And Ansel was dead.

In another day, another week, another month, this would be Reid’s lifeless body I inevitably held, or Coco’s. Beau’s own father would probably kill him, as my own mother would eventually kill me. There really was only one way this story could end. I’d been so foolish to think otherwise. So stupid and naive.

“It’ll be quick,” Nicholina lied in a whisper, bending over me. Her fingers caressed the back of my head, and her hair tickled my cheek. Around us, the entire cavern succumbed to black flame. “Painless. You will see him soon, little mouse. You can tell him exactly what he meant.”

But if I died now, his death would mean nothing.

My eyes snapped open at that cruel reality, and I stared numbly at the flames in front of me. Ansel deserved better. He deserved more than my self-pity. Summoning the final dregs of my strength—the absolute last of them—I lifted my head. She lifted her knife. Our eyes met for one synchronized beat of our hearts.

Then something moved in the tunnel.

Confusion flashed through us both before we turned. Coco’s fire had driven everyone in memory into that tunnel, and none should’ve reappeared. We’d all fled straight to Léviathan after La Mascarade des Crânes. Could someone have crept back? Could they have returned for Ansel’s body? I instantly quelled the thought. Even if someone had miraculously traversed the cursed fire, this was my memory. It should’ve ended the moment I’d disappeared in pursuit of Morgane. Why hadn’t it?

Through the smoke, a white dog emerged.

Nicholina bared her teeth at it, blasting awareness through me the second before the dog transformed. If I’d been standing, my legs would’ve buckled. As it was, I rose slowly to my knees, the ringing in my ears deepening to a rushing sound. A roar of blood and hope and fear. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

Ansel ambled toward me.

“Hello, Lou.” At my dumbstruck expression, he grinned, the same sheepish grin he’d given a thousand times and the same sheepish grin of which I wanted a thousand more. He wore a pristine powder-blue coat with golden tassels and buttons—my heart ached at the familiarity—with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. An eternal initiate. No blood marred his person, not his hair or his skin, and his brown eyes sparkled even in the dark. “Did you miss me?”

I stared at him for a second too long, swallowing hard. And then—

“Ansel.” My voice broke on his name.

His gaze softened as he came to stand beside me, extending a slender hand to help me to my feet. Hardly daring to breathe, I accepted it tentatively and marveled at its warmth. When he glanced down at his broken body, his smile dimmed slightly, and he shook his head. “What are you doing here, Lou?”

I still didn’t have an answer.

It didn’t matter, however, as Nicholina’s shock had worn off. She whooped with crazed hysteria, reeling backward in glee. “Oh, the baby mouse. The little pinkie, little pup.” Her expression hardened. “The boy who doesn’t know when it’s time to give up.”

He met her glare with an equally hostile one, his fingers still bracing mine. “No one is giving up here.”

She charged without warning, stabbing her knife at him, and he vanished with a wink in my direction. My heart seized at his absence. When she whirled to find him—slashing her knife through the smoke and spewing a torrent of curses—he reappeared behind her without a sound and tapped her shoulder. She nearly leapt out of her skin.

A snort burst from me unexpectedly.

Ansel grinned again.

Recovering quickly, Nicholina struck out once more, harder and faster this time. Ansel didn’t move, but allowed her blade to pierce him—except it didn’t pierce him at all. It simply stuck an inch from his chest, jammed midair as if she’d plunged it into an invisible brick wall. His grin widened. “You can’t kill me. I’m already dead.”

“I do not fear the dead,” she snarled.

He leaned closer. “You’re probably the only one who should. I’ve recently met some of your enemies, Nicholina—splintered souls and vengeful witches and even a few of the king’s children. They’re all waiting for you.”

I stepped closer, looping my elbow through his and ignoring the chill down my spine at his words. The certainty in them. I focused instead on the euphoric tingle in my chest, the warmth spreading through my limbs. His arm felt solid in mine. Real. I couldn’t have stopped my grin if I’d tried. Which I didn’t. “I bet they have all sorts of fun things planned for you.”

He inclined his head. “Fun is one word.”

“You’re lying.” Nicholina lunged again, and he stepped in front of me, blocking her knife. The movement held a sort of grace, or perhaps confidence, he’d never achieved in life. Fascinated, morbidly curious—and something else, something that weighed heavy in my chest—I plucked the knife from midair, paced backward twice, and threw it at him.

He caught it without hesitation—without even looking, the cheeky bastard—and I laughed again, unable to help myself. That heavy sensation in my chest lessened slightly when he blushed. “This is an interesting development,” I said.

“Lots of those going around.” He lifted a brow before pressing the knife back into my hand. Though Nicholina sprang for it, she couldn’t seem to move past him to reach me. The wall he’d erected held firm. He didn’t acknowledge her efforts, so I didn’t either. “The Lou I knew wouldn’t have given up,” he continued softly. My grin vanished. “She would’ve fought, and she would’ve won.”

My own words were barely audible. I spoke through numb lips. “Not without you, she wouldn’t have.”

“You’ve never needed me, Lou. Not like I needed you.”

“Look where that got you.” I closed my eyes, a fat tear rolling down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Ansel. I—I should’ve protected you. I never should’ve let you come with me.”

“Lou.”

My chin quivered.

“Lou,” he repeated, voice soft. “Look at me. Please.” When I still didn’t, he turned his back on Nicholina completely, drawing me into a hug. My arms wrapped around his slender torso of their own volition, and though they shook, they held on tight. Too tight. Like they’d never let him go again. “I didn’t want to be protected. I wanted to help you—”