Violette didn’t react, didn’t flinch at his usual defenses. She just tilted her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned casually against the wooden frame of the stall. “You look like shit.”
Symond let out a short, humorless laugh, rubbing his face. “Yeah, well, guess she’s tougher than she looks.”
And apparently I want her for it,he added silently, clinging to that explanation.
Violette didn’t reply right away, just let her gaze flick over him, assessing. Her eyes flicked to his hands. They weren’t steady. He realized it too late. Her gaze lingered just a second too long. He curled his fingers into fists, pressing them hard against his knees.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s eating at you,” she said. “But whatever it is, it’s gonna eat you alive if you let it.”
Something in him flinched at that. Because she was right. Whether it was trauma or desire or some sick combination of both, it was going to destroy him if he couldn’t get control of it.
He rolled his shoulders and forced another smirk, trying to find his footing in the conversation again. “Didn’t know you cared, Violette.”
She let out a short breath—something almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Please,” she muttered. “If I cared, I would’ve brought you a blanket.”
He finally looked up at her then, arching a brow. He kind of wished she had brought a blanket, at least then he could hide his body’s betrayal. Because that would surely make it go away...
Stop,he told himself.It’s just attraction. That’s all.
Violette’s eyes flicked down to his hand, where the dull metal ring sat on his finger. “The ring,” she said, not really a question.
Symond followed her gaze and flexed his fingers, the ring catching what little light filtered through the barn slats. “Yeah.”
“Where’d you get it?”
He shrugged, trying to appear casual, even though her scrutiny made his skin crawl. “Made it. Quick enchantment before we left the hideout.”
“Quick enchantment.” Her tone was flat, unimpressed. “That's why it barely worked on her?”
“It was just a coating,” he said defensively. “Must not have been strong enough. Should’ve taken more time with it, but—”
“But you were in a hurry to have a weapon against her.”
Symond’s jaw tightened. “I thought it might be good to have. Against Fane, mostly. And...” He paused, then shrugged again. “Against Elora too, if she decided she wanted to test out her new abilities on me.”
Violette’s gaze sharpened. “Why would you be worried about her doing that?”
Symond faltered, his casual mask slipping for just a moment. “Nothing. I just—” He stopped, searching for words that wouldn’t make him sound like the villain. “You know we have a history. From the Institute. She might hold grudges.”
“What kind of history?” Violette pressed. “What did you do to her that would make her want to attack you unprovoked?”
His throat felt tight. He couldn’t tell her about that night in Elora’s bedroom, about what he’d done. Violette wouldn’t understand. She’d see him as a monster, not as someone who’d been pushed past his breaking point by years of suffering that should have been Elora’s to bear.
“It’s complicated,” he said finally. “The Institute... it made us all do things. Pitted us against each other. She was protected while the rest of us—” He shook his head. “She never understood what that was like. At least not until she was made a ward.”
Violette studied him with that unnerving intensity of hers. “And when you used it on her earlier?”
“She wasn’t listening to Rell,” he blurted. “Wouldn’t shift back when he told her to. I was just trying to help, to make her cooperate. Expected it to actually work, you know? Get her to—” He gestured vaguely at his torn shirt, the bite mark on his arm. “Didn’t expect her to go feral on me.”
Violette shook her head. There was no anger there, just disappointment, which somehow felt worse.
“Right.” She pushed off the stall wall and pointed at the healing balm on the ground next to him. He hadn’t even realized he had dropped it. “Put that on. Wouldn’t want you bleeding out before we get back to HQ.”
And then, just like that, she was gone.
The silence felt heavier now, pressing down on him, suffocating. Violette’s questions echoed in his mind, each one picking at the careful justifications he’d built around his actions.
What did you do to her that would make her want to attack you unprovoked?
