Blythe drew a breath, and with her exhale she seemed to morph into someone else entirely. Someone so cold and unfeeling that when her eyes narrowed on Signa’s, Blythe almost didn’t seem human.
“This is how you fix your mess,” Blythe told her. “You’re going to marry Aris.”
FORTY
SIGNA’S HEART HAD NEVER FELT SO HEAVY AS IT DID WITH THE TAPESTRY laid before her, Blythe’s hand still atop it. There was a challenge in her cousin’s eyes. One that Signa could not dismiss, regardless of the weariness that settled over her.
“How long have you known what he is?” she whispered.
“Not quite so long as I’ve known what you are.” Blythe drew her hand back, face set with grave severity. She didn’t blink as her eyes bore into Signa’s, waiting for her next move as though this were a game of chess.
Behind Blythe, Death bristled enough to quake the trees, and Signa had to risk shooting him a glare before a storm broke overhead.
“This isn’t the way,” he all but raged, words striking like a lance. “We will find another.”
Perhaps, though with Fate’s warning about bringing a soul back from the dead, Signa could not see that path, nor did they have the time to find it. Blythe was right to call this Signa’s mess, and she had a responsibility to protect this family.
Go, she told Death, for it would do neither of them any good to have him here for this conversation. Signa squared her shoulders, unflinching beneath the intensity of her cousin’s stare. I need to talk to her alone.
Signa—
Go. Please.
Death seemed at war with himself, thunder cracking as the shadows of the night flickered, irate. It was only as his attention strayed toward Foxglove that the pressure in the air eased. Don’t do anything foolish was all he said before he disappeared toward it, and Signa knew without a sliver of a doubt that he and his brother were to have a conversation of their own.
Alone now, Blythe kept a careful distance that Signa felt like a knife to her side. Gone was the girl she’d laughed with in the snow and spent late nights gossiping with over tea. Gone was the friend she’d viewed as a sister, and in her place stood a woman Signa didn’t recognize.
“I don’t know what Aris has told you about me,” Signa began, praying that she could find the right words. “I don’t know what he’s told you about himself, either, but it’s not safe to trust him.”
“I don’t care whether it’s safe.” Blythe cradled the tapestry against her stomach. Her voice was surprisingly calm, lacking the bite that Signa expected. “You’re not safe, either, Signa. I watched you take a life with a single touch. You took my brother’s, too. He was going to have a child! Now that child has no father, we have no alibi, and my father is withering away in a cell and set to hang in a week. I won’t let him die for this.” The tapestry’s warmth radiated toward Signa as Blythe extended it to her. It took everything in her not to draw back.
“I know Aris is no prince,” Blythe continued. “But whatever he is, he has power. In return for you marrying him, he’s agreed to free my father.”
The warmth was seeping into Signa’s skin now, and inch by inch it felt as though she were being set aflame. Her breaths were as thin as the memories from earlier pressed against her mind.
“Don’t you think that’s odd?” Signa could barely form the words as she stared down at the golden haze that surrounded the tapestry, so bright that it was painful. “He shows up out of nowhere and wants to marry me? And he won’t help us unless we agree?”
“He knows about the shadows that follow you. He doesn’t want you near them.”
Only then did Signa reach forward to snatch the tapestry from Blythe’s hands. It took everything in her not to drop to her knees as the burn tore through her.
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Signa hissed, double-checking that her hand hadn’t turned to char. “Do you even know what those shadows are?”
For the shortest moment, Signa could have sworn that Blythe’s face softened, her gaze gone watery. Such tenderness, however, was fleeting, there and gone in seconds.
“Even his name is dangerous,” Blythe said. “I don’t dare speak it out loud.”
Signa hadn’t expected her to know the truth. Hadn’t expected her to believe it. Her mouth was numb, words a struggle to form let alone speak. “He saved your life,” was all she could manage. “Multiple times, he protected you. He let me save you.”