“And what if it doesn’t change him?” she said, her voice rising. “And even if it does, what does it mean that I have to be at death’s door to bring him back to himself? My life, and whatever is left of it, will not be what his soul gnaws on to regain its strength. Mydeathis not in service to his character, and I will not be a sacrificesimply for him to find peace of mind. He isnotmy responsibility to save.”
It was only when she realized she was looking down at Enrique that she realized she’d shot to her feet.
Enrique’s eyes went round, and he squeaked out, “Agreed.”
“I know you mean well,” said Laila, sighing as she plopped back down on the seat. “But I… I can’t do it, Enrique. It would hurt too much.”
Enrique’s chin dropped a little, and his gaze went to the ice. “I can see that. I know how much it hurts when you realize you’re not held in the same emotional regard as you thought. Or, perhaps, imagined.”
“Promise me you won’t tell him, Enrique,” she said, gripping his hand. “I have had things taken from me my whole life. My death will not be one of them.”
Enrique looked at her, his eyes bleak. And then he nodded. A moment later, he squeezed her hand and left. Laila watched him go as a light snow began to dust their clothes. Now, the Sleeping Palace looked as if it had been chiseled out of the pages of a cold fairy tale. The spires of frosted quartz looked like glass bones, and Laila wanted to imagine the palace belonged to Snegurochka. Maybe the snow maiden had chosen not to melt for love, but rather freeze for life. But her reverie was cut short at the sight of Delphine greeting Enrique at the threshold. Laila was too far away to catch the words exchanged, but she saw how Enrique went stiff. He looked back to her, but Delphine caught his arm, pointing him inside. Laila knew what it meant.
Séverin was back.
The book was here.
In the cold, Laila’s ring felt wondrously loose, as if it wished to be discarded now that there was no point in wearing it.
The other woman approached her, black furs draped around her body. She cut a striking pose on the ice, and if Laila didn’t know better, she’d guess that Delphine was the kind of woman who breathed as if it were an exercise in leisure rather than necessity.
“They’re back?” asked Laila.
Delphine nodded.
Laila felt as if her life was waiting for her to run and catch up to it, but she couldn’t make herself move. Something kept her back. Laila pushed through her misgivings, and rose to meet her fate.
They walked back in silence for a few moments before Delphine spoke. “It’s hard to look at him, is it not?”
Laila knew she meant Séverin, and a long-dead piece of loyalty flared within her.
“I imagine it is just as hard for him to look at you.”
“I owe you no defense of my choices,” said Delphine haughtily. But then she smiled sadly, lost for a moment. “I only meant that I cannot see him as he is now. In my eyes, he will always be a child turned around in his seat at the theatre. A little boy staring at people, watching as wonder bloomed across the audience’s faces.”
Laila could almost picture him as a child. Slight and dark-haired, his dusky eyes huge in his face. A little boy who had to grow up too soon.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Delphine smiled, though it was fragile and did not reach her eyes.
“Because I need to tell someone what I remember,” she said. “I envy you, child.”
Laila bit back a snort. The matriarch had nothing to be envious of. Delphine could move through the world without expectation of a door slammed in her face. Delphine hadlived. Laila had only dreamed of life.
“I assure you that any envy I inspire is ill-deserved.”
Delphine looked down at the ice, considering the echo of her face in the lake water. “I envy you because you can look at yourself. You can bear your own reflection, knowing you can shoulder the weight of every choice you made and regret you carry. That is a rare thing as one gets older.”
What feels rarer is the chance to get older, thought Laila.
INSIDE, THE SLEEPING PALACEwas a rush of commotion. One of the House Kore artisans popped a bottle of champagne. A cautious wave of excitement wound through Laila.
“Treasure!” shouted one of them. “Moundsof treasure!”
Delphine accepted a glass of champagne. Laila stood in the shadows, her eyes tracking the room, catching on the glint of light bouncing off the slow-moving ice animals and the grand chandelier swaying overhead.
“The patriarch of House Dazbog had no choice but to send word to the Order of Babel according to Order protocol,” said another. “They’re coming, matriarch.Allof them.”
