained you," I murmur softly. "I know you said boots."
She winces and worries her lip. "I knew I wasn't using it in the right context. You were right to ignore it. I would've destroyed the ship trying to get to her."
This is love.
This devotion.
I no longer need confirmation.
More long silences pass. I can't even begin to estimate the hours. Morrow alternates between sitting and standing, pacing and picking at his fingernails. The man is a wreck, and I have no doubt it is because of the things he's left unsaid to the human woman who unintentionally ensnared him just a few days ago.
As I am just about to suggest to Viola that she head up to the galley and put some food in her body, a soft groan comes from the triangle room, followed by the softly spoken word, "Water."