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As we walk through the sparse land under the heat of the afternoon sun, Plume keeps pace with me, surprisingly quiet even for her. But she keeps glancing at me from the corner of her eye. Eventually, I exhale heavily. "What, Plume?" My voice is snappier than I want it to be, but I am wound tight. Viola has been gone for over a day, and despite how tough she is, I can't help but worry about her.
"Mace, I just worry that you may have unrealistic expectations about Viola's return," she says softly, placing a hand on my arm. "I believe that she wouldn't knowingly put us in danger by stranding us here, but after everything that has happened to her, is it possible she's stopped fighting?"
I slam to a stop and spin to face Plume head-on. "What are you saying, Plume?"
"Viola has undergone severe trauma recently. Is it possible that maybe she's done fighting?" Repeating it doesn't help my brain comprehend what Plume is suggesting.
It's silent around us but loud in my head. Reflections of conversations we had, images of Viola nearly naked and covered in blood after being violated, and memories of her in my arms flicker behind my eyes.
There are a lot of things that can be said about Viola Mistflow, the Shadowweaver.
She'sselfish and rigid, unwilling to waver from her ideals.
She's cruel and cold, an embodiment of the Winter magic she revived.
She's broken.
But Viola is also fiercely loyal and will burn the world down for someone she loves.
She's brilliant, and her sense of humor is awful, but somehow that makes it even more endearing.
But she's not a quitter.
She wouldn't give up on me.
…Would she?
Chapter 3
Zeph
She's here.
How did that happen?
Viola Mistflow is here; she's a God, and I'm her high priest.
I'm her high priest.
Is that what these feelings have been the whole time? This inexplicable need to protect her, to be with her?
My fist slams on the door of Loris and Taegan's home, rattling it in its hinges. "Taegan," I call through the wood. "Open up, man."
The door is ripped open beneath my fist, and Taegan stands before me. Somehow, it's like he's lost weight in just two days since Loris' death, his cheeks hollow and sunken. His skin is sallow, his eyes swollen and red.
I'm a shitty friend. I have been so wrapped up in my own grief that I haven't been here for him.
"Please, Zeph, I can't do this," he says softly. His voice is shattered, and its pieces litter the air around us with grief.
"Taegan, please," I say, stepping forward. He moves back, no fight within him, and I step into his home. He's wearing a pair of black shorts that must have belonged to Loris because theysqueeze his waist tighter than what must be comfortable. The home is more of a mess than normal, but I notice no dishes dirtying the surfaces. "Have you been eating?"
The Helios just grunts at me and returns to the bed, wrapping himself up in a blanket and curling up on his side. I cross the room to sit beside him and rest my hand on his shoulder, unsure how to comfort him in this deep moment of grief.
"I miss him too," I whisper, looking anywhere but at Taegan. "I know it's not the same as it is for you, but fuck, he was my best friend, you know?" Taegan doesn't speak, and the only movement from him is the ragged rise and fall of his chest. "I don't know why he did this, Tae. I really don't. I wish it hadn't been like this."
"Me too." His voice is barely audible, but his hand reaches up to clasp mine with surprising strength. "Did he not love me, Zeph? How could he choose to leave me?"
That question alone threatens to break wide up the dam I built on my grief.
