Page 54 of The Shadow Bride

Lou struggles to sit up before Dimitri seizes her hand, hauling her upright with gusto. Her lips twitch. “I think the better question is how areyougoing to fix it, Célie. The maelstrom is a symptom, just like everything else. The real sickness is the veil.”

As if sensing our conversation, the maelstrom shifts malevolently in response—the faint laughter vanishing abruptly, thegentle warmth freezing to ice—and several distended limbs thrust through the water’s surface, desperate to break free of its current. I gape at them in horror.

An arm.

An elbow.

A foot.

“Revenants,” Lou whispers.

Dimitri grimaces in distaste, and I nearly retch at the sight of them—all the sailors who perished around the isle when its magic wrecked their ships. Their corpses bob in the current once, twice, before the maelstrom surges viciously, swallowing them once more. And despite my hideous relief, it seems too cruel a torment to fathom: to drown, to die, to be dragged from death by an invisible hand only to drown all over again. This is their fate until we mend the veil—a task that hasperilouslyfallen to me.

“Just try, Célie.” Lou touches my hand with trembling fingers. “That’s all any of us can do.”

Nodding mutely—determined not to let her see my fear, my doubt—I attempt to look beyond the maelstrom. I focus on my hurt, my anger, myhopefor Dimitri until the entire grotto shimmers, rippling like a mirage. And only then do I realize the full extent of the damage we caused. Because the veil—I no longer see it. Ifeelit, yes. I sense it. The shorn edges should be rightherefor me to guide back together, yet they aren’t, which must mean...

I take a slow step backward, eyes widening as they search the cavernous ceiling, the walls, even the ocean beyond.

Nothing.

The realization impales my chest like a shard of ice thrown from Death’s own hand:He tore a hole through the veil when he stoleFilippa from me—a permanent one this time. Not like the little cuts you leave behind.

The little cuts.

Why did I think it would be simple? After such catastrophic evidence to the contrary, why did I think Death would’ve simply wedged himself through a crack, perhaps twisted and contorted and hunched his broad shoulders to fit? No, this tear—Frederic’s tear,mytear—must span the entire grotto, perhaps the entire castle, and how do I mend what I cannot see or touch? “I—I don’t think I can,” I breathe in dawning horror. In dread.

“Of course you can,” Lou says fiercely. “You just need to try again.”

Dimitri and I pull her up the stairs as she tries and fails to surge to her feet, and behind us, the maelstrom swells. A dozen more revenants resurface with it. They flounder in its swirling depths, and I feel myself nod, hear myself speak without believing any of it. “Perhaps—perhaps we should talk to Michal before we do anything else. He said he had ideas...”

My voice trails away, however, as the distant chords of a violin and the gentle clink of crystal drift down the stairwell toward us. I tilt my head and listen curiously. Soft voices soon join the revelry. A crooning laugh. A peculiar jangle, a metallic dissonance that could be another instrument. Though I cannot discern more through the rush of water behind us, the earth and stone above, it sounds almost like a party.

Then someone screams.

Chapter Seventeen

A Black Soirée

With an arm around Lou, I rush up the stairs and through the curio cabinet, but Dimitri catches us at the door to Michal’s study. “Whatever you’re planning, I’d reconsider. Never is it a good idea to go chasing after screams in Requiem.”

“But someone could be hurt—”

“And what ofyou? Are you not supposed to be tucked safely in your room?”

Tugging my elbow out of his grip, I stare up at him suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

Lou interrupts before he can answer. “Maybe Odessa was right, Célie. Maybe we should return to your room.”

Butthatdoesn’t sound like Lou at all. She never hides from a fight, not even while pale and weak from our time in the grotto. Concerned, I lift a quick hand to her forehead, but the difference in our temperatures is too great for such a method to prove effective now. She swats my ministrations away and rolls her eyes. “I just think in light of—well,everything, perhaps we shouldn’t charge off after the bloodcurdling shriek in a vampire-infested castle. If things go poorly, I don’t think I’ll be much help at the moment.”

“Nor I,” Dimitri agrees quickly, and for no reason at all.

I frown between them, dropping my hand. “Is there something I should know?”

Dimitri scoffs. “Isn’t said bloodcurdling shriek enough?”

“No, it isn’t—and once again, that isn’t an answer.” All the more determined now, I stride past him, grasping Lou’s hand and pulling her toward the east wing. “But you’re right—you should probably go back to our room. I’ll escort you back before investigating—”

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