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Her small hand, callused from a hard life, cups my face. “Mace, I’m not going to hide. If I don’t do this, I will spend my entire life hiding and running from my destiny.”
I nod curtly, knowing there is no changing her mind anymore.
“What can I expect?” she asks, a hint of fear breaching her voice. I sit in my chair and lean back, hands behind my head.
“It’s a ritual. It’s going to require one of each of the Seasonale to participate. I’m unsure who was tapped for Summer and Spring, but Stone said he’d handle it. It’s always someone different that owes him a favor. I’ll stand in for Autumn and, of course, you.”
“I’m the Winter.”
At her words, I see her glance to her bare right arm. In seconds, a black snake wraps himself around her. I don’t have to ask why she brought the snake out. I can see the comfort it brings her. She can try to hide it all she wants, but it is obvious she is afraid.
“The ritual is essentially just a spell, combining different magics. It’s not much different than what you’ve done already, just with more people. Once the spells are done, you’ll need to spill your blood. It’s said that Himureal will then rise from your blood.”
“How is my life at risk if it’s just a spell? Will he take my body?”
I can’t meet her eyes when I answer. As much as I want to bring the Gods back, I would sacrifice that for her any day. But that is not what she wants to hear. “There is no telling how much of your blood will need to spill. When I said the ritual consumed the other vessels, I meant it pulled all the blood from their bodies, seeking more and more magic. Theoretically, your body will stay your own, the blood and magic forming a new one for the Frostweaver.”
She stiffens and slides her back against the wall, down to the floor. With her face buried in her hands, I barely hear her say, “I don’t want to die, Mace.” I am on my feet, crashing to the ground before her with my hands on her shoulders. This rare show of fear from Viola leaves me shaken.
“You will not die, Viola. You are something I never expected. If it’s magic in your blood that the ritual needs, you have it in spades. You will survive, Himureal will rise again, and you will be the one Ytopie has to thank for its salvation.”
I wrap her in my arms, pulling her onto my lap. She’s vulnerable in a way I am unused to associating with her. “Everyone I loved is dead.”
The words aren’t a question nor an invitation for me to console her. She speaks with finality as if she has to remind herself of the fact.
“They’re all dead,” she repeats.
And suddenly, she’s crying, wet tears dripping down the crook of my neck. I hold her as her body wracks with sobs, and I tap a light pattern across her shoulder blades.
As quickly as it began, the tears are gone, and Viola rises from my chest with her face fixed in brutal resignation. She stands, reaching her hand down for me, and pulls me to meet her. Together, we are chest to chest, eye to eye, staring at one another. The snake on her arm flicks it’s tongue, and I laugh at the sensation of it lightly touching my skin.
“I am Himureal’s vessel,” Viola affirms quietly.“I am a human from the lowlands. I am the last Winter.”
She looks at me with determination, shoulders squared and her jaw set, and that ruthless woman all of Ytopie rooted for stands before me.
“And I will not die today.”
Chapter 50
Viola
It’salongerwalkto the garrison under the arena than I remember. Mace says that the rest of the people involved in this ritual are waiting for us. I guess our extracurricular activities slowed us down a bit.
If I am to die today, at least I will die with his taste on my lips.
My mind cleared of the anxiety of telling Mace I would be the vessel, it goes back to the deaths this year’s winners. “How did Stone do it? Get rid of the winners, I mean.” I ask as we walk.
I see his shoulder tense. “You must believe me when I say I tried to stop it, Viola. He took them under the cover of night as soon as the gala was over. They still have some latent Winter magic, and Stone wasn’t willing to risk it ruining your chances during the ritual. I have to hope that when we get Himureal back, we can tell everyone why we did what we did and beg forgiveness.”
Maybe I should feel more upset about the death of these innocents. It’s not that I feel nothing, but I feel very little. If the alternative was Tulip, then I would allow it to happen again tenfold.
Their deaths make sense in a twisted way. Human life has never been valued in Krillium. Now that I know why, my anger toward the situation is directed at Stone, the one who forced this decision on Mace.
“Was it quick, at least?” I bump my elbow against his, and he looks down at me. I hope he can see in my eyes that this is not something I blame him for.
He nods, guilt flashing across his features. “Very. And they’re buried respectfully. Stone truly believes he’s doing the right thing.”
Do I wish it were different? Of course. Had I known when it was happening, I would have done what I could to stop it. But I am one person, and the only way I can truly change this way of life is in the garrison.
