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He holds out a hand, readying himself to speak, but Tulip is on her feet quickly, shouting. "Absolutely not, we're not setting you up to relieve the time you were raped!" She's rushing down the steps of the amphitheater, shoving Mace in the shoulders. "How fucking dare you? How dare you?" Her voice is pitched up several octaves, reverberating around us. Every syllable is defined and covered in sharp barbs as she challenges the much larger man. "You claim you love her, and this is your suggestion?"
"Wait!" Plume says, stepping between Mace and Tulip. "That is not what he's suggesting. The next part says a true Yearning. Do you know about Yearning magic?" Tulip shakes her head,barely stepping back away from Mace. Her whole body seems to vibrate with anger; her hands are clenched into fists by her side, and they are so tight that her knuckles are white. Plume nods, placing her hand gently on Tulip's shoulder. "It's a magic within Spring that is exceedingly rare. It can induce love or sexual desire."
"That's…" Tulip struggles to speak.
"Really fucking dangerous," Morrow says from his seat, "and the implications of it are scary."
"But we also think it means that the sacrifice needs to be paired with true love and desire," Plume continues, looking at me. "Not malicious intent."
I try to steady my breathing, my body tense from the conversation going on around me. I feel like I am outside myself, viewing the situation as it unfolds from above. Am I being asked to relive my worst moment? The moment every lingering bit of power I had was stripped from me, the moment that nearly broke me after my parents betrayed me?
"A true intent and fervent devotion," Zeph says, walking to me and taking my hands in his. I flinch at the contact but do not pull my hands away. "The high priest of Spring believed there was no sacrifice without losing a part of yourself. You will have to make a sacrifice with true love and desire, pure intent, and fervent devotion. If what we think this means is true," he gulps, closing his eyes as if fighting to get the words out.
"How is this a sacrifice?" My voice sounds small. It's embarrassing. I'm supposed to be this strong God, and hereI am, quivering from a memory.
"After that day, how did you feel?" Zeph's voice is gentle and measured. His green eyes are soft, and he has a sad smile on his face.
"Like a part of me died."
It feels like I'm melting, the realization dripping down my lips, weighing them down, and threatening to throw me into the dirt.
Devotion is stronger with a sacrifice.
What greater sacrifice is there than death?
Physical death or emotional, I'm not sure it matters. Because the Viola Mistflow who entered the summit for her first Race, was not the one who left that year.
Mace steps in, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "If you and I recreate that moment, and you sacrifice that secret, that control, that moment, with me, someone who loves and desires you entirely, someone who has nothing but the most honest and true of intents to help you and to bring back the Bloomtide," he breaths deeply, moving from behind Zeph to cup my face, "someone who is more devoted to you than anyone else in this world, it should work."
"But how?" I ask quietly. "If I believe that doing that satisfies the riddle, where is the magic? Where is the summoning?"
"I don't think the Bloomtide intended someone to use magic to bring her back," Zeph says, taking a step back to allow me to fall fully into Mace's strong arms. He tightens them around me, and though it may make me appear weak in front of thosegathered, I slump into his hold, needing the comfort he can offer me more than my pride in this moment.
Zeph positions himself next to Plume and crosses his arms behind his back before continuing. "I believe the Bloomtide's intention was for someone to produce so much devotion and natural Yearning magic that it draws her back."
I bury my face in Mace's chest, and his hands trace up my spine. I count the taps he does on my vertebrae, using the familiar repetition to ground me as best as I can. "I don't want to do this," I say, only for him to hear. "And I certainly don't want everyone watching it."
"No one needs to watch it," he says just as quietly. "Zeph needs to be in the general vicinity because we think it may drain your magical reserves as a way of pulling Amaryn here, but other than that, it can be just us."
I push away from his chest and look at Avidor and Solarius, both leaning forward with a keen interest in our conversation. Morrow and Jaz sit stiffly near them, both clearly uncomfortable and worried about the conversation's turn. Tulip paces near me, Plume quietly whispering assurances and answering questions spat at her with grace.
"And you all are sure," I say, pushing more strength than I feel into my voice, "that this will work?"
"No," Zeph answers honestly, closing the journal and sliding it into his pocket. "But we weren't sure about the other rituals either. It's a guessing game. But this is our best guess at this juncture, and so far, our track record is good."
Everybit of my body recoils at the idea of reliving that awful memory, of putting myself in that vulnerable position. But I look up at Mace, the love and affection in his eyes, and even though my chest tightens with fear and trepidation, I know this man would never hurt me.
He would never leave me there.
He would never abandon me.
So I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then nod, preparing to sacrifice the part of myself I never wanted anyone to know for my people.
Chapter 38
Viola
Branches crunch under our feet as Mace and I make our way through the forest. It took us a little less than an hour to trek down the hill that Rainworth sits atop to the edge of the forest. Zeph broke off from us there, indicating that we should move deeper into the trees without him.
