Warmth.
Be safe, my darling, while we part. Be safe until we meet again.
Will you remember me, Maman?
I could never forget you, Louise. I love you.
Flinching at her words, I yanked at the golden cord, and it twisted beneath my touch. The memory changed within my mind. Her eyes hardened into chips of emerald ice, and she sneered at the hope in my expression, the desperation in my voice. My sixteen-year-old face fell. Tears welled.
Of course I do not love you, Louise. You are the daughter of my enemy. You were conceived for a higher purpose, and I will not poison that purpose with love.
Of course. Of course she hadn’t loved me, even then. I shook my head, disoriented, and clenched my fist. The memory dissolved into golden dust, and its warmth flooded over and into Reid. His hair and clothing dried in a burst of heat. Color returned to his skin, and his breathing deepened. His eyes drifted open as I attempted to shove his other arm through his sleeve.
“Stop giving me your body heat,” I snapped, tugging his shirt down his abdomen viciously. “You’re killing yourself.”
“I—” Dazed, he blinked several times, taking in the bloody scene around us. The color he’d regained in his skin vanished at the sight of his dead brethren.
I turned his face toward mine, cupping his cheeks and forcing him to hold my gaze. “Focus on me, Reid. Not them. You need to break the pattern.”
His eyes widened as he stared at me. “I—I don’t know how.”
“Just relax,” I coaxed, pushing his hair off his forehead. “Visualize the cord linking us in your mind, and let it go.”
“Let it go.” He laughed, but the sound was strangled. It held no mirth. “Right.”
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes in concentration. After a long moment, the heat pulsing between us ceased, replaced by the bitter bite of cold, wintry air. “Good,” I said, feeling that cold deep down in my bones. “Now tell me what happened.”
His eyes snapped open, and in that brief second, I saw a flash of raw, unadulterated pain. It made my breath catch in my throat. “They wouldn’t stop.” He swallowed hard and averted his gaze. “You were dying. I had to get you to the surface. But they recognized us, and they wouldn’t listen—” Just as quickly as it’d come, the pain in his eyes vanished, snuffed out as the flame of a candle. An unsettling emptiness replaced it. “I didn’t have a choice,” he finished in a voice as hollow as his eyes. “It was you or them.”
Silence descended as realization clubbed me over the head.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been forced to choose between me and another. This wasn’t the first time he’d stained his hands with his family’s blood to save mine. Oh god.
“Of course.” I nodded too quickly, my voice horribly light. My smile horribly bright. “It’s fine. This is fine.” I pushed to my feet, offering him a hand. He eyed it for a second, hesitating, and my stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles. I smiled harder. Of course he would hesitate to touch me. To touch anyone. He’d just undergone a traumatic experience. He’d cast his first magic since Modraniht, and he’d used it to harm his brethren. Of course he felt conflicted. Of course he didn’t want me—
I flung the unbidden thought aside, cringing away as if it’d bitten me. But it was too late. The poison had already set in. Doubt oozed from the punctures of its fangs, and I watched—disconnected—as my hand fell back to my side. He caught it at the last second, gripping it firmly. “Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”
I gave a harsh laugh, casting about for a witty reply but finding none. I helped him to his feet instead. “Let’s get back to camp. I’d hate to disappoint your mother. At this point, she’s probably salivating to roast us both on a spit. I might welcome it, actually. It’s freezing out here.”
He nodded, still frighteningly impassive, and tugged on his boots in silence. We’d just started back for the Hollow when a small movement in my periphery made me pause.
His gaze cut around us. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Why don’t you go on ahead?”
“You aren’t serious.”
Another movement, this one more pronounced. My smile—still too bright, too cheerful—vanished. “I need to take a piss,” I said flatly. “Would you like to watch?”
Reid’s cheeks flamed, and he coughed, ducking his head. “Er—no. I’ll wait right—right over there.” He fled behind the thick foliage of a fir tree without a backward glance. I watched him go, craning my neck to ensure he was out of sight, before turning to study the source of movement.
At the edge of the pool, not quite dead, the last of the Chasseurs watched me with pleading eyes. He still clutched his Balisarda. I knelt beside him, nausea churning as I pried it from his stiff, frozen fingers. Of course Reid hadn’t taken it from him—from any of them. It would’ve been a violation. It didn’t matter that witches would likely happen upon these bodies and steal the enchanted blades for themselves. To Reid, robbing his brethren of their identities in their final moments would’ve been an unthinkable betrayal, worse even than killing them.
The Chasseur’s pale lips moved, but no sound came out. Gently, I rolled him onto his stomach. Morgane had once taught me how to kill a man instantly. “At the base of the head,” she’d instructed, touching the tip of her knife to my own neck, “where the spine meets the skull. Sever the two, and there can be no resuscitation.”
I mimicked Morgane’s movement against the Chasseur’s neck. His fingers twitched in agitation. In fear. But it was too late for him now, and even if it weren’t, he’d seen our faces. Perhaps he’d seen Reid use magic as well. This was the only gift I could give either of them.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I plunged the Balisarda into the base of the Chasseur’s skull. His fingers stopped twitching abruptly. After a moment’s hesitation, I rolled him back over, clasped his hands across his chest, and replaced his Balisarda between them.
As predicted, Madame Labelle waited for us on the edge of the Hollow, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with anger. Fire practically spewed from her nostrils. “Where have you—” She stopped short, eyes widening as she took in our rumpled hair and state of undress. Reid still hadn’t laced his trousers. He hastened to do so now. “Imbeciles!” Madame Labelle cried, her voice so loud—so shrill and unpleasant—that a couple of turtle doves fled into the sky. “Cretins! Stupid, asinine children. Are you capable of thinking with the northernmost regions of your bodies, or are you ruled entirely by sex?”
“It’s a toss-up on any given day.” Marching to my bedroll, pulling Reid along in tow, I threw my blanket over his shoulders. His skin was still too ashen for my taste, his breathing too shallow. He pulled me under his shoulder, thanking me with a brush of his lips to my ear. “Though I am surprised to hear a madam being so prudish.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Sitting up in his bedroll, Beau dragged a hand through his rumpled hair. Sleep still clung to his face. “Just this once, I might call it prudence instead. And that’s saying something from me.” He arched a brow in my direction. “Was it good, at least? Wait—scratch that. If it was with anyone other than my brother, maybe—”