But something different happens as I capture this soul. As the thread wraps in and out of her body, it begins to break apart, and gold flecks fall into my eyes, mouth, and hair. It’s pieces of the coin that are supposed to contain her soul.

When it’s over, Lily lies on top of me, dead weight and decay. I scream, pushing against her until I free myself of her bulk and scramble away. Then I sit, shaking, staring at her corpse. What have I done to her soul? Why did the thread refuse to create a coin? What does that mean for Lily?

My skin crawls, covered in bug bites and bits of coin dust. I brush at myself frantically, wanting to remove all traces of this night.

“If you don’t want the Order to find her, you had better get her out of here,” Natalie says. Shy hesitates, going for Jacobi, but Natalie shoos him away. “Don’t worry. I’ll check on Jacobi.”

“Come on,” Shy says, gathering me into his arms and launching into the air.

I can’t breathe right, and I keep shivering and passing my hands over my face and arms, like I walked through a spiderweb and can still feel the phantom of their silk on my skin.

“Stop moving,” Shy warns, and I freeze, mostly at the tone of his voice. There’s an edge to it. Part of it inspired by this night, part of it directed at me. Then he adds softly, “I don’t want to drop you.”

He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, and the only thing I see from this angle is his jaw and sharp cheekbones.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you in time,” he says and then looks over his shoulder.

He descends, landing in another field, setting me on my feet. What did he see that made him stop? I start to turn my head to the sky, but he prevents me, placing his hands on either side of my face.

“Anora, this is important. You are going to be taken by the Order. I am sorry I can’t keep you from them, but I won’t be far away.”

He leans forward and kisses my forehead. The move is intimate and steals my breath.

Then he’s torn from me, pulled away by a very tall and very angry shadow knight who looks just like him—his father.

“No!” Shy struggles but is held back by the larger version of himself, and there’s a prick in my neck and a gush of liquid that feels like fire rushing into my veins. I sway and am caught, held in the arms of an angel haloed in black wings.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Shy and the Aftermath