But she never stormed into his room to stop him. She couldn’t face him, either. It wasn’t like he considered her his sister, anyway.
Arabella watched Lola expectantly, waiting for her to respond. But Lola never had the words when it came to herself. She preferred to be the one doing the listening or the consoling, like during her conversations with Jac. Jac had been battling his inner demons, but if he’d ever looked closely at Lola, he would’ve realized she was battling the whole world, all the time.
When Lola said nothing, Arabella snapped, “You know, I’ve really thought about what you said—that I am a monster. I think about it all the time.”
Lola’s throat seized up. Because she knew where this conversation was headed. Arabella was going to leave her, just like everyone had. And Lola didn’t have anyone else.
“I was too harsh,” Lola said quickly. “The Mizers were terrible, and they hurt you and the malisons more than anyone. And you’ve never been anything but kind to me.”
Arabella frowned. “Now youarelying. When I asked you to make a decision about Enne, I thought it was the right one. Because you were her friend. You know her. And I didn’t trust myself.” She glared at Lola. “But when I look at you, sometimes Idosee myself. You’re paranoid. You scour these papers every day waiting for her to mess up, just like you wait for the whole world to mess up. That way it’ll validate how miserable you are.”
“Then if you can’t stand me,” Lola said, seething, “why are you still here?”
Arabella sighed. “Listen to yourself. Youareparanoid.”
Lola flinched as though she’d been slapped. Something hot simmered in her stomach—the burn of an infected wound, swelling and swelling, never healing.
“Fine!” Lola shouted, standing. She bumped her side into the table, and it teetered, spilling what remained of her coffee on the newspaper. “I’ll go tell her about Veil.”
Lola cringed as she knocked on the door of the art museum. An Iron answered it, a boy with shaggy black hair and a four and a diamond tattoo on either arm.
“Oh, you must be here to see Tock,” he said. “I can go get—”
“No, no,” Lola choked out, flushing at the memory of the strange girl who’d kissed her. “I’m here to see Levi. Send him out.”
She was being a coward, she knew. Enne had a right to be told this information before her maybe-ex-boyfriend. But when Lola had stormed out of her apartment building and slipped on her lopsided earmuffs, she’d decided that even if Enne deserved to know the truth, Lola didn’t deserve being the one who had to tell her. Regardless of what Arabella thought.
Levi emerged on the front stoop, and Lola suddenly realized she rarely—if ever—spoke to Levi alone. He looked more tired and terrible than usual, and Lola hoped that was just his choice in tacky, pinstriped shirts. She didn’t have it in her to comfort any more broken boys who didn’t take her advice, anyway.
“Lola?” he said, frowning. “Are you here to see Tock?”
“No,” she grunted. “I’m here to talk to you.”
Levi’s gaze fell to her right earmuff, and Lola instinctively turned her face away to hide the scar that grazed her cheekbone. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’m feeling like I want to go for a walk. Get your coat.”
Before he could question her, she started off down the path along the museum grounds. He hurriedly grabbed his coat and followed, and Lola kept to his right side so it’d be easier to hear.
Lola had no idea how to make small talk with Levi, so she skipped it altogether. “I’ve come upon some information,” she started nervously. “In the National Library—I found some archives—just had to digreallyhard and—”
“Yes, all right,” Levi said impatiently. Clearly the inauguration last night had put him in a sour mood. “What is it?”
“Veil was Enne’s father,” Lola blurted.
Levi stopped walking; they’d reached the cobblestone sidewalk along the Street of the Holy Tombs, and for several moments, the only sound was the unnerving clinking of Faith wind chimes on porches in the distance. The charms numbered more than Lola remembered from when she’d last been here, and she realized they were probably believed to ward away bad omens and malisons. Bryce’s rise to infamy was changing the world just as much as Enne’s was.
“Veil as in the street lord Veil?” Levi asked tightly. “From the Great Street War?”
Lola rolled her eyes. “Yes, that Veil. Who else would I have meant?”
“But Veil wasn’t a Mizer.”
“No one knew what Veil’s talents were.” Even after being publicly executed, Veil was still famously a mystery.
“But the Great Street War ended before Enne was born,” Levi argued. “Veil would’ve been long dead.”
“Not that long,” Lola said. “Only a couple months, at most.”
