My lips parted. My lungs filled with the scent of him—meadows and pine and trouble.
Then he whispered, “Lux tenebras eodem modo desiderat, quo tenebrae lucem.”
The words settled over my chest with quiet intensity. Like stones dragging me under. Like goodbye.
“What did you say?”
But instead of answering, his lips grazed mine, and time forgot how to move. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a whisper. A vow. A promise. Of what I didn’t know. But the feeling, it rooted into my skin, into my flesh.
Something cold softly landed on my cheek, and I reached for him, only to grasp thin air. My eyes opened to my own reflections staring back from the mirrors.
I was alone. My fingers touched my lips. The warmth still lingered, his scent clinging to the night air. And the pendant—green and gleaming—rested against my chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ELODIE
After what felt like an eternity standing in the cold, while the snowflakes danced around me, my thoughts slowly returned. I cut through the hall, passing masked people drunkenly wandering on the staircases as muffled music drummed from the great hall.
It sounded like the party had changed since I left it behind. The classical tunes we had waltzed to erupted into a wild, pulsing electronic remix.
The performer with butterflies swallowing her body was still hanging from the ceiling, her moves heavy with tiredness. The big hand on the grandfather clock, standing lonely in the hallway, was only a few minutes from hitting midnight. I hurried up the stairs, and was passing a mirror when it suddenly fogged. I stilled, turning to face it. Slow curls appeared on the silver surface.
My breath stuttered.
I stared without blinking. The tale of the Monster pulsed in my head. It could be anyone, its face unknown. The cold, gnawing feeling that had been scratching at the back of my mind earlier settled into my stomach.
“Elodie.”
A hand landed on my shoulder and I stiffened, drawing back, before whirling around to face Declan’s golden lion mask.
“Finally,” he breathed, then glanced around, pulling his mask off. “You have to tell me where he is.”
I frowned. “Where who is?”
“Varden.”
Varden.The air stilled. As in my dead fiancé?
“I don’t have time for this,” I said, the mirror staring at me from the corner of my eye.
Declan twisted the rings on his fingers, his eyes flickering over the hall. “VardenAldridge,” he whispered, leaning closer, and I drew back.
“I know his name,” I bit out. I really didn’t have time for this. I moved to pass him, but his hand stopped me, wrapping around my wrist.
“How long have you been working with him?”
I blinked, confusion mixing to my annoyance. “Working with who?”
He leaned in again, acting like a lunatic. “Varden.”
I shook my head. “You should drink some water, Declan.”
“Abraxas saw you with him,” he pushed, his voice accusing.
Abraxas? The creepy boy from the garden?
“That’s not possible. Varden Aldridge is dead. You should know that best,” I pointed out, remembering the poem of The Dance of the Flowers. I couldn’t be certain if my theory about the three families being involved in the death of the Aldridge family was true, but if it was?—
