Signa hadn’t expected her to know the truth. Hadn’t expected her to believe it. Her mouth was numb, words a struggle to form let alone speak. “He saved your life,” was all she could manage. “Multiple times, he protected you. He let me save you.”
Wrinkles marred Blythe’s forehead. Whatever Fate had told her, it certainly wasn’t this.
“I don’t care.” Blythe drew back, angry and mourning and looking every bit like her mother in that moment. “I can’t care, Signa. This is the only option. It’s the only way we have to save him, and you know it.”
As Signa let the tapestry seep into her skin, she knew with everything in her that Blythe was right. She may have been able to use Life’s powers, but was relying on them worth the risk of Elijah’s life? Was it worth the risk of whatever chaos Fate promised she would bring upon them?
He’d said that he would do whatever was necessary to get Signa away from Death, and now he’d finally made good on that promise. Because to save Elijah, there was no choice but for Signa to accept Fate’s deal.
Fate was lounging near the dance floor, feasting on a glittering petit four in one hand and champagne in the other as the balcony window shattered, Death descending in a tempest of shadows. Fate was midbite, barely having caught sight of his brother when the lights in Foxglove flickered off and Death wound his hand around Fate’s throat.
Fate’s champagne flute hit the wall, shattering as Death wrenched it from his hand. He choked on the cake, grappling for a hold as Death shoved him into the wall and pressed a forearm against Fate’s windpipe.
“You may start wars, brother, but I am always the one who ends them.” Death’s hand stretched to summon his scythe. Yet it seemed he either could not or would not raise it against his brother, for in the end that hand remained empty.
“Get off me,” Fate spat, freeing himself from Death’s hold as Signa and Blythe raced into the ballroom. “God, you’re covered with dirt. This is a party, brother. Show some decorum.” He brushed himself off, and only then did Signa notice that the bodies around them had stilled once more, some of their mouths open midscream. Beside her, Blythe covered her own mouth as Death took his brother by the collar.
“You cannot force someone to be with you,” he snarled, the air around him so tight that Fate was wheezing, face turning blue. “She’ll hate you forever, and so will I.”
“I’m not forcing anyone,” Fate barely managed to hiss, threads of gold glinting throughout the ballroom, brighter and brighter until Death eased his hold enough for Fate to draw a sharp breath. Fate had no need for words to make his threat clear; his threads were attached to everything, and Signa had seen once already just how easily he could manipulate them. “Whatever oath we enter into will be one that Signa makes of her own free will.”
“Is this why you told me to throw a party?” Signa cut across the ballroom to stand before the two men. “Not to help me, but so I would discover that I have no way to save Elijah other than to rely on you?”
“I have merely laid the pieces to watch the story unfold.” Fate’s expression darkened as he clawed himself free from Death’s grasp. “Did I not make myself clear when I said that I was willing to do whatever it took? Did I not give you the answers I promised?”
She’d known all along how unwise it was to trust Fate, though there had been no other options. She was free to accept his offer or not, but as she stole a look at Blythe and saw just how ashen she looked and how tightly she hugged her arms around herself, Signa knew there was no other choice. At least not one that would protect Eliza and the Hawthorne family.
Death had once promised he’d burn this world down for Signa. And yet it seemed she could not do the same for him, for the Hawthornes had staked their own claim on her heart, and she would do what she could to protect them. When Signa died, she would have however long she wanted with Death at her side. But for now, she looked Fate square in the eyes and said the only thing she could.
“I’ll do it.”
The moment the words had passed her lips, it felt like her world had ended. “This will be no happy union, Fate, I assure you. Every day for the rest of my life, I will fight to rid myself of you. But if you promise to free Elijah and allow the Hawthornes to live their lives in peace, I will make this deal willingly.”
“Signa…” Death sought her stare, but she refused to give it to him for fear of changing her mind. She could look only at Blythe, staring down the reason for this promise. The reason she was ready to give up everything she loved, to protect the family that had taken her in and loved her when no one else had.
“Please don’t do this. You promised me no more bargains,” Death whispered, and oh how she wished she didn’t have to. How she wished she could curl up into his arms and pretend that the sound of his heart breaking did not cleave her own in two. Every day for the rest of her living years, this decision would destroy her.
“I want one more night with him,” she told Fate, who at least had the decency to look uncertain as she approached, as if he, too, was fearful that Signa might slip from his grasp at any moment. “Give me one more night. Not to plot or to find a way out of this, but to say goodbye. Come tomorrow morning, I will pour my blood upon that tapestry and bind myself to you. But first, give me one night without sickness. Without a time limit.”
Fate’s jaw clenched. “I will not share you—”
“I am not yours!” She didn’t care about the memories. Didn’t care about what he may or may not have meant to her in another lifetime. Right now, Fate was the villain he’d sworn never to be. “You and I are not bound, and we never will be unless you agree to my terms. I want one more night.”
From his expression to his posturing, everything about Fate bristled with agitation. Still, he must have sensed that Signa meant every word. “It is more than he deserves, but I will give you your night. Only one, to say goodbye.”
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Still, she crouched to pick up a shard of broken glass and pressed it into her thumb, waiting for the blood to swell before extending it to him. “Until the moment I bind myself to you, you must agree that you will allow me not only to see Death whenever, but to touch him without harm. Swear this to me, and that you will free Elijah the moment an oath is made, and you’ll have yourself a bride.”
“Signa—” Death reached for her, and her heart nearly shattered when she sidestepped him.
Fate did not smile but looked plainly upon her as he withdrew a needle from his vest pocket, pricking it into his thumb and pressing it to hers to seal the blood oath. “I agree to your terms.”
Fate was a fool if he thought this was how he was going to win. She didn’t know how long it would take, but eventually she would escape him. Eventually she’d find Death again, whether in this life or the next.
Signa turned to him, not caring that Fate and Blythe were watching. Not caring that they were in the middle of a dark ballroom surrounded by curious spirits and Fate’s marionettes as she took Death’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss onto his lips.
Signa hated that her first thought wasn’t of the kiss itself, but that she should commit the way his lips fit against hers to memory. That she should memorize every dip and curve of his bare skin beneath her fingertips, and the wash of coolness that settled over her. The tension in her body eased as Death drew her into his chest, winding his arms around her.
“Come,” Signa whispered as her fingers closed around his. She pressed onto her toes, kissing him once more. “Let’s get out of here.”
Music resumed the moment Signa stepped out of the ballroom, hand in hand with Death. Voices trilled from within once more, laughter floating in the air as the ball swept back into action. No one seemed to remember that the lights had gone out, or anything of two immortals fighting beside them.