Page 39 of Consort of the Crime Queen

I don't know what to say to that, so I just nod.

Mrs. Graves' face lights up a little. "Would you like to see some photographs of Sarah? I like to look at them these days, share her memory."

"Yes, please," I say. "I'd love to."

Mrs. Graves is right—she really does enjoy sharing memories of her daughter, and after an hour of looking through old photos, I almost feel like I know Sarah myself. Lyssa has barely said a word, and I think she's probably sat through this a few times before, but she has the grace not to fidget or sigh impatiently.

For Lyssa, it's surprisingly sweet.

But at last Mrs. Graves shuts the last photo album and gives a satisfied sigh. "Well. You've let me go on for quite a while, Aurora, and I thank you for that. You see, I've come to the point, finally, where I can remember the good times without having them tainted by the bad. I've resolved to stop living so much in the past. I want to move on, you see. Sarah would want me to move on. That's why…" She looks up at Lyssa.

"You're not coming back," Lyssa says after a moment. Her tone is matter-of-fact, but I think I catch disappointment in her eyes.

"No," Mrs. Graves says. "No, I don't think I can." There's a moment of silence and then she stands up. "Well," she says, with an air of moving on from the subject, "I should refresh the tea, it's gone cold. Lyssa, can you show Aurora to the bathroom, please? I'm sure she could use a comfort break."

I could. I drank a lot of tea.

Lyssa takes me upstairs, saying she's going to take a look in her room "for old time's sake." After I get out of the bathroom, I can't see Lyssa in the hallway, so I stick my head tentatively into the room to the right. She's lying on the bed in there, boots on the bed in a way that I know Mrs. Graves would tell her off for, hands behind her head as she looks up at the ceiling.

The bedroom is swathed in varying shades of pink, its walls cluttered with posters of bands that were popular twenty years ago, and stuffed animals stand guard from a shelf on the wall.

My eyes widen at a fluffy teddy bear perched on the bed next to Lyssa's head, fur worn smooth from too many loving squeezes. "Lyssa, is this...your old room?"

She grimaces. "Yeah, don't get too excited. The decor wasn't my choice. Honestly, it gave me nightmares." A glint enters her eyes as thumbs at the teddy bear. "And if you tell anyone about Mr. Fluffikins here, I'll slit your pretty little throat."

I raise my hands in surrender, biting back a smile. "Your secret's safe with me." After a beat I add, "He looks very loved."

Lyssa's face softens for a moment. "Yeah, well, I never had the heart to get rid of him, since…" She trails off, a shadow clouding her gaze.

"Since what?" I ask gently.

She seems to debate internally before saying, "Straight talk? This was Sarah's room originally. Mrs. Graves had kept it exactly the way Sarah left it, and when Hadria and I moved in, she told me I could change it, do whatever I wanted. But I just…I knew she didn't mean it." She swings off the bed. "Hadria kept her room pretty empty. I got stuck with the pink explosion."

Hadria's teenage bedroom. It's too enticing. "Can I see Hadria's room?" I ask.

Lyssa swings her feet off the bed and beckons me wordlessly after her, a little way down the hall to another door. She swings it open and makes an after you gesture.

The barren space inside contains only a bed, desk, and dresser. The minimalism is pure Hadria, along with the darkness of the furniture.

"At one point she wanted to paint the walls back, insufferable little Goth that she was," Lyssa says affectionately. "But Mrs. G nixed it."

I grin at that. But running my fingers over the plain walls, I'm struck by the lack of personal touches, of any sign someone once made this space their own. It reminds me eerily of Hadria's chambers at Elysium, stark and empty of photographs or mementos. Just blank surfaces veiling closely-guarded secrets and old wounds.

My chest aches at the thought of teenage Hadria lying alone on this plain bed night after night, emotionally walled off from the world, hungry for a connection she couldn't allow herself to need.

By the time I return downstairs, I've made up my mind. I take Mrs. Graves' wrinkled hands in mine, meeting her sad, knowing eyes.

"I wish you would come back to Elysium. Hadria still needs you, even if she refuses to admit it. And things are…changing there. She even sees a little sun now and then."

It's a weak joke, but Mrs. Graves smiles as she pats my hand gently. "You have a kind soul, my dear. But the darkness in that place…I wasn't just referring to the schedule Hadria prefers." The smile turns sad and she drops her voice so that Lyssa doesn't hear. "I couldn't stand to see another daughter killed, Aurora. It would kill me, too."

My heart sinks at her words. I understand, now, why she can't come back. But it scares me that she assumes Hadria will lose this fight she's started.

As Lyssa drives us back to Elysium in the dusk, I gaze out at the cheery houses passing by, each bursting with life and light. An ache fills my heart, followed by fear.

"Lyssa—if Nero is killing people from the Syndicate, shouldn't we have, well, warned Mrs. Graves?"

Lyssa gives a dark chuckle. "You think Mrs. G could take him? Don't worry about it," she goes on impatiently, when I try to protest again. "Seriously, Suzy. You really think Hadria's so cold she wouldn't—" She breaks off.

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