“No. That—no, Lou.” I shook my head vehemently. “Killing that child won’t solve anything—”

“Not just any child.” She sauntered toward the altar, still tossing her knife and catching it. The girl watched with wide eyes, struggling harder, as the scene around us continued to evolve. The waters disappeared, and true mountains formed. A temple in a meadow. Scores of women all around, dancing wildly in the moonlight. Black-haired triplets and a witch with a holly crown. But the girl on the altar couldn’t escape. The mist held her trapped in place like a pig for slaughter while Lou pointed the knife at her throat. “This child. I alone am willing to do what must be done, darling. I alone am willing to sacrifice. Why can’t you see that? I will save everyone.”

Bile rose in my throat. “You can’t do this. Not—not her. Please.”

She stared at me sadly, knife still poised above the girl. “I am my mother’s daughter, Reid. I will do anything to protect those I love. Would you not kill”—she kissed the girl’s throat with the blade—“for me?”

Incredulous, angry, I nearly broke my legs trying to wrench free. “I wouldn’t ki—”

The lie blackened and cracked before I could finish it. Like ashes on my tongue. My ashes.

I had killed for Lou. The Archbishop hadn’t been innocent, no, but the others—the ones before him? I’d killed them for less than love. I’d killed them out of obligation, out of loyalty. I’d killed them for glory. But . . . that wasn’t quite right either. Drink of the waters, and spill their truth.

I could see the cracks in their magic now. Their Lou had been so convincing. So perfect. Like the Lou I’d preserved in my memory. But reality wasn’t perfection, and neither was she—not then and not now. She’d once told me it hurt to remember the dead as they were, rather than who we wanted them to be. Memory was a dangerous thing.

Time changes us all, does it not?

I was no longer the boy who’d pined after his Balisarda, who’d first held it with reverence, with pride, yet part of me remembered him. Part of me still felt his longing. Now, perhaps for the first time, I saw the truth clearly. I’d killed the Archbishop because I loved Lou. I’d killed innocents because I loved the Archbishop. Because I’d loved my brethren, my family. Every time I’d found a home, I’d fought tooth and nail to keep it.

Just like Morgane.