Foxglove (Belladonna, #2)(91)
“Only because you decided to get involved in my love life!” She ignored the urge to tuck her silver strands out of sight. “How foolish I was to think you’d help me. Only someone truly horrible could create such a fate for Death and me. If you can control whether we can speak to each other, then surely you can also determine whether he and I see each other. If you truly cared about my happiness, then you would let me be with him. But you are a selfish man.” This last part Signa spoke not with rage, but with defeat as she plucked the rose stem from his hand and brought it to her lap. In the quiet that spanned between them, Fate kept seated, drawing long breaths until he settled enough to speak.
“I will not deny such claims,” he admitted, “nor do I have shame in them. I have waited far too long for the things I want; I will not pretend to be sorry when I take them.” He was cracking like the finest china, and Signa wasn’t sure whether to fear or pity the fire in his words.
“Do you know why I asked you here?” She looked at his hands as they folded and unfolded in his lap, seeking something to do. “I do not wish to learn these powers for me. I would be happy to live the rest of my life without ever using them, for the pain they cause is that severe. I brought you here because I am out of options. I wish to help Elijah, but I cannot be at Thorn Grove right now to find Lord Wakefield’s murderer. The best thing I can do is be there if Elijah is hanged and learn how to bring him back from the grave.”
Fate was not the only one to startle at this plan. Foxglove grew so cold that the hearth snuffed out entirely, and Gundry whined from his position curled near it. Fate glanced to the corner where Death stood, and for once it seemed it was not to fight him.
“Just as you cannot cheat Fate, you cannot steal from Death, Miss Farrow,” he said. “Especially not those he has already claimed.”
“But I will.” It was not a threat so much as it was a promise. “Should Elijah be taken from me, I don’t care what it takes. I’ve used Life’s powers before, and I’ll figure out how to do it again. If I cannot be at Thorn Grove—”
“What does it matter if you cannot be at Thorn Grove?” Fate waved a hand as he stood, and once again the flames of the hearth roared to life, if only to silence Gundry’s protests. “You were barred from a place, not from its people. If that is the single obstacle you must overcome to keep yourself from doing something so remarkably foolish, then bring those people to you! A horse is one thing, but there will be repercussions beyond your wildest imagination should you bring a human life back from the grave.”
“You’ve no idea how rampant my imagination can be.”
His laugh was not one of humor, but one that had him throwing his hands into the air and spinning again to where Death stood. Only this time as Signa followed his stare, she could see shadows writhing on the floor. Faintly at first, then darker, until she followed those shadows up to the frown that pulled Death’s lips and the severity that lingered in his stare.
“Talk to her,” Fate warned before he spun back to Signa. “I will not teach you to use your gifts if this is what you intend to use them for, you ridiculous girl. Unless you wish to bring Chaos upon us all, then learn the rules. They exist for a reason. I have no desire to see Elijah Hawthorne die, but if you plan to save him, you’ll need to find another way.”
“If you don’t wish for him to die, then prove it,” Signa challenged, and for a moment Fate stood still as if processing those words. “If you walk out of here now, I promise I will hate you forever. You said that you care for me, and if that’s true, then help me. I cannot lose Elijah.”
The man looked at war with himself, veins pulsing in his forearms as he clenched his hands. Eventually, he turned to Signa. “If you want my help, then throw a party.” It was far from the response she expected, and Signa recoiled when Fate stepped so close that she could feel the warmth of his body press against her skin. “Do as I say and get everyone in the same room, Miss Farrow, and you will get your answers. Just don’t be angry at me when they’re not the ones you wished for.”
Fate did not allow Signa time to ask the thousands of questions that burned her lips but turned on his heel and saw himself out of Foxglove.
“Do you think he’s being sincere?” she asked Death instead, taking hold of his arm as he approached. She curled her fingers into him to steady herself, already finding that her breaths came easier simply because he was there beside her.
Death did not turn his face from the hall where Fate had disappeared, though his shadows shrank with the retreating threat. “I think that no matter what my brother says, it’s safe to assume that he’s always up to something.”
That much was clear enough. If Fate wanted to, he could give her the answers she sought. Instead, she felt as though she was falling deeper and deeper into a cleverly spun web, waiting to be feasted on.
“Would it truly be so bad for me to revive Elijah?” She gripped him tight, unsure how much longer they’d have together. “It couldn’t possibly be any worse than dealing with your brother.”
Death’s shadows swept toward Signa. He pulled her against him in a sudden rush, and oh how she wanted to kiss him. Yet Death kept his face at a distance, mindful of her bare skin. “Foolish as my brother may be, for once I agree with him. You have seen firsthand the cost of keeping someone alive, Little Bird. Imagine what the cost might be for bringing them back from the dead.”