Killian swiped the Blade back from Manny, who was pretending to stab an imaginary enemy. Elyse could tell he was trying to suppress his smirk and failing miserably.
“You tell them,” Elyse said to him, letting her pride in him ring clear. “It’s your victory.”
“Wait—” Sera said, and rushed off to the nearest cabinet. “Where does your mother keep the wine?”
Killian chuckled and escorted Sera to the cabinet over the mantle while Manny and Elyse settled into chairs at the table. Elyse watched with amusement as Killian and Sera debated which bottle to open, but a prickle at the back of her neck told her Manny was focused on her.
She turned to face him and was surprised to find his features far more serious than she was used to. He stared at her for a moment before leaning in to say, “Thank you.”
Elyse couldn’t help but shake her head. “What are you thanking me for?” Perhaps Manny had lost his mind.
“For bringing him back,” he said with a glance toward Killian.
Elyse bit her lip to keep it from trembling. That had been the start of it all: Killian dying and Elyse trading her soul to save him. Beneath all the emotions and memories that had been unfurling in her since the moment she’d regained her soul, that one had been buried at the bottom. It was too deep to touch, toodark to face. One day she would have to explore that pain, but not today.
She understood Manny’s gratitude, though, and his need to express it. She gave him a nod that she hoped conveyed everything she couldn’t speak—that it had never been a question, and that she would do it again, or worse.
Manny gave her a half smile, like he understood.
“Here you are,” Sera said as she plunked down the mismatched glassware, each with a generous pour of red wine. “Killian, the floor is yours,” she added with a flourish of her hand.
Elyse listened attentively to Killian’s story. She was eager to hear his version of the events, even the parts where he teased her bluffing skills. When he reached the part about striking a bargain with Death, Sera’s jaw fell so low it nearly touched the table.
“Damn,” Manny breathed when Killian had finished. He leaned back in his chair and downed the last of his wine, then held the glass out for Sera to refill. She was too busy topping off her own glass to notice.
Killian headed to the mantle for a second bottle. “I know,” he sighed, as if he was still in disbelief. He handed Manny the bottle and sank back into his chair.
“So what now?” Manny asked as he unplugged the cork.
“We drink,” Sera said, lifting her glass in a toast.
“We find a way to kill Lazarus,” Killian corrected gently.
“And where he’s going to attack,” Manny added. “Wherever this ‘big show’ is.”
Elyse nodded along and sipped absentmindedly, until she realized all her friends were staring at her, waiting for her input. Elyse lowered the glass and peered at them, at the people she loved most in the world, who had stood by her through the worst.
“We find a way to kill Lazarus,” she repeated, “and where he’s going to attack.” She lifted her glass toward the center of the table, and willed her voice to be strong. “But tonight, we drink and savor our friendship—something Lazarus can never take from us.”
“Hear, hear,” Manny called as they each tilted their drinks forward.
The clinking of glass had never sounded so beautiful.
Interlude
The next afternoon, Killian and Elyse snuck away to the bedroom. Giggling like a madwoman, Elyse told him of the pet rock she’d had as a child. His name was Spunky, and he was very good at sitting but couldn’t do any other tricks. Killian said that he’d had an imaginary friend named Nigel, who had a mustache and a silly accent.
Neither of them could stop from smiling as Killian laid her on the bed. Eyes pinned to one another, they moved together in slow, languid motions, happy to take their time.
The following night, Killian said that he hated when people used the word “supposably.” Elyse admitted that she often overcharged her customers who were well dressed. After that, Killian threw her against the wall, biting her neck as his hands roved over her body. Elyse dug her nails into his back until she drew blood, and begged for him to make her scream.
So Killian did.
The night after that, exhaustion had worn them both thin. They lay in bed together, listening to the crickets, when Elyse confessed that she sometimes resented her mother. Not because of Lazarus or the full moon ritual, but because she’d alwaysbeen distant. Even though it was only the two of them for all those years, they’d never been very close, rarely laughing or sharing their feelings. And when she saw Killian and his mother together, it made her chest seize, realizing what she’d never had, and never would.
As a single tear slid down her cheek, Killian kissed her. He told her that he understood her resentment, and that it didn’t make her a bad person. He told her that emotions were complex and unexpected, and that her feelings were valid. He stroked her hair and told her that when his siblings died, he was so angry. His father acted like everything was normal. He seemed so quick to let go of them, to continue life as it was. He’d held onto that frustration for a long time, only letting it out during training. It wasn’t until he was much older that he realized his father was doing it all for him. He was protecting Killian, trying to give him some semblance of an ordinary life, one without grief and loss.
Elyse had never felt lighter as she rolled Killian onto his back and slid on top of him. Killian held her gaze the whole time, his expression conveying one thing.
