Coco knelt in front of her, grasping her chin in her fingers. “They aren’t coming. Accept it. Move on. Better yet—switch sides. Nicholina, my aunt isn’t the person you want her to be. Morgane is even worse. They don’t value you. They don’t accept you. You’re a tool to them—a means to an end—just like the rest of us.”

“No.” The word tore from Nicholina in a guttural snarl, and she clawed at her own face, scoring the skin there. When I leapt to intervene, those nails raked down my chest instead. “You. I shall deliver you with the mouse, yes, yes, yes, and we shall cut your heart into thirds—”

Constantin tsked in disapproval and waved his hand. The mist answered by swirling around her in a violent tornado, trapping her in place. Nicholina howled in rage. “They will kill us both, stupid mouse. Stupid, stupid mouse. We cannot dance, no, but we can drown. Down, down, down, we can drown. There is no hope. Only sickness.”

Then she spoke again.

Warmth suffused my entire body.

“I thought you weren’t”—her voice pitched lower than before, and she gritted her teeth in concentration—“worried about dying? Or have you—finally—accepted the truth?”

Lou.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t calm the racing of my heart. It was her. It was Lou.

The waters must’ve weakened Nicholina enough for her to break through, or—or perhaps they demanded truth, even now. They knew Nicholina didn’t belong. They knew whose body she inhabited.

Constantin sighed. “The bickering was diverting at first. Now it isn’t. Spill your truths, all of you, or leave this place in peace. I don’t have all night.”

“Really?” Lou fought to smile, still panting. “What else—do you have to do? This is—your sole purpose—isn’t it?”

He glowered at her. “Charming as always, Louise.”

She bowed, failing to hide her grimace as Nicholina threw them against the cage. “I—try.”

“Your truth,” he insisted, voice hard.

Her face spasmed, and when she opened her mouth once more, I wasn’t sure who spoke: Lou or Nicholina. Either way, their truth spilled from them unapologetically. Strong and without strain. “I am capable of great evil.” The words hung in the air between us, as sentient as the mist. They waited, coiled, for my response. For my clarification. For my own truth.

I looked directly in her eyes. “We all are.”

As if exhaling on a sigh, the words dissipated. The mist went with it, leaving Lou sprawled unceremoniously in the sand. Constantin nodded. “Very good, each of you. One of life’s greatest trials is to acknowledge our own reflections. Tonight, you have seen yourselves. You have drunk of the waters, and you have spilled their truth.” He extended his hand to the shore. An emotion I couldn’t place shone deep in his eyes. Perhaps sadness. Wistfulness. “Go now. Let their wisdom flow through your veins and restore you.” To Coco, he murmured, “I hope you live your truth, Cosette.”

She gazed out at the waters with an identical expression. “I hope so too.”

In the stillness of the moment, Nicholina lunged toward the path with a feral cry. A desperate cry. I caught her before she could escape, hauling her over my shoulder. Her fists pounded my back, weaker than they should’ve been. Her hands still tender and raw. When she moved to kick my groin, I caught her shin, holding it away from me. My own hope swelled in my chest. Bright and savage. “You’re going to injure yourself.”

“Let me go!” She bit my shoulder like a rabid animal, but the thick wool of my coat prevented much damage. “You’ll kill us! Do you hear me? We’ll drown! We cannot dance beneath these waters. We are too heavy, too many—”

“Enough.” I marched her toward the water with steely determination. This time, my feet broke its surface without resistance. We’d been granted permission to enter. To heal. Behind us, Constantin vanished, leaving Coco to stand alone. She gave a curt nod. “We finish this now, Nicholina. Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. Wife.”

She shrieked as I threw her headfirst into the waters.

Mathieu

Lou

The water was freezing—shockingly and cripplingly so. My muscles seized on impact, and my breath left in a painful, startled rush. My lungs immediately shrieked in protest.

Fucking fabulous. Fucking Reid.

He’d meant well, of course, but couldn’t the heroic brute have checked the waters’ temperature first? Perhaps taken a dip himself? I certainly couldn’t dance as a block of ice. And my eyes—I couldn’t see anything. Whatever moonlight had shone above hadn’t managed to penetrate below, plunging us into pitch blackness. A fitting end for Nicholina, that. A true taste of her own medicine. If possible, she seemed to like the dark even less than me, and in her utter hysteria, she thrashed wildly, vying for control. Sinking us like a brick.

Stop it. Clenching my aching teeth, I struggled to move my arms and legs in unison. She floundered in the opposite direction, and our skirt tangled in our feet, thick and heavy and dangerous. We sank another inch, and another and another, each of our panic feeding the other, heightening to a collective sort of frenzy. Nicholina, I said sharply, ignoring the roaring of my heart. It nearly exploded in my chest. Stop struggling. We need to work together, or we’re both going to die. I’m a strong swimmer. Let me lead—

Never.

The voices echoed her. Never, never, never. They swarmed around us, panicked and hysterical, and we sank faster still, weighed down by our heavy cloak and gown. I pulled at the former while Nicholina tried to loosen the latter. Swearing viciously, I joined her instead, and together—miraculously in unison—we unknotted the laces with stiff, clumsy fingers. She kicked at the skirt as I clawed at our cloak. Within seconds, both floated away from us through the black water, ominous and slow, before disappearing altogether.

Still we sank.

Shit. It was like swimming through oil, through tar. My lungs burned as I strained upward, and Nicholina finally, desperately mimicked my movements. That’s it. Keep going. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

We dance, we dance, we dance.

But we weren’t dancing at all. Already, white stars popped in my vision, and my head pounded from lack of oxygen. Sharp pain pierced my ears. And . . . and something else. Something worse. Too late, I realized that Nicholina’s veil—the darkness that had shielded her subconscious—had vanished altogether. The waters had stripped it. At last, her every thought, every feeling, every fear flooded our shared consciousness with startling clarity. Faces flashed. Pieces of memories, bits of sentiment tied to each one. Fervor and affection and hatred and shame. It was too much. Too many. I didn’t want them. Her emotions didn’t stop coming, however—so intense, so painful—and the full force of her being crashed into me like a tidal wave.