Page 68 of The Shadow Bride

But she shakes her head with a playful scoff, already turning away. “Nonsense. Iamstill La Dame des Sorcières. It’ll be a cold day in hell when my dear dead mother gets the better of me.” And—before either of us can succumb to tears—she winks over her shoulder and climbs up the stairs, preceding the guard into the corridor and out of sight.

Part Three

Qui n’avance pas, recule.

He who does not move forward, recedes.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mila Returns

The forest Michal leads me through whispers of an age before even Les Éternels.

Great cragged rocks jut forth from the misty ground, interspersed with ancient and moss-covered trees: beech, I think, and firs and maples. A freshwater stream cuts through the undergrowth to our left. Raindrops still glitter upon the ferns, but for the first time since my arrival, the clouds have calmed over Requiem. No rumble of thunder punctuates the early morning air. No flash of lightning.

As if sensing our presence, the wildlife around us cease their chatter. Only the gentle burble of water meets our ears. Indeed, the eerie presence in the harbor and castle doesn’t yet seem to have reached this part of the island. It feels peaceful. Calm. Still—

I frown at the ferns nearest us, where water continues to trickle steadily from their fronds as if rain still falls from the sky. Instinctively, I swipe at one of the droplets and bring it to my nose.

Salt.

The water smells of salt.

“Step lightly,” Michal says into the silence. “Stick to the rocks along the bank if possible and try not to disturb the vegetation. This forest is rife with magic,” he explains at my questioning look,tucking his hands into his pockets and strolling forward. “We don’t want to disturb it.”

“Really?” Curious despite myself, I hasten after him, picking up my skirts and cursing myself for not changing my shoes—thin satin slippers with delicate ribbons up the ankles. They’ll be ruined within a mile. “More so than other parts of the isle? Why?”

“Because the witch in residence doesn’t like visitors. Those are tears, by the way.” He nods toward the foliage, toward the trees, which all continue to gently drip, drip,drip. “The entire forest started to weep after All Hallows’ Eve.”

“Oh.” I glance around at the jewel-bright droplets, and I wonder at how something can be so beautiful yet so unnerving at the same time. “How... comforting.”

Michal grins, and at the sight of it, I stumble upon the pebbled bank. Though the forest is strange, this new Michal is stranger still. Since staging his death, he seems... lighter, somehow, almostrelaxed, which makes no sense at all; he might’ve shirked his crown, but the stakes have never been higher for any of us. His devastating grin widens at my reaction—because he notices the stumble, of course—and I nearly choke at the dimple in his cheek. Just the one, so different yet so similar to Dimitri’s. How have I nevernoticedit before?

Slowing to walk alongside me, he says, “You needn’t worry about a witch, Célie. You’re a vampire now. Your strength equals any threat she might leverage against us.”

I snort indelicately, my cheeks flushing for no apparent reason. “Strength has never exactly been my forte, Michal.”

He arches a brow. “And you’re against trying new things?”

“Of course not—”

“Have you, then?” he asks steadily. “Tried them?”

“Triedwhat?”

“Your newfound skills as a vampire.”

If possible, my flush deepens as I look away, and Michal makes a low noise in his throat. “Not yet,” I say stiffly. “There hasn’t been... time.” At the last, I cast him a quick, furtive look from the corner of my eye, but such subtlety proves unnecessary. Between one blink and the next, he steps directly in front of me, blocking my path and forcing me to look at him.

His own eyes have narrowed. “We have time now.”

“But you said—”

“This is important too.”

My hands fist in my skirts—because it isn’t, not really, and there are a hundred things more important than exploring vampirism. We’ve abandoned Lou and the others to battle the undead in Cesarine, my mother insists on cohabitating with bloodthirsty monsters, and I still haven’t told Michal about Death and Filippa. The last twists like a knife in my chest. No. In Michal’sback. I need to tell him. IknowI need to tell him, but he just died; he sacrificed everything without hesitation, yet I’ve done nothing but hesitate when it comes to him.

I don’t think he’ll hurt my sister, but—but what if hedoes?

---