“Eternal life.”
twenty-four
I remember the flowers. Their acrid, lemon smell. It used to waft in through my bedroom window on a spring evening, dust against my nose.
Bitterbloom.
Mother never allowed me to touch them. But she has no sway over me now. Everything I have worked for is dead. I wrench from her grip and lift my hand to the petals in her hair.
“You were always so afraid of death,” I say.
She snorts. “Everyoneis afraid of death.”
“But not like you.” My gaze rises to meet hers. “You kept me from so many things. The river’s edge, the poisonous plants, the forest… Not to keep me safe, but to keep mealive. And when you finally died, Father carried on your work as best he could. Alive. But not safe.”
She tenses at the mention of Father, face pinching. “I’m giving you a choice, Addie. Let me use the bell and give us both the life I have wanted for us, the life I have dreamt of giving you.”
“Or?”
The sneer hovers now, like something else inside her is fighting for a way out. “I believe there is someone who has been waiting to see you.”
My eyebrows form a pair of matching arches. It is not the response I wasexpecting. I imagined a threat, words perfectly barbed, chosen to whip me into obedience.
There are footfalls on the steps behind us, dissonant against the music. Mother’s lips widen, and I see, for the first time, one blackened tooth at the base of her tongue. It sits there like a carrion bird, reminding me of all the rot in this place. My heart quickens, and I turn toward the stairs.
Ransom Black descends. A phantom from the back of my mind. He is dressed in a suit of spring green so soft he reminds me of a snowdrop, pressing against the earth for new life. His honey-gold hair is sleek, pulled back in a velvet ribbon, his skin shorn and shining.
LordBlack.
He fiddles with the cuffs of one sleeve, grins wickedly when he catches my eye, and my stomach curls into delicate knots. I hate him for how he makes me feel despite everything.
Mother backs away, sways left, and is lost amongst the crowd. I open my mouth, but Ransom is already beside me. A gentle finger brushes on my lips and silences me.
“You look radiant.”
I know what those words are meant to do. Meant to make my knees go weak, fall against him and realize how much I need him. But he doesn’t get this power over me anymore. He is every man who operates under the impression that what swings between their legs gives them the ability to do whatever they want.Takewhatever they want.
But I am not for the taking. Not anymore. I shove my fist into his shoulder.
“How dare you,” I spit. “How dare you leave us without sayinganything!”
He sweeps one hand over my bare shoulder, my skin pricking with cold to meet him. Ransom grins, self-satisfied. “Does it matter?”
Lips like pale apples come to brush against my cheek, his hand drawing slow circles up my back. I inhale, breath fogging the space around us. For a moment, I entertain how easily I could lose myself here, swept away beneath the charm. The promise.
Mother called it eternal life. It sounds lovely, the idea of living forever. Of never having to fear the quick cut of death. But that is not life. Nottruelife. Ransom pulls me flush against him, but my palms slam back into his chest. His gaze meets mine, and something deep down cracks inside me.
Life is horrible and terrifying and unpredictable—all the things my mother is afraid of. It can swallow you in one greedy gulp and spit you out as nothing but skin and bone. But it is also lovely. A kind of spring awakening. Green shoots pressing through the last of winter’s snow. Without death, we do not crave the life. We do not watch the stars and moon in their orbits. Death is the last great healing. Without that pain, there is no love, no wonder, no living.
I shove Ransom away, wrists snapping back, and he stumbles against the steps. His eyes flash angrily, hot and almost red. He twists away, up on his feet.
“What the hell, Adelaide?”
“Do not touch me.” The thought of him pressed against me makes me ill.
He curls his lip, the expression fermenting like dry wine. “You’re acting ridiculous. Are you feeling well? You know how you can get in yourcondition.”
His palm is a firebrand on my cheek before I knock it away.
