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I may have decayed his body, but the rot within his mind is self-inflicted.
Chapter 52
Viola
ImovetoTulip,fingers twisting and stumbling to unwrap her binding. She’s free after a few shaky moments, and I pull her tightly into my arms. “Are you okay?” I whisper as tears fall from both our eyes.
She shakes her head but still answers, “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
I pull her towards the seat Stone vacated at the table and run my fingers through her hair in an attempt to calm her. I see Mace and Plume dragging Zeph into one of the tunnels off the garrison for safekeeping. He’s subdued and not fighting, but his eyes bore into mine in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“What did you do to him?” I ask Mace.
He looks up at me with a sheepish expression. “That’s the magic of Decay. I don’t like to do it – the results aren’t uniform from person to person. But I couldn’t let Zeph hurt Tulip, so it was worth the risk. He’s going to be out of it for a bit.”
Plume sadly glances to where Zeph lay, eyes tracking my every movement. My skin crawls at his perusal of me. “This is not my best friend. He’s losing the fight against his own goodness,” Plume whispers sadly.
The four of us sit in the quiet, reflecting on what has happened and what is yet to come. My hurt at Zeph’s betrayal must be nothing compared to what his brother and best friend are processing, and yet they both have their hands on me, on Tulip, comforting us wordlessly.
Mace ducks his head towards me, whispering so only we could hear. “Are you still sure you want to do this, Miss Mistflow?”
“Will you ever stop calling me that?”
He chuckles, the laugh dancing across the curve of my neck. “Never, not as long as you still make that face.”
I force my face to fall blank, releasing a screwed-up expression I didn’t realize I had fallen into. “I am sure, Mace. I know what I’m risking. It’s worth it.” Tulip tenses in her seat but doesn’t interrupt.
Mace pulls his mouth from my ear to look me in the eyes, his brilliant emerald ones flashing with pride and small glimpses of fear. I meet his fierce gaze and hold it there, unwilling to look away. “You are something else, Viola. You amaze me.”
This time, when he kisses me, it’s not of a hungry desperation for me as it was in his office. It is a kiss that forgives me in advance in case I don’t survive, but hopes beyond all hope that I will. My hands feed through his hair and pull him closer to me, deepening the kiss despite our audience.
There was a time in my life when I would have rather died than have someone see me locked in an embrace like this. But I may yet still die today, and I’ll be damned if I do it without enjoying him once more.
“Well, there is that distance I asked you to keep from Miss Mistflow in action.”
The words cause us to abruptly part, and through still hazy eyes, I see Mace’s unaffected façade drop back in place. He squares his shoulders and stands straighter. I turn to follow his gaze and catch site of Stone exiting one of the many tunnels surrounding the garrison. He doesn’t even look down as he steps over Zeph.
Stone’s long gray hair is pulled away from his face in a single leather loop, and he’s dressed in a floor-length black robe. Under his arm, he clutches an old, worn book. I was so distracted by his interruption of our kiss that I didn’t notice the man following behind him. Short and stocky, with an impossibly square jaw and deep brown skin, the man looks like he could break Tulip in half. I can tell she thinks the same thing as she sinks deeper into her chair.
“Morrow, that woman that Mace was entangled with is our vessel,” Stone states, looking at his companion.
Mace sneers. “Viola. Her name is Viola. She is the vessel and a true Winter Seasonale, and you will show her the respect she deserves, Stone.” If I hadn’t been paying close attention, I would have missed the faltering of Stone’s steps at the hostility in Mace’s voice.
For his part, Morrow nods at me, and after a questioning glance at Mace, he reaches to shake my hand. “Morrow, Summer. I owe this one a favor,” he says lowly, jerking his head towards Stone. He lowers his voice and moves his face closer to mine. “Winter, eh? I would love to see some shadows.” Despite the situation of our meeting, Morrow’s warmth and childlike curiosity about my magic warms me a bit.
Darting my eyes around like it’s a secret, I motion for Morrow to move closer. “Ready?” He nods in excitement. Over the past few days, I’ve grown more comfortable with my magic, especially shadows. It’s not perfect, but since no one has seen Winter magic in their lifetimes, it’s easy to be impressive. I may as well show it off a little.
Never breaking eye contact with Morrow, I call out for Shadow, and the snake uncoils from my arm and slides across Morrow’s shoulders. The man’s shrieks fill the garrison, and everyone save Stone laughs loudly at his expense. A quick flick of Shadow’s tongue towards his ear has Morrow swatting the snake.
“What the hell? Snake magic? I’ve never heard of that!” Shadow slips from Morrow’s shoulders and swirls around my arm, flicking his tongue towards Morrow again.
“Not snake magic. He’s a shadow. Just somehow, he’s also a familiar and a pet. I’m not sure. Meet Shadow.”
Morrow shakes his head, the initial rush of adrenaline giving way to bemused wonder. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
As he reaches to touch Shadow, Stone interrupts the moment. “Yes, yes, very impressive. It’s time. We must begin the ritual before the moon loses position. It is time to bring back our Gods.” Shadow hisses towards Stone and slides around my arm in his favorite position.
Everyone is rooted to their spots, waiting for me to affirm a decision I’ve made many times now. I rise to my feet and head to the ritual space, climbing up on the stage and standing in front of the bowl I have deduced is meant to hold my blood.
