Page 89

“Did you hear anything?” he asked.

“No.”

“You didn’t wake?”

She shook her head. Shame pressed heavy on her ribs. “I … I should’ve sensed it.”

His gaze softened. “No witch could sense anything within the Lodamante in the walls. That’s the point.”

He stepped closer. His hand twitched as if to reach towards her, but he held it still, hovering in the space between them.

“Idonea,” he said, “are you hurt?”

“No.”

He exhaled, long and controlled, and ran a hand through his hair.

She was shaking. She hadn't noticed when it started.

“Don’t look anymore,” he said.

But she did. She looked at that closed bathroom door, at the faint red smear on the stone where water had overflowed.

She had seen death before. But not like this.

“Lysander … what are we going to do?”

“We’re not going to say anything.”

She hadn't expected that. “You want to hide it.”

“I want you alive.” His eyes hardened, voice low and controlled. “A death marked with that sigil, drawn beside a Riven witch, they will not believe innocence. Not yours.”

A beat of silence stretched.

“So, we hide it,” she said.

“We hide it,” he echoed.

He unbuttoned his coat, shrugging out of it. Her pulse thundered, but she nodded.

Lysander went to gather what they would need. He rolled up his sleeves and opened the bathroom door again. The blood-smell hit her. She hadn't braced for it.

“Stay by the wall,” he said. “I’ll handle the body.”

Idonea pressed her sleeve to her nose, hating herself for the reflex. She forced her breathing to remain calm.

Lysander drained the bath with slow finality, the water sucking downward in muted gurgles. When the tub emptied, he lifted Edik’s body with care. The mechanical arm bore most of the weight under Edik's hips. The other kept the boy's head from falling back. He had carried the dead before; he'd a method.

He paused. "His hand."

Idonea looked. Edik's right was curled, the fingers drawn in tight against the palm. The flaying ran up the arm to the shoulder, precise and terrible, but the hand at the end of it had remained closed.

Lysander lowered the body back enough to free the hand. He pried the fingers open one at a time. Idonea saw his jaw clench at each one.

Dirt fell into the bottom of the tub. Dark, granular dirt that came from places that didn't see much sun. It was chapel dirt. Where Arina had died.

"It's from the chapel," Idonea said.