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“He’s the one who invited me to your wedding,” Viola said, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Maybe he knew what both of us needed,” Ruby told her.

Viola leaned forward, rested her forehead against Ruby’s. “Sei pazza. You know that?”

“Maybe a little,” Ruby told her with a shrug. “But I’ve been called far worse.”

Viola choked out a surprised laugh.

“I want this, Viola. Whatever it is between us,” Ruby confessed.

“Ruby—”

“No,” she said, unwilling to allow Viola to brush aside what she knew was there. She’d tried this once before, but she’d made a complete mess of it. She would get it right this time. “I’ll mourn Theo for the rest of my life. His death will always be a regret that I carry with me, but not telling you how I felt? Not making you understand? What I feel—all of this—it’s not some silly whim of some silly rich girl. I understand what might lie ahead if we choose this—if we choose each other. I understand how hard all of it might be, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Viola argued. “Do you think I could ask that of you, to drag you down to my level?”

“Why can’t you see?” Ruby shook her head. “Viola, I lost everything today—my family, my best friend, and the life I once had—and none of it mattered compared to how I felt when they brought you in earlier, broken and bleeding. You’re better than all of them put together, and you would never drag me down. Whoever it was that made you believe you weren’t enough, they were fools, and I won’t let them get between us now. Let me stand next to you. Choose me, choose us, and the rest will figure itself out.”

Viola stared at her for a long beat, and the world began to tilt. Ruby was certain her life was destined to be colored by loss and disappointment. But then Viola leaned in and kissed her.

“Pazza,” Viola whispered. But she kissed Ruby again.

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

“Glad to see you’re still with us,” Cela said to Viola.

Viola started to move away from Ruby, but Ruby caught her hand, held tight, and looked Cela right in the eye.

Cela’s mouth quirked a bit. “I’ll give the two of you a minute, but Darrigan’s back with Jianyu. And you’re probably going to want to hear their news.”

THE BLACK CORD

Jianyu hissed in pain as Cela tended to the wound that had been caused by the silk cord around his wrist. He had not told anyone how the cord had grown smaller in recent weeks, but when he had removed his shirt so that Viola could take care of the wounds on his chest, there had been no way to hide it. Not when the black silk was so tight, it had practically embedded itself into his skin. Viola had healed the cuts Jack had made with a small burst of her magic, but her affinity had not touched the corrupt power in the shackle around his wrist.

“Sorry,” Cela whispered, grimacing a little at the pain she was causing him. But she did not stop her examination.

There was no denying it any longer. The black cord had been growing progressively smaller, but when Jack Grew had tried to harvest his magic, the bracelet had become like a garrote. The more power Jack had pressed into Jianyu’s body with the tip of the dagger, the tighter the braided silk had become.

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” Cela told him with a frustrated sigh. “Why didn’t you tell us it was getting so bad?”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Jianyu said, pulling away and immediately regretting the loss of the comforting warmth of Cela’s hands. “The bargain was mine to make. So too are the consequences.”

“Che cassata!” Viola snapped. “You should have told us. We aren’t any of us alone in this. Not anymore.”

She was right. But he had not wanted them to worry about things that could not be changed.

“It was not so tight as this until Jack Grew touched me with the dagger.” He did not know how to explain that the cold ritual magic it contained seemed stronger now, too. It radiated up his arm and down through all his fingers. He opened his hand and closed it, wincing at the stiffness there.

When he noticed Cela watching him with a worried frown, he stopped and clasped his hands together.

“Maybe Lee already had a claim to your affinity,” Darrigan said, eyeing the black silk on Jianyu’s wrist. He was leaning against the counter, slightly apart from those sitting around the table, as he had been the entire time Viola and Cela had tended to Jianyu’s wounds.

Jianyu frowned, remembering the way he had felt nearly torn in two as the dagger and the silk had warred for control over his affinity. “You think this cord might have offered protection?”

Harte shrugged. “It’s possible. When I found you, it looked like Jack was nearly done with the ritual. But you walked away with your magic intact. Maybe that bit of thread saved you.”

“He doesn’t look saved to me,” Cela told Harte. “He looks like he’s about to lose a hand if we don’t figure out how to get this off him.”