Second by second it seemed that the reality of her death was settling over her, though unlike the others, she had no desire to accept it. Her bottom lip trembled, and Signa knew the instant before a scream tore through the woman’s throat that Briar wouldn’t go so easily. Signa barely had time to shield her ears as the sound came, so piercing that every crystal flute near them shattered. Wind tore through the windows, and shards of glass flew from the tables, marring the skin of guests who were slowly rousing back to reality, jaws clenching and fingers twitching as they held their partners.
Twenty minutes had passed in the blink of an eye. They were almost out of time.
Amity recognized it, too. She pressed closer to Briar.
“We’re out of options,” Signa warned Amity, whose eyes flashed red in warning as Death’s chill marked his return. “She’s going to hurt someone.”
“She’s scared.” Never had Amity’s voice held such venom, and Signa knew without hesitation that should she try anything, Amity would become the most terrifying spirit she’d ever encountered. Amity cut across Signa, ignoring Death entirely as she grabbed hold of Briar’s hand. When the spirit snarled and tried to pull back, Amity clutched her tighter.
“Come back to me.” Amity held her even as bloodied black tears rolled down Briar’s cheeks and neck. “Come back to me,” she said again, lifting onto her toes to press the softest kiss onto Briar’s temple, just below the wound. “I’ve waited too long for you to hear me say that I love you. Come back to me, Briar, so that I might tell you properly.”
Briar stilled beneath the kiss, blinking the last of the tears free to focus on Amity, whose fingers were curled tight into Briar’s as she held her. Though she said nothing for a long while, the sharpness of the wind died down and she laid one trembling hand upon Amity’s.
“Is it really you?” So soft was Briar’s voice that Signa thought she’d imagined it until Amity’s laughter broke with the happiest sob Signa had ever heard. Amity wound her arms around the spirit, fingers smoothing over Briar’s hair as she kissed her once more.
“It’s me. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Amity bowed her head against Briar’s and whispered words that Signa turned from, knowing they weren’t meant for her ears. She wished she could give them all the time in the world. Wished that she was not so worried about Briar losing control once more the moment the bodies unfroze.
“It’s time for you to go,” Signa whispered.
Amity lifted her head, offering the tiniest smile on those heart-shaped lips. “I believe you’re right.” Signa hadn’t anticipated how badly those words would sting, though even amid so much sadness, she felt relief for her friend. Finally, Amity would have what she wanted. “Your parents will be so proud when I tell them about the woman their daughter has become. These twenty years were worth the wait. I am happy to have known you, Signa, if only for a moment.”
Signa couldn’t say with certainty when her tears came, only that they flowed with abandon. “I’m glad to have known you, too. Tell my parents that I look forward to meeting them one day, would you? It’ll be the most beautiful reunion.”
“It will.” As Death drew closer, pieces of Amity wisped away with the breeze that slipped in through the still-open windows. “Though I do hope you make us wait for a long while. Enjoy this life, Signa. Enjoy it freely, and do not let anyone keep you from who or what you love. When I see you again, I hope you’ll have the most magnificent stories to share.”
Briar’s wounds were healing fast, and Signa knew there was no time for more words. She bit back her tears as Briar and Amity followed Death’s call hand in hand, eager to explore all that awaited them.
There was barely a moment for Signa to wipe her eyes as the ballroom surged into motion once more.
There were more spirits still, some of them even likely wandering rooms of the manor that Signa hadn’t yet explored. The trio she’d met on her first night at Foxglove had poked their heads in and were watching while several others panicked from the surge of bodies that had kicked back into motion as golden threads spun around the ballroom.
Signa ignored them, as the worst of it had settled and, for the time being, all seemed to be in control. The music picked up midsong, but laughter was quickly shifting to whispers as people noticed the thin cuts along their bodies and shattered glass that several maids were already hurrying to clean up. Signa caught sight of Byron and followed his gaze across the floor, to where Eliza Wakefield was gathering her skirts. She’d been far enough from the tables to avoid injuries, though she appeared more sickly than ever seen, with ashen skin and eyes as hollow as a spirit’s as she stumbled toward the doors.