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“She’s my sister, Michal.” I choke on the words, swallowing bile and remembering Filippa’s own words from so very long ago.I’ll never let the witches get you. Never.We couldn’t have known what the promise would cost us, but even then—at twelve years old—she meant it. She would’ve never left me to the Necromancer. Not even dead. “But if you’re right—if she isn’t here, and this is all an elaborate ruse—I need to make sure. I need toknow.”

“Butwhy?” His eyes dart between mine in a desperate bid to understand. “Why risk it at all? Your sister is dead, Célie, and theNecromancer can’t resurrect her without your blood. If you go down there, you could be playing right into his hands. Unless”—he lowers his voice—“youwanthim to resurrect her?”

I stare at him in shock. In disbelief. Then, wrenching my hands away— “Of course I don’t want him to resurrect her! How could you eventhinkthat?”

“I had to ask—”

“You didn’t, but if you saw what I saw—if youknewwhat he’s done to her body—” But of course Michal doesn’t understand. I hardly understand myself. The risks should far outweigh the reward, yet the thought of the Necromancer keeping my sister’s corpse, mutilating it, is just as intolerable as him resurrecting her. “He can’t have her,” I say with ringing finality.

“Fine.” Michal speaks through his teeth with forced restraint, glancing up the stairs we just descended. For all I know, Pasha and Ivan could be listening beyond them, waiting for Michal’s instruction. “Then allowmeto go and retrieve—”

“You aren’t going anywhere without me.Iam the bait, remember? Our trap on the balcony didn’t work, buthis—we can use it to our advantage, Michal. We know where the Necromancer will be, and we know what he wants. If go together, we have a greater chance of capturing him than ever before.”

“But the others—”

“Who knows what spies the Necromancer has in the castle now?” I throw my hands up in frustration—inpanic—because he still doesn’t understand. My palms have grown damp with sweat now, as cold as the stone around us. They shine pale and bright in the torchlight. “If we alert the others, he might flee. He might take my sister and vanish into thin air, and who knows when he’ll nexttry again? Who knows what else he’lldoto her? I refuse to wait another week, another day, another moment to stop him. After Pip and... and Mila... and...”

“You.” Michal clamps his teeth together, flexing his jaw in thinly veiled patience. “He won’t stop huntingyouuntil you’re dead. Do you understand that? Do you understand how this might end if we aren’t clever?” When I glare at him, resolute, he catches my hand once more, stroking my fingers as if trying to collect himself. Tocalmhimself. “You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?” When I nod, he shakes his head and says, “Do you have a weapon in that nightgown, at least?”

I hitch my skirt up without hesitation, revealing the silver knife at my thigh. “Courtesy of Louise le Blanc.”

“Remind me to thank her.” With a low curse, he brushes a swift, hard kiss upon my forehead. “Promise me that you’ll stay close, and you’ll listen to everything I say.”

A frantic nod. “Of course.”

“I mean it, Célie. If we do this, we do it together.”

Together.Though the word itself solves nothing, it sounds inexplicably like hope, like a promise, and I squeeze his hand in response, breathless with it. “I swear.”

We stare at each other for another long moment. Then— “Close your eyes,” he says, and cool air rushes through my hair as I oblige.

When I open them again a moment later, we stand on the shore of the islet.

Though moonlight shines from the far end of the cavern, otherwise, the entire grotto lies dark and silent. Even the waves have fallen calm tonight, lapping gently against Michal’s boots.

The peculiar white light has gone.

I stumble out of his arms, unsheathing the knife from my thigh and searching the barren piece of rock. Not only has the light gone, but also the glass coffins. They’ve simply—vanished. Only damp, mica-flecked stone remains where they rose from the ground like pillars less than half an hour ago. “Do you have a witchlight?” I ask Michal desperately.

Without Filippa’s body, this can hardly be a trap, and if this isn’t a trap, perhaps—

My stomach sinks in hideous realization.

Perhaps it really was just a dream. Perhaps the Necromancer isn’t here at all, and I imagined the entire thing.

Frowning, Michal pulls the stone from his pocket. I snatch it from him before I can change my mind, thrusting it toward every corner of the islet. Nothing appears in response. My shoulders slump—my heart sinks—and crestfallen, I glance back at Michal. I felt sosureshe would be here. So absolutelycertainwhat I saw in my dream was real. Or perhaps—my chin quivers now, and I clamp my teeth shut, determined not to cry—perhaps I just wanted it to be.

Because even desecrated, even stitched together by a madman, I could’ve seen my sister again. Just for a moment, I could’ve pretended she still lived.

No. I could’ve pretended I kept my promise.

Slowly, I lower the witchlight to my side. Because I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t even know what I’mdoinghere—or why I feel such bitter disappointment that I haven’t walked into a trap. “You were right,” I whisper at last. “I’m sorry. She isn’t—”

“Wait.” Frown deepening, Michal steps farther onto the islet.His nostrils flare. “I smell blood magic.”

Blood magic.

The words crash over me like a club to the head, and I dart forward to clutch his sleeve.Of course.“Are you sure?”