As if exhaling on a sigh, the words dissipated. The mist went with it, leaving Lou sprawled unceremoniously in the sand. Constantin nodded. “Very good, each of you. One of life’s greatest trials is to acknowledge our own reflections. Tonight, you have seen yourselves. You have drunk of the waters, and you have spilled their truth.” He extended his hand to the shore. An emotion I couldn’t place shone deep in his eyes. Perhaps sadness. Wistfulness. “Go now. Let their wisdom flow through your veins and restore you.” To Coco, he murmured, “I hope you live your truth, Cosette.”

She gazed out at the waters with an identical expression. “I hope so too.”

In the stillness of the moment, Nicholina lunged toward the path with a feral cry. A desperate cry. I caught her before she could escape, hauling her over my shoulder. Her fists pounded my back, weaker than they should’ve been. Her hands still tender and raw. When she moved to kick my groin, I caught her shin, holding it away from me. My own hope swelled in my chest. Bright and savage. “You’re going to injure yourself.”

“Let me go!” She bit my shoulder like a rabid animal, but the thick wool of my coat prevented much damage. “You’ll kill us! Do you hear me? We’ll drown! We cannot dance beneath these waters. We are too heavy, too many—”

“Enough.” I marched her toward the water with steely determination. This time, my feet broke its surface without resistance. We’d been granted permission to enter. To heal. Behind us, Constantin vanished, leaving Coco to stand alone. She gave a curt nod. “We finish this now, Nicholina. Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. Wife.”

She shrieked as I threw her headfirst into the waters.

Mathieu

Lou

The water was freezing—shockingly and cripplingly so. My muscles seized on impact, and my breath left in a painful, startled rush. My lungs immediately shrieked in protest.

Fucking fabulous. Fucking Reid.

He’d meant well, of course, but couldn’t the heroic brute have checked the waters’ temperature first? Perhaps taken a dip himself? I certainly couldn’t dance as a block of ice. And my eyes—I couldn’t see anything. Whatever moonlight had shone above hadn’t managed to penetrate below, plunging us into pitch blackness. A fitting end for Nicholina, that. A true taste of her own medicine. If possible, she seemed to like the dark even less than me, and in her utter hysteria, she thrashed wildly, vying for control. Sinking us like a brick.