Page 147 of The Shadow Bride

“Yes, youcan.” I sink to my knees beside her. “Channel your emotions—all of them this time. You cannot manipulate the veil—you cannot mend this tear—while still acting like you do not feel.” When she thrashes her head in denial, I say fiercely, “Iheardyou, Filippa. While I was drowning in the garden, you begged me to live, and when Death threatened our mother, Isawthe look on your face. I saw your fear, your anger, yourlove. And you do love us—all of us, including your daughter, which is why you nearly rent the world apart to meet her. Everything you’ve done has been out of love, and ofcourseit has. You are human, Pip, and you feel just as deeply as the rest of us, if not more.”

Her hands clench into fists. “I’ve never been like you. I’ve never been able to do this—neverwantedto feel this—”

“Aren’t you a little old for pretend?”

“ANY MOMENT NOW!” Mathilde strains on the shore, her own hands twisting as blood begins to trickle from her ears and the grotto shakes with Death’s roar.

Filippa laughs harshly, the spray of the sea hiding her tears. “Perhaps we should just be done with it.” She glances at me, her eyes hard as ever. “If I jump and cross the river, this ends. Save the world, right? That’s what this has all been about. We know how to do that, Célie.”

I glare at her, guiding her fists back toward the water, toward the veil. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Though her grip remains stiff, almost immovable, I manage to unclench her fists and smooth out her palms, just as Death’s hand shoots from the maelstrom. Mathilde collapses with a hiss.

True panic rears within me now. We do not have time for this moment, but it is perhaps the last moment we will ever have.

“I lost her,” Filippa says, quieter now but no less cold. “I lost Frostine. I lost Frederic. I lost...everythingthat I considered for my future. What else is left for me?” She turns her gaze to the maelstrom, and her fingers seem to stroke the tear. They seem to beckon it forth. “If I mend the veil, what lies ahead except a life of torment? Ofgrief?”

Pain laces the last, and for the first time since our youth, Filippa’s icy facade falters. I move my hands to her arm, squeezing tightly so that she will feel it—feelme—and know that I am here.

I am here, and I am not leaving her.

I will not let her die.

“I can help you, Pip. We—we canallhelp you. The grief you feel over Frederic and Frostine... it will not vanish, but it will fade. Little by little, youwillovercome it. Please, Filippa.” My voice breaks on her name. “Pleasedon’t give up now. If not for me or Maman or the life we might share together, then... then stay foryourself.” I guide her hands closer to the heart of the maelstrom, where Death snatches the air wildly, desperate for leverage. Mathilde groans. “You aren’t alone. We can do this together.”

She shakes her head. “That—that isn’t how mending the veil works—”

“So do it yourself.” Desperation sharpens my voice, all my hope and my fear colliding within my chest and exploding outward as my fingers dig into her skin. “Do it yourself, but know that I amhere beside you—that I willalwaysbe beside you. I will be here, Pip, because I love you.I love you.”

Her hands tremble, and her lip quivers. Though her gaze widens like she’s listening—like she’s really, trulyhearingme—she does not yet move to close the veil. “You should hate me, Célie. The things I’ve done... the person I’ve been... you should shove me inside this stupid fucking maelstrom without a single regret.”

“Funny, that.” I lift my chin, conviction pulsing a steady beat in my veins. “I no longer care about what I should or shouldn’t do. You are my sister, and Iwantyou to live. I cannot make you, however;youneed to want to live too. The choice is yours, and the clock is ticking.” Though I release her at the last, I remain near her side, willing her to feel my warmth.

I will not leave her.

Filippa has been awful.

She aligned with a murderer, she killed Dimitri, she kept the souls of her ex-lover and our nursemaid trapped inside her ice palace, and she has threatened me more times than I can count. But life does not work in absolutes.No oneis wholly good.

I once called a young woman a whore, and she soon became my dearest friend. That same young woman set her own best friend on fire, but they reconciled just as quickly—in the flash of a single spark.

That same spark resides in each of us, that glimmer of light and that touch of darkness. The propensity for good, yes, but also the potential for great evil. Filippa is no different. Both exist within her as well.

Shecanchange. She can decide to do better, to do good, so long as she makes the decision for herself. Filippa glances at me, at ourmother, at Mathilde, then at Michal and Dimitri and Odessa. She even glances at Lou and Reid, who slump beside Jean Luc and Brigitte. Our family. My friends. People she will someday know too, hopefully, if she dares to imagine that future for herself—if she dares to reach for happiness.

Without another word, she turns to Death, and she slaps his hand away.

A cry passes my lips, unbidden, as she clutches at the seams of the tear—as much of them as she can hold—and leans forward, pressing the ragged edges together.Heredges. Her tears fall faster now, dripping into the storm that her rebirth created.

“I never want to smell another revenant again,” Filippa says.

And then my sister closes the veil.

Chapter Forty-Eight

A New Beginning

I expect thunder and lightning, a tidal wave—anything to signify Death has gone and the world has righted. None of those things happen, however.

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