“This is where I learned to dance.” She curled her fingers into the cushions, nails dragging across the fabric. “Percy helped teach me.”
That was all Death needed to understand, adjusting his position so that he could scoop her into his arms. Signa sat between his thighs, cradled against the pleasant coolness of his chest. “You are not responsible for what happened to your cousin.”
She appreciated him saying so, but that didn’t make it true.
“I was given a choice,” she whispered, “and I made it.”
With his chin resting on her head, Signa felt Death’s gentle hum before she heard it. “Are you saying that if you were in that position again, you’d choose a different path?”
She wouldn’t, and that’s what terrified her more than anything. What kept her up at night wasn’t that she’d given the command to trade Percy’s life for Blythe’s, but that she’d do it again. She had begun to love Percy, truly. But it’d been almost too easy to let him die. Perhaps she was already more of a reaper than she’d let herself believe.
“I will not lie to you and say that this is an easy existence.” Death’s touch was tender, one hand snaking around her waist as she tipped her head against his shoulder. “Perhaps it was wrong for me to ask you to make that choice, but there was no easy answer. I didn’t want you to lose both of them.”
“You cannot protect me from who I am.” As she said it, the realization of those words sank in. Already Signa had accepted the dark power within her. Still, there would always be that whisper. The one that she had grown up with, that had made her believe everything about her was wrong.
When someone cleared their throat at the doorway, Signa threw herself from Death and spun to look at who had silently entered the room, not having heard the door open. Fortunately, it remained shut; it was Lord Wakefield’s spirit who stared at them from the threshold.
“It’s no wonder you weren’t more interested in my son.” He folded his hands behind his back, not bothering to conceal the judgment in his voice or how the corners of his eyes creased as he assessed Signa, then turned to Death. “No matter how I try to avoid thinking about what might come next, it seems that I keep finding myself gravitating back to you.”
Death extended his hand to the duke. “That’s a good thing. It means you’re ready to join me and leave this place behind.”
The duke didn’t draw forward but instead asked, “Does it hurt to pass on?”
Death’s gentle smile was a brilliant sight. “Not in the slightest.”
It melted Signa’s heart to hear how tenderly he spoke, and she was glad that all the years had not hardened him. The tension in the duke’s fists eased, and he stretched a hand toward Death’s only to pull it away the moment before they touched.
“My son will have to take over my duties,” said Lord Wakefield, the words tumbling out. “I’m not sure I’ve prepared him.”
Again, Death stretched his hand forward. “You’ve done the job you were meant to do. Your son will be fine.”
“The duties are demanding,” he argued. “Perhaps I should stay and watch over him. He won’t rest until my murderer is found.”
“I know,” Signa told him. Given how the last spirit she’d been near had possessed her, she fought every instinct in her body that told her to run when Lord Wakefield’s attention whipped toward her. Although she didn’t know Everett well, she had seen his face as he’d held his father. “I’m sure you’re right about Everett, and I have every intention of helping him find your killer, my lord.” Whether Signa wanted to, Fate had ensured that this was her task to deal with.
It took a moment for the duke to bow his head, out of excuses. His eyes fell to Death’s hand, and this time he took it.
“Take care of him.” The duke’s voice cracked as Death’s shadows wound around him. But before they left, Death cast Signa one final look.
I do not know when or how, he told her, the words little more than a whisper in her mind, but I will find my way back to you soon.
Signa forced a smile, wishing she could easily accept those words. Doubt and loneliness were meant to be things of her past. Yet as the shadows consumed Death and the duke whole, she realized that perhaps this was only their beginning.
As breath settled back into her lungs, Signa adjusted her skirts and slipped on her gloves. The moment she started toward the doors, however, her returning heartbeat fluttered. She stumbled, gripping the edge of a tea table to keep herself upright.