Mary reached across the table and took my hands in hers. I wore black now, all the time. She wore deep red tonight, complementing her beautiful complexion. She smiled at me, squeezing my hand. “Because I know my uncle. I see glimpses of him in Adam. In his kindness. In his wonder at nature. In his love for both of us. I am certain Henry is in those things, too. And your Justine is gone, but you carry her in your heart. Would she want that heart to be heavy and burdened for her sake?”

I shook my head. “She made me promise the opposite.”

“I am not saying you should not feel remorse or sadness. But if nothing else, your past should teach you the value of life. The wild and precious joy of it. Do not let Victor steal that, too. He has already taken enough.”

I nodded, freeing one of my hands to wipe my eyes. I held her other hand for a long time, until my chest felt light enough that I could breathe. And then I offered her a guileless smile for no reason other than that I loved her and I was glad to have her with me. She returned it.

That night, curled against her in the warmth of our bed in front of a gently crackling fire, I slept deeply. For the first time in months, no nightmares troubled me.

—

“I brought you a present,” I said, smiling. Adam’s blue eyes widened in surprise. Under the furs and supplies we had bought was a stack of books. Poetry, plays, philosophy—everything I knew Henry had loved, and that Mary knew her uncle had loved. And aside from those, we had brought books on a dozen other subjects, so that Adam could discover what he loved.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly, running his misshapen fingers over the books. Mary and I both hugged him, and he wrapped his arms around us, to encompass us both. “Thank you,” he whispered, and I knew the gift we had brought him was not a gift of words or knowledge, but of companionship. We would never leave him. He would never leave us.

The family that had nearly destroyed me had inadvertently given me a new family. I would keep my promises to Justine. I would embrace whatever strange life I had, for as long as I had it. And, with Mary resting her head on my shoulder and Adam driving the carriage, I allowed myself to smile for no one.

For myself.

—

Mary strapped on her furs, belting them in place until she looked more beast than girl. I laughed at her as I pushed aside the crate and checked the opening in the floor to make certain the hole we had carved in the ice for water and fish was still clear. I broke the ice forming around the edges, then pulled up the line. “Three fish!”