“How did this happen?” Gigi dipped the cloth into the bloody water for the last time. It was red like a rose, like a dying sun before it melted into dark.
Selene thought of all the things she could say. The secrets and the lies and the last threads of herself, pulled so taut any part of her might snap.
So she told the truth.
From the beginning to what was now the end. The mirror, the bargain she’d made, Victor, her father, and Dante. A man and a ghost and now nothing.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to have my father remembered for the good things he did. To rewrite his legacy and restore him as the Great Giuseppe Dreshé. I don’t care about any of that anymore.” Selene sobbed. “I’m sorry about yesterday. Do you hate me?”
“I could never hate you. That wasn’t even a real fight. We can do much better, I’m sure.” Gigi wrapped her arms around Selene. “What will you do?”
“I have to sing. He died for this, gave up everything so I could have this chance. I can’t let it go to waste.”
Gigi’s hand rested on the folio. “I want you to be happy, Selene.”
“But?”
“I don’t know if this will make you happy.”
Selene was out of tears. She was so tired she could sleep a thousand years and the ache would never fade. Dante had told her to be it all. What choice did she have? She had to see this through. She had to go on. She had to sing.
“This cut is too deep.” Gigi turned Selene’s hand.
Selene had clutched the mirror shard so hard she’d almost sliced through. The pain registered the moment she looked at it, sharp and impermanent.
With a look of determination and resignation, Gigi sang softly. Parts of the melody were familiar. Some inversion, with the motif for growth worked in. She knew the rhythm of it. Her father had tapped it on the wall, on the table, on the floor.
After a moment, Selene joined in. Opening herself up to the magic and letting it flow through her. Gigi’s eyes went wide. She didn’t stop singing.
The skin on Selene’s hand pulled together. The heartbeat of pain dissipated. Not only her hand, but the aching in her limbs and the pulsing bruise on her face. When Gigi released her, there was nothing but a thin, white scar. Weeks of healing done in a breath of a song.
“It’s never done so much before,” Gigi gasped. “It’s much more powerful when we’re together.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“You aren’t the only one with secrets.” Gigi pushed off the bed. She stretched her leg onto the mattress and leaned over it. Her feet were bare and unmarked. “Had to find a way to keep dancing through the blisters and bleeding toes.”
Selene brushed her fingers against the healed skin of her palm, trying to find words for it. It was the antithesis of her magic. She called upon pain, needed it, leaned on it. Dante’s magic—her magic—it was something dark. But Gigi, Gigi was a healer. This was more than art.
“Incredible.”
This kind of magic could change lives.
She thought of her father, of Benson, of all the magicians trapped in their own minds.
“Did you try to heal Benson?” Selene said.
“It seemed like it might work, at first. I could see him, trapped inside. But then he was gone again.” Gigi’s eyes were bright, the seed of hope planted. “But if we sing it together?”
“Yes,” Selene said. If they could heal Benson, maybe they could heal her father, too. “We’ll try. We’ll get every damn mage in the world to sing, if it can undo what has been done.”
But not Dante,she thought.It’s too late for him.
“Come on.” Gigi picked up the box she must have dropped when she came in. “We have to get ready. Did you get your dress? I think I saw it just outside.”
Selene shook her head. In her grief, she hadn’t even seen. Gigi got to it first. Selene’s name was written in gold ink on the outside.
Gigi opened her box and held it up proudly for Selene to see. The dress was delicate, with flowers stitched up the bodice. The tulle skirt was adorned with ribbons. It was a meadow in spring, the epitome of all brightness and joy.
