I wished for Dacia to unbridle her horse and run, but of course she did not. She had been serious about coming to wash my wounds, and not as a pretense for escape. I did not know what to do. The familiar fear of being invisible and unable to change anything, as powerless as a spirit, crushed me far more than it ever had. All my fears had been lying in wait, eager for me to leave Death’s protection. I could not bear them, and yet they did not ask, only settled on me with glee.
“She’s looking pale. How far are we?” Dacia asked.
“Not far,” Jon answered, and he pushed the horses a little faster.
The forest took on a familiar silence, and I felt the creeping dread of the trees come over me. But it was not me alone—even the others felt it. Jon whispered encouragement to Dacia not to fear, but she still looked at the forest furtively.
By the time we finally stopped, I could not bear to move. The wounds had tightened and even shifting in my seat was agony. But Jon pulled me off the horse and shoved me to Dacia’s waiting arms. “Let her soak. The pool is magic. It will stop the rot.”
“Truly? Like the pool of Bethesda, where an angel came to touch the waters?” Dacia asked.
“I don’t know if it was an angel or a magician, but yes, the waters are powerful. Same as this forest. You can feel it, can’t you?”
Dacia looked up at the trees again. “I would ask that you remain at a distance,” she said with all the austerity of a nun. “I will need to get into the water with her.”
“There is nowhere to run,” Jon said flatly. “The forest would swallow you whole.”
“I would do no such thing as run,” Dacia retorted. “I gave my word. I am innocent, and more so, I wish for your help in keeping our village safe. I will do what I can to make that happen, even if it means returning to your camp to persuade your leader.”
Jon nodded, albeit reluctantly. “I will stay on the other side of those trees. You’ll hear me whistle before I come.” He demonstrated a long trill that sounded like one of the many birds hidden in the canopy.
He pointed the way through the thick fir trees, and we turned and hobbled down the narrow path to the magical pool. Dacia slung my arm over her shoulder to help me. I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped between my teeth, my legs feeling as stiff as two planks, my weight sagging against her. I gasped when I saw the water. It was the spring that had appeared in my path months ago, when I’d first come to Death’s home.
My heart beat with hope. Were we that close? Could he feel me? I tried to reach his mind, to call for help. “He has not come for me,” I said to Dacia, so overwhelmed I could barely think about what I said.
“Who?” Dacia asked, undoing the clasp of her cloak around my neck.
“Lord Death.”
Dacia pushed the cloak off my shoulders, and it dropped in a sad heap to the ground. I stood there, dumbly, staring at her.
We were alone for the first time since that morning on the cursed winter day.
Her eyes were so blue. Blue as a cloudless summer day. In them I could see her thoughts, the memories of us together, the way she tipped her head and laughed, the tuck of her chin in prayer. “I can’t do this without you,” I whispered.
“I’m coming in with you,” she said firmly, undoing her dress and pulling off her shift. “Come on.” Her tone slipped easily back into the years of familiarity we’d shared at Josef’s.
I’d missed her. Saints, I’d missed her. I grasped her hand and obeyed without question. Together we climbed over the rock shelf and slipped into the pool. Steam twisted and danced across the surface.
The water was just as relieving as it had been back in the winter. The steam seemed to thicken to envelop us, and as the water came up to my chin, it swept away all the agony, all the pain, and sent a rippling shock of clarity up and over my scalp.
Dacia sighed and tipped her head back, gold curls coiling on the surface of the water as they slowly became saturated and sank. “Oh,” she breathed. “This is heaven. I didn’t believe him when he said the pool was healing, but now I do.”
We were so far away from Josef’s. So far away from the narrow bed and narrow life we’d shared. It was only then that I understood that my life had permanently changed the day I’d been buried. It’d somehow taken this long to sink in. And now, to save us from these bandits, I would likely have to reveal myself to be the abomination Dacia would reject. Knowing all this, I let myself do something I never could have done before. I lifted my gaze to her, allowing myself to truly look at her and drink her in, instead of quickly skimming past for fear she would see how much I cared.
Dacia had a beauty that I’d always described as pious, pure, and wifely—and I had used these words to remind myself of what she could not be to me. A way to see what I needed, rather than what she was. They were not wrong words. But they were words to avoid the plump sensuality of her pink lips. The way those blue eyes fixed on me, even when I was most invisible. The lightness of her laugh, as if there werea place in her soul where no sorrow could touch. She tipped her head farther back in the water, exposing the slender white column of her neck and the curve of her breasts as they disappeared under the surface. She let the water come up and swallow her as I only wished I could, emerging a moment later with a ripple of silver and lightness. Her hands broke the surface to push back her wet hair and wipe the lingering drops from the planes of her face. She was so beautiful it made me want to sob.
Her gaze caught mine through the twisting steam. I was too caught up in her to pretend I had not been watching. “How are your wounds?” she asked.
“I don’t feel them,” I said truthfully.
“Do you want me to look?”
The idea of her seeing those cuts or explaining how I’d gotten them was beyond my ability to even consider. “I really missed you,” I said instead, my throat dry. I felt as if this moment was a dream. A gift. Maybe it was not even real. Had I really flown away in the night? Been picked up by bandits? Or was I trapped in an illusion of the magician’s home, some trick or test?
I did not know. I did not care.
“You weren’t supposed to be taken,” she said. Her voice didn’t break or tremble, but it was hollowed out with a kind of deep grief. “I thought you had been taken because you left behind the medallion I’d given you. I never believed what they said about you.”
