Page 112 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

And she did.Viper to viper.

Even more, she understood the despair that stole over Adelheid’s face. There was something desolate about the resignation in her eyes.

A telltale shiver of the mist lit Lorelei’s every nerve.

She followed Adelheid’s gaze and saw the moisture in the air solidifying, sharpening. It looked like the blade of a guillotine, glinting in the dismal sunlight. It was aimed directly at Sylvia. There was always a moment of perfect stillness, of suspended breath, when Death spread his wings and drew his scythe. This time, Lorelei didn’t hesitate. She pulled on the water around them with all of her strength. And with a clench of her fist, a jagged bolt of ice pierced through Adelheid’s chest.

The ice hanging over Sylvia melted suddenly, as if its spirit had fled. It dropped harmlessly onto her head, and she let out a startled cry. Her eyes were flung wide with terror as she stared at Adelheid’s slumped body. Blood had splattered Sylvia’s face. Her breaths came in quick gasps.

Thank God. Lorelei had been so close to losing her.

She wasn’t sure if she would collapse sooner from relief or panic. Adelheid’s gaze did not break from hers, even as that horrible alien light dimmed. Her lips were painted scarlet with her blood. Her body hung limp, suspended gruesomely by the spear impaling her. It had begun to melt from the heat of her body, and bloodstained waterdrip, drip, dripped into the flood. It was horrific. She could not look away.

“You saved me,” Sylvia said. “Again.”

“You still sound surprised.”

Sylvia approached her on fawn’s legs. When she drew close enough, she wound her arms around Lorelei’s waist and collapsed her weight against her. “Oh, Lorelei. I’m such a fool.”

The steadiness of Sylvia’s heartbeat against her chest, the soothing warmth of her body, eventually brought Lorelei back down to earth. The film over her vision faded. The feeling in her limbs returned.

“You’re not.” She drew back just enough to crook a finger beneath Sylvia’s chin and tip it up. “You just always see the best in others. I don’t.”

“Could I have stopped it?” Sylvia whispered.

“No,” she said firmly. “You can’t walk down that path.”

“How can I not?” Sylvia buried her face in the crook of her neck and let out a soft whimper. Lorelei held her closer. The fairy tale Sylvia hadclung to all theseyears—thechildhood dream of the six of them, together, on the cusp of a betterworld—laydead at her feet as surely as Adelheid. “How can I not despair?”

But all around them, water dripped from the trees, like the first thaw after a long, cold winter. In the distance, birds tentatively resumed their song. She could feel the wild thrum of Sylvia’s heart.

“Because life is as bitter as it is sweet,” Lorelei said. “It’s Yevanisch wisdom I’ve never believed in. Not until you.”

Sylvia met her eyes steadily, disbelief and hope mingled.

“Now, come,” Lorelei murmured, brushing away her tears as carefully as she could. “It isn’t good to linger where the dead can hear you.”

Together, they waded through the floodwaters, arm in arm, as the fog lifted and the sun filtered down again.

Twenty-Eight

THEY ARRIVED IN RUHIGBURGnot to fanfare but to soldiers.

It was as though the wind carried the news of their arrival, for a battalion in scarlet livery lined up in neat, perfect rows along the docks with their muskets drawn and ready. This, Lorelei supposed, was their welcoming committee. Not that she was expecting festivals in the plaza, but it seemed to her a bit discourteous.

She stood on the observation deck of thePrinzessin, the wind dancing along the hem of her greatcoat. Sylvia pressed close to her side, with her arms folded neatly over the railing. Even Heike and Ludwig had emerged from the cabin to watch the city fold in around them. The last week had been fraught, but the four of them had come to a tentative understanding.

Whatever happened, they would vouch for one another.

When Lorelei had envisioned this moment, she’d thought it would be triumphant, in all the ways it mattered and all the ways it didn’t. But staring down the gray sprawl of Ruhigburg, she felt only grim resignation.

“I see Wilhelm is feeling as hospitable as ever.” Heike sniffed. “Should we be worried? I’m worried.”

“Why should we be?” Lorelei gestured vaguely at Sylvia. “We’re bringing him what he wanted.”

“I don’t think this isexactlywhat he wanted,” Ludwig said. His voice was still raspy from his brush withdeath—oneof his last lingering symptoms. “No offense intended.”

“None taken,” Sylvia said wanly.