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Not.

“Maman,” I say quietly, and the word is a plea. “I do not think you want to know.”

“Do not presume to know what I want,” she snaps.

A spark of anger ignites in my chest at that, but I tell myself she’s grieving. I tell myself she’s hurt.

“As you wish.” With a slow exhale, I lift my chin to meet her gaze and instantly regret it. Filippa and I inherited our faces from our mother; if the two of us are black-and-white nesting dolls, this woman is the toymaker, and she carved us from her image. “When Morgane trapped me in Filippa’s casket, Death touched me. He marked me separate, and he saved my life. Because of him, I can walk through the veil between realms and speak to spirits.”

Her lips twist in dismay at that, but she does not speak.Of course she doesn’t.We’ve never spoken about that nightmarish fortnight I spent with Filippa’s corpse either. Not once. After La Mascarade de Crânes, Jean Luc returned me to my parents; he explained what had happened as my mother wept and my father stared, white-faced, out the parlor window. Neither inquired beyond the necessities—is her mind intact? How quickly will she recover?

Did anyone see?

Does anyone know?

At last, she opens her mouth to speak, but after hearing her question, I desperately wish she hadn’t. “What do you mean Deathtouchedyou? Are you quite—quite unharmed?”

A bizarre impulse to laugh bubbles up my throat, and I almost give in to it. I almost slump forward—right there on the wet marble floor—and shake with laughter at my mother’s feet. Because evenshemust sense how ridiculous, how utterly absurd, such a questionis while we’re surrounded by vampires and speaking of Death incarnate. Even she must know the answer.

Of course, the question she asked and the question she meant are two entirely different things.

Just as quickly as it arrived, the urge to laugh vanishes, and I rise slowly to my feet. “I don’t know, Maman—would you consider dying in a sacrificial ritual before reawakening as an undead creature who craves bloodunharmed, or are you simply asking if Death stole my virtue? Do you fear he ravished me in Pip’s coffin?”

Her eyes widen that I would dare voice such sensitive matters aloud, and she splutters incoherently.

She never talked to me about sex either. She never talked to me about Filippa’s murder.

I stare at her now, flames licking my insides as I remember Father Algernon’s first visit after the catacombs.Corruption of the soul, he whispered to my parents.Rotten fruit.He thought I’d been possessed by demons because of my nightmares. He thought I’d been tainted with sin. Though my mother dismissed him instantly when he suggested an exorcism, I often wondered why she ever allowed him in the house. If she’d approached me first, she might’ve realized holy water was never the cure.

And now—now perhaps it’s too late to have this conversation at all. “You should sleep,” I say tersely, gesturing to the enormous bed in the center of the room. “You have a long journey ahead of you.”

“But we haven’t finished our—”

“We have.” Stepping over the kittens, I stalk up the stairs to the door. Lou antagonizes Pasha and Ivan in the corridor beyond, and never in my life have I wanted so badly to join them. When my hand touches the doorknob, however, I hesitate, glancing down ather one last time. She still stands beside the silk dressing screen, her mouth parted slightly as she stares up at me, looking inexplicably bereft. “I’ll speak to Michal about arranging your passage back to Cesarine in the morning. You never should’ve come here, Maman.”

To my surprise, she doesn’t argue, and in the yawning silence that stretches between us, I turn the doorknob and leave.

Chapter Sixteen

The Tear in the Veil

To my relief, Pasha and Ivan do nothing to stop me when I seize Lou’s hand and pull her toward Michal’s study. They seem to care very little about Odessa’s warning. Indeed, they even share a dark look when I inform them where we’re going. “Well then,” Ivan says, bowing low and gesturing for me to precede them down the corridor, “far be it from us to stand in your way, mademoiselle. Of course you must flout Odessa and roam the castle.”

In the same politely mocking tone, Pasha says, “You know better than us, after all.”

I return their cold smiles with one of my own.

Their attitudes suit me just fine. All the more reason to leave them here. “Actually”—I bat my lashes sweetly, looping my elbow through Lou’s—“I need you to stay with my mother. She’ll be remaining in my room until morning.”

The smiles slip from their faces, and a muscle feathers in Ivan’s jaw. “We do not answer to you, humaine.”

I ignore the supposed slight.

“But youdoanswer to Michal, and Michal said you’re at my disposal, which means you’re now at my mother’s disposal too.” Turning on my heel, I tow Lou forward, and she cackles with undisguised glee at the incredulous looks on their faces. “She takes lemon in her tea,” I call over my shoulder as we round thecorner. To Pasha, I add, “And I suggest you tie back your hair—she won’t like it that way at all.”

Lou is still laughing when we reach the obsidian doors of Michal’s study. “Last chance to return to our room,” I say to her, studying her face anxiously.

“Not a chance I’m missing this.”