Page 144 of The Shadow Bride

“What Iasked?” Death’s eyes bulge incredulously. “You are willfully— You havenot— I WANT THE VEIL DOWN, FILIPPA,” he bellows into her face. “HAVE YOU BROUGHT THE VEIL DOWN?”

“You are clearly overcome”—her voice drips disdain—“and unable to control your emotions.” Sneering, she shakes her head. “I should’ve realized it sooner, but I didn’t—or perhaps couldn’t. I foolishly agreed to help you, to obey you, in exchange for my sister’s protection and my daughter’s return. You broke the first condition without hesitation, but I will not allow you to break the second. Not after everything I’ve done.” She draws herself up to her full height now, squaring her shoulders and glaring at Death like he is not a primordial entity but an unpleasant little boy in need of scolding. And despite everything, I cannot help but admire her for it.

I have always admired her for it.

As if I’d ever let anything happen to you, Célie.

“Now,” she says coldly, “allow me to repeat myself—where is my daughter?”

Death actually spasms in response now. Then his fingers curl around Filippa’s shoulders, and he says, “I could not give a singlefuckabout your daughter. If she was still in your belly, I would throw you both into that maelstrom just for the pleasure of watching you drown.”

And there it is—the truth we’ve all tried to speak gently, now spoken with cruelty instead. Unimaginable cruelty.Despicablecruelty. I never wanted her to hear it, never wanted her to break, but now she knows the depths of Death’s depravity, the lengths to which he will go. She knows Death does not care, that he never cared, and he will never bring her daughter back either.

Filippa stiffens beneath his touch as she realizes it too. And though Death clearly feels no remorse, I still do; it tightens my throat as her eyes lock with mine and fierce understanding passes between us.

A look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Whatever idiotic scheme you’ve concocted”—Death’s fingers tighten on Filippa with brutal force—“I suggest you reconsider. As your sister has pointed out, you’re both quite soft again, darling. Quite vulnerable.”

Though Filippa opens her mouth to answer, he squeezes harder—toohard—and she cries out in pain as her clavicle snaps. He doesn’t stop there, however. He continues to squeeze, and though I leap at him—horrified, panic-stricken—he catches my arm and launches me into the sea, where I plunge straight into the bands of swirling water. Choking now, I struggle to keep my head aloft—my legs spasming, cramping,seizingagainst the tide—as Death throws Filippa in too, and she screams before plummeting below the surface.

“Filippa!” Frantic now, I dive toward her because she cannot swim; he broke herbones, and the current—it’s too strong, toofast—

My fingers catch her wrist as Death careens into the shallows after us, but I cannot focus on him. I cannot focus on anything butFilippa.Filippa.She flounders in my hand, clawing up my arm, and I heave her forward with all my might. I fling her toward the islet with the next sweep of the current, and she understands instantly, grappling at the rock with her good arm. Her fingers catch a dip in its surface. When she hooks a leg over the ledge, however, the same current tows me away again, and I hold my breath—lungs splitting—as it pulls me back under. As it pulls me down—

Down.

Down.

And somewhere above, I hear another scream, followed by an abrupt slipstream as something—someone—plunges into the depths beside me. My heart sinks as large hands thrust down upon my shoulders, my head, pushing me deeper in an effort to catapult themselves upward. Gritting my teeth, I catch their waist at the last second, and we burst through the surface together.

Death.

He snarls, attempting to disentangle himself, but I will not drown in this wretched place. I willnot. Clamping my limbs around him, I climb up his body and refuse to let go. Though we thrash like a pair of eels—Death cursing and spluttering and wrenching my hair until lights pop across my vision—my mother stands stricken in my periphery, in theshallows, her hands still outstretched as if she—

As if shepushedhim.

Revenants descend on her in the next second, and my grip on Death loosens. Before he can break free, however, we spiral downward in the treacherous current—deeper this time. Closer to the heart of the maelstrom. And this wasn’t part of the plan, not with Michal and Dimitri still down there, stillwaiting, but I bring myknees to my chest and kick outward at Death. Istrikeat him, and I pray it’ll be enough. Though he tries to seize my wrist—still snarling, determined to take me with him—I twist at the last second, and he catches my sleeve instead.

When the fabric tears beneath his fingers, I slip from his grasp, and the current rips him through the veil.We did it.

I cannot stop to celebrate, however; I cannot even pause to check on Filippa.

I can only pray she’ll be ready when I return.

And—without waiting another second—I take a deep breath and dive after Death.

Chapter Forty-Seven

A Candle and Its Shadow

Nothing has changed when I land in the garden—not the blues and not the greens, and certainly not the sunshine. The same grass ripples in the same mild breeze, and the river—it moves just as peacefully through the languid afternoon. Indeed, after the nightmare of the grotto, this pastoral scene is almost... chilling.

I lurch to my feet in search of any sign of Death, but he seems to have vanished without a trace.

The thought brings little comfort.

“Michal?” I whisper his name as I tiptoe toward the riverbank, peering through boughs of orange trees and glancing behind topiaries for anything unusual. Surelysomethingshould look different after Death’s return? Withered roses, perhaps? Blackened snowdrops? Perhaps the wind should erupt into a gale, yet all remains still—perfect, just as we left it. “Michal? Dimitri?” I raise my voice a little louder, wincing as it cuts through the tranquility. “Are you here?”

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