Page 44 of The Shadow Bride

The villagers can feel them too; sailors and merchants alike skitter away from their glowing eyes, ducking into pubs and shops as if instinct warns them to seek shelter. “I thought you quelled the last coup d’état?” I murmur to Michal. “Why is everyone so tense?”

Odessa’s eyes cut to his with a darkly accusatory gleam. “This is not civil unrest.” Thunder rumbles in the distance, punctuating her words, and those brave enough to remain in the street cast us furtive glances. “The villagers are frightened. The vampires too,” she adds with a sniff. “They must sense the veil has torn, even if they cannot name their fear. They can certainlyseeits effect on the isle.”

“They can see it?” I ask quickly. “The blood and the—everything else?”

Odessa tenses further, as if she wishes I hadn’t spoken, but it is Dimitri who answers. “I assume they can, as I can see it too.” He shudders and glances across the street, where the—theskeletonof a cat watches us, its spindly tail flicking. “Though it’s a feeling too, isn’t it? Ascent.”

My brow furrows as I tear my gaze from the cat, inhaling again. Beneath the thin, cold air—the electric charge of the storm—trace notes of another scent linger. “Do I smell something... floral?” I focus on it, following the scent through the brine and algae and sweat of the harbor, past the silk shawls and leather boots of a merchant up the street.Roses.My stomach clenches like a fist.

He tore a hole through the veil when he stole Filippa from me—a permanent one this time. Not like the little cuts you leave behind.

“And something else...” My voice trails away as I struggle to place the second, stronger scent. “Whatisthat?”

“You smell it too?” Odessa sounds mildly impressed as I crane my neck toward the castle, trying to locate the source of that irresistible aroma. A peculiar sensation jerks through my belly in response, like a hook pulling me closer. “How interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?”

“Because not everyone can isolate their own scent.”

A flush creeps up my neck. “Are you telling me that scent is—”

“Yours,” Michal says abruptly. “You smell like Death.” At my appalled look, he shakes his head. “Not the literal scent of rot, Célie. You don’t smell fetid. You smell...” He trails off in search of the right word before waving a hand. “Well, likethat, and the scent has only strengthened since your transition.”

“Excuse me?”

He doesn’t clarify, however, instead gesturing to Pasha and Ivan, the two vampires who accompanied me on All Hallows’ Eve. The former boasts sweeping black hair and frost-white skin, while the latter has shaved his dark head completely; both regard me with utter contempt in their pale blue eyes as they melt from the shadows to join us. It seems vampirism has not elevated me in their esteem.

Their reaction to my presence, however, pales in comparison to their reaction to Dimitri. Glaring openly, they move to stand on either side of him—toloomon either side of him—and a muscle jumps in Ivan’s jaw while tendons flex in Pasha’s throat. They must’ve heard of Dimitri’s involvement on All Hallows’ Eve, or perhaps of how he snapped Odessa’s throat. Either way, they seem keen to make their displeasure known.

Dimitri appears not to notice, sliding his hands into damp pockets and addressing them each quite cheerfully. “Hello, Ivan.” He inclines his chin. “Pasha.”

Neither responds, and after a moment, Dimitri pretends to tug at his collar with a rueful grin. “Not winning any popularity contests these days, are we, Célie?”

Odessa’s lips purse as she gazes past us toward the castle. “Worry not, little brother. They’ll forgive you eventually.” She says nothing of them acceptingme, however, and her omission feels intentional.

“Pasha and Ivan have volunteered as your personal guards.” Voice harder than before, Michal continues as if none of us have spoken, and I scowl at the obvious lie as a fat drop of rain lands upon my head.No.I wipe at the icy precipitation, examining it on my fingers.Sleet.“You may use them or not, but each shall remain at your disposal.”

Odessa’s eyes darken inexplicably. “Should that really be the priority right now?”

“Enough, Odessa.”

“Is it?” Furrowing her brow, she speaks in an incredulous whisper, but I still hear her. Everyone still hears her. “Célie is a vampire, Michal. Should we be allocating much-needed resources to her protection when she can protect herself? Therearestill revenants terrorizing the isle, aren’t there?”

Apprehension prickles my neck at her words. Though Michal has long deserved a thorough setdown from Odessa, I’ve never seen her openly contradict him. But I suppose there must be a first time for everything? Perhaps—perhaps this will be that time. Here. Now. Aboutme.

I glance at the rather hostile vampires all around us before searching anxiously for the carriage. As if reading my mind, Michal says, “We’ll discuss this later, cousin.”

But Odessa refuses to let the matter drop, catching his sleeve. Hardly moving her lips at all now. “Is what Dima said on the ship true? Have theyeatentwo of us already?”

Oh God.

“How would Dima know? By his own account, he has not been on the isle.”

Dimitri’s grin vanishes at Michal’s tone. “Margot wrote to me. She’s been... frightened. A revenant attacked her shop last week. It climbed right out of an unmarked grave in the garden.”

My stomach pitches at the thought of the soft-spoken Margot Janvier and her quaint fleuriste being ravaged by a corpse. “Is she all right?”

“Shaken but unharmed,” he murmurs. “Her neighbor is a witch,and they trapped the revenant in a flowerpot.”

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