Page 129 of The Shadow Bride

As with me, they’ve been swarming her feet since Michal freed them from the washroom to stretch their legs before our confrontation with Death. A thoughtful gesture, and not one Mathilde seems to appreciate. Scowling down at them, she mutters, “Mila was my dearest friend, and I undoubtedly knew her best.”

I expect Michal to speak up now, or perhaps Odessa and Dimitri; I expect them to disagree and snap at the witches for claiming any part of Mila, but none of them speak. Indeed, Dimitri doesn’t even turn from the water’s edge, where he stands rigid, staring out at the maelstrom with his hands in his pockets.

Lou clears her throat into the silence, releasing Reid’s face with a furtive glance at the vampires. At Mathilde herself. “You’re probably right,” she says at last. “Her cupid’s bow is perfect.”

With effort, Michal forces a small, cold smile—a man unaffected, a man in control, but those eyes still burn with black fire. Though his sister might’ve chosen to move on—might’ve even passed peacefully, like the moon over the sun—he still misses her, and he always will.

There will be time to grieve later, however, after we deal with Death. Perhaps we’ll even give her a proper funeral; I’ll learn how they lay their dead to rest in Michal and Mila’s homeland, and it will be a beautiful tribute. But for now—

Mathilde snarls in pain, threatening to collapse as a kitten’s claws catch in her knee. “Will someone do something about thesedamnedcats?”

I jolt into motion—determined to save the poor thing before she accidentally punts it into the sea—but hesitate when Brigitte hurries forward with a basket instead. She plucks each kitten up by its nape, tucking them away without a word. I frown at her efficiency. At heragility. Indeed, when I bend to help, she snatches away the last kitten before turning sharply on her heel, her knuckles pale as she clutches the basket to her chest. Her eyes dart toward the curtain.

Toward my mother and Jean Luc.

Understanding sweeps through me immediately. Brigitte might hate us—might hate me most of all—but she hasn’t acted on her feelings; she hasn’t drawn her Balisarda and lodged it in my neck as she so clearly longs to do. No. Instead she has listened, has questioned, has evenhelped... and all because of Jean Luc.

Hoisting the basket higher, she brushes past me toward the curtain, but I reach out a tentative hand to stop her. “Thank you,” I murmur when she turns, unsure what else to say.

She tosses her long braid over her shoulder, glaring at me as she scratches a kitten’s chin. “I’m not doing any of this for you. I didn’t ask to be here.” Though her voice sizzles with venom—once, it would’ve filled me with it in response—I’ve been in her position, and it isn’t one I’d wish on anyone. I’ve been stranded in the destruction of a lover’s past too. Worse still, hers has marooned her in a grotto with his ex-fiancée.

Of course she wants to stick a sword in my neck. I cannot blame her for it, so instead I offer a small smile. An olive branch. “I’m appreciative regardless, Brigitte. Truly.”

Instead of reciprocating, she flinches like I’ve slapped her. And that—that’s fine too.Expected.Though I brace when she opens hermouth to speak, she seems to change her mind in the next second, scowling and shaking her head instead. Slipping through the curtain without another word. I can still hear as she joins Jean Luc and my mother, however, and places the basket upon the floor. The faint rustle of fabric as she sits down, the fainter whisper of greeting to Jean Luc. I can hear him take her hand.

I stop listening then and turn to Michal, who meets my gaze across the grotto.

I love you.I mouth the words without thinking, and he stalks forward to pull me into his arms. Without a word, he kisses me, and that bond pulses between us like a heartbeat. And it’s enough. With him, it’ll always be enough.

I still feel the torch he now carries, however. Though I try to ignore it, it presses into the hollow between my shoulder blades, and I swallow the lump in my throat before it chokes me. Because I—I cannot think about that torch now. I cannot think about itever—cannot acknowledge its existence—until all of this is over, until I can do nothing else but regret it for the rest of my eternal life.We don’t have a choice. We never had a choice.

Remorse pulses through the bond from Michal too—along with sickening dread at what he must do—but I don’t acknowledge it either, and he remains mercifully silent.

Over his shoulder, Lou steps into the water, where she closes her eyes and lifts her hands with Reid as Mila standing sentry beside her. “Are you ready?” he asks in a low, strained voice.

Clenching her jaw, she nods. “No time like the present.”

And we begin.

Mathilde rises from the bed as Lou flicks her wrists, and the water beyond the real maelstrom begins to churn too—slowly atfirst, so slowly—while Odessa and Dimitri assume their positions on opposite ends of the shore. They’ll be responsible for pushing Death into the waters if I fail.

The thought should terrify me, and itdoes—that I might fail, that the veil might fall, that everyone here might surrender to Death in the end. Still, other than Reid, I’m the only one Death might allow to get close to him. I’m the only one with the element of surprise.

Leaving Michal to deal with Filippa, if she even comes at all.

She’ll come, I tell myself fiercely.Her future depends on this too.

My stomach twists at that, threatens to empty all over this wretched grotto floor.Her child.

Still, our duplicity comes last, so together, Michal and I watch as the waters build momentum, the second maelstrom beginning to form. Blood trickles from Lou’s ears at the effort, and Dimitri clamps his mouth shut with a groan while Odessa watches him like a hawk. “Stop breathing,” she tells him, hardly moving her lips to prevent anyone from noticing. “Hold your breath.”

He swallows hard and nods.

“And you?” Michal asks just as quietly. “Are you ready for this?”

No, I want to say, but of course I can’t. Of course he senses it anyway.

“After Lou has finished, Mathilde will begin with the veil.” Michal’s arms tighten around me one last time. “If Death takes the bait, he could be here within moments.”

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