Page 16 of The Mirror of Beasts

“Then I look forward to proving you wrong yet again.”

I gritted my teeth.

“If he knows where it is …,” Neve began.

“We can find it ourselves,” I groused.

“Not before Lord Death kills another sorceress,” she finished. “If he’s wrong, or lying, then we’ll just … kick him off a cliff.”

“Conveniently enough, there’s one close to her establishment,” Emrys said.

“You guys can’t be serious …,” I began in disbelief.

But clearly, they were. And as Caitriona made her way toward Emrys, I knew I was outvoted.

“Let’s go,” she said. When Emrys started after her, she spun with all the vicious elegance of a viper, pinning him against the rough wall with her forearm. Emrys’s eyes widened, but unlike Nash, he made no move to escape. He simply took it.

“Betray us again,” she growled, “and I will gut you like the swine you are.”

“Noted,” he gasped out.

She released him, following along the pathway to what I sincerely hoped was the entrance, stepping over the swirling curse sigils embedded in the tile work beneath her feet. Emrys followed.

Olwen lingered a moment more, taking my hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Not you too,” I said.

“I know,” she told me. “But what other motive would he have now?”

“Let’s see,” I began. “Stealing Viviane’s vessel once it’s repaired? Spying on us for Madrigal? Using us to find whatever Lord Death wants first? Give me a few minutes, I’m sure I’ll come up with more.”

“Your mind, I swear,” Neve said, shaking her head. “Here’s the thing—if it’s a choice between working with him and spinning ourselves in circles searching for the Bonecutter, I’d rather use him and lose him. Deep down, I know you would too.”

I grunted, refusing to agree.

“The winter solstice is, what, ten days from now? And we have no idea what Lord Death is looking for, and why he needs whatever it is by then,” Neve said. “What we need is time. He can give us that.”

I blew out a long sigh. Right.

Olwen gave my hand one last squeeze. “It doesn’t change what matters. We’re still with you, no matter what.”

My feet remained rooted to the ground as she followed Caitriona and Emrys out. I started after her, only to realize Neve had hung back.

The sorceress stood at the edge of what had been our cell, her brows lowered, her lips pressed in a tight line.

“Neve?”

Lost to her thoughts, Neve startled as I touched her shoulder.

“Sorry, I …,” she began, shaking her head. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Is this about the sorceresses?” I asked, absently rubbing at my sore chest.

“No. Maybe.” Neve’s shoulders slumped. “Yes.”

My anger, still so close to the surface, stirred again as I remembered what the sorceresses had said. The way they’d laughed. Neve had been rejected by the Council of Sistren when she’d sought out training. To see them rebuff her again, to not even accept that she was one of them, was more than I could bear.

“Don’t you dare take anything they said to heart,” I told her sternly. “They’re all probably four centuries past the point of experiencing anything resembling empathy, and they have no idea who we are, or what we went through.”

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