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Jianyu had found the answer to that question as soon as he realized how desperate his injury was. As he had grown weaker, the wound constantly seeping with his blood and his life, and then later, when he fought against the ceaseless undertow that pulled him toward nothingness, Jianyu had understood that the struggle had always been worth it. Always, even in its darkest moments.

He was not dead. He had somehow survived, and these two women—Viola and Cela, who were so different from one another, so different from Jianyu himself—were the reason. He allowed them to cluck and fuss because he understood they needed to. He could only be grateful.

A while later, when he was dry and clothed and propped back up in the bed, Viola explained how they had solved the problem of the wound her knife had made, and Jianyu finally told her everything about what had happened in those days after the bridge. Eventually, they came to other things that needed to be said. Difficult things that belonged only between the two of them.

The atmosphere in the small room shifted, and Cela seemed to understand. She excused herself, pulling Theo Barclay out of the room along with her, so Jianyu could speak with Viola alone.

“When I told them to send for you, I was not sure that you would come,” Jianyu admitted, forcing himself to meet Viola’s eyes.

Viola frowned. “Why would you think something so stupid?”

“You were so angry at the gala, and I had not the time to explain.” He paused, knowing these were excuses. “I also wondered if you had ever forgiven me… for Tilly.”

Viola stiffened slightly. “What happened to Tilly wasn’t your fault,” she told him.

“The others were never so sure. I heard what they whispered about me, even after Dolph gave me his support,” Jianyu told her, remembering those dark days after the Bella Strega’s cook had been struck down by some unseen power. He had never felt as if he truly belonged to the Devil’s Own, but after Tilly… it had felt even more impossible. He had stayed only for Dolph, because of Dolph.

“The others were fools,” Viola told him, taking his hand in hers.

“Perhaps, but there were days after when you looked at me with fire in your eyes. There were days I wondered if the moment would come when my heart would seize in my chest.” Jianyu squeezed her hand gently. “I know what Tilly meant to you. We all did.”

Viola’s gaze broke away to study their intertwined hands, and her throat worked like someone who was holding back tears. “I wouldn’t have harmed you—I never blamed you.”

Jianyu accepted her words, allowed the relief of them to wash over him before he spoke again. “And I do not lay any blame on you for what happened at the gala.”

“I nearly killed you,” Viola said, looking back up at him.

“Nearly is a great distance when it comes to dying,” Jianyu reminded her. “You saved me. Now there is truly nothing to forgive.”

“Tell that to the one downstairs,” Viola told him, nodding toward the door. “She has knives in her eyes every bit as sharp as the one I carry.”

“Both of you must lay them down,” Jianyu said, feeling suddenly tired.

Viola gave an indelicate snort that reminded Jianyu of so many days sitting around the kitchen table at the Bella Strega, talking like friends—almost like family.

“Lay down your knives, Viola,” Jianyu repeated. “Dolph Saunders believed that the only way to win against the Order, the only way to free the old magic, was to do so together.” The memory of his old friend sent a wave of sadness through him. “You went back to the Strega?” he asked. “To get the information that saved me?”

“A few days ago, yes.” Viola frowned.

“How did you find it to be?”

“Not the same, of course.” Her expression darkened. “Nibsy sits at Dolph’s table, and the Devil’s Own look to him now.”

“It is all as he planned,” Jianyu told her. He’d seen it for himself when he’d been taken to the Strega as a prisoner by Mock Duck a few weeks before the gala.

“I still can’t believe the little snake could have done all of this on his own,” Viola said. “I still say that if Darrigan hadn’t—”

“Dolph trusted Darrigan,” Jianyu reminded her. “Especially at the end. Dolph’s trust is enough for me, and so it should be enough for you as well.”

Viola snorted her disagreement. “You trust too easily. So did Dolph, it seems. Now Darrigan is gone, and the artifacts with him.”

Jianyu pushed away the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. With each passing minute, he felt a little stronger. A little more like himself. He had wasted far too much time lying on his back. When he thought about all that had happened, all that had been lost and betrayed, fury coursed through him. He accepted the heat of his anger, let it buoy him. Gathering his strength, he placed his feet upon the rough rug and tested his strength.

“It was the only way,” Jianyu said. “He and Esta will find the artifacts, and they shall return to us. Then we will end Nibsy together.”

With some effort he pulled himself up, wobbling a little on his unsteady legs. Viola was there in an instant, offering her arm. Jianyu took it gladly, but only for a moment. Only long enough to regain his balance.

“Will we also end the Devil’s Own?”? Viola wondered, frowning at him. “They follow Nibsy because they believe him. They don’t understand any of this.”