It was more than ridiculous, Signa. It was selfish and cruel. I have not seen Life since, and neither has my brother. Perhaps this is our punishment, or perhaps she doesn’t remember us. It’s hard to be certain of anything, but I haven’t been able to find Life since the day I watched her die.
Signa wanted to tell Death everything Fate had told her. She wanted him to laugh and agree that it was absurd to believe that she could be the woman they’d spent so long searching for. But the words clotted in her throat, for she was terrified of what he might think.
If it was true that she was someone else—if there was even a small chance that she was Life, the woman he had killed and the one whom his brother had loved so deeply—would he feel differently about her?
Now it’s my turn to ask a question. Was your visit with my brother eventful?
Signa homed in on each syllable Death spoke, scouring his voice for any sense of just how angry he might be. It was unnervingly difficult to tell.
The ball was pointless. She curled her fingers into the carriage seat. I feel no closer to stopping Fate or discovering Lord Wakefield’s murderer than I did last week. I’m worried about Elijah. And Blythe, too, if we can’t find a way to clear his name. Can’t you get into the constable’s head and convince him of Elijah’s innocence, as you did with Thorn Grove’s staff when Percy disappeared?
Death’s silence weighed on her for a long while as he considered her request. If I did that, Fate would only retaliate with something worse. He won’t let us disappear this.
At this point, Signa deserved an award for resisting the mounting urge to throw her head back and scream. Sensing her worry, Death said in a voice as smooth as silk, Do not lose faith. We already have a list of suspects in everyone who was at Thorn Grove the night of the murder.
That wasn’t nearly as reassuring as he seemed to think. Half of the town was at Thorn Grove that night.
Perhaps, but this is a start, which is more than you had the last time you solved a murder.
Signa supposed it was true, given that she hadn’t known a single soul when she’d first come to Thorn Grove. Still, she’d known Blythe’s would-be murderer would have had frequent access to Thorn Grove, which… wasn’t much more to go on than she had for Lord Wakefield’s killer.
Why does it feel so much harder this time? She wanted to sound confident; to believe that she would solve this case. But she couldn’t manage the facade. Not with Death.
My brother wasn’t breathing down your neck last time, out for revenge and making light of the situation. And you didn’t love the Hawthornes as you do now. Not at first.
She did love them, immensely so. Which was why she needed to get her head on straight and figure this out. Death was right; even if it wasn’t a great lead, she had someone to start with—Byron.
I don’t yet know how to help you, Death continued, his words as lulling as the spring breeze, but I will speak to my brother. And in the meantime, I want you to stay away from him. Truly, this time. Can you promise me that?
It would be an impossible promise, given Fate’s intentions with her. But Signa didn’t think Death needed to know the full details of that. At least not until she deciphered her own feelings, first. I promise to do what I can, and that I will use discretion. It was the best she could offer, and though he sighed her name, Death seemed to know better than to protest.
Has anyone ever told you how immensely stubborn you are?
She was surprised by the grin that split her lips. Would you have me any other way?
His pause was enough of an answer. Keep it up, Little Bird, and we’ll see if you’re still as stubborn the next time I get my hands on you.
The mental image of that promise sent her into an imaginative spiral. She shifted, suddenly uncomfortably warm in what felt like the mountains of fabric she wore. And just what will you do? Describe it to me in detail.
Death’s voice was a low growl, yet Signa never managed to hear his reply. Instead, her body jolted to attention as a voice that was decidedly not Death’s asked, “What on earth has you grinning like that?”
Signa’s eyes flew open as Blythe took her by the shoulder, leaning forward to inspect her cousin. She pressed the back of her hand to Signa’s cheeks, her forehead wrinkling. “You’re flushed from the neck up! Do you think you’re coming down with something?”
Blythe’s hand was hot against her skin, though Signa had only a moment to notice it before she jerked back in surprise. “I’m perfectly well!”