The question was an innocent one, spoken with the casualness of friends. And yet Signa’s response caught in her throat. Both the fervent whispers of her guests as well as the laughter of the spirits drowned away as her own world tunneled into focus. She looked once more to Amity, who was beginning to fret at her hair just as Briar was, tearing at strands she’d wound tight around her fists.
For twenty years these spirits had been unable to move on with their lives. It made her think of Henry and the smile he’d worn when he’d taken Death’s hand. She thought of Lillian, too, and how her poisoned body had restored itself before she left the living world behind.
Death may have preferred to never take a soul until they were ready, but how could he know whether someone was ready if spirits could not pull themselves from a loop? Signa could not reap souls, nor did she know whether she’d ever have the capability of leading them to the afterlife as Death could. But she could ensure that none of these spirits had to spend one more day trapped in Foxglove.
“That’s why I’m here,” Signa confirmed, and the words tasted like the most decadent chocolate, warm and rich as they slipped past her lips. Her vision swayed a little, chest tight with a spreading warmth. “Yes. Of course it’s why I’m here.”
There wasn’t a bone in Signa’s body that could wait one moment longer. “It was lovely to see you, though if you’ll excuse me…” She hurried away in search not of Death or the spirits, but for a man with sunlight upon his skin. Fate was a beacon on the ballroom floor, dazzling beneath the light that warmed his complexion as he spun from the arms of a beautiful woman to a man who laughed as Fate drew him into a waltz, a flute of champagne balanced between two nimble fingers.
Signa’s body knew what needed to be done before her mind could catch up. She knew it in her heart of hearts, with such ferocity that she could not rest until she crossed the floor to steal Fate from the man he danced with. His golden eyes slid to her, and he extended a hand.
“Hello, Miss Farrow. Would you care to dance?”
She plucked the glass from between his fingers, setting it onto the nearest table before she slipped her palm into one of his. Signa didn’t pull away as his other hand settled on the small of her back, nor did she care even remotely for the curious stares that lingered upon them, alarmed by the closeness in which Fate reeled her in. His chest was hot as a raging fire against hers.
“You look as radiant as the sun in that dress,” Fate told her.
She smiled, recalling Death’s words to her all those months ago. You are bolder than the sun, Signa Farrow. And it’s time that you burn. Fueled by them, she tilted her head toward Fate. “I need your help.”
Somewhere across the ballroom came a gasp as a wandering spirit tried to take the hand of an older woman. The woman promptly lost her breath to surprise, shivered once, and then fainted on the spot. Hovering over her fallen frame, the spirit screamed.
“It’s happening again!” she cried, fumbling from the dance floor as she yelled those words over and over again.
The night wasn’t going remotely as Signa had hoped. She focused on the heat from Fate’s touch, searing her skin even through the fabric of her gown. “You seem to require my help a lot, lately. Tell me, have you remembered me yet?”
With the question came an unprompted memory of laughter that had once made her feel so alive. The pulse of a heart that had once beat for her alone, just as hers had for him. Signa missed a step, nearly tripping over her boots as the song he’d asked her to remember once again flooded her thoughts.
“No. She forced the lie out, throwing those thoughts as far as she could get them. “I remember nothing.”
Fate sighed, so close that his breath brushed her cheek. “I know I’m asking you to consider possibilities that you don’t wish to believe in, but did you expect a year ago that you’d be where you are now? Did you expect to be a reaper, or the lover of Death himself?”
He already knew the answer from the look of it, but still he waited for Signa to admit, “Of course I didn’t.”
Necks twisted to watch as she and Fate danced. She felt the buzz of every curious stare upon her skin as he leaned in and whispered, “If you came to live with me, I think it might help you remember who you really are.”
For a moment, Signa lost her breath. Perhaps because of the spirit that passed too closely behind her, or perhaps from the suggestion itself. “You know I can’t do that.”