Blood & Honey

We’d shed our clothing at the icy banks of the pool. Absalon had materialized shortly after, burrowing into them. We didn’t know where he went when he lost corporeal form. Lou cared more than I did.

“Magic has its advantages, doesn’t it?” she murmured, trailing a finger through the water. Steam curled at the contact. “All of our fun bits should be frozen right now.” She grinned and peeked an eye open. “Do you want me to show you?”

I arched a brow. “I have quite the view from here.”

She smirked. “Pig. I meant magic.” When I said nothing, she tipped forward, treading water. She couldn’t touch the bottom of the pool, not as I could. The water lapped at my throat. “Do you want to learn how to heat water?” she asked.

This time, I was ready for it. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t hesitate. I did, however, swallow hard. “Sure.”

She studied me through narrowed eyes. “You aren’t exactly emanating enthusiasm over there, Chass.”

“My mistake.” I sank lower in the water, swimming toward her slowly. Wolfishly. “Please, O Radiant One, exhibit your great magical prowess. I cannot wait another moment to witness it, or I’ll surely die. Will that suffice?”

“That’s more like it,” she sniffed, lifting her chin. “Now, what do you know about magic?”

“The same as I did last month.” Had it only been a month since she’d last asked that question? It felt like a lifetime. Everything was different now. Part of me wished it wasn’t. “Nothing.”

“Rubbish.” She opened her arms as I went to her, and I brought them around my neck. Her legs locked around my waist. The position should’ve been carnal, but it wasn’t. It was just . . . intimate. This close, I could count every freckle on her nose. I could see the water droplets clinging to her lashes. It took all my resolve not to kiss her again. “You know more than you think. You’ve been around your mother, Coco, and me for the greater part of a fortnight, and on Modraniht, you—” She stopped abruptly, then faked an elaborate bout of coughing. My heart plummeted to my feet. And on Modraniht, you killed the Archbishop with magic. She cleared her throat. “I—I just know you’ve been paying attention. Your mind is a steel trap.”

“A steel trap,” I echoed, retreating into that fortress once more.

She didn’t know how right she was.

It took several seconds to realize she was waiting for my response. I looked away, unable to face those eyes. They were blue now. Almost gray. So familiar. So . . . betrayed.

As if reading my thoughts, the trees rustled around us, and on the wind, I swore I heard his whispered voice— You were like a son to me, Reid.

Gooseflesh erupted across my skin.

“Did you hear that?” I whipped my head around, clutching Lou closer. No gooseflesh marred her skin. “Did you hear him?”

She stopped talking mid-sentence. Her entire body tensed, and she looked around with wide eyes. “Who?”

“I—I thought I heard—” I shook my head. It couldn’t have been. The Archbishop was dead. A figment of my imagination come to life to haunt me. Between one blink and the next, the trees fell resolutely still, and the breeze—if there’d been one at all—fell silent. “Nothing.” I shook my head harder, repeating the word as if that would make it true. “It was nothing.”

And yet . . . in the sharp pine-scented air . . . a presence lingered. A sentience. It watched us.

You’re being ridiculous, I chided myself.

I didn’t release my hold on Lou.

“The trees in this forest have eyes,” she whispered, repeating Madame Labelle’s earlier words. She still looked around warily. “They can . . . see things, inside your head, and twist them. Manifest fears into monsters.” She shuddered. “When I fled the first time—the night of my sixteenth birthday—I thought I was going mad. The things I saw . . .”

She trailed off, her gaze turning inward.

I hardly dared breathe. She’d never told me this before. Never told me anything about her past outside Cesarine. Despite her bare skin against mine, she wore secrets like armor, and she shed them for no one. Not even me. Especially not me. The rest of the scene fell away—the pool, the trees, the wind—and there was only Lou’s face, her voice, as she lost herself in the memory. “What did you see?” I asked softly.

She hesitated. “Your brothers and sisters.”

A sharp intake of breath.

My own.

“It was horrible,” she continued after a moment. “I was blind with panic, bleeding everywhere. My mother was stalking me. I could hear her voice through the trees—her spies, she’d once laughed—but I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. I just knew I had to get away. The screams started then. Bloodcurdling ones. A hand shot out of the ground and grabbed my ankle. I fell, and this—this corpse climbed out on top of me.” A wave of nausea rolled through me at the imagery, but I didn’t dare interrupt. “He had golden hair, and his throat—it looked like mine. He clawed at me, begged me to help him—except his voice wasn’t right, of course, because of the”—she touched her hand to her scar—“the blood. I managed to get away from him, but there were others. So many others.” Her hands fell from my neck to float between us. “I’ll spare you the gory details. None of it was real, anyway.”

I stared at her palms faceup in the water. “You said the trees are Morgane’s spies.”

“That’s what she claimed.” She lifted an absent hand. “Don’t worry, though. Madame Labelle hides us inside camp, and Coco—”

“But they still saw us just now. The trees.” I seized her wrist, examining the smear of blood. Already, the water had eroded it in places. I glanced at my own wrists. “We need to leave. Right away.”

Lou stared at my clean skin in horror. “Shit. I told you to keep an eye on—”

“Believe it or not, I had other things on my mind,” I snapped, hauling her toward the bank. Stupid. We’d been so stupid. Too distracted, too wrapped up in each other—in today—to realize the danger. She squirmed as she tried to free herself. “Stop it!” I tried to hold her flailing limbs. “Keep your wrists and throat above the water, or we’re both—”

She stilled in my arms.

“Thank you—”

“Shut up,” she hissed, staring intently over my shoulder. I’d barely turned—just glimpsing patches of blue coats through the trees—before she shoved my head underwater.

It was dark at the bottom of the pool. Too dark to see anything but Lou’s face—muted and pale in the water. She held my shoulders in a bruising grip, cutting off the circulation. When I shrugged beneath her touch, uncomfortable, she clung tighter, shaking her head. She still stared over my shoulder, her eyes wide and—and empty. Combined with her pale skin and floating hair, the effect was . . . eerie.

I shook her slightly. Her eyes didn’t focus.

I shook her again. She scowled, her hands biting deeper into my skin.

If I could’ve managed, I would’ve breathed a sigh of relief. But I couldn’t.

My lungs were screaming.

I hadn’t had time to draw breath before she’d pushed me under, hadn’t been able to brace myself against the sudden, piercing cold. Icy fingers raked my skin, stunning my senses. Stealing my senses. Whatever magic Lou had cast to warm the water had vanished. Debilitating numbness crept up my fingers. My toes. Panic swiftly followed.

And then—just as suddenly—my eyesight blinked out.

The world went black.

I thrashed against Lou’s hold, loosening the little breath I had left, but she clung to me, wrapping her limbs around my torso and squeezing, anchoring us to the bottom of the pool. Bubbles exploded around us as I fought. She held me with unnatural strength, rubbing her cheek against mine like she meant to—to calm me. To comfort me.

But she was drowning us both, and my chest was too tight, my throat closing. There was no calm. There was no comfort. My limbs grew heavier with each passing second. In a last, desperate attempt, I pushed upward from the ground with all my strength. At the jerk of Lou’s body, the silt solidified around my feet. Trapping me.

Then she punched me in the mouth.

I rocked backward—bewildered, my thoughts fading to black—and prepared for the water to rush in, to fill my lungs and end this agony. Perhaps it’d be peaceful, to drown. I’d never given it thought. When I’d imagined my own death, it’d been at the end of a sword. Perhaps twisted and broken by a witch’s hand. Violent, painful endings. Drowning would be better. Easier.

At the breaking point, my body inhaled involuntarily. I closed my sightless eyes. Wrapped my arms around Lou, buried my nose in her neck. At least Morgane wouldn’t have us. At least I wouldn’t know life without her. Small victories. Important ones.