Page 101 of The Shadow Bride

“Why are the kittens here?” I blurt out.

He doesn’t hesitate in answering, now scratching Toulouse beneath his chin. “Because they make your mother uncomfortable.”

And something in the ease of his answer undoes me.

Leaning forward without warning, I kiss him.

I kiss him because he is selfless and kind, and somewhere along the way, he learned to hide the best parts of himself. I kiss him because he cares about my mother, cares about kittens, cares aboutmedespite the danger we pose, despite his world falling apart around him. It would’ve been so much easier to walk away. It would’ve been expected—celebrated, even—if he’d killed me and my friends on All Hallows’ Eve. He would’ve retained his crown. He would’ve ruled forever.

Instead he sighs softer now—almost a groan—and responds in turn, kissing my jaw, my throat, before detaching Toulouse from my lap and setting him upon the floor. When he returns, his palms slide up my legs, and he parts my knees slowly, stepping into the space between them. I slide my hips to the edge of the bed in response, right against his, and wrap my feet around his calves. “Don’t go with him again,” he says against my lips. “Not without telling someone. Promise me.”

And I want to agree. I want to kiss him until neither of us canbreathe, until I no longer blush scarlet every time I see him. I want to know what his skin feels like. I want to explore this overwhelming connection between us, and more than that, I want to understand it. I want to understandhim.

Instead I say nothing, quietly hating myself because I can’t promise it won’t happen again—I can’t promise anything when it comes to Death, who seems to hold everyone in the palm of his hand. My sister, my mother, evenme, and also—

The truth I tried to forget crashes down on my head.

Dimitri.

I forgot to tell Michal about Dimitri.

If Death is to be believed, he owns Dimitri too—made some sort of deal with him—and I have a sneaking suspicion I know what it was. Worse still, we forgave him after his betrayal on All Hallows’ Eve; webelievedhim, and that makes us the fools. Even his name curdles my stomach now. Indeed, I stiffen just as Michal’s hands move to my hips, as his gaze descends to where our bodies touch.

“Michal.”

At the sudden tension in my body, his eyes flick back to mine, the heat in them cooling slightly at whatever he sees. A furrow appears between his brows. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His voice is tight again, strained, and I don’t want to tell him.God, I don’t want to tell him—to ruin this moment—but as he lifts a hand to my cheek, searching my face, I realize this isn’t about me. This is about him. Dimitri is his cousin, and he deserves to know what Death told me today.

Before I can say the words aloud, however, Michal speaks with such quiet intensity that I want to kiss him all over again. “Wedon’t need to do anything you don’t want to do, Célie. If you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not,” I say hastily, squeezing my legs tighter when he moves to step away. My arms snake around his neck for good measure, and I cling to him. “I’m not uncomfortable, and I—I don’t want to stop”—he tilts his head at my jumbled explanation—“but I need to talk to you about—about Dimitri.”

Michal blinks, clearly startled by mention of his cousin. “Dimitri,” he repeats flatly. “You want to talk about... Dimitri.”

I nod warily. “And Death.”

“Ah.” Comprehension flickers in the depths of Michal’s eyes, and nowhestiffens, his hands falling from my hips altogether. He pulls away with a curse, and reluctantly, I release him, feeling sick again as he stalks to the writing desk, pulls open the drawer, and withdraws a bottle of absinthe. He plunks it onto the desktop. “What has he done?” he finally asks.

Still I feel the need to—protect Michal, somehow, even when I know it isn’t possible. “I don’t know if it’s true—”

“It probably is.”

“Death said all sorts of horrible things—”

“Out with it, Célie.”

“They made a deal,” I say abruptly. “I don’t know what Death agreed to give Dimitri in return, but Dimitri told him about All Hallows’ Eve. He told him about the masquerade, about Frederic’s ritual, about you and about me, even about Odessa and the fake insurrection.” When Michal says nothing, I slide from the bed, careful to avoid Toulouse and his siblings as I approach him. “Like I said, Dimitri might not have been involved. Death could’ve been lying.” A careful pause. “After all, he seemed to know... otherthings, as well. Things Dimitri couldn’t have told him.”

Michal withdraws two small glasses from his desk, pouring a small measure of absinthe into each. He doesn’t look at me. His fingers clench white around the bottle. “Such as?” he asks calmly.

I resist the urge to place a hand upon his back. “He—he spoke of your parents.”

“What of them?”

“Um, well—” My throat closes around the words.

“My father’s addiction? My mother’s heresy?” He slides a sidelong glance in my direction for confirmation, his eyes brittle and overly bright. “Dimitri knew of both.”

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