As I righted myself, the fog cleared until only she and I existed in the void.
“I found a relic!” she gasped out, ignoring my concern. “Asterie confirmed the beads aren’t moonstone—they’re madeof no element she has ever seen before.The Book of Isoldementions a carcanet with gems crafted of Isolde’s tears—a necklace capable of amplifying Reverist power. Sybilla tested it; she could hear the thoughts of peoplemilesaway.”
Elsedora had been tireless in her search for the past decade. She’d stolen many, many artifacts from crypts along the way. They had all turned out to be nothing more than pretty baubles.
Every time she returned blood-coated and beaten, my worries heightened.
“What did you have to do to get that?” I asked, brow furrowing. “Please tell me you weren’t alone.”
“Well, Cass was with me… at first. We got separated in a labyrinth. I was fine—and look! It was fruitful.”
As she recounted her adventure, her hands waved and her expressions traveled through peaks and valleys. I was stuck on her, alone, facing grave danger.
“Then, arrows! I hadn’t expected those, so I sheltered in an alcove. Turns out certain stones in the pathway triggered them.”
She carried on this way for ten minutes, telling me about every trap she had narrowly avoided. Elsedora always commanded my attention. Stories about her close encounters with death, however, forced my heart into my throat and my fists into balls.
Between her fingers dangled a necklace with iridescent beads; it flickered as it caught the light.
I felt the claws of Caym, attempting to drag me back to his depths, and braced myself against him. Whenever my emotions heightened, he tried to use that as a thread to tug me away.
“That’s incredible, Else, really. But you’re hurt—have you seen Wyeth?” I grated out.
“No, I wanted to tell you first,” she answered, seeming oblivious to my panic. If I could just wake from this dreadful sleep, I’d trail her like a loyal dog to prevent her from receiving another scratch. Maybe her pet name for me held some weight.
“Mama told me she overheard the healers in Luz say you’re in multiple times a week.” I sighed, hating to rain on her moment of triumph. My mother still worked in the kitchens occasionally. Where bread broke, gossip traveled.
With an amused scoff and a wave of dismissal, she said, “Angeline—that snitch. Bumps and bruises, puppy. Nothing to fret about.”
Offering her a weak smile, I reveled in the sun peeking through the window behind her; in here, I couldn’t feel the warmth of it on my face. But her smile, her presence, thawed me.
She couldn’t keep on like this. The thought of something happening to her out in some wilds, pursuing the last relic, tore at my lingering optimism.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “You can’t tell me what to worry about,” I bickered.
As though sensing I wouldn’t let this go, she let a mirthful smirk stretch across her face. “You look good today, pet,” she cooed.
I groaned. “Don’t distract me.”
She laughed. “I’m serious. The room hasn’t shaved you yet, and the stubble is becoming. So rugged, and handsome,” she teased with a flirty twist of her braid.
She excelled at this game—turning me into a bumbling, embarrassed pile of putty at her feet.
I fought curiosity over what I might actually look likeout there. I’d been thirty when the Sethe curse had cast me to sleep, and my forty-second birthday neared. If I woke, I should not look much different. The curse preserved my body as it was, and my immortality wouldn’t allow me to age anyhow.
My cheeks heated. “Quit that,” I warned.
“Or what?” Her auburn brows rose in challenge.
“Or I might just fall in love with you.” I waited for her reaction—the one thing that could scare Elsedora Lamoreaux out of her breeches was commitment.
She straightened, eyes wide with surprise before a burst of laughter cut through the murky, putrid air, coating it with sweetness and levity.
El swooned for no one, and I had a habit of falling for any woman who offered me kindness or compliments.
It’s why we worked so well—these conversations couldn’t lead anywhere, and I knew she said things in jest for my benefit.
“Now, wouldn’t that be a tragedy?” she chuckled out.
