Page 29 of The City Of Fractured Memory

“You clearly hated him before that. I saw the way you looked at him back at the Division. What did he do to you?”

Xavier lets out a heavy breath, running his hand through his dark hair.

“No more riddles,” I warn him, my voice edged like a blade. “What is going on between you?”

His expression flickers between weariness and resistance. For a heartbeat I think he might dodge the question again, but then his shoulders sag, a resigned look falling across his face.

“Years ago,” he begins, his voice quieter than usual, “my family crossed him. Don’t ask me how, he twists the truth until you can’t tell which way is up. But he marked us.”

From within his coat he draws out a locket I recognise, its silver tarnished, the chain broken. He sets it on the table between us gently, like one would a holy relic.

“My sister used to wear this,” he says.

I remember it swinging round Vesper’s neck when we would play together as teenagers, before she started to become more reclusive. It’s been more than a year now since I last saw her.

When Xavier’s eyes lift to mine they burn with such emotion my breath catches in my throat. “There’s a reason you’ve only seen Vesper a handful of times in recent years. You remember she used to laugh like sunlight? She had such huge ambitions. She’ll never get the chance to fulfill them.”

My throat tightens. “What happened?”

“What happened,” Xavier seethes through his teeth, “is that Riven cursed us. All of us. My family, my bloodline. He bound us with Hollow Blood.”

His words strike cold. I’ve heard whispers of this curse, but I never thought it was real.

“It slowly eats at us from the inside, like a festering rot,” Xavier continues, voice breaking. “Subtle, patient. First it steals your warmth, your laughter. You forget what it means to care. Then it strips your body of strength, year by year, until you’re nothing but a husk. My sister…she’s wasting away before my eyes. I had this locket spelled, it helped keep her symptoms at bay for a while, but now she’s so far gone, she refuses to wear it and insists I do instead. My father succumbed to it quickly, he couldn’t even feel love for his own children at the end. My mother—” His jaw clenches. “My mother chose the river, rather than live like that.”

My chest constricts painfully, a lump forming in my throat. It hasn’t escaped my attention that he’s been acting odd lately, increasingly more tired and indifferent. I’d just always assumed it was the stress of the job. But if he’s been living like this in silence, bearing the weight of it alone all these years…It’s a wonder he’s even able to function at this point.

Guilt floods through me for not intervening as soon as I noticed the change in him. I know that hollowing feeling, that slow burn at the edges of myself. The way my own magic chews on my soul every time I overreach.

“It’s like what mortal magic does,” I murmur, and he nods sharply.

“Exactly. Except this isn’t a choice. We never asked for it. He has condemned us, one by one.” His jaw clenches as he looks away at the wall. “Because he’s evil. Always has been.”

I feel bile rise in my throat. “Riven truly did this? He did all that just…for the joy of it?”

“Yes.” Xavier leans close, his dark eyes hard as steel. “He called it justice. Said my family had wronged him, that we deserved to suffer as we had made others suffer. But tell me, Octavia, what child deserves to have her joy stripped away? What father deserves to forget his love for his own children?”

The locket glimmers in the low firelight, accusing.

I swallow hard, the heat of rage building beneath my ribs. I think of the prisoners, of the blood spilled in the alleys of Aethermere, of Riven’s name whispered like a curse on every street. But this…this feels worse. This is monstrous.

“He’ll answer for it. We’ll make him answer for it.”

Xavier’s smile is thin and bitter, but I don’t miss the sudden glimmer in his eyes at my words. “Good. Because Riven’s reign of cruelty won’t end until someone tears it down.”

I frown, studying him. Those words ring too rehearsed for some reason, like a story told enough times that he’s begun to believe it himself. Despite my vengeful words, I think back to the look in Riven’s eyes, of the strange pity in his cryptic warning.

I must be losing my mind, but I cross my arms all the same. Xavier looks at me sharply, like he knows where my thoughts have wandered to. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to trust him? You don’t even know him. He’s messing with you, Octavia. He’s a psychopath.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap back. “I just—why didn’t you tell me this? Why hide it from me? I could’ve helped you.”

I don’t bother trying to hide my hurt this time, and silence presses heavily between us. Xavier’s mouth opens, then closes again. He turns away, staring into the dying firelight in the hearth. “Some things are better left buried,” he says finally, his voice a rasp.

I stare at his back, suspicion and sympathy tangling in my chest before I stamp down on it. I’ve got no reason not to believe him. He’s my friend, and he’s right, I don’t know Riven. What I have seen or heard of him so far has painted a disturbing, murderous picture, but his nonsensical, repeated warnings about fog still echo in my ears.

The fog doesn’t just blind, it hides.

No. Xavier’s right. I wrongly assumed Riven was trying to aid me for some reason I don’t understand, but it’s clear now he must be playing games with me. I internally scold myself for falling prey to it, for letting myself get distracted. The man is a murderer, and he needs to face the consequences.