He frowns, incredulous. “You thought you’d solve my mom’s project and I’d be okay doingnothingwith it?”
I wheeze at my own stupidity, the blinders I’d had on for him; but also, because he’s pushing this. Because hedidimmediately figure out a way to make it dangerous, and he’s stilldiggingat it.
“I thought I’d give you a way to keep conjurers safe, and maybe we could work on it more, just us.” I wrap my arms around my chest. “But if it means giving people a way to force others to be their components in conjuration spells? Then yeah, we shouldn’t do anything with it.”
“Fuck.” Thio rips his hand through his hair but doesn’t close the space between us. Doesn’t touch me, and that choice widens the distance, pulls at the already taut energy of the room. “I’m sorry. That’s—it isn’t the same, though. It’snotthe same.”
“I came up with a way toprotectconjurers. That’s what I thought the purpose of your project was—to keep magic userssafe. Was I wrong? Is that not what you care about?”
“Of course it is,” he says, teeth gritted. He’s trembling, holding himself restrained.
“Then this shouldn’t be—”
“Releasing this idea, solving what my family couldn’t, rubbing their faces in how we did thiswithouttheir methodologies—” He waves at the lab, all our work, every surface we’ve spent the past few months filling with research. “They pushed us andbrokeus, but they stillfailed. This idea redeems everything they did to us.That’show it’s different.”
Obscurity… nothing substantial to contribute to this world…
Oh my gods.
I remember now. Why I know those words.
“That’s what you said to me,” I gasp, eyes rounding.
Thio scowls. “What?”
“Before the grant banquet. In the bathroom. You said that to me—you told me I would die in obscurity because I have nothing substantial to contribute to this world.”
He cringes. “I didn’t—”
But his mouth stays open, nothing else coming out, no rebuttal.
“You said that’s what Arasne’s been telling you. For how long?Months?Probably longer. She’s been beating you down like that to try to get you compliant in any way she can, and that’s what you said to me. What she’s always saying to you.”
His face drains of color. He shakes his head once, a sharp, desperate snap. “I’m not them. I’m not my family.”
I nearly fold right in half. “I didn’t say you were. I—”
“I am not my family,” he cuts me off, anxious. Tears fill his eyes, hands in white-knuckled fists. “They almostkilledmy mom. Then I find out they almost killedyou. I’ve been living for them, playing along with their sick games, accepting the hatred from everyone who sees them for what they truly are. I’ve beenobedient. They’ve hurt everyone I love andI just let them.”
Love.
Everyone I love.
Moving slowly, stunted, I step closer to him. “I know, Thio. I—”
“No,” he growls and tries,triesto refocus, but he’s feverish now, unhinging. “We need my family to know they failed. DaylarTech and Arasne and my immediate asshole relatives; and Camp Merethyl, too, and the Touraels who were involved, Colonel Vemir, Lieutenant Hana. We need them to know they hurt us, but they didn’t destroy us. Theyfailed.”
I gape at him. Something shatters, glass, maybe; no, it’s internal.
“How do you—” My tongue scrapes the roof of my mouth. “How do you know those names?”
Thio’s jaw shuts.
“I never told you who was running the ouroboros project at Camp Merethyl,” I whisper. “I never told you theirnames.” Oh my gods. “Did you talk to my dad? Did you—”
“No, Sebastian, I didn’t—”
“Thenhow do you know those names?”
