The sentiment didn't last long.

"A task easier spoken than undertaken," Mente muttered.

She'd completely forgotten they existed, frankly, finding the two Muses of Mistral Asunder afloat adjacent to Renato's hat--always the hat. Renato didn't particularly seem to mind, for once. The remaining half of his sandwich was doing a solid job at distracting him.

"Speaking of Dissonance," he began in between bites, "that was an awful lot for one tiny camp. Where the hell did all that come from?"

If Octavia was wincing before, she was now outright cringing so hard that she risked giving herself a headache. She squeezed her eyes shut, weighing the best words for an answer. She wondered if Harper would beat her to it. She was half-right.

"Ivy?" he offered weakly, his tone unsure. "But it was…a lot. It was like she was making it herself."

"Because she was," Octavia added. By now, she'd given in to hugging herself tightly, her fingernails digging into the fabric of her dress. "I haven't figured it out yet, but…I think some Dissonant people can make more Dissonance. I just don't know why it's not all of them."

She knew the exact example she could give. It was sitting right on her tongue, and it would complete the puzzle beautifully. She didn't dare use it, especially not with the boy casually jotting away at his journal in peace across the table. She couldn't.

It was the way he stopped writing to lock eyes with her, his head rising slowly from the paper rather than snapping upwards, that sent a chill down her spine. Octavia couldn't tell if Josiah was daring her to utter the name or simply waiting to see if she brought up Selena at all. She swallowed all three syllables on her tongue.

"That girl, she made all of that?" Viola asked with surprise. "Everything we saw?"

Octavia nodded. "She's been through something. I mean, I think all Dissonant people have, right? That's how they get that bad. If Dissonance comes from bad memories, then they've gotta be really bad to make them…act like that. Maybe the extra Dissonance is more memories?"

"Let me offer something," Josiah interjected, barely raising his voice beyond the same monotone level it had been at all along. Again, his chilled eyes ran her through as he spoke. "It's just a theory, but I wonder if a person can only handle so many bad memories because they start spilling over."

Octavia blinked. "You mean, like…the Dissonance is residual?"

"What fits, fits," he continued. "What doesn't, doesn't. If too much hits you at once, who's to say you can deal with all of it at the same time? And the worse--the more you've got in there, the worse you make. Makes sense, right?"

Octavia nodded slowly once more. Beside her, Viola did the same. She didn't much like the implications. Still, it was the best explanation they had.

"Explains a lot, doesn't it?" he added, his gaze so icy she wondered if she might freeze. Throwing up was also an option. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

Whatever cold aura he was emitting, even from across the table, was enough to make Harper shudder in turn. "I know Ivy and I don't get along in the slightest, but I don't think anyone deserves that. I imagine being Dissonant isn't very fun."

Octavia wasn't ignorant to the way Viola pursed her lips. She, herself, had to consciously fight to keep the sassy tell me about it off her tongue. "You didn't really seem to have too much fun just getting close to Dissonance, you know."

He winced. "Yeah, that…wasn't exactly a blast, either."

"Josiah thinks maybe some people have to develop an immunity to Dissonance," Octavia clarified for the table--and for the onlookers above it. "Maybe the first time they're around it is the worst. Maybe…some people have different reactions, too."

Renato scoffed. "Like a damn disease."

"It kinda is," Madrigal said sadly.

"Was this earlier?" Viola whispered to Octavia alone. "I thought he was fine during the fire."

She shook her head, strongly considering pruning several pieces of the events that preceded the blaze. She wasn't particularly certain that Viola would react well to the "forgetting Stradivaria and nearly dying" part. "We, uh, ran into some trouble yesterday while I was looking for him, and he passed out. He's fine now. He's just never been that physically close to Dissonance before."

It didn't stay that quiet, apparently. Renato shrugged. "I mean, you looked alright earlier at the camp. Everyone did awesome, even with the Dissonance, and we all made it through okay. No one died. I love it when no one dies."

Octavia forced a smile. "You guys are lifesavers. We were really in a tight spot. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't all shown up."

"Thank your friend, remember?" Madrigal added, her bright smile true by comparison. "He knew where Viola lived, somehow."

"It was kinda creepy," Renato muttered.

Harper chuckled. "Wouldn't put it past him to be keeping tabs on me. Probably not Viola."

"You speak as though you have put up a fight worth merit."

Aste's words, shrill as they were, were sharp and biting in a way that made Renato stiffen. Octavia's eyes drifted upwards to the Muse above him, unfazed by his reaction as they continued.

"How long will you drag out this charade? Doff your mask and speak the truth."

Renato remained utterly silent, his face blank. Octavia tilted her head. Most eyes in the room that had clung to her were slowly shifting their target, little by little.

"What are you talking about?" Octavia asked, aiming her own gaze a bit higher.

"The abject foolishness, of this we were aware," Mente continued in Aste's place. "The cowardice, this was new. The boy speaks as though he, too, fought valiantly. In truth, he did naught for your cause."

Octavia stared at Renato instead, his head tilted downwards. The brim of his hat blocked his eyes, much to her dismay. She couldn't pin him down.

"You…didn't fight?" Viola pried.

For a moment, he didn't answer. He finally shrugged, returning the pointed looks encircling him with false confidence of his own. "I mean, you guys should've seen Domino if you didn't get to. Spent the whole time with him. He was awesome. Kid can really fight, even if he was brand new to Maestro stuff."

"You didn't fight, then," Harper concluded, his voice soft.

There were no accusations, hostilities, or anything adjacent to slander, whether born of Maestros or Muses. Mente and Aste's words had clearly stung hard enough. Octavia doubted anyone would've berated him, regardless. Renato was loud. He was, on occasion, very annoying. He was cocky, hot-headed, sassy, and strong. He wasn't a coward, and he would never flee from a fight. It wasn't in his blood.

"Why?"

Madrigal stole the question from everyone's lips. It didn't garner an answer any faster. Renato crossed his arms, his elbows resting against the tabletop. They gave him all the silence he needed, fishing for words that wouldn't come. He was quiet for what felt like far too long--and far too unlike him. Octavia watched the way his shoulders rose and fell just the slightest bit faster.

"Renato?" she said softly.

He raised his head for her and her alone. His eyes met hers, and Octavia recognized the expression on his face. She hadn't seen it in a while. The pain she found behind his glassy gaze was as clear as it was unmistakable. Very slowly, she followed the way his eyes drifted downwards to the cherry oak clinging to his skin. They rose back up to her own, then again. She hoped the hurt on her face didn't serve to sting him further.

"Ah," Aste mused, close enough to his ear to make Renato jump. "So that is why."

Renato's sudden scare had him swatting at the Muse futilely. "God, mind your own business!"

Mente, too, had circled him from the opposite side. "You truly are a fool, then."

"Not once have you called upon us since that time. I assure you, boy, if we deemed you to be useless, we would take our leave," Aste murmured.

Renato, usually confident enough to withstand their razor-sharp hostilities, was breathing heavily enough that Octavia feared for his mental stability. "I-If you've got nothing positive to say to me, then you can just shove off!"

"On the contrary," Mente offered. "We invite you--rather, implore you to take hold, once again, of the strength that befits your legacy."

"If you deny us even this," Aste hissed, "then there will be a different matter of which to speak."

For whatever reason, Renato's eyes darted back to Octavia's. Even with nothing to offer him, the pang of obligation that bit her was impossible to ignore. The silent room was, otherwise, giving him absolutely no mercy.

She had one idea, made possible only by the way he'd already given her his panicked gaze. Octavia drew lines with her eyes. She darted them left and right, briefly touching upon each Muse adjacent to his body. She came back to meet his own gaze once more, tapping her forehead with one gentle finger twice. It took him a minute. Eventually, his eyes widened in the slightest with realization. After a few moments, they found the table just beyond his false fingers instead of her.

There was nothing, briefly. It took honest effort for her to consciously remember to eavesdrop, particularly given her prior efforts to block out words not meant for her. Even now, part of her questioned if he'd genuinely want her there. She opted to beg for his forgiveness rather than ask for his permission. Scraps of conversation, alternating between shrill and not, finally floated where she could catch them.

You must at least attempt.

Do as you have always done. The rest will come from our guidance, as has been the case.

Surely your body has not forgotten the motions. Your muscles have not forgotten their purpose, and you have not forgotten your strength. There is naught to fear but your own hesitation.

Such power transcends the limitations of any vessel, organic or otherwise. It matters not.

If that is your concern, then we will see to it that it is so. All will be as it was when you are adjacent to our strength.

Come, let us prove that you have no excuse to stay your fury in battle.

Yes, now. I will not repeat myself.

The suddenness with which Renato scooped one half of Mistral Asunder into his right hand and flicked his wrist forward nearly scared Octavia to death. The burst of sound that followed did her no further favors. It was a miracle that, somehow, his aim had eluded the in-use tableware currently settled in front of each respective Maestro. Still, that didn't offer any protection to the spare teacups on Viola's leftovers tray.

It was a further miracle that he'd managed to only hit one. The blast was centered and precise, the elegant ceramic piece shattering into a dozen shards with a startling crack. Octavia gasped, as did Harper. Madrigal outright screamed, thoroughly startled by the jarring sound so near to her.

"Unnecessary!" Viola shouted, gesturing wildly in the direction of the poor cup's remains.

"And you felt the need to do that…why?" Josiah asked.

Renato didn't dignify either of them with a response, nor was he so much as acknowledging the broken cup to begin with. Rather, his left hand had since filled with Mistral Asunder's other portion, both slices of cherry oak carefully cradled amongst more of the same. His hands shook. That much was both obvious and expected. More than that, Octavia couldn't tear her eyes away from each of his fingers flexing, curling inwards and outwards without his personal intervention.

Fluidly and naturally, he moved each joint with no manual interference, as she'd otherwise grown used to seeing him do. He closed his hands in full around each drumstick, squeezing tightly before relaxing his grip once more. He repeated the motion at least two more times, eyes glued to every minimal movement of his extremities. Octavia was guilty of the same.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Renato," she murmured.

Only now, in acknowledgement of her voice, did he look up. "Yeah?"

Even with his expression neutral, his face mostly tinged with surprise and wonder, the tears that dripped delicately from the corners of his eyes weren't subtle. They plopped, one after another, down onto the same cherry oak he'd been inspecting in so much detail moments ago--still flexing and moving experimentally. He was otherwise completely calm, and she only stared for a moment. So, too, did her companions, although with substantially more confusion.

So much focus rested upon the shattered cup that Octavia had to wonder if anyone noticed the quiet movements of his joints besides her. The tremendous gravity of the moment and its incredible implications were, perhaps, completely lost on them.

"That…that was pretty cool, huh?" he chuckled half-heartedly, his words wobbling in the slightest as he fixed Octavia with a grin.

She returned his smile, albeit softer. "Yeah."

When his tears continued to fall unknowingly, she tapped her cheek with one finger. His eyes widened.

"Oh, crap," he muttered, swiping at his eyes with his newly-flexible palms. It took effort not to stab himself in the eye, still clinging to Mistral Asunder for dear life. Octavia giggled.

"Those are expensive," Viola hissed. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Don't cry," Madrigal murmured, gently patting Renato's shoulder. "We can get a new cup."

He held fast to his grin regardless, weak as it was. "Not my fault you guys are boring me to tears. We ever gonna talk about anything more fun than Dissonance or lighting stuff on fire? Tryin' to liven up this meeting a little."

"I've…got something else," Harper offered, raising one hand tentatively.

When he didn't continue, Octavia did what she could to nudge him. "What's up?"

"It's gonna sound really weird," he added. "Putting that out there right now."

He shifted in his seat, resting his cheek against one hand before he continued. "I had this…weird experience back at the camp. Twice, actually. I…don't know how to put it into words."

"Spit it out as best as you can," Josiah tried. "General gist of it, no matter how crazy."

Harper bit his lip. "I asked Domino something to see if he'd lie to me. He didn't. I asked Holly something, too. Same reason. She didn't."

"What do you mean?" Octavia asked. She'd been there, and she still didn't understand.

"Can you try something with me really quick?"

Octavia tilted her head. "Sure?"

"I need you to lie to me."

She stifled a smirk. "If you know I'm lying, how is that gonna help anything?"

"You'll…see what I mean. The thing is, I need you to look at me for it."

Shut up and look me in the eyes. Now.

Octavia had absolutely no idea where he was going with this. Still, the look on his face back then was jarring enough to stay with her even now. She was almost afraid to oblige. It took effort to meet his eyes willingly, knowing what she'd find.

To her immense surprise, the look on his face wasn't nearly as sharp as she'd expected. There was much less hostility by comparison, and she chalked it up to the nature of the prior situation. Even so, his gaze still held an edge to it, somewhat piercing and restrictive. It didn't quite give her chills. It still left her feeling vulnerable enough that this whole exercise was suddenly mildly uncomfortable. It wasn't a look she'd seen him wear before.

"What month is your birthday?"

For the sake of ending things quickly, she almost instinctively blurted out the correct answer. It took conscious effort on her part to give a false reply.

"October," she answered as firmly as she could. She usually considered herself to be a pretty decent liar. Even so, her voice wavered somewhat beneath his gaze. Keeping her composure in full was impossible, unsettled as she was.

"You're lying," he responded softly after a moment. "Keep going."

He never took his eyes off hers. She didn't particularly want to keep going. She doubted she had a choice. "July."

"Lying."

"April."

"Lying."

"January."

"You're still lying."

"September."

He blinked slowly, tilting his head in the slightest. "You're telling the truth."

Octavia's eyes widened. "I…don't remember telling you about that."

Harper nodded. "That's the thing. You never did."

Viola, too, seemed baffled. "Did someone else tell you? That's…"

"Neat party trick," Renato said with a smirk. "Read her like a book."

Harper shook his head, finally freeing Octavia of his oppressive gaze. At last, she could breathe. "I don't think that's it," he said. "Again, I can't…explain it."

"Do me next!" Madrigal pleaded, raising her arm high as she waved. "I wanna try!"

Even given his serious prior request, Harper still couldn't help but smile softly. "Alright. You have to look at me, okay? In my eyes."

"'Kay," she said, leaning with great exaggeration over the table to oblige.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"Red," Madrigal answered happily.

"That's a lie."

"Yellow."

"Lie."

"Blue."

"Lying."

"Green."

"Alright, that one's the truth, but I feel like I should've picked a harder question," he muttered.

Madrigal beamed. "That's Lyra's color."

"Hey, listen," Renato interrupted, "my birthday is in March, my favorite fruit is peaches, and I was born left-handed. Which one of those is true?"

Harper raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you were born left-handed?"

Both Octavia and Renato, in turn, exchanged a glance of surprise. "Wait a minute, seriously? He's three for three," Renato said with shock. "This is kind of scary."

"Is this…new?" Viola asked, still perplexed in her own right. "Did you just find out this was a thing that you could do?"

Harper sighed. "I have absolutely no idea what's going on. This just showed up yesterday."

"Test me."

Josiah's request was perhaps as sharp as Harper's eyes. Really, it was more of a demand than a request. It was Harper, instead, who seemed hesitant to meet his icy expression, still equally disquieting in its own right.

"What?"

"I don't know if you've got a trick to it or what, but you're asking things that are too easy to figure out on people who show way too much emotion on their faces. Test me."

Octavia winced. Still, he had a point. Harper didn't resist any further, angling himself at the table to face the skeptical boy.

"Alright. Look me in the eyes, then," Harper asked tentatively.

The look Josiah fixed him with was simultaneously hostile and hollow enough that Harper recoiled for a moment. He steeled his own gaze with a deep breath before continuing. Somehow, it was Josiah who had come to order him instead.

"I'm gonna tell you something, and you tell me if I'm lying or not."

Harper nodded. "Go for it."

"I was born in December."

He steadied his breathing once more. "You're telling the truth."

"I met Selena when I was six."

At the mention of the name alone, the atmosphere froze over to such a degree that Octavia's blood could've clotted. The point was valid. She still didn't like where this was going in the slightest.

"Y-You're lying," Harper replied. Apparently, he, too, was not immune to the incredibly uncomfortable questioning.

"Seven."

"Lying."

"Five."

"Truth."

Josiah paused for a moment before continuing. "My mother's name is Felicia."

"True."

"And my father's name is Isaac."

"Lie."

"Isaiah."

"True."

"Good," he murmured, his words devoid of any true praise. Again, he hesitated, inhaling slowly.

"When I was eight years old, I fell down the steps of the church while I was playing, rolled all the way to the bottom. I was mostly fine. Broke one of my fingers. My left thumb, my right thumb, my left index finger, my right index finger, my left middle finger, and my right middle finger were all okay. I broke the ring finger of my left hand."

By now, he was no longer simply looking into Harper's eyes. He was glaring daggers into his entire being, daring him to falter. If Octavia could feel his hostility from here, she had absolutely no doubt that Harper was suffering tremendously under the pressure of his gaze. Still, Harper's composure was admirable, his voice calm as he answered.

"You didn't break your left ring finger," he spoke softly. "You broke your right index finger."

Josiah's chilling glare thawed almost instantly, replaced with something indescribable. Wordlessly, his eyes fell back to the journal before him instead, cast down towards the fervent notes he'd made throughout the duration of their lengthy conversation.

"Well?" Renato pressed. "Was he right?"

Josiah nodded slowly, never raising his head. "He's right. Every single one."

Renato shrugged. "Well, that's kinda terrifying."

"Do we have…any actual explanation for this?" Octavia murmured aloud. "Is this a Maestro thing?"

"Anyone else have any 'weird experiences' lately?" Josiah asked, his voice still sharp despite the absence of his gaze.

Viola pursed her lips. "I…might've had something. When we met Domino, I just got this…feeling, like something was different. Actually, I had it before I even saw him for the first time, when I was looking for Harper. I felt this…'something', I guess, for lack of a better word, and I followed it all the way to him."

Her eyes flickered to Harper. "When I got there, I had a really strong feeling he was a Maestro. I was right. I don't know how I was right."

"That's why you attacked him?" Harper asked.

Viola nodded. "No offense to him, but I had a pretty strong feeling he'd be fine."

Madrigal tilted her head. "You knew he was a Maestro without asking him?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous. The weirdest part is that it's not even the first time that particular…'something' has come up before."

Viola turned her head towards Octavia at her side, her voice soft. "Like I said, it's the same feeling I had the night I met you. It's…what I followed to Silver Ridge."

Even in the midst of what was, objectively, a serious conversation, Octavia couldn't stifle the smile that crept onto her lips. For whatever strange forces had led Viola into her life, she was grateful.

"Explain," Josiah snapped.

Viola blinked, flinching beneath his harsh tone. "I…I don't know. I was told my best bet with finding more Maestros was heading outside the capi--"

"Not you. Him."

It was only then that Octavia noticed Josiah's piercing eyes cast well above her own head, far from Viola and herself alike. Rather than either of the Maestras, it was instead Stratos who rested squarely in Josiah's visual line of fire. For reasons she couldn't quite pinpoint, Octavia noticed her heart gradually beginning to beat just a bit faster.

"You ask something of me, then, child?" Stratos offered calmly, his smooth voice in stark contrast to Josiah's sharp hostility.

"I know for a fact that this has something to do with you guys. I'm positive about that. Explain."

"You are both brave and foolish to take such a flippant tone with a Muse," Brava scolded. "The boy knows not his place."

"You owe us that much," Josiah argued, undeterred.

"You are…your capacity to wield such strengths befitting of your legacies grows beyond the speed of our expectations each day--each of you," Lyra spoke. "Know that we did not expect such to come about so soon."

"It could very well be the influence of the Ambassador," Mente said.

"Implausible," Aste countered, "but not entirely impossible."

At the mention of her title, Octavia couldn't help but interrupt. "What are you talking about?"

"Quit playing games and spit it out," Josiah hissed.

His aggression, while enough to stun every human in the room into uncomfortable silence, did little to faze the Muses who absorbed his disdain with only mild annoyance. Orleanna, at the very least, used her small voice in what few ways she could to keep the peace.

"To each legacy," she began, "there is a gift blessed upon the blood. They are unique, much as we are the same. Know, though, that such power was never intended to grace the hands of men, and it has been twisted in your grasp as such. It is through our bonds alone that our blood, too, may be shared."

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "Each legacy has a…'gift'. Am I understanding that correctly?"

"You said something about that awhile ago, right?" Octavia asked, her eyes aloft towards Stratos above her. "When we first met face-to-face the other day, I think. Something about a gift?"

At the time, she'd taken his phrasing to carry a much-too-strong compliment. Now, in context, the word was impossible to ignore. She couldn't help but wonder, particularly when he saw fit to offer her a nod in return.

"You have found yours long ago," he said. "Even now, as we speak, it is here in his very place that you wield the gift of your own blood. Such is the manner by which we stand before you."

Octavia blinked. "What?"

"Once the Ambassador alone has given rise to the image of our forms upon this world," he clarified, "it is the gift of any of my blood that such visions become plain to see."

"Translation," Viola tried, rubbing her temples, "Heartful people are the reason we can see you guys in the first place? And…Octavia's somehow involved in that?"

Stratos nodded once more. "Without the blessing of the Ambassador, the bridge between Above and this realm cannot hold--narrow as it may be. It is the burden of the Ambassador to create such a path, much the same as it is the burden of our own to maintain it."

Harper crossed his arms. "No Ambassador, no glowy light people."

"Viola, then. And Harper," Josiah demanded, his glare still sharp as ever.

"My blood, then," Brava spoke firmly. "It is as Orleanna has stated, in that such a gift should not be…manifesting in this manner. In the hands of a human, then, what is found is somewhat different than what was intended."

His own gaze drifted to Viola, who returned it in earnest. "What was meant to bond our brethren alone has become distorted in your hands. We share a common trait, then, in our clarity of sight. This is to say, in plainer terms, that you may sense those much the same as yourself."

Viola's eyes widened. "I can sense other Maestros?"

Octavia had to resist the urge to leap to her feet in surprise. "That's…incredible."

"That's insanely helpful, isn't it?" Harper asked. "That would make this whole thing way easier, if that's true."

"Viola found all of us," Madrigal spoke happily.

The Maestra in question blushed under the praise. "That was a coincidence, actually. Blame Octavia. She had a bad habit of stumbling across Maestros left and right for a while."

Octavia smiled. "You now have at least one on your record, aside from me. Here's to many more."

"Harper's gift," Josiah continued sharply, changing the subject in an instant, "I figure is pretty straightforward at this point. Is it exactly what it looks like?"

It was Orleanna's turn to clarify. "There is little that eludes the illumination of the most brilliant flame. Much as we of the Willful see through falsehoods to their core, so, too, has such a gift seeped into his blood. I stand both impressed and proud."

"I don't know how to feel about the fact I can never lie in front of this guy again," Renato grumbled.

"Can you always tell if someone's lying, then?" Octavia asked, tilting her head slightly.

Harper shrugged. "If I'm not looking in their eyes, it feels fuzzy. It's like something's blurring my vision, but not…literally, if that makes any sense. When I look into your eyes, though, everything is crystal clear, and I can tell."

Renato smirked. "That's kind of romantic," he muttered.

"Shut up," Harper hissed through his teeth, his cheeks tinted with the slightest hint of a blush.

"Oh, what's my gift, then?" Madrigal pleaded excitedly, waving one hand in Lyra's direction. The Muse couldn't help but chuckle.

"You have already wielded the blessing of the Spirited," she said. "Do you remember not? In such a dark place, you have brought healing and saved what was to be lost."

The Maestra's eyes sparkled. "Am I a healer?"

"Back then!" Viola exclaimed, springing to her feet. "That's how you saved Renato! It has to be!"

Renato threw his hands into the air dramatically. "Alright, three cheers for magical healing powers! I remember almost none of this!"

"When you were hurt," Harper explained, "she saved your life. You would've bled out. I don't know how much of it you do remember, but it was incredible."

He smiled, a grin absolutely aglow. "I learn something new about this girl every day."

"No offense to anyone else, but that might be the most amazing gift of them all," Viola breathed. "The…the things you could do with that kind of power are unimaginable."

"Tell them the other part."

Josiah's words, harsh as each one out of his mouth had been thus far, shattered the satisfaction of the moment with the grace of broken glass. He glared daggers into Lyra, hands balled into fists against the table.

"I do not understand," she replied calmly.

"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You think I don't know about it? Because I do. Tell them."

"Child--"

"Tell them!" he shouted.

Whatever sharp, icy glare had settled into his eyes had since been replaced by one of unmistakable rage. His breath audibly rattled with each inhale and exhale alike, his fists clenched tightly enough to dye his knuckles a brilliant white. Octavia bit her lip. This wasn't like him. This hadn't been like him.

"What are you talking about?" Viola asked hesitantly, a hint of irritation touching her voice. Octavia, too, wasn't overly fond of the way Josiah was raising his voice to the Muses.

"Madrigal's gift specifically," he began, his voice shaking with ire, "has a drawback. Lyra won't say it."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.