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He glares at me. “It would behoove you to remember that she is but a tool to be used for the glory of Himureal. She is significant in the grand scheme of things but should not be significant to you as a person.”
Stone has become insufferable in the two days since Viola and Tulip entered Ytopie. The validation he has received for being correct about Viola has pushed his ego to the point of bursting.
Unfortunately, we cannot truly know if Viola is the vessel until we attempt the ritual.
Which, if she isn’t the vessel, will have disastrous consequences for her.
But any glimmer of doubt I had about Viola and the magic she holds was banished as I watched from the window in my office as she effortlessly called shadows to her, becoming one with them. It was beautiful and dark, just as she is.
Until my unendurable brother pushed through the scene, casting the shadows away with light before we could see just how far her powers would go.
That is why Stone is in my office, urging me to consider moving up the ritual. He also saw the display, and it emboldened him to think we could complete the ritual before the winner’s ceremony.
By my calculations from watching the connection, the Race winners should make their way to the arena tonight. Already, citizens of Ytopie are gathering and heading towards the arena, eager to catch a glimpse of the humans they have been rooting for.
Tomorrow, a gala will be held in honor of those winners, an evening of luxury and merriment to celebrate their win. Afterward, they’ll be escorted to the human village outside Ytopie that sits empty, purely for show. My stomach turns at the thought.
This is my least favorite part of my role as the leader of the Patricians. It sickens me that to concentrate the Winter magic enough for a vessel to emerge, we had to rid the world of others with sparks of it. It’s a part I have refused to participate in.
I let Stone do his own dirty work.
“Why aren’t we sending this year’s winners to the village for real, Stone? We’ve got what we’ve been looking for.”
His sneer is menacing, showing a ruthless side of him that rarely breaks through the surface. “Because it is what we do. What do you think will happen if they get there and realize they are the only ones? Do you think they will sit by idly when they realize we have slain their families, their friends?”
I’m on my feet, pushing into Stone’s space, frustration at the years of bloodshed bubbling up. “Then we tell them! We explain what we did and why. They will understand. Ultimately, what we’ve done is protect them. We are just trying to make Krillium whole and safe again. I must believe we’ll be forgiven.”
This man, who has raised me since the untimely death of my parents, is hardly recognizable to me as he pushes into my face, anger coloring his aged brown skin crimson. “You forget your place, boy. You may be the head of the Patricians, but I put you there. I made you. You will sit down, shut up, and allow me to do what I am here to do. We need to ensure there is no residual Winter magic left. This is what the Gods have ordained me to do.”
“No one ordained you! You took this upon yourself. You created this situation. If we had been honest with our people from the beginning, we would not be faced with killing innocents now that we’ve reached our goal.”
“Innocents? No one is innocent, Mace. And this is the last I’ll hear of it unless you would like me to escort Tulip to the village as well.”
My body falls, defeat loosening my muscles and lowering me back into the chair across from Stone. Viola would never forgive me if anything happened to Tulip. As much as I do not want to see innocents slaughtered because of Stone’s stubbornness, I cannot allow Viola to go through the grief of losing Tulip on top of Max.
He snaps his thin, bony fingers in front of my face. “Well? Do you think you can get Viola to join you this evening in the garrison for the ritual?”
I need more time with Viola to finish what we started last night. To tell her the truth about what has been happening here and beg for her forgiveness. I need more time, and I am unwilling to give that up.
Nothing in the texts explicitly says the vessel will be cannibalized to allow the God to return. But how could she not be? He will use every bit of her magic and life force to push himself back into this world.
I’ll be damned if I let that happen before I hold her in my arms again.
“No. The ritual will have to happen after the gala, as was planned from the start. The citizens must see Viola and her companion around the city tomorrow. They will need to be formally presented as winners. Then we can do the ritual.”
Stone snarls, anger highlighting the gauntness of his face. “There is no need to wait. We have the means to bring our people their God back! We should do it now.”
Swiftly, I rise to my feet and lean across the desk. I dwarf Stone. He’s a small man, grown hobbled with age. “This is the last I’ll hear of this. The plan is there for a reason, and we must stick to it. You have threatened Tulip once, and I will keep your nasty secret, but I will not deny our people the chance to celebrate their winners. To do so would steal some of the last joy Viola will probably have.”
“Very well, Mace. But do remember, she is not long for this world. I would hate to see your attachment to her spell your ruin.”
By my calculations, the winners of the Race are less than two hours out from the arena, so I head downstairs into the basement to gather Viola and Tulip for the ceremony. They will be announced as winners, though their use of the elevator will not be revealed.
I knock and hear Tulip’s voice calling to enter. Slinging open the door, I lock eyes with the girl, barely eighteen, and smile. She’s wearing her Race clothes again, a part of the facade that she has been on the Summit this entire time. “Oh. It’s you,” she spits, her voice low. “You need to leave. She doesn’t want you here. We’ll find our way to the arena on our own.”
Confusion wracks me. Have I done something wrong? Viola and I parted on more than good terms. I recall the feel of her breasts pressed against me, her soft lips hungrily consuming my own, and I can’t fathom how she’d be upset with me. “What are you talking about, Tulip?” I say, not hiding my confusion.
Just then, Viola exits the bathing chamber, looking every bit the warrior in her traveling clothes. Her hair is back in a braid, and the clothes, while clean, still bear the tears and cuts of her hard-fought victories. When her eyes meet mine, her face steels, her lips pulling back in a snarl.
