Constance’s vision cleared further as she blinked away the dust, and she saw the spell lingering above the girl. It had manifested as a dark cloud, flickering with green-blue lightning and hovering, curiously still, around two inches above Lena’s chest. The power thrumming from it was … extraordinary. Longing filled her with a sweetness so terrible it felt like grief. The spell was her creation. It belonged to her. And she had pulled it from Lena but not yet accepted it into her own body. So there was still time … but not much.

“Emris,” she said quietly, trying not to spit his name like a curse. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late for Lena.” She tried to sound sorry, but it felt like her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You have to let me take control of the spell.”

“What?” When he turned toward her, his eyes were brimming—it was as if he wasn’t seeing her at all.

Her heart twisted, but she forced herself to remain calm.

“If the spell is loosed on its own … you know what that means, don’t you? It’s a Chaos spell, Emris. Without a necromancer to control it, it will go wild.”

He shook his head dumbly. “I trusted you,” he said. “You said you wanted to destroy the spell, but you’re the one who cast it, aren’t you? Was anything you told me true?” He looked at her metal arm. “You said Chatham did that to you. You said it was one of his experiments—and I’ve hated him for it ever since. But you did it to yourself, didn’t you?”

She felt a spark of anger—he wasn’t the only one who had been disappointed. He had let her down, too. She tried to control her tone. “Yes. I did it. And I cast the spell.”

In the cold silence that followed, she buried her face in a shaking hand that smelled of corpse dust. She forced herself to be calm. “Emris, we don’t have long. The spell doesn’t realize what’s happened yet. It’s used to Lena, so it’s clinging on to her for now. But once it understands it’s free—”

The chamber was rent by a groan, a rattling of bones or jewelry. Constance saw movement from the corner of her eye. The dead were stirring.

“The spell has been quickening for some time now—the gaps between the periods of activity are growing shorter.” She stood up slowly, dust falling from her hunting gear. “If I accept the spell, I can stop this … and … I can bring Lena back, if that’s what it takes to convince you.”

Emris hesitated, shook his head slowly as he lifted his ear from Lena’s chest. “She’s still breathing,” he said, hope brightening his voice. “Her heart is beating.”

“What?” She blinked.

“Stand back, Constance.”