The immediate reaction that followed the Strong Maestro’s visage upon the three who’d stayed behind was one of surprise not unlike Octavia’s own. The second shock came in the form of Madrigal’s hands. The third, Renato’s eyes on Harper, and the fourth, Octavia’s brief retelling of the harrowing crisis that had awaited within the confines of the armory. There was little true organization to their actual exchange, still largely localized to the floor of the northwestern corridor as it was. Viola had her in a death grip, which didn’t make speaking much easier. Octavia didn’t particularly mind, to be fair.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again!” Viola scolded, teary-eyed from her story alone.
With the Maestra’s arms nearly around her neck, Octavia laughed. “I will, inevitably. You’ll probably be there for it.”
“How did you even know where to find them?” Josiah asked, repeating Octavia’s earlier question. “There’s all sorts of--”
Renato held out one flat palm before the boy’s face, a silent request for more of the same. “Talk about it later. Long story. Well, not long, but a story regardless.”
“You really came,” Harper said weakly, content to rest with his back against one blindingly-white wall.
“How the hell did you even manage that?” Renato asked with a wince, stooping to the Maestro’s level for a brief moment.
Harper chuckled. “It’s a talent.”
“Getting hurt is a talent?”
“Just like getting into trouble is one of yours.”
Josiah had, in all fairness, done a spectacular job in the midst of crisis with the resources he’d been given. The sheer quantity of bandages that coated Harper’s entire lower leg were, at least, overwhelmingly restrictive. Still, they were tightly tied and arranged carefully enough that the still-seeping blood was minimal at best. The gauze was holding up well, provided Harper was relatively motionless. His agonizing screams, once enough to tear Octavia’s heart to pieces, had long since quieted. Soft words of fatigue had taken their place, and it was an immense relief.
“Is he gonna be alright?” Octavia whispered. If Josiah gave her anything but an affirmative, she wasn’t sure what she would do.
Her relief when he nodded was immediate. “For now. He’s gonna need a real doctor, as much as I hate to ever say those words. Gave him a light sedative. Should help with his pain for a while. Surprised it hasn’t knocked him out.”
Octavia couldn’t fight a smirk. “He’s terrible about sleeping.”
“So…Portia had something to do with Priscilla, then?” Viola finally asked, relaxing her iron embrace on Octavia somewhat.
She didn’t particularly dislike Viola’s brutal hugs. Regardless, Octavia was grateful for the oxygen. “Everything to do with her, really. You could almost call it revenge. As far as how, I don’t know everything, but I do know she was…trying to hurt us. Us, specifically.”
“Revenge for killing Drey?” Harper murmured.
Octavia nodded. “It…really was my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Madrigal shook her head fiercely, her curls nearly hitting Josiah in the face as he tugged her wrists forward. “I’ll say it as many times as I need to! None of this is your fault! It’s Drey’s fault and Drey’s fault alone! And…Portia’s fault, now! They’re--ouch!”
She winced as Josiah turned one of her hands over. He himself winced at the sight of the shell still lodged beneath the flaps of her delicate skin. “I’m not getting that out on my own. I’m gonna end up messing up your muscles if I try. Again, real doctor time. God, I hate saying that.”
“Can you at least cover them?” Renato asked. “I don’t really want her walking around like that.”
Josiah nodded. “I’ll put bandages on them, but I’m gonna have to disinfect them first.”
The look on Harper’s face was almost comical. “Please don’t do that,” he begged in horror.
Josiah rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll let the ‘real doctor’ do it.”
“Octavia,” Viola began, “I’m sorry you had to do this again.”
The Heartful Maestra blinked. “Do what?”
Viola hesitated. “To…take a life again.”
Octavia froze. “I-I…didn’t.”
Viola tensed. So, too, did Josiah, with Harper in tandem. “You didn’t kill her?” Josiah asked, his voice touched by panic.
Octavia shook her head. “No, no, she’s dead, but…it wasn’t me.”
Three sets of eyes flickered to Madrigal, pained fingers still resting delicately in Josiah’s. She shook her head with a smile.
When they traveled to Renato, he couldn’t look a single one in the eyes. He adjusted his hat anxiously, tapping his foot with just as much nervousness. One half of Mistral Asunder again beat a steady rhythm against his leg. Octavia was used to his body language betraying him, at this point.
“Your toll,” Viola breathed.
Even if he couldn’t look at her, he still found the strength to nod. “Y-Yeah.”
Viola’s eyes flickered to Octavia, and Octavia almost pulled hers away out of reflex.
“It just…happened that way,” Octavia said. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
“Wasn’t exactly fun,” Renato grumbled.
“Mente and Aste can go home now,” Madrigal said softly, a gentle smile settling onto her lips as she surrendered to bandage after bandage. “One good thing came out of all of this.”
Renato sighed. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
“We didn’t tie everything up,” Octavia continued, “but I like to imagine we’re not in immediate danger anymore. Or our families, at least.”
“Was she actually trying to hurt us from where we were, or was she trying to get us here?” Josiah theorized.
Octavia shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m…open to either one. Maybe both.”
Harper scoffed. “If it really was her, she somehow got us on the worst train ride ever and tried to blow up her own building. I wouldn’t rule out the latter, either.”
“Do we want to keep…looking for things?” Viola asked, eyeing Octavia with concern.
Octavia paused for a moment. “Raise your hand if you’re injured.”
Harper’s hand shot up instantly. She kicked herself before anyone else could do the same.
“Madrigal, don’t raise your hand,” she hissed.
“Sorry!” the Maestra said sadly.
Renato tilted his head. “Like, emotionally?”
She groaned. “If...she really was the one causing all of these problems, then I think we at least have enough leeway to retreat for now. It’s like we said earlier. We’re not going back to Coda anytime soon. We’ll heal up and come back to fill in the gaps. If we have to fight our way through, at least we’re learning this place a little more every day.”
It was Renato’s turn to groan, albeit excessively. “Seriously? We have to come back?”
Octavia kicked herself again.
“Are we safe to leave?” Harper asked. “With the…you know.”
“If we retrace our steps carefully, we should be fine, right?” she offered. “We were…okay coming in. We should be okay going out.”
He nodded. “If you’re sure.”
For his sake specifically, she’d better be. She didn’t enjoy the thought of being wrong.
“Is this too tight?” Josiah asked gently, patting the knots atop Madrigal’s bandages with care.
Madrigal beamed, the full radiance of the sun born of her smile once again. “Not at all. You did a great job!”
His face flushed, and he averted his eyes. “I-It’s just how you’re supposed to do it. Let me know if it starts to hurt, okay?”
That left one of Josiah’s patients immobile.
“Hey,” Renato said plainly, hands on his hips.
With his shadow casting shade over the Willful Maestro, Harper tilted his head, offering another weak smile. “Hey.”
“Ready?”
Harper blinked. “Ready for what?”
Renato grinned devilishly.
“Wait, ready for wh--”
Harper let out a cry of surprise the minute Renato had his hands on him, particularly given the exceedingly compromising way in which the Strong Maestro had chosen to lift him from the marble flooring. He bounced slightly as Renato shifted the boy’s weight, further adding to his mild humiliation and slight pain each time his leg moved the wrong way. For a moment, he flailed in protest, his face an absolutely blinding scarlet that got a solid laugh out of Octavia.
“Are you serious?” he cried. “Put me down!”
Renato’s grin was eternal. “You’re not walking.”
“This is not the way to solve that!” Harper snapped, his voice wobbling with embarrassment.
Renato shrugged, a motion that brought Harper along with him slightly. “I don’t exactly see any other way you’re gonna be gettin’ out of here. Someone was gonna have to carry ya.”
“Did it have to be you?”
Renato winked. “Yes.”
Harper threw his hands over his face, growling with embarrassment as he struggled to conceal his blush. “Did it have to be like this?”
Renato nodded, his demeanor and sly grin both utterly uncompromised. “If I don’t carry at least one person like a princess today, I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight. I have a quota to fill.”
“Oh my God,” Harper muttered miserably, his suffering muffled behind his palms.
Octavia was still laughing. If nothing else, at least some of her stress was alleviated by the simple sight of them together again. Viola’s hand around her own, too, was just as much of a comfort.
“Let’s go, okay?” Viola offered.
Octavia nodded with a smile. “Yeah. We’ll…take things as they come.”
With how her life had been going in recent months, there wasn’t much other option. At this point, she’d learned to embrace it, no matter who stood by her side on the way there.
----------------------------------------
It was easier to go backwards than it was to go forwards, and not solely because the corridor wasn’t exploding beneath her feet at random. She took comfort in the knowledge that she would finally be free to leave a place so vile soon enough--for now, at least. Whether or not she would be freed of SIAR’s poisonous grasp permanently remained to be seen, particularly if the handful of concerns she had regarding their situations continued to exist.
Tonight, they’d erased an immediate threat to the lives of both themselves and their families. They’d secured one more toll. At the cost of bodily harm, they’d been somewhat productive. Even at Madrigal’s insistence to the opposite, the guilt torturing Octavia’s stomach still spoke to a feeling of personal responsibility. The sentiment echoed each time she witnessed Madrigal wincing with any movement of her hands, let alone Harper struggling to kick at his forcibly-assigned prince.
“Are there doctors in Solenford that we know of?” Viola asked aloud.
Josiah shrugged. “I don’t know the first thing about this place. We’ve only been here once. Even then, it was an in-and-out kind of ordeal. Still, for the size of it, I’d hazard a guess that it wouldn’t be too hard to find one.”
Octavia sighed. “Yeah, if the whole city doesn’t know we killed their local hero.”
Viola tilted her head. “I thought you told me someone covered it up.”
She nodded. “They did. That’s…something I still haven’t figured out, either.”
“I’d offer to get us to a doctor further out,” Josiah began, “but I’m worried about both of them getting infections. I don’t know how long we’d have to travel to get to another city with the medical care they’d need.”
“What’s the closest city to here?”
“Ardenfall, I think,” he answered. “Still a ways away. Absolutely no clue how far that is, and God, I am sick and tired of trains. You can’t seriously look me in the eyes and tell me you’re fine with taking another one after what just happened.”
Octavia cringed. She wasn’t particularly inclined to disagree. “We can just keep our mouths shut. Do you think we’d get lucky twice?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” she said, “do you…think someone would cover up Portia’s death, too?”
“Do you think anyone would be worried about her in the first place?” Viola tried.
“I don’t know if lightning strikes twice,” Josiah murmured. “Wishful thinking, at best.”
“No one will look for her.”
The low, masculine voice that came from well ahead of Octavia startled her fiercely. It was out of sheer reflex that her hands darted to Stradivaria, the violin immediately settling upon her shoulders and her fingers following suit--regardless of what she could see. At her side, Viola had mirrored her actions, Silver Brevada aloft at her lips in an instant.
Her eyes wandered. Josiah’s humble knife was clasped in his palm, distantly leveled and ready to strike into the dark. Even behind her, Harper, of all people, had somehow managed to take Royal Orleans up and into Renato’s arms along with him. Injured or not, it left him clutching the trumpet tightly with narrowed eyes to show for it. Equally wounded and yet undeterred, Madrigal’s bandages drifted half-heartedly over her bag. It was, above all, incredibly impressive that Renato could support Harper’s full weight single-handedly, one drumstick fully extended in a severe threat.
Even if they couldn’t see it, they could hear it. That was enough. Compromised as they were, they were at least together.
“Show yourself!” Octavia cried, willing her voice to remain steady. Hostile or not, she fought to control the way her fingers wobbled against Stradivaria’s bow.
“I’m…sorry.”
“Now!” she screamed impatiently.
Already, she was entertaining the idea of preemptive fire. It was coming from the entrance, their sole exit barred. In the absolute worst case scenario, she knew Renato could break through the reinforced walls. Exhausted as he was, Octavia resented the idea of counting on that possibility.
She didn’t need to. The figure that stepped out of the shadows came with arms aloft, a show of surrender with steady palms offered to Octavia instead. Footsteps filled the gaps of silence, echoing off the walls of the lobby with every clack of the man’s shoes against the marble flooring.
He was plain. His eyes were pained. She’d seen them once. She’d seen them more than once, actually, through eyes not her own.
Octavia knew better than to trust. She didn’t dare lower Stradivaria, tensing ever further against the Harmonial Instrument. Still, she couldn’t fight the way her heart raced.
“Octavia,” he said softly. He offered nothing more.
The four syllables of her name were enough to shake the Maestros around her, several of whom briefly dropped their guard--much to her dismay. She refused to do the same, eyes narrow as the tell-tale pumping of adrenaline bit into her veins once more.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Renato flinched. “Whoa, you know this guy?”
Octavia didn’t dignify him with an answer. “What do you want?” she cried instead.
“I...don’t want anything. I just want to talk,” the man spoke.
“I don’t believe you!” Octavia screeched, loudly enough for the echo to sting her own eardrums.
He winced at much the same sound. “I don’t expect you to, nor do I blame you.”
“Octavia, who is this person?” Madrigal whispered.
“You’re with her,” she hissed, “aren’t you?”
The man shook his head slowly, his eyes deceptively gentle. “I’m not. Our ideals are not the same.”
Octavia growled. “I am so sick of hearing that. I don’t care about your ideals, or anyone’s ideals. I care about you hurting the people I love over and over! Stand down, or you’re gonna end up like the other two!”
“Octavia, who is he?” Viola murmured, her voice tinted with urgency.
It took everything in Octavia’s power to calm her voice, even momentarily. She closed her eyes, swallowing her ire.
“This,” she breathed, her voice trembling, “is Samuel. He’s one of Drey’s confidants.”
“Eww, how many partners in crime does this guy have?” Renato muttered.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I won’t hurt anyone,” the man insisted, his hands still speaking to surrender.
Octavia shook her head. “How many times have I had to hear that from him? How many people did he hurt regardless? I don’t believe you!”
“Put me down.”
Renato’s eyes flickered downwards. “What?”
“I said put me down,” Harper repeated softly.
Octavia’s eyes snapped to the Willful boy. To much the same degree, so did those of her companions. Renato obliged, albeit not without visible confusion. Harper nearly stumbled as he attempted to walk, grunting with pain seconds before Renato threw the Maestro’s arm around his own shoulder. Puzzled as he was, he followed Harper’s lead, tentative and limping footsteps coming to rest at Octavia’s side. Harper entrusted Royal Orleans to Strong hands, his hostilities born of words alone.
“Look at me,” he demanded of the stranger.
It was of equal surprise that Samuel didn’t resist. Octavia’s eyes widened in realization.
Harper’s voice was sharp, his eyes ever sharper. “Do you want to hurt us?”
The man exhaled slowly. “No.”
Harper paused. “Do you want to hurt anyone else?”
“No,” he spoke again, softer.
“Do you want to hurt Octavia?”
“No.”
Harper took a deep breath before continuing. “Did you help Portia try to hurt us?”
Samuel shook his head. “No.”
Harper was quiet, closing his eyes for a moment. “He’s telling the truth,” he breathed at last.
That, too, was enough to startle Octavia. Even so, she refused to remove her hands from their respective positions on Stradivaria, eyes flickering between Samuel and Harper in turn.
“He’s telling the truth,” Harper said, “but that doesn’t mean I trust him.”
Samuel averted his eyes. “Once more, I don’t blame you. I can’t ask for something I haven’t earned, and rightfully so.”
“Don’t look away from me.”
The speed with which Samuel returned Harper’s harsh, piercing gaze wasn’t quite fast enough for the boy’s liking. The latter clenched his fists. “Whatever you say to Octavia, you look directly at me for. Don’t look away from my eyes, even for a second. Understand?”
Samuel nodded again. It was, in its own way, extremely jarring to Octavia how calmly he was taking Harper’s bitter orders. Still, she sent a prayer of eternal gratitude for her little lie detector.
“What do you want?” Octavia snapped, trying and failing to soften her words.
His words were slow, composed in the face of her venom. “You…really do look so much like her.”
Disarming as they were, his words meant nothing. She struggled to keep her composure. “What do you want?” she demanded again.
“I’m sorry for what Portia's done to you. I’m sorry for what he’s done to you, as well.”
“No you’re not,” she hissed.
“He’s telling the truth.”
Her wide eyes accidentally stung Harper, although the spears of his own took her misplaced aggression surprisingly well. Octavia regretted it instantly. True to his word, his eye contact with Samuel was made of steel, unwavering and unbroken. It was only in his peripheral that he caught her poison.
“Were you involved? With either of them?” she spat.
“I was,” Samuel answered, “but not in the way you’d think.”
“Truth.”
His honesty was somehow even more unsettling than the lies she’d so strongly expected to hear. Octavia's fingers were beginning to go numb from how harshly she was gripping Stradivaria, her back burning beneath so many eyes settled upon her.
“The things that happened to us,” she began with shaky breaths, “what did you do?”
He chuckled, a tiny gesture that made her blood boil. “Which ones?”
“All of them.”
“Be specific.”
“You know what I mean!” Octavia growled. “Don’t play games with me!”
Samuel sighed. “I’m not asking to be rude, I assure you. It makes things easier for this boy, doesn’t it?”
Octavia froze, her breath doing much the same in her throat. “What?”
Somehow, in the face of Harper’s hostility, Samuel still found the softest of smiles. “It…would help to prove my innocence. It would help to earn your trust. I assure you, I understand what’s happening. I have no quarrel with it. Do as you must. I do not blame you.”
Viola’s hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump. “D-Does he…know what Harper’s doing?”
The idea was simultaneously horrifying and downright baffling. Even Harper, eyes locked in place and razor-edged as they were, seemed briefly shaken for a fraction of a second.
Octavia struggled to regain her composure, shaking the thoughts out of her head. “The camp. Harper’s. What the hell happened?”
Samuel blinked slowly. At last, he lowered his arms, even in light of Octavia’s Harmonial Instrument still well-readied--and those of the Maestros around her, as well. “Portia hired anyone who was willing to burn it to the ground. That child was a godsend. I had no hand in that, I assure you. When she was fruitless, she turned to those who were far more desperate. She guided their path.”
“Truth,” Harper breathed, his voice trembling.
“And she knew it was Harper’s camp?” Octavia continued slowly.
Samuel nodded. “She could not be mistaken. It was…not hard to find you children, not with the resources and connections she had. Not with those I…”
He paused. She persisted.
“Finish your sentence,” Octavia demanded with a growl.
“I, too, had no difficulty,” he murmured. “Know that my intentions were not malicious.”
“Holly and Ivy, then,” Harper spoke as firmly as was possible. “They were compensated.”
“I could not undo what had already been done,” Samuel said. “However, I could deliver upon an empty promise.”
“Truth,” Harper squeaked, his voice nearly cracking in the process.
“How did you even know?” Octavia continued. “How did you know Portia was…involved? How did you know she was trying to hurt Harper’s family?”
“Because she was not aware that our ideals weren't identical.”
“Truth.”
He hadn’t lied--not once.
“Viola’s father,” Octavia demanded.
The mention of him alone was enough. She could feel Viola stiffen next to her, her partner still steady at her lips. Octavia almost felt bad for bringing it up. It needed to be asked, regardless.
“Bribery is the simplest of influences. She hardly had to try. The stage was already set for her. From there, it was a matter of manipulating the timeframe, both within the confines of the trial and in planning for such. That, too, was no difficult task.”
“Truth.”
“Did you…do anything about it?” Octavia asked hesitantly. Part of her was afraid to hear the answer.
Samuel nodded. “I walked the same path. The sentencing appeal was easy to rush. There…wasn’t much more that I could achieve. Of this, too, I regret that I couldn't do more.”
“Truth,” Harper said once more.
Octavia hesitated to chase her next line of thought. The thought of ignoring it was equally as distressing. She gambled. “Did you have…anything to do with the fact that the judge looked like Priscilla?” she murmured.
Samuel smiled softly, shaking his head. “Did she? No, I didn’t. I hope that wasn’t too upsetting for you. I…like to imagine it was a coincidence that emboldened your heart. Am I right?”
“Truth.”
Harper’s words answered Samuel’s alone. Octavia refused to dwell on what Samuel had returned to her. “M-Madrigal,” she said with a stammer. “Her brother.”
Samuel nodded. “Portia hired an assailant. I was aware. I warned him. It was that simple.”
“Truth.”
“Did she tell you she was going to do all of these things?” Josiah asked suddenly.
Even if the inquiry hadn’t come from Octavia herself, Samuel still didn’t withhold an answer. “Most things. It is as I’ve said. She was not aware that our ideals did not match. What she confided in me, I did not believe. My quarrel is not with children, no matter what deed has been done or what blood has been spilt.”
He sighed before continuing. “Unlike Portia, I do not find Alessandro to be a guiltless man.”
Octavia recoiled. “What?”
“T-Truth.”
“But you’re his…confidant. You were one of his closest friends,” she insisted.
“He once asked that I stand at his back as he sinned and sinned again,” Samuel explained. “I could...not excuse the actions he took. I could not rationalize his bloodshed, his reasons be damned. Perhaps I was not as true of a friend as I should have been to him. I have made mistakes that led him down paths he never would’ve taken.”
Octavia gulped. She didn’t want an answer for what came to mind. It left her lips anyway. “L-Like what?”
Samuel fell silent for a moment. “I should never have taken him to Velrose.”
She’d forgotten. In her rage towards more pressing concerns, she’d forgotten Samuel’s role in the catastrophe upon the Blessed City and the apocalypse upon its twin below. It was on her other side, now, that she could feel ire incarnate radiating into the air. Heavy, shaking breaths accompanied the tremble of a blade in her peripheral. She fought the bells. Not here. Not now.
“What…did you do…in Velrose?” Octavia forced out between gritted teeth, blood rushing loudly in her ears.
Samuel sighed. “I truly meant no harm. I regret my choices each and every day I live, Octavia. I did not know what was occurring below, nor the state of affairs that lived in the shadow of the acolyte. In my heart of hearts, I really and sincerely believed I had made the moral decision in reporting her elopement. I…believed her to be a guardian angel, her disappearance a death sentence for a broken city that clung to her every blessing.”
“It was all she had!” Josiah cried, his voice cracking. “It was the one and only thing she ever wanted! She was a guardian angel, and you tore off her friggin’ wings! Take that to your grave, you bastard!”
It was only by virtue of Renato’s grasp upon either of the boy’s shoulders that Josiah didn’t lunge, the Strong Maestro overpowering him physically from behind. His small knife trembled viciously, the tears in his eyes not subtle as they trickled down his cheeks. The rage behind each contrasted starkly with their sorrow, and it was surely through sheer willpower alone that Josiah didn’t struggle against Renato’s restraint. Octavia’s heart broke on his behalf. She wasn’t the only one.
“Truth,” Harper murmured softly.
“Liar!” Josiah screamed.
“I didn't know,” Samuel continued, his voice nearly a whisper. “Alessandro did. He was…astute in that way. He knew what would become of one pushed to the brink, given the world in which she lived. It is a world he should never have known.”
“Drey knew about Maestros, right?” Madrigal asked.
“You used Cadence,” Octavia hissed. “Both of you.”
Samuel didn’t resist the sharp accusation. “For access to Velrose alone. In my case, at least. I do not deny my cruelty there. It was my selfish infatuation with the Blessed City, born of genuine and pure intent. Of this, I swear. As to Alessandro, he did much the same, albeit with different intentions. Know, though, that he truly did love that child. She was like a daughter to him. He fought with all his might to lead her down another path, to show her a life outside of her world. He nearly did.”
“Truth.”
For the most part, Octavia didn’t need affirmation as to the statement. She’d confirmed it through Cadence’s eyes already--even Drey’s, in passing. She wasn’t sure how many more inquiries about the forsaken blossom and flame her heart could take. She exhaled slowly.
“Renato’s hands.”
Viola beat her to it, a discrepancy she’d nearly forgotten in full. Octavia turned her head, the Soulful Maestra resolute as she stared down Drey’s former confidant without fear.
The Maestro in question, too, turned his own head to her slowly, eyes wide with confusion at the sound of his name--and the mention of the cherry oak still resting atop Josiah’s shoulders. “What…about them?”
Viola didn’t acknowledge Renato directly. It was to Samuel alone that she gave her attention. “Was that you?”
Samuel nodded with a faint smile that made Octavia’s heart skip a beat. “I…I’m glad they fit. I hope you like them, and I’m…so sorry you needed them at all.”
Renato was speechless. His eyes drifted to the masterpieces of craftsmanship bound to his wrists, beautiful as ever despite all they’d been through since their conception. The question that he stole from Octavia’s tongue was one she hadn't thought she would lose. If it were ever asked, she’d never expected it to come from anyone but herself.
“Was the…cherry oak intentional?” Renato murmured half-heartedly.
When Samuel nodded, Renato’s eyes sparkled in the absolute slightest. “It was my hope that it…gave you the courage to fight. With Octavia by your side, I knew, too, that she would feel the same. Her father is a woodworker, if memory serves.”
“Truth.”
“Thank…you,” Renato whispered.
It was the first praise offered to a man who’d seen and been privy to evil. He took it with pride that Octavia hadn’t yet fully determined if he deserved. Drey was awful. Portia was awful. Samuel was disorienting, deceiving, and unpredictable. Perhaps this was worse. She couldn’t so much as begin to wrap her head around the idea that Harper might’ve been wrong all along.
“The train we took to get here,” Harper began. “Explain. There’s…no way.”
Samuel’s brief smile, born of gratitude, slipped from his face. “It was elaborate. I was not aware until well after the fact. Portia altered the tickets sold under your names exclusively in Coda. From there, the route was changed. The only passengers aboard your train that sought passage to Solenford were you six. It was a matter of changing your singular way through, from there.”
“I don’t understand why she would mess with us while we were in Coda and still try to hurt us on the way here. Which one was she hoping for?” Viola asked.
Samuel sighed. “Most likely, she sought both. I can’t speak on her behalf, but it’s so like her to exude such spite. If I were to guess, I would assume she meant to ignite the fuse that drew you to where you now stand. She is the type to seek a…crushing blow in full. I doubt she would’ve been satisfied with the pain she did inflict, had you still not come.”
“On the train, how did she know there would be Dissonance?” Octavia interrupted. “Getting the exact train, I can understand, but…how could she ensure that?”
“She…gambled upon much the same logic as Alessandro, a broken place full of broken memories that had long sat dormant. Since its return to Solenford after that dreadful disaster, it had not seen usage again. You were the first upon it since that time. You had opened a box of suffering meant to stay sealed.”
“Truth.”
Madrigal’s words were nearly inaudible. “You really talk like you know a lot about Dissonance. Maestros, too.”
Her words, abrupt as they were, were enough for multiple sets of eyes to cling to the Spirited Maestra like a magnet. Octavia tensed once more. Not once had Stradivaria left her shoulder, and she absolutely did not plan to indulge that decision now.
Samuel chuckled. “A conservator and businessman, an appraiser, and a historian. It should come as no surprise which of the three would find such love in knowledge and curiosity.”
“His death,” Octavia finally asked. “You covered for me, didn’t you?”
Without hesitation, he nodded. “And I will offer the same for Portia, in turn. I do not fault your decisions. In your shoes, perhaps I would have done the same.”
“Truth,” Harper confirmed quietly.
Viola scoffed. “She nearly did the same thing to herself. I don’t know what she would possibly get out of destroying SIAR of her own accord. The explosives, is she insane? I mean…this was Drey’s dream, right? Why would she compromise that?”
Samuel chuckled once more. “SIAR is nearly impenetrable. No explosive, nor mortal weaponry as a whole, would be enough to compromise its actual foundations. I’m certain she knew this. Still, I plan to at least verify that there aren’t yet more of them planted that I am unaware of.”
Renato smirked with not-so-subtle pride. “It’s not that impenetrable, apparently.”
“Then the…letters I got in the mail.”
Octavia had almost forgotten to ask, cutting him off. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“There were two. Was…one from you and one from Portia?”
“Yes.”
“Truth.”
“The one from Portia…she sent the photographs of Priscilla, right? The one she carried around, and…one I don’t recognize.”
“It was a favorite of Alessandro’s. It was taken with great love and care.”
“Truth.”
She didn’t want the answer. She was afraid to ask. She didn’t have a choice.
“The other letter. The one you sent.”
Octavia took a deep breath, trading her impossibly-loud heartbeat for her equally-racing thoughts.
“How…did you know?”
Samuel was quiet for a moment. “How did I…know what, exactly?”
Octavia’s words were soft, yet pointed. She kept them gentle, yet sharp. With every eye upon her, confused or otherwise, she drew out each syllable with a trembling voice she couldn’t quite control.
“How…did you know?”
Again, he was silent. Slowly, Samuel tilted his head in the slightest. He closed his eyes, traces of a smile settling upon his lips. Harper’s initial dismay at his disobedience was quickly assuaged by a sharp shake of Octavia’s head, and he stood down. Octavia could hardly breathe, her ears straining for his words.
When he opened his eyes once more, they fell to Stradivaria.
“You haven’t seen the other one yet, have you?”
Octavia's world screeched to a halt. Her lungs did the same, as did her heartbeat. She staggered, her balance compromised by a dizziness she couldn’t pinpoint.
“I-I…”
In the face of her absolute confusion and shock, Samuel was calm. “You haven’t. That’s alright, but you must. Watch, and all will be clear. You will have your truth, my words be damned. That violin is no liar.”
Only now did the weight of his words resonate, a rippling wave of surprise and mild horror besieging those around her. They were silent in turn, not daring to challenge even the slightest movement the Ambassador made before them. Octavia followed his eyes, too, to the Harmonial Instrument nestled with love into the crook of her shoulder.
She pulled it close to her heart instead. Her gaze flickered up and down to the man, Stradivaria, back again, and once more. Octavia swallowed what shock she’d been assaulted with. What took its place was terror, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach.
She didn’t want to. It was very possible that she didn’t have a choice.
Stradivaria, Octavia pleaded softly, stroking her thumb along the curvature of the violin.
I am here.
I…don’t know what to do.
Are you afraid?
It was an understatement so vivid that she couldn’t help but smile. Of course I am.
Fear, too, can be conquered through the actions of those who tremble along the way.
You’re saying I should do it even though I’m scared, right?
What is it you fear, Octavia?
Her name was warm in his voice. It was calming, somehow, and her heart was warmed in turn. I’m afraid to live her life. I’m afraid to die her death.
As with all things, it will pass. Your time through her eyes is not forever.
What if I decide I want it to be?
Then you may hold such memories close to your heart for all time. You may steal with your eyes that which she would see, that which her hands would hold, and that which her heart would love.
I…don’t want to do this alone.
His words eased her pain. In this instance alone, it shall not be so. Through a heart not your own, I will be at your side. I will be in your arms. I will protect you as only I can. If you are fearful, Octavia, listen for my voice, and know that I am with you even there. You shall have my heart, much the same.
She breathed in. She breathed out.
She closed her eyes, vaguely aware of Viola’s words at her side as she again gathered Stradivaria’s bow and body into one palm.
“Octavia? What are you doing?”
With the violin aloft, she felt for the sensation of the scroll inches from her forehead.
I’m…ready. Please.
You need not my blessing. Your task has already been initiated. You have but one toll remaining. Know, Octavia, that you have my blessing regardless. You will prevail. Of this, I am certain.
Octavia wished she could smile more brightly for him. Thank you.
She was scared. She was terrified.
Gently, far softer than before, Octavia brushed her forehead against the scroll of the violin, delving deep into the darkness with which it came.
If she couldn’t bring her courage, she would instead bring along her love.