I took her undamaged hand, the only one she’d let me see. It was freezing. “I’m sorry that I didn’t keep you close in the beginning.” More tears tumbled down my cheeks. “I’m sorry about everything that happened here.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “At least I got to sing.”
“I saw you. You were spectacular.”
“I was?” I nodded, and pink bloomed across her cheeks. “I remember some bits, but a lot of it is hazy. How long was I a bird?”
I swallowed down a lump. “A while.”
“What happened to you?”
That would take hours to answer and her teeth were beginning to chatter. I helped her up. She wanted to search for her friends—the two other chanteuses that performed alongside her who were still birds somewhere—so I promised to meet Zosa later when we were both snug in front of a fire and tell her everything. I needed to find someone first.
Slowly, I picked my way over to the wreck of the bar. Underneath, Bel lay unmoving.
The knees of my kitchen frock crunched against broken glass when I knelt and brushed a layer of paper snow from his cheek. His eyes were shut, his switchblade opened. Ice crusted his lashes, the corners of his mouth. My heart felt heavy in my chest.
Gently, I reached down and touched the bow of his lip. His lashes fluttered. He squinted and blinked away bits of frost. I hung motionless over him, not daring to move or breathe.
Do you remember me?
He winced and reached for a lock of my hair that hung in a tangle next to his cheek, marveling at it. His mouth curved in a half smile. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” he said, his throat rough. “It’s . . . nice.”
My face crumpled, and his smile fell away. Before I could choke out a sob, he sat up and gathered me into his lap. His fingers threaded through my hair as he looked me over.
I trembled when his hand smoothed down my back, then over my arms, my torso, and my neck, as if checking for cracks. “Hold still.”
“I’m all right, you fool,” I said, my voice thick.
Gently, he wiped tears from my cheeks. “I thought I’d never get to argue with you again.”
“You missed your chance at a boring life.”
He laughed. Then his warm arms wrapped so tightly around me, I could feel his heart thump against my own, like he was afraid I might vanish into air. We sat like that, tangled up together under the bar, until we were shivering from paper snow.
“My sister is herself,” I said, burrowing into his warmth. “And Béatrice is unharmed.”
He glanced to where the alchemist’s broken body lay crumpled. “Yrsa?”
“Dead. Her teacup shattered. And I haven’t seen Sido.”
He nodded and pushed a clump of sodden hair away from my neck. A tremor moved through me as he stroked the skin below my ear. “Alastair?”
Alastair had been standing beside Issig. I didn’t see him run, but I was trying to get away myself. “I don’t know,” I said.
“Then we should look.”
Wincing, Bel rose and pulled me up alongside him. Together, we picked our way out of the salon and into the wrecked lobby.
Glass had scattered everywhere. Chairs were cracked. A cluster of guests still huddled together underneath the ravaged top of the bright red piano. Paper snow covered every surface. But unlike the pillow feathers, the snow fell down. It dusted the chandeliers and arched alcoves. It clumped on waxy branches of marvelous orange trees. It snuffed out all the colored flames.
“It’s gone,” Bel said with wonder, eyes fixed to the spot where the great glass aviary once stood. Above us, birds flitted through the gusts of snow.
A cluster of staff stood in the center of the lobby. Issig stood with them, draped from head to toe in canvas from the aviary supplies. He whispered to Frigga. She smiled and touched his collarbone where my mother’s necklace still hung. Issig took Frigga’s hand, twining their fingers together. I looked away when he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Incredible,” Bel said. “Someone finally freed Issig.”
“Must have been a foolish soup girl,” I said.
Bel’s brows shot up.
A moment later, someone cried out, joyful, and Issig wrapped his arms around a man in a cook’s uniform, like they were old friends. The contracts were destroyed. All the workers had their memories back.
Soon everyone clustered around a crumpled body on the floor.
Alastair.
His eyes were closed, his pale eyelids so blue-tinged they appeared translucent. A bit of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and dribbled down his cheek.