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Pressure clamped down on my chest as I stared at Marisol. The chalky gray pallor of death hadn’t yet set in. The animals I’d brought back had all been normal afterward, living until fate or old age took them once more. But people had to be different.
“Please,” Ezra begged, and my heart squeezed. “Please help Mari. I can’t… You don’t understand.” Her voice cracked as she focused on Mari. “I just can’t lose her.”
The breath I drew hitched in my throat as I glanced between them. Things began to fall into place. The two had been close, from childhood and into adulthood. Marisol remained unmarried, and Ezra had shown no interest beyond courtesy in any of the numerous suitors who’d called upon her. I thought I might’ve just figured out why.
“Do you love her, Ezra?” I whispered.
My stepsister’s gaze lifted to mine, but there was no hesitation. “Yes. I love her very much.”
Love.
I wondered what it felt like to care for someone so deeply and completely that you would be willing to do anything for them. I’d barely felt anything beyond passing curiosity and lust, and the gods knew I’d tried to feel more—to want more and seize it. But nothing like that had ever sparked for those I met in the Garden District.
I had no idea how it felt to have that kind of love inside you. Was it as exhilarating as I believed it to be, or was it terrifying? Both? I knew it had to be miraculous. And I knew I couldn’t let Ezra lose that.
Cursing under my breath, I leaned forward. “I have no idea if this will work.”
“I know.” Her eyes met mine. “I wouldn’t ask this of you, but—”
“You love her, and you would do anything for her.” I knelt before Marisol’s legs, unable to believe that I was actually doing this.
“Yes,” she rasped.
I reached out, placing my hand on Marisol’s. Her skin already felt different due to the lack of pumping blood. I ignored the feeling as I curled my fingers around hers and did what I’d done before. It required no real concentration or technique. Warmth poured into my hands, causing them to tingle. Moving my eyes to Mari’s face, I simply wished that she was alive.
But there was no sign of life from Marisol.
I stretched up, placing my other hand on her cheek. Live. She should live. Like Ezra, she was actually helping the people of Lasania. She was good. Live.
Something happened then as another firework exploded in the distance. With my touch.
I gasped. Or maybe it was Ezra. It could’ve been both of us at the sight of the faint whitish glow seeping out from under my skin and along the edges of my fingers.
“I don’t remember that happening with Butters,” Ezra whispered.
“It…it didn’t.” I watched with wide eyes as the silvery glow throbbed, sluicing over Marisol’s skin. The light…it was eather. The thing that had to fuel my gift. I had just never seen it coming from me before.
But still, nothing happened.
Sorrow for Ezra and Marisol started to creep into me, and the warmth dimmed in my hands, along with the faint radiance. “I’m sorry, Ezra, but—”
Marisol’s fingers twitched against mine. Then her hand jerked. Her entire arm spasmed.
“It worked,” Ezra uttered hoarsely and then said louder, “Did it work?”
My gaze shot back to Marisol’s face. I swore the warm undertones had already returned to her skin, but it was hard to tell in the lamplight. I didn’t dare speak, and in the farthest corners of my mind, I thought of the seamstress. What if she came back like that?
I probably should’ve thought of that beforehand.
Marisol’s eyelashes fluttered as her chest rose in a deep, sucking breath that ended in a hacking cough that rattled her entire body. I saw her teeth then. No fangs, thank the gods.
It’d worked.
Good gods, it’d actually worked.
Letting go of her fingers, I leaned back as I looked down at my hands. I lost my balance, falling onto my butt as Ezra clasped Marisol’s shoulder.
It’d worked.
A sudden breath of cold air touched the damp skin of my neck, causing my head to jerk up. A shiver crawled its way down my spine. I slipped my hand under my hair and clasped the back of my neck, feeling nothing but skin.
“Take a couple of deep breaths.” Ezra glanced at me, eyes shining before she shifted her focus back to Marisol. “How do you feel?”
“A little woozy. My head aches like it’s been trampled by horses.” Marisol frowned, turning toward Ezra. “But, otherwise, I feel fine. A bit confused, but did…did we retrieve the girl? Is she okay—?”
Ezra clasped Marisol’s cheeks and kissed her, silencing whatever she was about to say. And it was no friendly peck.
I guessed that cleared up any doubts about their relationship I might’ve had because it was the kind of kiss I’d read about in those books—the kind I had shared with Ash.
