Page 36 of The Unweaver (Unwoven Fates #1)

D eath beckoned Cora into its gentle embrace. An embrace that rocked her. Then shook her. Violently.

A shouting voice pierced through the darkness. Hands were lifting her out of the water and running over her. She tried to get away, but her limbs were too weak to move, her consciousness waning.

“Let me… die,” she thought she said. “I’m… already… dead…”

* * *

Cora dreamed of death and the death of dreams. Time passed with only dim glimpses of lights and voices in the darkness. The meaning of their words slipped through her hands like water. Darkness reclaimed her.

* * *

She awoke, disoriented, in a four-poster bed. Silken sheets caressed her sleep-warmed skin. Dawn’s lavender light reached through the windows in the tender silence of early morning. Memories lapped at the shoreline of her foggy mind. Memories of Teddy and sharp knives and sinking into oblivion.

Her eyes flew open. She sat up and was overcome with a wave of dizziness. There were bandages over her wrists. And a man beside her in the bed.

Malachy’s face, relaxed in slumber, came into focus slowly. Dark hair swept his brow, and his chest rose and fell with even breaths. Through his white undershirt, scars and tattoos peeked.

Was this a dream? Was this death?

As if drawn by her gaze, his eyes blinked open. Midnight blue eyes that widened with worry. He propped up on an elbow and hesitantly clasped her shoulder, handling her with care lest she break. “Cora,” he said, soft and earnest, his features marked with concern. “Are you… all right?”

Her hand felt like it belonged to another when she touched his face. His gaze never wavered as she traced the rasp of his stubble, the softness of his lips. “Are you… real?” she croaked in a broken, faded voice.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Am I dreaming?” Gently, he shook his head. “Am I dead?” Another gentle shake. Her hand dropped. Sitting up, dizziness swept over her. Tears swam in her eyes and poured down her cheeks. “Oh. Oh god. No. No , not again—”

“Cora—”

“You should have let me die!” She thrashed out of the silken sheets, almost tumbling to the floor when arms clamped around her in a fierce embrace. She struggled against them, but the fight left her as sobs racked her body. Without protest, he pulled her onto his lap and cradled her against his chest.

“I only want to die,” she cried.

He held her so tightly she wasn’t certain who was supporting whom. “Please don’t go,” he rasped, voice ragged with pain. “Now I’ve found you at last, please don’t go.”

The floodgate of tears burst. Cora wept herself empty in his arms. Soothing hands stroked her back. Soft murmurs filled her ears. Gentle kisses caressed her face. “You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered, and she wondered if he was telling her or himself.

The sun was low when her tears receded, and she could breathe again. Unfairness stung through the crushing despair. It was her life, her choice to end it. A choice he’d robbed her of. Bane had no right to interfere—their Binding Agreement had died along with him, and he held dominion over her no longer. Dying in peace was her decision. How could she live while Teddy was dead?

She burned with anger and shame at Bane’s interference. Yet with the pit of sorrow yawning open, she was desperate not to be alone with the aftermath.

“I don’t want to be me anymore,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I know that feels true right now.” He smoothed back her hair. “But it won’t always.”

She burrowed into the crook of his neck where her tears had turned his shirt translucent. “My reason to live is dead.”

All she had wanted, from one wretched day to the next, was to be with Teddy. But he had hated himself more than he loved her. He had been her everything, and she hadn’t been enough. Even in death, he didn’t want to be near her. Memories weren’t enough to survive on.

“You’ll find another reason, Cora.” He tucked her tighter against him. “It might not be today nor tomorrow, but one day you’ll wake up and have a reason to get out of bed again. Anyone that says there’s a grander meaning to life is probably trying to sell you something, but I think the meaning is what we make of it. Whether that’s to achieve some purpose, or that we’re simply born to be alive, the way an animal or a flower is.”

“What if I never find a reason?”

“You will. A lifetime of trauma doesn’t disappear overnight. We’ll both have to learn how to live again, eh? One day at a time.” He kissed her temple. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you’re not ready, I’ll wait.”

With a quavering breath, she rested her cheek on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Strong and certain.

“Teddy… did it to himself.” Her voice broke on a sob. “After everything we’ve gone through, he did it to himself. I told him about b-burying him, and he was so upset with me, he threw me out of his Deathscape. I… I don’t think he’ll ever speak with me again.”

“Give him time, Cora. Death is an adjustment. Teddy wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

Pulling back, she looked into his blue eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Specter’s Scourge? The hopelessness of reanimating him?”

His mouth twisted in a grimace and his gaze landed on her bandaged wrists. “I was afraid… this would happen. I wanted to protect you from hurt, but I only hurt you more. I fucked up and I’m more sorry than I can say. I sensed something was wrong, while I was trapped in the Dream Realm. And when I saw you, I knew that you— And I woke up.”

“How?”

He lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “There is a thread of fate woven between us not even death can sever. No matter what happens, remember this: I am happy you were born, Cora. I am happy you’re alive.”

She glanced away, swiping her tears. “Happy to have a suicidal Necromancer that can’t die.”

“Oh, mo chroí . This whole time, everyone wanted to cheat death except the one person that actually can. You’ve defied death, yours and mine, with resurrection . How many have a second chance at life? Maybe second time’s the charm for us, eh?”

Mournful humor danced in his eyes and a soft smile played on his lips. Something had shifted inside him, like shutters removed from time-soldered windows, letting the light stream in and be reflected back, all the brighter for its long absence.

She traced the resurrection scar over his heart. The rolling hills of his Deathscape had been tranquil. He’d made peace with death long before it claimed him, yet he had sacrificed everything—his spirit, his humanity—to circumvent it.

Breaking Koschei’s Egg had fulfilled Ghose’s prophecy in unanticipated ways, bringing Malachy’s death to life and giving him another chance. With his dark blue eyes, she wondered if his spirit was whole now. Or as whole as it could be after… everything.

“Are you sorry not to have cheated death forever?”

Gathering her closer, he covered her hand with his own. Their hearts beat in tandem.

“If everything that happened led to this?” He mulled over her question. “No. Who wants to live forever? Back then, life was a misery I wanted to prolong. I tore out my own heart for power. But I wasn’t really living. Only surviving with a sliver of my spirit that grew darker each year. But now, I feel… I feel . After decades of numbness, I can feel again. I am more than I was, and less than I have been. Considering the alternative, I’ll take it.”

“How… old are you?”

He laughed. A deep, rich rumble that warmed her broken heart. “Technically, my hundredth birthday was in June.”

She assessed him with new eyes. “I knew you were an older man, but... Jesus. So, you’re a hundred-year-old spirit in a thirty-five-year old’s body? Bloody hell, everything about you makes so much sense now. No wonder you’re this cynical. You’ve got a century’s worth of disappointed hopes.”

“You would too if you lived through the entire Industrial Revolution.”

She marveled at him. Countless questions formed on the tip of her tongue, silenced by the gentle stroke of his fingers through her hair.

“You’ve saved my life more than once, and in more than one way. But…” His hand fell and clenched the sheets. “I don’t know if I can live with myself. All the things I’ve done… All the unforgivable things I’ve done. Christ, I’m the abomination.”

His agony resonated with her own. In front of her, he was only dipping his toes into the bottomless waters of regret. In private, he was probably drowning in them.

After a painful silence, she said, “You showed me more kindness with only a sliver of your heart than anyone with a full one ever has. Honestly, I’m amazed you weren’t even more of an arsehole.”

He met her gaze, brows rising and lips curving. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

Her mouth lifted, then fell. Smiling felt unnatural. Wrong. “I don’t know how to live with myself either,” she confessed. “I buried one sibling, and it nearly killed me. You buried a dozen. You’ve survived a century and can still smile. How? Does it get better?”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it eases them. Someday, you’ll remember Teddy without all the pain.”

The raw, ragged hole where her heart had been begged to differ. “What happened to your family?”

Jaw working, he was quiet for several moments. “I was careless back then.”

“The last thing anyone would accuse you of being is careless. What changed?”

“I did.” He grabbed the Doomsday Watch from the nightstand and contemplated its silver face. “Sixty seconds and a pocket watch changed my life forever. For years, I’d watched Master Ghose’s descent into depravity. Lazlo and I were his so-called apprentices, though I was twice the lad’s age and not there by choice. By the time we’d chased Koschei’s Egg down to a shack in Siberia, Ghose was beyond redemption. More demon than man, his eyes blacker than coal as he corrupted his spirit with the Profane Arts.”

He set the watch down. “I couldn’t let the demon have that kind of power.”

“So you took it for yourself.”

His gaze slanted to her. The light in his eyes disappeared like the sun behind clouds. He looked away. “To mixed success.”

It chilled her to see him retreat behind a familiar wall. Weariness and exhaustion had caught up to them both. Nestling closer, she closed her eyes and breathed in his evergreen scent. “Tell me about Ireland.”

She fell asleep to the soothing rumble of his voice and the rich melody of the Irish he fell into, the lilting rise and fall of unfamiliar words rocking her into a dreamless slumber.