Chapter 36 #3
“Did you not just hear what we were saying?” he asked, gesturing between himself and Elora. “She doesn’t want to go, and I don’t want her anywhere near this mess.”
“I heard you perfectly. But I also know that scouting an entire district will take hours we don’t have. Her heightened senses could cover more ground in half the time—”
“I already said I wasn’t interested in going,” Elora cut in, the beast inside her stirring at being discussed as if she weren’t standing right there. “Violette, I understand the urgency, but I’m not exactly eager to put my neck on the line for someone who—”
“He remembers everything, Elora,” Violette said quietly. “He got his memories back a week ago. It was completely his choice.”
Elora took an involuntary step backward, her spine pressing against the edge of the map table.
“That’s not possible. If he remembered, he would have—” She faltered, memories of Symond’s cruelty flashing through her mind.
“He would have at least given me one of his signature death glares by now. Or told me I don’t deserve to be here. ”
Violette shook her head, her expression softening. “He’s still working through all of it. There was a lot that he erased, and it’s taking time to process.” She hesitated, as if carefully choosing her next words. Violette’s eyes softened. “The hatred he carried—I’ve watched it dissolve. Day by day.”
“You can’t know that,” Elora whispered.
“I do,” Violette insisted. “Think about it, he remembers everything now, yet he hasn’t instigated you once. Doesn’t that tell you something?” She took a step closer, her voice dropping. “He’s beginning to understand who’s actually to blame for his pain, and it was never you, Elora.”
The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. Elora’s heart hammered against her ribs as she tried to process this revelation. Symond remembered everything and yet he’d kept his distance. No sneers, no barbed comments, no deliberate attempts to make her feel smaller.
A part of her wanted to just say, ‘good’ and leave it at that. Because he should know what he did, and that she wasn’t to blame. Him not being a jackass wasn’t enough to make her want to help him.
But—
That wasn’t how she was raised.
“What exactly happened to him?” Elora asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Violette’s eyes darkened, the weight of unspoken horrors settling into the lines around her mouth as she met Elora’s questioning stare.
“Thorn’s punishments were always harsh, and Symond got it more than the rest of them.
” Her voice staggered, slipping over the memory of realizing he had been taking all her punishments.
That wasn’t my fault, she reminded herself.
“But he seems more broken than any other apprentice. There has to be more to it.”
Violette’s shoulders tensed slightly. “He hasn’t told me everything,” she admitted.
“And what he has shared... it’s not my truth to tell.
” She crossed her arms tighter across her chest, her knuckles whitening.
“But I can tell you that Thorn crossed lines with him that aren’t supposed to be crossed with students.
Lines the Empire itself would condemn if they knew. ”
A chill crept up Elora’s spine. She knew exactly what those lines were.
“He was treated more like a ward,” Violette added quietly.
“I see,” Elora whispered.
The walls seemed to press inward, each breath requiring more effort than the last. Her pulse thudded in her ears, each beat dragging memories she didn’t want up from the dark.
The leather straps. The cold table. No lesson to learn, only pieces of herself to give.
Wards were disposable to him, convenient because no one would miss what was taken.
A student though—someone with potential, with connections—
Rage ignited within her chest like struck flint, wild and unfocused until suddenly, with perfect clarity, she knew exactly where to direct it.
Rell’s voice cut in, tight with disbelief. “Elora—” He stopped himself, then tried again. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t owe him anything. He erased what he did to you. You don’t just… forgive that.”
She turned on him. “I don’t.” The words came out clean.
“I don’t forgive him,” she said. “I don’t like him. I don’t trust him, and I don’t want him anywhere near me once this is over.”
Rell held her gaze, searching for the crack, the hesitation. There wasn’t one.
“But I know what Thorn does to wards. And whatever Symond did to me—whatever choices he made—none of that makes what Thorn did to him acceptable.”
Violette exhaled slowly, something like relief passing over her face.
“This isn’t about Symond,” Elora said. “It’s about Thorn.” The beast snarled beneath her ribs, fangs slicing at raw edges. “No one deserves that,” she finished. “Not even Symond.”
Rell exhaled through his teeth, frustration warring with something quieter in his eyes. He didn’t argue again. He didn’t try to stop her.
Elora straightened, already moving toward the door, the decision settling into place with a weight that felt grimly familiar. “Let’s find him before it’s too late.”