Chapter 34 Can We Break What We Bound?
Can We Break What We Bound?
Lucian
L
ilac and I walk to class together, books tucked to her chest. Our classmates walk on either side, and each time one gets close to Lilac, she flinches, clutching her books tighter.
“How are you doing?” I ask.
She was the one who found Belle, tortured and screaming, and Desdemona unconscious on the floor.
“I’ve seen worse,” Lilac says, her gaze darting across the hall—and never at me.
I shudder to think of what Leiana has shown her. Learning magic from a bloodthirsty monster doesn’t seem like the brightest choice—though I refrain from saying another word about it.
Rather, I reply, “Belle and Desdemona didn’t… scar you?”
“I’m fine. Fair. Desdemona was helping you, wasn’t she?” I nod, and Lilac continues, “Then how could I fault her?”
I don’t remember when she started speaking like me.
“Why would she do something like that for you?” she asks with a smile.
I glance at my sister. “We’re partners.”
“Sure seems like it.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Work partners.”
“And what kind of work do you do?”
I should tell her—she grew up with Azaire. It’s her right to know what I plan to do, especially if it works. I turn, and Lilac follows me as I walk to the end of the hall, where fewer people can overhear.
I lower my voice as I answer, “We’re bringing Azaire back.”
“To life?” Her mouth remains open.
“Yes.”
“Lucy— That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
Beneath my breath, I say, “I have the Soul Ruby.”
Lilac’s eyes widen as she shakes her head and looks down. “Don’t tell me things like that.”
“Why?”
“I’m under mother— Leiana’s command. If she asks me—”
“You would tell her?” I ask, stepping back as a group of younger students hurries by a few feet away. They bow their heads to Lilac, though she doesn’t look at them.
She stutters as she says, “I–I’d have to.”
I nod, clenching my jaw. I would never do that to her—and I never have. No matter how deep into Leiana’s snare I’ve been tangled, I’ve always kept Lilac’s confidence.
“Do you…” My voice is hoarse. Perhaps I do not want to know the answer to my question, yet it seems pressing. “Has your opinion of her changed?”
Lilac picks her nails. “She hasn’t had an easy life.”
By that metric, Lilac hasn’t either. In ten years, will she be as harrowing as Leiana, claiming innocence through trauma?
My voice rises. “Does that excuse what she’s done to you? To me?”
Students further down the hall glance up, looking at my sister and me huddled in the corner.
The conversations around us die down, the entire hall growing silent as they watch us.
Lilac turns to face them, and a younger student in the crowd drops her book, the sound echoing down the hall.
None of her classmates help her; they look away from us and move on with their days.
The girl picks up her book. “My apologies,” she says. “Your Highness.”
My sister turns back to me, the severity of her features now replaced with a frown. “No, it doesn’t. Though it puts it into perspective.”
I step back, the space between us widening, and I hate myself for letting it happen.
“Is abuse a strategy now?” I ask beneath my breath.
Lilac shakes her head once. “Lucy,” she whispers, tears collecting in the corner of her eyes. “I don’t mean to—”
For a moment, she’s simply my sister again, the girl I declared to protect for a lifetime.
Though she doesn’t continue speaking, she takes a deep breath, straightening her spine. Her eyes remain glossy, yet the tears never fall. “Mother is trying to run a world,” she says. “I’m going to run two. I need to learn all I can.”
And that was my fault. If anything, I’ve pushed her further into the trap.
“Li,” I say, voice low.
She steps away from me, walking slowly in the opposite direction. “I have to get to class.”
By the time she passes the corner, her spine is straight again, her shoulders lifted. A pair of students fall into step behind her.
As I move forward, the students look down, away from me.
?
I knock on Yuki’s door, though there isn’t much to say. I need Azaire. Perhaps this—trying to enter what was once his room—is my way of searching for the dead.
The door opens, Yuki on the other side.
“What’s up?” he asks.
All I manage is a shrug.
Yuki swings the door open wider, and I step inside. The moment I do, I notice an open bag and clothes strewn across his bed.
“Are you going somewhere?” I ask.
“Pops is sick.” Yuki sighs. “I gotta go to Draevia for a little. Help the family.”
“You’re welcome to bring them to Ilyria.” We have the best of the Eunoia in the palace; they could fix his dad up in no time.
Yuki shakes his head. “It isn’t that bad. He’s just a little tired.”
I nod, sitting on the edge of the bed without touching the clothes.
“You good?” Yuki asks after a moment.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Just… needed a friend.”
Yuki sits beside me on the bed, not bothering to avoid the clothes. He places a hand on my back.
“I may not be Azaire,” he says, “but I’m here for you. You know that?”
I look over my shoulder at him, offering a smile. “Yeah, I know it.”
?
Wendy holds the red knife over Edward’s decomposing body. The skin at his throat has begun to darken, pulling slightly away from the bone. The rest of him has dulled, unable to carry color.
I fear his body is too far gone to be brought back. Seeing a corpse in this condition makes me doubt what we can do for Azaire; he’s been dead far longer.
“I think it’s time we bury the body.”
Wendy doesn’t answer at first. The red knife remains clasped in her hand, her gaze fixed on Edward. Neither budge, but finally, she says, “You’re certain this is the Soul Ruby?”
“I suppose not,” I say. The only reason I believe it could be is the burns it left on Desdemona. Perhaps another tool could do that, and not just the Soul Stone of Iris.
Wendy steps away from Edward with a sigh, extending her hand in my direction—the knife atop her palm.
“It’s not doing anything for me,” she whispers, offering me the knife with a steady hand, though there’s a tremor in her fingers.
I reach for it, and the moment it’s within my grasp, my blood thrums. Yet another reason to be certain it’s the Soul Ruby—if I was created with it, then naturally I would react to it.
Perhaps it does nothing in her hands because she is undead, and the Soul Ruby’s power is immortality—something that requires life itself.
I step toward Edward, Wendy moving aside. The red knife hovers above his body, the blade glowing in my hand, a vibrant red hue filling the room. The shadows around us grow longer, and I feel them in my veins, the darkness reaching for me.
I hesitate, feeling the weight of what the knife can do. The Arcanes are the ones who gave me this power—might it be the wrong idea to use it?
My hand pulls back on instinct, unsure of what Edward will become and what the Arcanes might want from me. Edward’s lips are gray—the same as the corpses I found beneath the academy, all long dead.
He’s been dead for ages, decomposing on a couch and filling the room with his stench. How could he still be Edward if he returned?
How could Azaire?
Over my shoulder, I ask, “Are you sure Azaire is preserved beneath the tree?”
Wendy swallows hard, glancing at the red knife still in my hand. “He won’t be as decomposed as Edward.”
I nod. It’s not a complete answer, but maybe she doesn’t know it. Glancing back at the corpse, I say, “We can’t risk bringing him back.”
“But what if the Soul Ruby hurts Azaire?”
“It will bring him back, or it won’t.”
Wendy sighs, sitting at the table, barely glancing at Edward resting on the couch. “How do we get him out of the academy?” she asks.
“I can alert Hogan that we… found him.”
Wendy nods. “We’ll work on Azaire tomorrow.”
I stare at Edward a moment longer, feeling the power of the Soul Ruby thrumming in my blood. As I glance down, the veins in my wrist seem to glow red for just a moment.
There’s no time to change my mind now. Azaire’s resurrection is just around the corner, though I wonder about the cost.