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“Too many times,” Viola said, glancing away. “My whole life I’ve spent sitting in churches just like that one, promising anything—offering anything—to be free from this connection to the old magic that lives in my skin, that beats with my blood. My whole life, no one has answered those prayers. Because god, he don’t work like that. He’s not gli folletti, flitting through the air to grant our wishes.”
Surprised, Ruby looked up. Why would Viola want to give up that essential part of her, that piece of light that made her so uniquely herself? “But your affinity, it’s part of you. Why would you ever wish it away?”
“Bah,” Viola exclaimed with disgust. “It’s nothing but a curse.”
“No,” Ruby said, squeezing her hand. When Viola wouldn’t look at her, she scooted closer on the bed, took Viola’s face in her hands, and turned her head. So that she would have to see, have to understand. “It’s part of you, Viola. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
But Viola backed away from her. “I don’t understand you. You know what I am, what I’ve done. The lives I’ve taken. The people I’ve killed.” She shook her head. “Why do you not see?”
“See what?” Ruby asked.
“The truth,” Viola said.
Ruby realized then what she hadn’t understood before. It was so easy to look at Viola, all brash temper and headstrong fire, and think that nothing could touch her. Maybe she should have seen it sooner—maybe it was what had drawn her to Viola in the first place—how similar they were. Neither one of them fitting in the world they were given. Both of them wanting more. But someone had hurt her.
“Who was it?” Ruby asked.
Confused, Viola looked back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Who convinced you that you’re not enough just as you are?”
This time it wasn’t panic Ruby saw but pain. Shadows darkened Viola’s violet irises, and she tried to turn away again.
But Ruby wouldn’t allow it. She shifted so Viola had to look at her. “You can’t see yourself clearly at all, can you?”
“I know what I am,” Viola whispered.
“Do you?” Ruby wondered. “I’ve seen you with your friends. I’ve seen your heart, Viola Vacarrelli. You can’t hide it from me.”
Viola tried to shrug off her words, but Ruby would not allow her to.
“You can’t hide from me,” she said. “I don’t know who convinced you that your affinity was evil, but they were wrong. Maybe you’re brash, with a temper to go along with it. But you’re strong because of it. You’re good, Viola. Clear to the center of who you are.” A lock of hair had fallen from Viola’s usual low chignon, and Ruby tucked it behind her ear as a tear escaped from Viola’s eyes. “Beautiful, too.”
She leaned forward, slowly, so that there was every opportunity for Viola to escape, and when she didn’t, Ruby kissed her. Gently at first, a question. And then, all at once, Viola leaned into her, and the whole world focused down to the truth of Viola’s mouth, the feel of her lips against hers, the taste of her. When Viola lifted her hands, threaded them through Ruby’s hair, and brought her closer, she was lost.
It was too easy to forget that earlier that morning she had been someone else’s bride. Too easy to forget where she was, who she was, and what had just happened.
But suddenly Ruby felt something between them shift, and Viola stopped.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Viola said, nearly breathless.
“Why?” Ruby challenged. “Because some crusty old men told us it isn’t possible to live a life without them?”
Viola blinked. “That’s not—”
“They’re wrong,” Ruby told her. “I’ve seen how wrong they are.” She saw the confusion, the interest in Viola’s expression. “In Paris, I saw the lives women can lead. Together. In the open. Happy.”
Viola shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. But don’t you see? It doesn’t matter, because I’ll never go to Paris. I’ll never leave this city.”
Because of the Brink. How stupid she’d been to forget. “Then we’ll make our Paris here.”
Viola only stared at her, and Ruby began to think that maybe she’d been wrong about what was between them. She’d just assumed that Viola felt the same, and with that kiss—
“And what of Theo?”
Theo. She waited for the guilt and shame to wash over her… but it never came. When she thought of Theo, when she thought of what had happened to him today, grief creased her heart. But not shame. He’d wanted this for her. He alone had understood. And because of what he gave—for her, for them—he would always be a part of the bond she felt with Viola. He would never truly be gone.
“I think he’d approve,” she told Viola. “You know, he talked about you and your friends when he came to visit me this past summer. He told me everything about what you’d done, what he was helping you with. He admired all of you so much, but I think he loved you most of all.”
