BLYTHE KNEW THE TRUTH OF HER SITUATION. STILL, SHE LET THE others argue,
too numb to admit it aloud.
“Her brother had a bout of delirium just as she did when he took belladonna,” Signa said as Aris laid Blythe in the bed. “It’s a common symptom.”
“I know that,” growled her husband. “We’ve had her tested for it by a dozen doctors, but there’s no poison anywhere in her system. This isn’t the work of belladonna, but of Chaos.”
“It’ll keep getting worse if we don’t do something. She won’t be able to hold on much longer.” This voice sounded like the midnight wind, sweeping across the suite with such severity that Blythe’s breath caught in her throat.
“Signa’s right,” Blythe managed to choke out. It didn’t matter what her blood did or did not show proof of; Blythe had experienced these symptoms before. The sores, the hallucinations, the familiar taste of poison on her breath. “I may not have consumed any, but nevertheless it’s how Chaos has chosen to kill me.”
Every hair on her body stood on end as Death swept toward her, his cold sinking into every pore as terror seized her. He was too close.
He was too close, and she was too ill.
Aris held out his arm, halting his brother with eyes that burned a lethal gold. “Step away from my wife.”
Death stilled. Behind him, even Signa looked as though she was holding her breath.
As Aris helped her to sit up, all Blythe could think was that she wished he still hated her.
He had spent centuries waiting for his wife’s soul to return to him. He’d searched everywhere, tearing himself apart to find her. Should she tell him that she’d found him at last, only to die again? Aris wouldn’t be able to bear it, nor would she if she was forced to watch him experience such grief.
Blythe didn’t know how it was possible, yet the fact remained that she was being poisoned again. She was as weak now as she’d been in those final months, and knew in her bones that her chances of making it out alive were slim. One sideways glance at Death confirmed as much. His eyes were fathomless as he watched his brother gingerly tuck the blankets around her, and he gritted his jaw tight. Steeling herself, Blythe placed a gentle hand upon Aris’s.
“Go to my father,” she told him. “I need to know that he is well.” Aris set more of his weight onto the bed. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Chaos has been to Thorn Grove once already. This is a game to her, and it’s one I don’t want my father involved in.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please. Signa will stay with me, and she’s kept me alive once before.”
His tightened expression showed just how displeased he was with this idea. Even so, he gave up the battle with a quiet sigh and told Signa, “I’ll be back within minutes. Call for me if she needs anything, and keep that bastard away from her.”
“I’ll keep her safe” came Signa’s quick answer.
He held her cousin’s stare for a long while before disappearing in a snap of gold. Blythe waited several seconds, confirming he was gone before she lifted her head to look Death in the eye. “This cannot end up like last time.” Signa sucked in a breath, turning away at once to hide her tears. Death, too, sank to his knees beside the bed. His hands were gloved, and although
she trembled, Blythe reached to take them.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, head bowed. “I have waited so long to tell you that, and it will never be enough. I know it won’t, but I have spent every day since we lost you wishing to atone for the pain my brother and I caused. There will never be words to tell you how sorry I am.”
There was a pressure within her. An emotion not of her own, but perhaps a remnant of Mila’s. It tightened, a frost brewing in her chest. “You ignored
her wishes,” she said, too weak to stave off the feelings roiling through her. “Your selfishness made everything so much worse than it needed to be. She could have found you sooner. You could have spared millions of lives.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me—”
“It’s not up to me to forgive,” she corrected. “I know what happened. And to some extent it’s true that I feel the pain of it. Mila’s emotions are bundled somewhere deep inside of me. But they’re not mine. I am not so kind a person as she was, Sylas. If I’m meant to die, then you need to let me.” The sound of his name felt familiar on her tongue. For the first time, it felt right.
“That’s not going to happen,” Signa cut in, crossing to stand beside Death at the edge of the bed. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I told you already, we’re going to save you.”
Blythe merely smiled, for she already knew what Signa was unwilling to admit. While Blythe wanted more than anything to live, her body was waning too quickly.
“If I die, I don’t want my father to know.” It was a quiet admittance, one that took a great deal out of her. Whatever resolve Blythe had felt cracked in that moment as she covered her mouth with a threatening sob. “He can’t lose anyone else. He won’t survive the grief. Tell him that I went to Verena. Send him letters. Have Aris give him fantastical illusions of me living my best life if you must. I don’t care. Just protect him, Signa. Swear to me that you’ll both protect him until I’m back.”
Signa shut her eyes. “And what of Aris? Shouldn’t he know the truth of who you are and all that he’ll be losing?”
In that moment, Blythe made her decision. “Tell him,” she said, “and I will never forgive you.” She couldn’t stand to hurt him. He could forget her easily, move on to searching for Life once more. And when the time came, she would find him again. That’s when she would tell him, when they had a full lifetime together to look forward to.
She thought of Life’s warning, of needing to fix things before history could repeat itself and Aris made a mess of the world by once again trying to save her. If he didn’t know the truth of who she was, then maybe that would be enough. But that wasn’t to say that Blythe was giving up yet.
There were no coincidences in this world, so it could not be one that she’d seen her mother today of all days. Signa had called it a hallucination,
and perhaps she was right. But something stirred within Blythe’s chest, telling her that there was more to her vision. That maybe someone was trying to steer her in the right direction.
“I haven’t eaten in hours,” she told Signa after a long while, leaning in to the grogginess of her voice. “Aris is usually in charge of the meals. Do you think that you could fetch me something?”
“I’d rather not leave you,” Signa argued, but Blythe waved her off with a flourish of her hand.
“I appreciate your concern, but the only immediate danger I’m in is perishing of hunger. It’ll only take a few minutes, I’m sure. Leave Sylas with me, if you’d like.”
Blythe knew that wouldn’t happen even before Signa took hold of his arm.
“Come,” she told the reaper. “We’ll be faster together.”
Whatever Sylas said next was lost to her, for his shadows wound around himself and Signa as they, too, disappeared.
Only then did Blythe notice two amber eyes watching her from the floor. In the absence of others, the fox tentatively hopped to the edge of her bed, chittering its greeting.
“Have you decided that we’re finally friends?” Blythe asked, reaching to stroke the beast behind the ears. It wasn’t nearly as soft as she expected, and only seconds after she’d begun to pet it did it try to snap at her hand. Blythe yanked back just in time.
“You are a foul creature,” she told it. “And if I’m to die, you are perhaps the one beast that I will not miss.”
Again the fox chittered, this time as though it were laughing. And when it leapt from Blythe’s bed to scurry down the hall, she pulled her sheets back and followed after it.
Knowing Signa, it wouldn’t be long until she was back with biscuits or something she could grab quickly. When Blythe made it to the hall, she pressed her hand against the banister and leaned most of her weight against it as she hurried down the stairs. Her eyes flashed at once to the front door and the golden threads woven around it.
“We’ve only got this one shot,” she told it preemptively, trying not to trip over the fox that chased circles around her heels, urging her on with its chittering. “Don’t let me down.”
Perhaps her mother was a mere hallucination. Perhaps she had truly lost her mind after all, and she was even sicker than anyone realized. But Blythe had to know for sure. She had to follow after this vision and see where it led.
And so she slammed her hand against the door just as she heard Signa’s voice call out for her from upstairs.
“Take me to Thorn Grove,” Blythe told it.
This time it did not fight back. One by one the threads unraveled, and she opened the door into her sitting room at Thorn Grove manor.
