My legs buckled, and I pitched to the floor, arms flying out barely in time to catch myself. That now-familiar pain twisted through me, and I closed my eyes, pushing it back and reminding myself it was temporary—the pain, that is. The reversal I did need to accept—that I might survive this but not actually walk away from it. The pain was just my body dealing with the renewed trauma, which would ease, leaving me with the rest. I could live with the rest. People did. I could. I’d have to, wouldn’t I? The alternative was…

Well, the alternative was exactly what I needed to attempt, yet again. I dragged myself along the floor, muscle memory returning, back to those infant days when I’d done exactly this.

“Do you really think that will help?” the sluagh spat.

“I don’t see how it can’t. If I’m removed from play, you three groups have nothing to fight over.”

“If you do this, Eden, we will take revenge. You know we will. We’ll take your soul. Make you one of them.” She swatted a melltithiwyd, still fluttering about. Hit it so hard it exploded in a spray of black blood.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, still dragging myself. “I’m not marked, and I’ve done nothing to deserve the punishment. I haven’t taken part in anything that deserves it. I haven’t been found guilty of anything that deserves it. So I won’t be joining your flock.”

“Then they will. Your lovers. I’ll kill them and take their souls.”

“Again, same issue. There isn’t even a loophole you can exploit with us. We might not be the nicest people around, but we’ve done nothing that can make us one of the unforgiven.”

I moved up onto the balcony, wiggling across it.

She strode into my path. “I can still kill them.”

“For revenge? Sure, but once you do, the fae and the Hunt will exact their revenge. They’ll join forces to do whatever they can to you, and maybe it won’t be much, but will it be worth the few moments of vengeance against me? A dead woman, who’ll never know what you’ve done?”

“Do you really think I’ll let you jump?”

I looked up at her, towering over me. “Does it matter? I can find a way to do it. You have no power over me. Take my cure. Take my Arawn. Take my Gwynn. That only means I would never, ever stop trying to do this, and that you will be left with nothing.”

“She’s right,” said a voice as steps crossed the belfry floor. “She’s won, heb edifeirwch. In giving up, she wins. That’s the hardest thing to do, but it’s the one thing you can’t fight.”

Ida stepped into the moonlight.

“So you’re suggesting we cut our losses?” the sluagh said.