9. Lyssa

Back at Elysium,my room is still pretty bare, but I find myself kind of thankful that at least it's not like the fucking Soviet conditions of Grandmother's house. I've been too preoccupied with Scarlett and tracking down Grandmother to give a shit about interior design, and Aurora has been pestering me about it relentlessly, barraging me with fabric swatches and furniture catalogs. She's like an overexcited puppy, bouncing around me with her bright-eyed enthusiasm for "making my space beautiful and serene."

I love the girl, I really do. But there's nothing serene about me or my life.

"For fuck's sake, Suzy," I snap when she ambushes me fresh from the first sparring session with our new recruits. "I really don't give a rat's ass. Don't you have a wedding to plan?"

Her lips pucker in a pout that would probably seem adorable if I was Hadria. "But Lyssa, this is your sanctuary! Don't you want it to reflect your—your inner-badass-warrior-woman vibe?"

I pull out the tie from my ponytail and let my damp hair fall free. I need a shower. "You know me so well," I deadpan.

"I'm serious! It should be fierce and—and powerful, like you."

"Look, I don't have time—" I begin again, but she forestalls me.

"This is our new home, Lyssa. We all get a new chance here."

I get what she means, is the thing. The whole Syndicate has basically moved in. Not everyone, but an awful lot of people liked the idea of living here. Hanging out, eating together, spending downtime together. And there sure as shit are enough rooms.

We're turning into some damn hippie commune or something. But…

I do kind of like it.

I think again about Grandmother's house. About Scarlett's room there, void of anything unique or comfortable. And I think about that weird fucking space that was Ariadne's bedroom.

I huff a sigh. "Look, Suzy, I don't know a damn thing about design. But you do. So how about you do me a favor, and get your decor on?"

"Really?" Her eyes go wide.

"Really. Do whatever the hell you want. Long as you leave me alone for a bit!"

Beaming, Aurora pulls me into one of her effervescent hugs. I tense instinctively before forcing myself to melt into the embrace, my arms winding loosely around her tiny frame.

She's pretty much my sister-in-law, after all.

"You're going to love it," she chirps. "I promise."

Shaking my head, I let her go with a gentle shove. "Just don't go overboard, alright? And no pink, for God's sake."

She flashes me a sunny grin before pivoting and scurrying off, no doubt bursting with grand plans.

And I think about Scarlett again, about how determined she must have been to put herself through Grandmother's training, through all that brutality. But that need for vengeance will never be satisfied, even if she kills Ariadne, and Grandmother, and me. I don't think she's figured it out yet, either, that blood won't make her feel better.

I go back to my room to shower, and while I'm letting the hot water ease out the knots in my shoulders, my mind goes back to what it was like living with Mrs. G. She wasn't wealthy by any standards, but the house was neat and cozy, and I even liked that old stuffed bear that sat on the ruffly bed. Mr. Fluffikins…I wonder what became of that mangy old thing when Mrs. G moved back here to Elysium.

She still owns the house, far as I know. Rents it out. And whoever they are living there, I hope they enjoy the place like I did. Living under Mrs. G's roof was a paradise compared to what I'd had before. Hell, even living on the streets for a few years was better than what I'd had with Grandmother. I never questioned the brutal minimalism of my existence under her control for the first decade or so of my life. It was just life, the daily grind of violence and darkness that carved me into the woman I am today, whether I like it or not.

But Scarlett…she endured that soul-shredding emptiness by choice. All thanks to her obsessive need for vengeance.

I step out of the shower and dry off roughly. Enough woolgathering. I'm running my mind in circles tonight when I should be thinking about my next move with Grandmother. But I can't shake this stupid nostalgia today. It's really taken hold.

My restless feet carry me to Mrs. Graves's quarters, and she answers the door promptly, though surprise registers on her face as she sees me standing there. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know." I make a face. "Can I come in?"

Mrs. Graves ushers me inside, guiding me to one of the overstuffed armchairs from her old place. With a sidelong glance, I catch the framed image of her daughter Sarah on a nearby table. Mrs. Graves' eyes trail to the photo as well, her face taking on that familiar sorrow for just a moment before she blinks it away.

"Actually, I'm glad you're here," she murmurs, sinking into the adjacent chair with a soft sigh. "I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"The other night, after…well." She shakes her head, lips pursing. "When you basically told me I was being a hypocrite. You were quite right."

Oh, shit. I really should've kept my mouth shut. "I shouldn't have said that to you. The Syndicate's way of life, our code—it's blood for blood. Always has been. What you asked me and Hadria to do, it was only justice."

"Was it?" she murmurs, but then says, "But this isn't about me, Lyssa. What's bothering you?"

"Lately…" I trail off, chewing my lip with a very unfamiliar feeling: uncertainty. "I'm starting to wonder if that approach, blood for blood, just ends up in a whole lot of the red stuff with nothing else to show for it. Just…emptiness."

She gives a slow nod.

"And I know you've thought before that it would've been better for all of us if we'd never met," I got on, but the blanched anguish that bleeds across her features surprises me. Her hands take mine with trembling intensity.

"Oh, Lyssa, no," she says, eyes glistening. "I've never thought that, not for an instant. The two of you...you gave me a reason to keep living after I lost Sarah. Taking care of you both was the only light in my world for so long."

"But you said…at the Empire Grand, that night we—we talked?—"

She shakes her head firmly. "The only thing I've ever wished was that I'd done better by you both. That I'd…helped you both find a different path. This one is so dark, my dear. And I worry so much for you both, every day."

Her words help soothe some of the torn and ragged places within. But I don't want her thinking that way, not when it's so wrong. "We were both well along that path before we met you," I tell her roughly. "It was never going to be any different for either of us. So don't you go blaming yourself, Mrs. G. You were the only thing…well, the only thing that…" My throat thickens with emotion and I lean forward to hug her in a fierce embrace. "Thank you," I whisper roughly against her silvering hair. "Thank you for being the one constant in my life."

"Always, Lyssa," she vows. "I'll be here for you always."

I gently disentangle myself and sit back, smiling a little as Mrs. G beams at me.

"Remember my old room?" I find myself asking. "Back in the old house?"

The warm light in her eyes kindles brighter at the memory. "Of course. It was Sarah's old room, too."

"Mr. Fluffikins," I say, then pause. "Is he…still around?"

Mrs. Graves blinks at me for a moment before letting out a laugh of pure delight. She rises to her feet and goes over to a nearby still-unpacked box, rooting inside for a few moments before emerging triumphant.

"Right here," she says fondly, offering me the well-worn teddy bear.

Feeling utterly foolish yet powerless to resist, I reach out and take Mr. Fluffikins from her, examining the fraying fur and one lopsided button eye, a strange tightness binding my chest.

Mrs. Graves puts her hands around mine where I hold the bear, her eyes soft. "You know, you can let yourself feel things, Lyssa. More than just coldness, or violence. There's a real person under all those walls you've built."

Her smile hooks something deep in my soul, a relentless pull drawing me back to thoughts of Scarlett yet again. I don't know what to say in response, so I just nod and stare hard at Mr. Fluffikins.

"Why don't you keep him?" she suggests. "If you want to."

"Thanks," I mutter, rising to my feet and tucking the stuffed bear under one arm. "I should probably get going."

Mrs. Graves stands as well, smiling. "Well, just remember, Lyssa, whenever you need me, I'm here."

I nod again before pulling away, heading back to my room, my mind still tumbling over and over itself.

Where the fuck do I even go from here? My sense of identity, my place in this world of blades and blood—it's all slipping away from me.

Hades and I cast in our lots together years ago, and I was glad to do it. I understood her uncompromising code of brutal loyalty and honor, was glad to have it bind me fiercely, a code to guide my decisions, a leader to follow, a purpose.

But Scarlett...

I balk at the thought of killing her now. She's crawled under my skin, finding some way past the barriers I've shored up around my heart. And I'm terrified of what that means.

Where it will lead.

I sit Mr. Fluffikins against the pillows on my bed, and he stares solemnly back at me.

"What the fuck do I do?" I ask him.

He has no reply.