SIGNA’S HEART HAD NEVER FELT SO HEAVY AS IT DID WITH THE TAPESTRY laid

before her, Blythe’s hand still atop it. There was a challenge in her cousin’s eyes. One that Signa could not dismiss, regardless of the weariness that settled over her.

“How long have you known what he is?” she whispered.

“Not quite so long as I’ve known what you are.” Blythe drew her hand back, face set with grave severity. She didn’t blink as her eyes bore into Signa’s, waiting for her next move as though this were a game of chess.

Behind Blythe, Death bristled enough to quake the trees, and Signa had to risk shooting him a glare before a storm broke overhead.

“This isn’t the way,” he all but raged, words striking like a lance. “We will find another.”

Perhaps, though with Fate’s warning about bringing a soul back from the dead, Signa could not see that path, nor did they have the time to find it. Blythe was right to call this Signa’s mess, and she had a responsibility to protect this family.

Go, she told Death, for it would do neither of them any good to have him here for this conversation. Signa squared her shoulders, unflinching beneath the intensity of her cousin’s stare. I need to talk to her alone.

Signa— Go. Please.

Death seemed at war with himself, thunder cracking as the shadows of the night flickered, irate. It was only as his attention strayed toward Foxglove that the pressure in the air eased. Don’t do anything foolish was all he said before he disappeared toward it, and Signa knew without a sliver

of a doubt that he and his brother were to have a conversation of their own.

Alone now, Blythe kept a careful distance that Signa felt like a knife to her side. Gone was the girl she’d laughed with in the snow and spent late nights gossiping with over tea. Gone was the friend she’d viewed as a sister, and in her place stood a woman Signa didn’t recognize.

“I don’t know what Aris has told you about me,” Signa began, praying that she could find the right words. “I don’t know what he’s told you about himself, either, but it’s not safe to trust him.”

“I don’t care whether it’s safe.” Blythe cradled the tapestry against her stomach. Her voice was surprisingly calm, lacking the bite that Signa expected. “You’re not safe, either, Signa. I watched you take a life with a single touch. You took my brother’s, too. He was going to have a child! Now that child has no father, we have no alibi, and my father is withering away in a cell and set to hang in a week. I won’t let him die for this.” The tapestry’s warmth radiated toward Signa as Blythe extended it to her. It took everything in her not to draw back.

“I know Aris is no prince,” Blythe continued. “But whatever he is, he has power. In return for you marrying him, he’s agreed to free my father.”

The warmth was seeping into Signa’s skin now, and inch by inch it felt as though she were being set aflame. Her breaths were as thin as the memories from earlier pressed against her mind.

“Don’t you think that’s odd?” Signa could barely form the words as she stared down at the golden haze that surrounded the tapestry, so bright that it was painful. “He shows up out of nowhere and wants to marry me? And he won’t help us unless we agree?”

“He knows about the shadows that follow you. He doesn’t want you near them.”

Only then did Signa reach forward to snatch the tapestry from Blythe’s hands. It took everything in her not to drop to her knees as the burn tore through her.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Signa hissed, double-checking that her hand hadn’t turned to char. “Do you even know what those shadows are?”

For the shortest moment, Signa could have sworn that Blythe’s face softened, her gaze gone watery. Such tenderness, however, was fleeting, there and gone in seconds.

“Even his name is dangerous,” Blythe said. “I don’t dare speak it out

loud.”

Signa hadn’t expected her to know the truth. Hadn’t expected her to believe it. Her mouth was numb, words a struggle to form let alone speak. “He saved your life,” was all she could manage. “Multiple times, he protected you. He let me save you.”

Wrinkles marred Blythe’s forehead. Whatever Fate had told her, it certainly wasn’t this.

“I don’t care.” Blythe drew back, angry and mourning and looking every bit like her mother in that moment. “I can’t care, Signa. This is the only option. It’s the only way we have to save him, and you know it.”

As Signa let the tapestry seep into her skin, she knew with everything in her that Blythe was right. She may have been able to use Life’s powers, but was relying on them worth the risk of Elijah’s life? Was it worth the risk of whatever chaos Fate promised she would bring upon them?

He’d said that he would do whatever was necessary to get Signa away from Death, and now he’d finally made good on that promise. Because to save Elijah, there was no choice but for Signa to accept Fate’s deal.

Fate was lounging near the dance floor, feasting on a glittering petit four in one hand and champagne in the other as the balcony window shattered, Death descending in a tempest of shadows. Fate was midbite, barely having caught sight of his brother when the lights in Foxglove flickered off and Death wound his hand around Fate’s throat.

Fate’s champagne flute hit the wall, shattering as Death wrenched it from his hand. He choked on the cake, grappling for a hold as Death shoved him into the wall and pressed a forearm against Fate’s windpipe.

“You may start wars, brother, but I am always the one who ends them.” Death’s hand stretched to summon his scythe. Yet it seemed he either could not or would not raise it against his brother, for in the end that hand remained empty.

“Get off me,” Fate spat, freeing himself from Death’s hold as Signa and Blythe raced into the ballroom. “God, you’re covered with dirt. This is a

party, brother. Show some decorum.” He brushed himself off, and only then did Signa notice that the bodies around them had stilled once more, some of their mouths open midscream. Beside her, Blythe covered her own mouth as Death took his brother by the collar.

“You cannot force someone to be with you,” he snarled, the air around him so tight that Fate was wheezing, face turning blue. “She’ll hate you forever, and so will I.”

“I’m not forcing anyone,” Fate barely managed to hiss, threads of gold glinting throughout the ballroom, brighter and brighter until Death eased his hold enough for Fate to draw a sharp breath. Fate had no need for words to make his threat clear; his threads were attached to everything, and Signa had seen once already just how easily he could manipulate them. “Whatever oath we enter into will be one that Signa makes of her own free will.”

“Is this why you told me to throw a party?” Signa cut across the ballroom to stand before the two men. “Not to help me, but so I would discover that I have no way to save Elijah other than to rely on you?”

“I have merely laid the pieces to watch the story unfold.” Fate’s expression darkened as he clawed himself free from Death’s grasp. “Did I not make myself clear when I said that I was willing to do whatever it took? Did I not give you the answers I promised?”

She’d known all along how unwise it was to trust Fate, though there had been no other options. She was free to accept his offer or not, but as she stole a look at Blythe and saw just how ashen she looked and how tightly she hugged her arms around herself, Signa knew there was no other choice. At least not one that would protect Eliza and the Hawthorne family.

Death had once promised he’d burn this world down for Signa. And yet it seemed she could not do the same for him, for the Hawthornes had staked their own claim on her heart, and she would do what she could to protect them. When Signa died, she would have however long she wanted with Death at her side. But for now, she looked Fate square in the eyes and said the only thing she could.

“I’ll do it.”

The moment the words had passed her lips, it felt like her world had ended. “This will be no happy union, Fate, I assure you. Every day for the rest of my life, I will fight to rid myself of you. But if you promise to free Elijah and allow the Hawthornes to live their lives in peace, I will make this

deal willingly.”

“Signa…” Death sought her stare, but she refused to give it to him for fear of changing her mind. She could look only at Blythe, staring down the reason for this promise. The reason she was ready to give up everything she loved, to protect the family that had taken her in and loved her when no one else had.

“Please don’t do this. You promised me no more bargains,” Death whispered, and oh how she wished she didn’t have to. How she wished she could curl up into his arms and pretend that the sound of his heart breaking did not cleave her own in two. Every day for the rest of her living years, this decision would destroy her.

“I want one more night with him,” she told Fate, who at least had the decency to look uncertain as she approached, as if he, too, was fearful that Signa might slip from his grasp at any moment. “Give me one more night. Not to plot or to find a way out of this, but to say goodbye. Come tomorrow morning, I will pour my blood upon that tapestry and bind myself to you. But first, give me one night without sickness. Without a time limit.”

Fate’s jaw clenched. “I will not share you—”

“I am not yours!” She didn’t care about the memories. Didn’t care about what he may or may not have meant to her in another lifetime. Right now, Fate was the villain he’d sworn never to be. “You and I are not bound, and we never will be unless you agree to my terms. I want one more night.”

From his expression to his posturing, everything about Fate bristled with agitation. Still, he must have sensed that Signa meant every word. “It is more than he deserves, but I will give you your night. Only one, to say goodbye.”

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Still, she crouched to pick up a shard of broken glass and pressed it into her thumb, waiting for the blood to swell before extending it to him. “Until the moment I bind myself to you, you must agree that you will allow me not only to see Death whenever, but to touch him without harm. Swear this to me, and that you will free Elijah the moment an oath is made, and you’ll have yourself a bride.”

“Signa—” Death reached for her, and her heart nearly shattered when she sidestepped him.

Fate did not smile but looked plainly upon her as he withdrew a needle

from his vest pocket, pricking it into his thumb and pressing it to hers to seal the blood oath. “I agree to your terms.”

Fate was a fool if he thought this was how he was going to win. She didn’t know how long it would take, but eventually she would escape him. Eventually she’d find Death again, whether in this life or the next.

Signa turned to him, not caring that Fate and Blythe were watching. Not caring that they were in the middle of a dark ballroom surrounded by curious spirits and Fate’s marionettes as she took Death’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss onto his lips.

Signa hated that her first thought wasn’t of the kiss itself, but that she should commit the way his lips fit against hers to memory. That she should memorize every dip and curve of his bare skin beneath her fingertips, and the wash of coolness that settled over her. The tension in her body eased as Death drew her into his chest, winding his arms around her.

“Come,” Signa whispered as her fingers closed around his. She pressed onto her toes, kissing him once more. “Let’s get out of here.”

Music resumed the moment Signa stepped out of the ballroom, hand in hand with Death. Voices trilled from within once more, laughter floating in the air as the ball swept back into action. No one seemed to remember that the lights had gone out, or anything of two immortals fighting beside them.

Signa paid no mind to the guests in her home; let Fate and Blythe see to them. What did it matter anyway, when she would soon be leaving Foxglove as quickly as she’d settled in?

There was an overwhelming sadness in such thoughts; one that would consume her if she let them. And so she had no choice but to cast them from her mind as she glided down the stairs with Death in tow. No choice but to cast all thoughts from her mind, considering the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her at any minute. If this was to be her last living night with Death, she refused to spend it crying.

Death whispered her name, calling to her, but she didn’t still. Signa hurried to the second level and the room that she’d made her own.

“Signa,” Death called again, urgent this time. “Stop whatever this nonsense is and talk to me.” His grip on her hand tightened, and he pulled her to him as he leaned against the wall in a hallway. Empty as the hall was, Signa couldn’t help but feel like there were eyes upon her, watching. But what did that matter now? If people saw her talking to the shadows, what

repercussions could there be? Come tomorrow, Foxglove would no longer be her home and nosy neighbors would be of no concern.

“There’s no time,” she whispered, wishing that he would hurry and follow her. Wishing that he would stop fighting. But Death held tight as he bent to rest his forehead against hers. He was in his human form, dark eyes blazing. Signa’s eyes fluttered shut at the touch of his cool skin, her own still warmed by her beating heart.

“We could have all the time in the world, Little Bird,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this.”

There was nothing more that Signa wished than for that to be true. She would spend an eternity with Death, would their circumstances allow it. And oh, how happy she would be.

Signa tilted her face up, pressing a kiss onto lips that had been made to fit hers. “You know I do,” she whispered, taking his bottom lip between hers and kissing him again.

Death held her in both arms, dragging her body into his with no sign of letting go. “Then we’ll find a way to break the oath once Elijah is free.”

She cupped his face in her palms, unable to stop her tears. Once her blood was on that tapestry, there was no saying how long it would take to break her deal with Fate or how he might retaliate.

“Listen to me.” Signa settled her palms against either side of his face. “I love you. You have made me happier and more myself than I have ever been. If we’re only to have one more night, then I want it to be something that we can always think back to.” Her hands slid down his body, fingers intertwining through his. She brought one of Death’s hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles. He was still and silent, but he gave no argument as he let her peel away and start back toward the suite she had hoped to one day share with him.

It’d been little more than a child’s fantasy, really. With something so big as life and death between them, she should have known it would never be her reality.

She didn’t let go of his hand even as they stepped inside and she bolted the door behind him. The moment she let go, she feared he would disappear entirely and that would be the end of their story. And so she held him close, facing him as she backed toward the bed.

There was no mirth in his eyes. None of the smoky coolness she had

come to expect. Instead, only sorrow filled his stare as he sat on the bed and drew her into his lap.

“You are my world, Signa Farrow.” The tenderness in his voice threatened to break her resolve. Signa had to turn away, shutting her eyes against the feather-soft kisses he peppered down her neck. “Whatever happens tomorrow, know that this will not be our final night together. I swear that nothing could ever stop me from fighting for you.”

“I know you won’t.” His words were the most beautiful song, and she held to them like a promise. Let Fate believe he’d won; neither she nor Death would ever stop fighting.

Signa slid her legs on either side of him and wound her hands around his neck as he kissed her, lips lingering from her neck to her mouth, then down to her chest. Her eyes fell shut, body suffocating beneath the layers of her gown even despite Death’s perpetual chill. She shivered as his hands found its laces, as if reading her mind. He’d always had that way about him; that uncanny ability to know what she was thinking or what she wanted.

God, she was going to miss that.

Signa slipped off her dress, helping him slide it to the floor. Death took his time to brush his hand down the shape of her, thumb tracing patterns across her hips. Signa tipped her head back, savoring every touch. She helped free him of his shirt, then his pants as the shadows he summoned followed his hands to trail along her skin, carving a path of ice that seared within her.

Death took his time tasting her, lips rolling over her breasts, her navel, and traveling lower to the most sensitive part of her as he laid her on her back.

His name tasted like honeyed wine as she whispered it into the night. Her hips rocked against him, but when she shut her eyes to savor the tension rising with her, the shadows were behind her neck, tipping her head back up to him.

“Look at me.” His voice was no whisper, but a command that seized her attention. “I want you looking at me when I touch you.”

It was a privilege, she realized, to be able to look upon him after so long and see him as he held her. As he consumed her. Her hands twisted in the bedsheets, and it was the hunger in his eyes that struck her core, her body shuddering with the release that rolled over her.

Death leaned back then, and Signa took a moment to appreciate the sheer sight of him before her, hips tangled in the sheets, gaze never straying from hers. She’d have given almost anything to spend the rest of her life with him here like this. Eyes locked with his, Signa drew herself into his lap, wanting to taste and feel every inch of him tonight, while she still could.

Death groaned with a desire that rippled over her. She wanted to earn that sound. Wanted to draw it from his lips again and again. She wound her arms around his neck, holding him as their bodies connected and she rolled her hips against his. One of Death’s hands came around her neck, steadying her against him as the other settled on her thigh, thumbs pressing into her skin.

“You are mine.” The words were not possession, but a promise. “For as long as you’ll have me, you are mine, Signa Farrow. I will burn this world to cinders before I let anyone take you from me.”

When the sun rose, their time together would be over. But for tonight, they would make the most of this goodbye. She would explore all that there was of him, and hoped that when dawn came and left them with only their memories, they would think of this night forevermore.