I just needed time.

With a jolt of panic, I remembered Coco.

Trying and failing to stand, I searched for her amidst the chaos—blood witches and melusines weaving through the shadows of the trees—and found her sitting up amidst the roots of another sapling. At her back, Angelica helped her stand.

I heaved a shaky sigh of relief—until the two turned to face Josephine.

She fought with blood and blade, slicing and swiping at the melusines with preternatural strength and speed. If their blood didn’t spill, hers did, and she spattered it in their eyes, ears, noses, and groins. Every vulnerable spot in their human bodies. When Elvire fell backward, tangling in another witch’s black thorns, Angelica cut her free with equal skill.

Josephine snarled.

With the shake of her head, Angelica cleaned the thorn’s sap from her blade, wiping it on her gown. She’d worn a gown. “You’ve chosen the wrong side, sister.”

“At least I’ve chosen a side.” Josephine didn’t cower as Angelica approached. Coco crept behind, her eyes wide and anxious. I tried again to stand. “For too long, you have spoken of right and wrong, of good and evil, of facile concepts that do not exist. Not truly.” She prowled around Angelica, who waved her hand to still Elvire’s approach. “There is only pursuit, dear sister. Of knowledge. Of power. Of life. But you have always been afraid to live, haven’t you? You craved power, yet you betrayed your own people. You sought love and affection, yet you abandoned your child. Even now, you yearn for freedom, yet you remain trapped beneath the sea. You are a coward.” She spat the word and continued circling.

Angelica turned with her, keeping Coco at her back. “You’re such a fool,” she whispered.

“I am the fool? How do you envision this ends, sister?” Josephine’s mouth twisted as she gestured between the two of them. “Shall we carry on the pretense? Will you cut yourself to cut me? We both know it cannot go beyond that. One cannot live without the other. I cannot kill you, and you cannot kill me.”

“You’re wrong.”

Josephine’s eyes narrowed at the words. “I think not.”

“We must all play our parts.” Lacing her fingers through Coco’s, Angelica glanced back and squeezed. “For a new regime.”

Josephine stared between them. Perhaps it was the way Coco shook her head, the tears in her eyes, or perhaps it was the profound acceptance in Angelica’s smile. The way she touched Coco’s locket and whispered, “Wear it always.”

Whatever the reason, she yielded a step. Then another. Indeed, when Angelica faced her once more, advancing slowly—knife in hand—Josephine abandoned all pretense. She turned and fled.

Nicholina caught her ankle.