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“Stand down,” I ordered. Everyone but Nora obeyed.
Honestly, the fae and the cousins were better trained than some military members.
I caught Nora’s gaze, realizing that she looked like a feral thing that had been cornered. Whatever I didn’t know about her—and that was alot—I was certain that she was dangerous when corned.
“Look I don’t know what you’re going through, Nora, but maybe don’t attack the people who brought you back to life.” I had my hands out, palm facing her, in a placating gesture. It also would make hexing her faster if I needed to do so. “We aren’t your enemies.”
That, obviously, was the wrong word. Nora glared at Iggy. “He stole me away, like I was . . . chattel.”
“Iggy cares for you,” I said.
She gave me a look that could burn buildings down. “So he says. Has he lied to you? Misdirected you? Do men still do such things in this time?”
“Everyone does such things, I suspect,” I allowed.
“I do not.” Nora crossed her arms. “I remember him stealing me. My husband was distraught, destroyed the manor. Then I remember being back there without Ignatius. My door was barred, and I could hear . . .”
“I wasn’t there, andyourmemory is still wobbly. If he was the one who left you in stasis, do you suppose he is truly your ally?” I stared at her, trying to direct her toward the obvious conclusion: Chester was her enemy.
The recently dead woman nodded slightly, acknowledging my statement as valid. I think she must have been formidable in her time—which begs a question.
“How did you meet your husband?”
Silently I added,the rat gnawing bastard.Somehow, I don’t think she’d appreciate hearing my opinion of Chester spoken aloud. Yet. I wished her remaining memories would return, but I suspected it was a complicated process after decades of death.
“He was a student of my father, and over time, he won my hand.” Nora sounded less sure of herself now. “I was lucky to have such a talented man interested in me.”
“You chose him then?” I pushed.
“My father wanted a successor, a worthy student. I was the . . . incentive to accompany the knowledge. I was trained, but as a woman”—Nora gave me a rue smile—“I was thought to be less capable, so the knowledge was not solely mine. If we had created a son, perhaps, but . . . I was not worthy. Not to my husband or father. There were rules for women.”
“That, unfortunately, still remains your husband’s stance on women, Nora.”
I felt like we were connecting, making progress, but she stared at me. Silent. Thinking.
“Let Iggy go, please. Then we—”
But everything went dark suddenly, and my words were lost in sudden chaos. I couldn’t say what had happened.
All I knew for certain was that I was on the ground, and Lady Lazarus was done listening to me.
25
GENEVIÈVE
Whatever Nora had done left me on my knees, unable to rise. I felt as if a hand had reached into my chest, squeezed all the air from my lungs, and rolled those thin membranes into a crumpled ball.
I wasn’t sure if I was dying or not—and I wasn’t sure if dying wouldmatter. That was the trick of my heritage.Draugrwere, by definition, dead. I was . . . not dead, but stilldraugr. So if I died, would I wake? Would it kill Eli, as we were bound together? I had more questions than answers, so I was typically a solid member of the “death bad” camp.
But in that moment, I didn’t think it mattered. Whatever Nora had done meant that I was crouched on the floor as chaos erupted around me. The hillbilly mafia was alternately trying to attack Nora and trying to protect Eli, Beatrice, and me. At my side was Harlow, the one I’d thought was a man like the rest of the humans but whose voice made me re-assess.
Since I couldn’t move, I studied Harlow. Clean face, not a speck of stubble. Features and dress and voice all combined to say that “nonbinary” was probably the right category. Labels were weird—as I realized when I was classifying Eli as fae, Iggy as Hexen, Beatrice asdraugr,and unable to figure out what word there was for whatIam. I am those, but not just any one of those. Perhaps labels weren’t always as hard as I thought, even though some people acted like they were.
“Can you blink?” Harlow asked.
I tried.
“So that’s progress,” they said. “Once for yes. Twice for no.”
