My confusion deepened as I stared at it. Nicholina’s memories hadn’t revealed anything like this. Not that I’d known to look for it.

“What the hell is happening?” I breathed to Coco. Josephine and Angelica still glared at each other, bleeding, in a silent standoff. “You said your mother was dead.”

“I said my aunt said she was dead.”

“And now?”

She shrugged stiffly. “Now it looks like they’re blood bound.”

“Blood bound?”

“It’s a dangerous spell between Dames Rouges. It binds their lives together. Their magic.”

I looked again at their twin wounds. “Oh shit.”

She nodded. “That about sums it up.”

On the heels of that unpleasant realization, however, came another. “Does that mean we can’t—we can’t kill your aunt without killing your mom?”

“Apparently.”

My stomach plunged as Josephine readjusted her grip on Célie, pressing the dagger to the back of her head. “Your threat is empty as always, sœur,” she said, “while you clutch at others’ skirts and hide where I cannot reach you.” She laughed harshly. The only time I’d heard her laugh at all. “No. You will not inflict real harm on yourself to hurt me, or you would have done so centuries ago.”

Right. I couldn’t kill her, then. Testing my patterns swiftly, I followed each one to their sacrifice. I just needed to knock the knife from her hand—something simple. A gust of wind, perhaps. A spasm of her fingers. “Wait,” I whispered to Coco as I searched. “If you thought your mother was dead, why were you trying to summon her?”

“I wasn’t trying to summon her. I just—the waters spoke to me. I listened.”

“You gave them your blood”—I cut an incredulous glance at her over my shoulder—“because they asked nicely? Did they at least say please?”

“I was born of them,” she muttered defensively.

“Surrender Louise,” Josephine insisted, ignoring our low, fervent conversation. Angelica kept her blade loose at her side. Her blood dripped from its tip to the seafloor, and black pearls formed from each drop. I glanced again at Constantin. “Surrender Cosette”—Josephine’s fingers tightened around her own dagger—“or I will dispose of this pathetic child. I will dispose of the mortal prince.”

Like hell.

Gritting my teeth in a sharp burst of hatred, I clenched my fist, and my anger sparked along a pattern. I watched as it sizzled between us, feeling the heat of it leave me. The cord disintegrated to golden ash as Josephine yelped, dropping her dagger and clutching her burned hand. I grinned in satisfaction and wiggled my fingers. “It’s time for you to go, Josie.”

Angelica lifted her own hand in emphasis, and the waters responded, surging past the shoreline to reclaim Célie and Beau, depositing each of them at our feet. But they didn’t stop there. They continued to flood the sand, to reclaim the beach, sweeping away the silver chalices. They chased Josephine’s hem with sentient determination, and she had no choice but to back away quickly. Just as Nicholina had feared the dark, it seemed Josephine feared the strange magic fortifying these waters.

She still refused to cede.

When she turned to shout orders to the remaining Dames Rouges, however—commanding them to hold their ground—her eyes widened, and she finally saw the battle had been lost. The blood witches had already fled into the cliffs. Josephine stood alone.

“Leave this place, sœur,” Angelica said. From the steely edge to her voice, I knew this was her final warning. “And never return. I cannot promise your safety if you continue to provoke Isla.”

“Isla.” Josephine’s face twisted at the name. The waters kept coming, however, forcing her back until she stood atop the first rocks of the path. Her black eyes bored holes into Angelica’s beautiful face. “The Oracle. Your mistress.”

“My friend.” With another wave of Angelica’s hand, the waters climbed higher, and Josephine leapt backward, away from them. She moved with surprising agility for a thousand-year-old hag. “You would do well to respect her,” Angelica continued. “Though she rules below, she has not turned a blind eye to the war above. You do not want her as an enemy.” A peculiar light built in those pale eyes as her gaze turned inward. “Though it seems you’ve already displeased her siblings.” For our benefit, she added, “The Triple Goddess and the Wild Man of the Forest.”

Do you have a family, Monsieur Deveraux?

As a matter of fact, I do. Two elder sisters. Terrifying creatures, to be sure.

“All these years, I have watched you, Josephine.” Sadness softened Angelica’s voice, and the ethereal glow slowly faded from her eyes. “I have hoped for you. You think me a coward, but you are a fool. Have you learned nothing from our mistakes?”

Josephine didn’t visibly react to her sister’s piteous words. She merely continued to walk backward, her face inscrutable, her eyes burning like twin flames in the darkness. “There are no mistakes, sister.” She smiled at each of us in turn. “We shall see each other soon, I think.”

Then she turned, cloak billowing behind her, and disappeared into the night.

A Lie of Omission

Lou

I collapsed at Reid’s side the next moment, and Coco followed suit with Beau and Célie. To my surprise, Angelica knelt too, brushing Constantin’s cheek with the back of one slender hand. Unlike her sister, she wore her emotions proudly for all to see. This one looked akin to . . . wistfulness.

I gestured to the floodwater on the beach, both irritated and impressed. “Maybe lead with that next time.”

She laughed softly.

Shaking my head and grumbling—her laughter sounded like a goddamn bell—I pressed my ear to Reid’s chest to listen to his heart. It beat strong and steady. When I checked his temperature, his skin felt warm—but not too warm—beneath my wrist. I lifted his eyelids next, sparking a light on the tip of my finger with residual anger. His pupils contracted like they should’ve. Right. I sat back in relief. He was perfectly healthy, just . . . asleep. He’d probably claimed Morgane’s consciousness to give us time to flee, sacrificing his own in the process. I only needed to wake him up. As I searched for a pattern to do that, however, I couldn’t quash my curiosity. Glancing at Angelica and Constantin, I asked, “Didn’t he betray you?”