Blood & Honey

“Ice, Lou,” Coco said, gesturing around us. “Ice.”

Thick, crystalline rime coated every inch of our surroundings, from the blades of dead grass, ferns, and lichen on the forest floor to the boughs of cypress in the canopy. I gasped. As far as the eye could see, Le Ventre was no longer green. No longer wet and heavy and alive. No. Now it was white, hard, and glistening, even in darkness. I took a step, testing the ice under my foot. It didn’t yield beneath my weight. When I stepped again, checking behind, my footprint left no impression on its surface.

I smiled.

A snarl to my left jerked me back to attention. A wolf had just launched himself at Beau and Ansel, who lifted his knife in an attempt to defend them. Coco darted forward to help, dodging Terrance, who slid right past her in his haste. The third wolf loped toward me, teeth first.

I grinned wider. It seemed I’d broken the rules.

With a snort of amusement, I twirled my fingers, and the wolf spun out of control on the ice. The pattern dissolved into golden dust. I wobbled but kept my feet, fighting a rush of vertigo. When the sensation passed, the wolf regained his footing. I bounced a finger off his nose as he careened past once more, slipped, and fell in a tangled heap.

Though my vision swam, I laughed—then clenched my fist, guiding the ice up and over his paws.

He yelped as it devoured his legs, his chest, edging steadily toward his throat. I watched in fascination, even as my laughter turned colder. Chilling.

More more more.

I wanted to watch the light leave his eyes.

“Lou!” Coco cried. “Look out!”

With hollow compulsion, I turned and flicked my wrist—catching a pattern easily—as Terrance leapt for my throat. The bones on the right side of his body shattered, and he fell to the ice with a piercing cry. But I felt no pain. Stepping over him, I lifted my hands toward his remaining companion. He backed away from Ansel and Coco slowly.

“You will leave my friends alone,” I said, following him with a smile. Gold winked all around me with infinite possibilities—so many more now than ever before. So much pain. So much suffering. The wolf deserved it. He would’ve killed them.

His kin might’ve already killed Reid, a voice whispered.

My smile vanished.

Ansel stepped in front of me, looking alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“Ansel.” Coco eased between us, gripping his hand and maneuvering him behind her. “Stay back.” Her eyes never left mine. “Enough, Lou. You control your magic. It doesn’t control you.” When I didn’t answer, when I didn’t lower my hands, she stepped closer still. “This ice. Melt it. The price was too much.”

“But Reid needs the ice. He’ll die without it.”

She grasped my hands gently, guiding them down between us. “There are worse things than death. Undo it, Lou. Come back to us. Don’t continue down this path.”

I stared at her.

Witches willing to sacrifice everything are powerful, the voice reminded me.

And dangerous, a distant corner of my mind argued. And changed.

“You aren’t your mother,” Coco whispered.

“I’m not my mother,” I repeated, uncertain. Ansel and Beau watched with wide eyes.

She nodded and touched my cheek. “Undo it.”

My ancestors kept silent now, waiting. Despite what Coco thought, they wouldn’t urge me to do anything I didn’t want to do. They only amplified my desires, carried me away in order to fulfill them. But desire was a heady thing, as addictive as it was deadly.

Reid’s voice reverberated from that distant corner. Reckless.

“This isn’t you, Lou,” Coco said, coaxing. “Undo it.”

If I’d trusted her any less, I might not have listened. But that distant corner of my mind seemed to believe her words. Kneeling, I placed my hand on the ground. A single pattern arose in my mind’s eye, drifting out from the frozen wasteland of my chest toward the ice. I took a shuddering breath.

And a blue-tipped arrow nicked my leg.

“No!” Coco cried, flinging herself over me. “Stop! Don’t shoot!”

But it was too late.

We passed some o’ them just up the road. Bone White’s eyes had gleamed with hunger. Smarmy bastards. They’ve been scourin’ the forest for weeks, makin’ a right mess for us, haven’t they?

Reid’s face now, drawn with fatigue. The Chasseurs were near last night.

Nearer than we’d thought, it seemed. Pushing Coco aside, I rose to my feet. My body thrummed with anticipation. My fingers flexed. It’d only been a matter of time before they found us—and what spectacular timing too.

At last, they were here.

Chasseurs.

Bows and Balisardas drawn, Jean Luc led a squadron from behind the trees. Surprise lit his eyes when he saw me, replaced quickly with resolve. Lifting a hand to halt the others, he approached slowly. “If it isn’t Louise le Blanc. You can’t imagine how pleased I am to see you.”

I smiled, staring at his Balisarda. “Likewise, Jean Luc. What took you so long?”

“We buried the corpses you left on the road.” Those pale eyes took in the ice around us before flicking to my face, my hair. He whistled low. “The facade has cracked, I see. The surface finally reflects the rot within.” He gestured to the half-frozen wolf. “Though I’ll thank you for making our jobs easier. Blaise’s pack has never been easily tracked. His Majesty will be pleased.”

I bowed low, extending my arms. “We are ever his servants.”

Jean Luc spotted Beau then. “Your Highness. I should’ve known you’d be here. Your father has been in an uproar for weeks.”

Though he still looked uneasy, Beau rose to his full height, staring down his nose at him. “Because you told him about my involvement on Modraniht.”

Jean Luc sneered. “Your indiscretions shall not go unpunished. Truly, it disgusts me to one day call you king.”

“Never fear. You won’t be alive to witness that crowning achievement. Not if you continue to threaten my friends.”

“Your friends.” Jean Luc stepped closer, his knuckles white on silver and sapphire. I grinned. I’d told Reid I’d get him another Balisarda. How delightful that Balisarda would be Jean Luc’s. “Understand me, Your Highness. This time, there will be no escape. These witches”—he jerked his chin toward Coco and me—“and their conspirators will burn. Your friends will burn. I will light their pyres myself when we return to Cesarine. One for Cosette Monvoisin. One for Louise le Blanc. One for Ansel Diggory”—he bared his teeth—“and one for Reid Diggory.”

He was wrong, of course. So very, very wrong.

“A fitting way to honor our late forefather. Don’t you agree?”

“Célie will hate you if you burn Reid,” Beau spat.

I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. “Tell me, Jean, have you fucked her yet?”

A beat of silence, then—

“I don’t—” His eyes flew wide, and he spluttered incoherently. “What—”

“That’s a yes, then.” I sauntered closer, just out of his blade’s reach. “Reid never fucked her himself, in case you were wondering. Poor girl. He did love her, but I suppose he took his vows seriously.” My grin widened. “That, or he was saving himself for marriage.”

He lashed out with his Balisarda. “Shut your mouth—”

I met him with a blade of ice. The other men tensed, edging closer, and Coco, Ansel, and Beau lifted their knives in turn.

“I can’t imagine he’ll be pleased when he learns his best friend loved his girlfriend in secret for all those years. So naughty of you, Jean. Did you at least wait to sow your seed until Reid moved to greener pastures?”

He jutted his face over our clashed blades. “Do not speak of Célie.”

I continued undeterred. “One can’t help but notice your new circumstances with Reid out of the picture. He always had the life you wanted, didn’t he? Now you get to pretend at his. Secondhand title, secondhand power.” I shrugged with a saccharine grin, sliding my blade along his slowly. The ice touched his hand. “Secondhand girl.”

With a snarl, he pushed away from me. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “Where is Reid?”

“How disappointed she must be now. Though I suppose a secondhand girl deserves a secondhand boy—”

He launched himself at me again. I sidestepped easily. “That murderer didn’t deserve to breathe her air. When she heard what he’d done, it nearly killed her. She’s been in seclusion for weeks because of some misplaced emotion for him. If not for me, he would’ve ruined her. Just as you’ve ruined him. Now where is he?”

“Not here,” I sang, still smiling sweetly as we circled each other. Beneath me, the ice thickened, and the foliage cracked audibly. “You’re a thief, Jean Luc—a damn good one, of course—but I’m better. You have something I need.”

“Witch, tell me where he is, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? If your history is any indication, soon you’ll be begging me to ruin you too.”