Chapter 3

I hated that I wanted to look at him.

Hated that I noticed how his chestnut hair had been trimmed and tamed, that he was back to wearing perfectly tailored clothing with his usual disregard, sleeves rolled up to reveal the thick bands of scars across his skin. Hated the warm jacket he'd slung over one shoulder while the rest of us tried not to shiver in the damp cold. I hated that tilt of his head, that smirk, as if his wealth and name might protect him from these sorceresses, too.

But more than anything, I hated that the only mark the last days of Avalon had left on him was a hollowing of his cheeks, when the horror of those last hours had carved our pain down deep to the bone.

The betrayal stung anew, revived in an instant. Any soft relief I might have felt at seeing him alive dissolved, until only the humiliation and smoldering anger remained. He hadn't just taken the Ring of Dispel, he'd …

What the hell was he even doing here?

"I don't believe this for a moment," Hestia declared, ripping the letter back out of the nameless one's hands.

"Which part, that Madrigal has come slithering up out of her viper's nest, or that the High Sorceress believed her?" Acacia muttered. Her brows rose suddenly, the bitterness there replaced by some new, no doubt horrible, revelation. "It says we're to release them, but it does not specify that they have to be alive."

Look at me, I thought, staring at the perfect lines of his profile. Look at what you did.

He wouldn't. It began to feel like a challenge. I was baiting him, daring him to look. To see the venomous fury that was coursing through my veins and risk my gaze turning him to stone.

But then, that was one of the privileges of wealth, wasn't it? Never needing to face the consequences of your actions.

"Actually," Emrys said smoothly, leaning over Hestia's shoulder to point at something on the paper, "it does riiiiight there—bottom of the third paragraph? Put in the request for that one myself."

"Wow," Neve deadpanned. "What a hero."

I gritted my teeth, resentment billowing up inside me. I didn't want his help. Didn't need it. The mere fact that he thought we might welcome it … I'd rather have been torn apart by the sorceresses.

"And just there, " Emrys continued, pointing farther down, "you'll notice the High Sorceress makes a special request for you to return to the Council for a new assignment. But look, she also sends some praise for a job well done, so bravo."

Acacia looked as though she'd love to stamp him out like a roach beneath her bootheel, and I would have loved nothing better than to watch.

"Why would Madrigal vouch for them, after what they've done?" Plum Hair scowled. "She never sticks her neck out unless it's in the hope someone will clasp a diamond necklace around it."

"Working every angle, as always. Her standing has suffered since … well, you know," Hestia said.

The others did know, apparently. My infernal curiosity perked up its ears, but no further details came.

"Can we be done, then?" Hestia continued. "Your vault is rather lacking in creature comforts, Acacia. "

"Though, truly, it has wonderfully evocative atmosphere," Plum Hair said, gesturing to the bleak stone walls around us.

Acacia sniffed, allowing the compliment. "Then let us go before the Council agrees to waste yet more of our time."

"A wise idea," Emrys said pleasantly. "We never know how many days we'll be given."

Acacia turned on her heel with a noise of disgust, making for the vault's entrance. The others scurried after her, exchanging pleased looks behind her back.

Emrys cleared his throat, and they stopped.

"What is it now, you pestilence?" Acacia demanded.

He gestured helpfully to the stone bars, and to our restraints.

Acacia stamped her foot, letting out a little noise of annoyance. She retrieved her wand from what must have been an enchanted pocket of her cloak and used the knife end to scratch out a sigil on the nearby wall.

The stone bars snapped back down into grooves in the ground, the thunderous impact rattling my already hurting body. The manacles fell away from our wrists, dissolving to dust as they hit the earth.

Neve sprang to her feet with a relieved sigh. Caitriona ran on unsteady legs into the pathway, but the sorceresses were already gone. She muttered something darkly beneath her breath that was likely better left unheard.

I wasn't sure I could have moved even if I'd wanted to. Olwen rushed over to me, kneeling at my side, worry etched into her grime-streaked face.

"Are you all right?" she asked, beginning her examination. I gasped as she prodded a sharp ache on the right side of my ribs.

"Well, I was, " I squeezed out.

"Just bruised," she noted. "I don't have any healing salve with me. Can you tolerate it a bit longer?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"What happened?" Emrys asked .

That persuasive smile was gone now, the aura of swagger extinguished with two soft words. If it had been anyone else, I would have called his expression concern.

He was looking now. He studied each of us in quick succession, with the fleetingness of light glancing off glass. In the end, Emrys Dye really was a coward; he couldn't even summon the nerve to lift his eyes to our faces. And damn him, because those eyes … they had the audacity to still be so beautiful. One gray as a storm cloud, one green as the earth—trickster's jewels, meant to tempt the unsuspecting thief.

Caitriona edged closer, until she'd partially blocked me from view.

"Not even a hello?" he said lightly.

My top lip curled as the bitterness churning in me fermented to a deeper hate.

The silence from the others bolstered me from all sides. I rose slowly, with Caitriona's and Olwen's help.

A flicker of something crossed his expression, breaking through the pleasant veneer he wore. I knew better than to believe it was anything like regret.

I'd known him for too long not to see through this act. I knew what he wanted now. Information.

Time had moved differently between our world and the Otherland … until, of course, we'd shifted them back into alignment with the ritual. For us, it had only been a little over a day since he slipped away with the Ring of Dispel, taking it back to Madrigal for all the gold and freedom she'd promised. For him, it would have been days, maybe more than a week.

But he deserved nothing. Not the truth of what had happened. Not kindness.

Not us.

The professional in me had understood, even if I hadn't wanted to, why he'd done it. Maybe, with the distance of decades, or lifetimes, I would have found a sliver of acceptance. Let the wound scar over. But the wound he'd left was still bloody and gaping, and I'd be dead and damned before I let him drive another blade in.

In the end, Olwen broke first. She charged forward, forcing him back a step as she jabbed her finger at his heart like a dagger.

"You!" The word dripped with shocking vehemence. "I liked you and—and trusted you! We all did, every one of my sisters and friends! How dare you? How dare you take the ring and leave us—!"

Her voice choked with emotion. "Goddess forgive me, but a part of me wishes you had died, because at least I could go on believing that you were good, and kind. That you were our friend. But now you are nothing but a stranger and a thief."

Olwen, I thought, an ache opening deep in my chest.

Emrys's face turned wan. He held his hands out, the palms turned up as if in supplication. "Please, just listen—"

"And allow you to lie to all of us again?" Caitriona said coldly. She held a hand back toward me, not to reach for mine, but to bring me closer to her.

"How did …," Emrys began, each word he chose more uncertain than the last. "How did it happen? Did anyone else make it?"

"We are the only ones who survived," Caitriona said.

I looked down as Emrys recoiled, absorbing her words like a blow to the gut. "Even Cabell?"

I wondered when that awareness of him would finally leave, if it could be burned out of my soul like a fever. Even now, I felt him watching me, sensed the way he angled his body toward mine.

He might have been a coward, but I wasn't.

I looked up, forcing him to meet my gaze, to see me, as I said, "Are we supposed to believe that you care?"

He fisted a hand in his hair, his breathing turning shallow as the silence swelled between us. "Will you let me explain? Or are you too damn stubborn to even listen?"

My broken fingernails curled into the cuts on my palms, and I focused on that sharp bite of pain to steady me .

"Oh, now we get a choice?" I snapped. "You haven't shut up the entire time you've been here."

His jaw clenched, but I'd given him the opening, and he took it.

"I had to bring the ring to Madrigal," he said. "It wasn't a choice—not a real one. Madrigal didn't just promise me what I needed to get my mom away from my father. She kept my mom captive to ensure I saw the job through."

I stared back, the muscles in my stomach quivering as they tightened.

"We all had people we were trying to protect," I said coldly. "You were the only one who had to betray everyone to do it."

All that imploring softness fell away as his expression hardened to match mine. A part of me was relieved to see it. This was the real Emrys, the one I'd always known. The prince of the guild, the unwelcome rival. Him, I could handle.

"That's rich coming from you, Lark," he said. "Didn't you lie to Neve about how the ring had to be taken?"

Lark. My mind snagged on the name.

"Do not, " Neve warned, finally stepping forward, "compare omitting details to leaving your supposed friends to die in a dark wasteland overrun by monsters."

He had the decency to look chastened by that, at least. "You're right. And I'm sorry it had to be that way." His gaze slid back toward me. "But you saw her—my mother. You saw what Madrigal had already done to keep her in line. You saw her, Tamsin."

"I have no idea what you're talking about—" But even as I said it, my mind was already painting the fading opulence of the Sorceress Madrigal's home.

In that short visit, I'd observed only a handful of people: the sorceress herself, Emrys, her pooka companion Dearie, the dinner guests and their horrible animal masks. And the elderly maid near the door.

The maid.

She'd looked as fragile as the etched-glass drinkware that had tumbled from her tray, shattering against the floor. Age had stooped her shoulders, but that was the only normal thing about her appearance, the rest of which had been startling. Her one visible eye had been pure white, with no iris or pupil. Her skin hung from the bones of her face like clay melting off its form. In a word, she'd looked ancient.

But when I lingered on her face, trying to layer it over the few images I'd seen of Cerys Dye, I could almost see it. The fine bone structure. The shape of her eyes. Emrys's mother had been famed for her beauty—it couldn't be her.

But Emrys's grave eyes told a different story.

"Is that true?" Neve asked, glancing between us.

"I think …" My words trailed off. I'd thought a lot of things about him. Believed far more than I should have. "Maybe."

"It is true," Emrys protested. "And once I returned with the ring, Madrigal let us both go."

"Where is your mother now?" Olwen asked, seemingly despite herself.

"She's safe … she's … recovering with a friend," Emrys said. "And when Madrigal heard the Council had ordered that the four of you be taken and imprisoned, she even sent the High Sorceress a letter vouching for you, as a peace offering. The Sistren are calling you the Unmakers. They think you're working with Lord Death."

"Yeah, we worked that one out ourselves, thanks," I said. My exhaustion caught up to me again, and this time, I didn't try to fight it. "What's the real reason you're here? Why would Madrigal feel she owes us anything? I know she's not doing it out of the goodness of her heart—she'd need to actually possess one for that to be true."

"She doesn't want you to reveal that she has the ring to the other sorceresses," Emrys said. "So no one shows up trying to kill her for it."

"What did she need it for?" Olwen asked.

"She didn't say, and I didn't see her use it," Emrys said. "And before you ask, I have no idea where it's hidden now."

I blew out a hard breath, rolling my eyes. Of course. How convenient for them both. It hardly mattered; as long as it was in the sorceress's possession, it was beyond our reach. Madrigal would put every ounce of her power into ensuring it would stay that way.

"What else?" I said. "That can't be the only reason she petitioned the Council for us."

Emrys folded his arms over his chest again, drawing my eyes to the crosshatch of scars covering his skin. Whatever reason he'd had to hide them before, it had no hold on him now. "Madrigal wants a heads-up if we think Lord Death is going to target her."

That, at least, was honest. She'd always struck me as a creature who prioritized her own survival over all others, even her own kind.

"I just heard an unwelcome we in that explanation," Neve said sharply.

"I want to help," he said quietly. "I want to make amends."

"Oh yes, because you're known for your virtuous, valiant nature," I scoffed.

It might have been the darkness, but I could have sworn he flinched. "Believe me or don't. I'm still going to try."

A freezing drip of condensation struck my neck and slid down the ridge of my spine. "You seem to be laboring under the delusion that your ‘help' is something we'd want, when it's not even something we need."

"You did just now," he pointed out.

"That was Madrigal, not you," Neve said. "And we would have gotten ourselves out of this, somehow."

"Please …," he said again, a hand rising to press against his chest. After a moment, he added quietly, "I don't even know what happened."

"And who do you have to thank for that?" Caitriona said.

He flinched, as if her words had been a knife to the heart. But it wasn't enough for me. I wanted to twist it and twist it until he felt the same pain we did.

So I told him. Everything. In the smallest, bloodiest detail, sharpening the truth's claws to tear at him until there was no color left in his face and he looked like he might be sick .

Good, I thought. Our eyes met and some twisted part of me was glad to see him gutted. You get to feel it too.

What I realized too late, however, was that I couldn't mortally wound him without cutting the others. In the long silence that followed, tears dripped down Olwen's anguished face. Caitriona reached for her, only to be waved away.

"I'm … it's fine," Olwen said, pulling away, turning back in toward the cell. Neve reached out and punched my arm with a look that promised another lesson in how to behave like a considerate human being.

"That's …," Emrys began softly. But there wasn't a word for it. Nothing could encompass the magnitude of what had been lost.

"You said you want to help?" Neve said, rounding on him. "Lord Death sent a message to the Council of Sistren asking for something to be returned by the winter solstice. What is it?"

He balked. "I don't know. None of the sorceresses do."

"Is this you demonstrating your usefulness?" I asked.

"You said you brought Viviane's vessel from Avalon to find what memory Lord Death stole, right?" Emrys said. "Are you taking it to the Bonecutter to see if she can fix it?"

I opened my mouth. Shut it.

She. He'd said she.

The Bonecutter had been little more than green ink words on paper for as long as I'd been a Hollower. Green ink didn't have a face, or a gender, and no one else in the guild, not even Librarian, had seemed to know who or what they were.

"Is that who you wanted to find, Tamsin?" Caitriona asked, her dark eyes shifting between us.

"Yes," I grumbled.

"Then I'm at your service," he said. "Because I know where her workshop is."

The words struck me like a strangling curse. "You do not know that. No one knows that. "

"Then I look forward to proving you wrong yet again."

I gritted my teeth.

"If he knows where it is …," Neve began.

"We can find it ourselves," I groused.

"Not before Lord Death kills another sorceress," she finished. "If he's wrong, or lying, then we'll just … kick him off a cliff."

"Conveniently enough, there's one close to her establishment," Emrys said.

"You guys can't be serious …," I began in disbelief.

But clearly, they were. And as Caitriona made her way toward Emrys, I knew I was outvoted.

"Let's go," she said. When Emrys started after her, she spun with all the vicious elegance of a viper, pinning him against the rough wall with her forearm. Emrys's eyes widened, but unlike Nash, he made no move to escape. He simply took it.

"Betray us again," she growled, "and I will gut you like the swine you are."

"Noted," he gasped out.

She released him, following along the pathway to what I sincerely hoped was the entrance, stepping over the swirling curse sigils embedded in the tile work beneath her feet. Emrys followed.

Olwen lingered a moment more, taking my hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

"Not you too," I said.

"I know," she told me. "But what other motive would he have now?"

"Let's see," I began. "Stealing Viviane's vessel once it's repaired? Spying on us for Madrigal? Using us to find whatever Lord Death wants first? Give me a few minutes, I'm sure I'll come up with more."

"Your mind, I swear," Neve said, shaking her head. "Here's the thing—if it's a choice between working with him and spinning ourselves in circles searching for the Bonecutter, I'd rather use him and lose him. Deep down, I know you would too."

I grunted, refusing to agree .

"The winter solstice is, what, ten days from now? And we have no idea what Lord Death is looking for, and why he needs whatever it is by then," Neve said. "What we need is time. He can give us that."

I blew out a long sigh. Right.

Olwen gave my hand one last squeeze. "It doesn't change what matters. We're still with you, no matter what."

My feet remained rooted to the ground as she followed Caitriona and Emrys out. I started after her, only to realize Neve had hung back.

The sorceress stood at the edge of what had been our cell, her brows lowered, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Neve?"

Lost to her thoughts, Neve startled as I touched her shoulder.

"Sorry, I …," she began, shaking her head. "Let's just get out of here."

"Is this about the sorceresses?" I asked, absently rubbing at my sore chest.

"No. Maybe." Neve's shoulders slumped. "Yes."

My anger, still so close to the surface, stirred again as I remembered what the sorceresses had said. The way they'd laughed. Neve had been rejected by the Council of Sistren when she'd sought out training. To see them rebuff her again, to not even accept that she was one of them, was more than I could bear.

"Don't you dare take anything they said to heart," I told her sternly. "They're all probably four centuries past the point of experiencing anything resembling empathy, and they have no idea who we are, or what we went through."

Her fingers worried the pendant hidden beneath her T-shirt. The rare, pale stone was a Goddess Eye, said to amplify magic, and had been left to her by a mother she'd never known.

"But she didn't ask who I was," Neve said quietly, hugging her arms to her center. "She asked what I was."

The air around us took on a deeper chill. I fought the urge to rub some warmth back into my arms .

" You, " I said firmly, "are a powerful sorceress. Not to mention you're wearing an amplifier they were stupid enough not to take off you. Of course you could overcome their measly little wards."

She bit her lip. "It's … that light spell … I didn't think anything of it while we were in Avalon. Sometimes magic can well up in an uncontrolled way, especially in moments of great danger or emotion. But the way those sorceresses reacted …"

"Doesn't matter," I told her firmly. "We know what death magic feels like—it's cold, and remote. The Children were born from it and your light destroyed them, remember? It's never hurt any of us."

"You're right," she said. "I shouldn't have let them get into my head like that." Her lips twitched with a satisfied smirk. "They were totally freaking out, weren't they?"

"Like cats caught by the tail," I confirmed, letting her loop her arm through mine. "And I haven't forgotten my promise. We're going to find your mom, and you'll have whatever answers you need."

Neve let out a soft hum of acknowledgment. That pensive look was back as she said meaningfully, "Maybe you'll get a few of those yourself."

I couldn't think about that now. Any of it. For once, I was grateful for the dark chaos swirling around us, and I gladly surrendered to its all-consuming horror. Nothing else could matter right now.

Nothing, and no one.

I swept my gaze around the shadows, guiding us over the curse sigils disguised in the mosaic floors, making sure neither of us brushed up against the walls, where a thick layer of moss could hide more markings. Step by step, the darkness of the vault bled away, and soon an arched doorway appeared in the craggy wall ahead of us, framed with light.

Caitriona and Olwen passed through the Vein first. Emrys approached the doorway, and for a moment, I forgot—I forgot he wouldn't stop or look back over his shoulder, waiting for me to catch up the way he had a hundred times in Avalon .

But even that had been a lie. Embarrassment rang in my chest like a bell, deep and endless as it echoed against my bones.

"I can get rid of him, you know," Neve said as he stepped through the door. "Stick his body in some forest where the fungi can happily eat his rotting flesh and regenerate into something that's not a lying worm."

I was genuinely touched. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I've been working up some interesting curse options, too," she added.

"Interesting in what way?" I asked, stopping at the edge of the Vein. The sight of the spiraling threads of magic never got old.

"Stuff like, every pair of socks you own will always feel wet when you put them on … finding a maggot in every meal … having a bad itch you can never reach … burping every time someone says your name … always getting the squeakiest shopping carts …"

I laughed for the first time in what had to be days. "Can you really do all that?"

Neve lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Give me a few more days, I'll figure it out."

I shook my head, trying to run a hand back through my tangled hair as I faced the Vein, and what waited on the other side. I'd made some terrible mistakes in my life; I just had to hope we wouldn't live to regret this one before we found out what memories had been stolen from the High Priestess's vessel.