Page 133 of To Dance with Death

“He deserves to suffer, and I can’t deny I wish to see him cast into the Sands. But…I think I don’t want to know. I don’t want to think about him ever again. I don’t want to carry any piece of him back with me—and that includes knowledge of what has happened to him.”

Emilia’s gentle hand drops to my wrist, then she folds my arm into hers. “Forget him, then. He is no longer your burden to bear.”

“And you?” I ask. “You shouldn’t have to bear him, either.”

At that, she smiles, and it’s such a beautiful sight. It looks like freedom.

“This is no burden for me, my darling girl. I have long awaited his trial.”

I grin in return. “Then do your worst.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Thanks to the mirror, the portal opens beneath the palace in Ansa once more, allowing me to return with Sundar’s wisp of a soul draped in my arms.

Even so, it was difficult to leave Emilia. At least I know I’ll see her again one day.

For now, I have much to do. I don’t know where to find Anton, or Sundar’s body, but I am determined, my steps quickening as I attempt to find my way through the tunnels underneath the palace. My body feels as frail and weak as it always did, but it’s a reminder that I’m alive.

It’s not that I welcome the pain, exactly. But though it has stolen so much from me, I stole something back from it.

Pride.

More so, I didn’t let it take my triumph.

I make it to the upper floor, emerging into one of many main halls. Apparently, I’ve found my way past the kitchens, because a voice chirps out, “Vasalie?”

I swing around. Marian’s smile is so wide it brings about one of my own—until she sees the wisp of blue in my arms, like a veil laidacross them. “I need to find Anton or Laurent,” I say. “I don’t have time to explain.”

“You’re in luck,” she says, shepherding me inside the kitchen. And there’s Laurent, picking at a fresh scone.

“Vasalie? Oh, oh my souls. That is—”

“Sundar,” I affirm.

Without time for a proper reunion, Laurent leads me to an insulated room beneath the wine cellar. It’s a frigid space where ice is brought in from the mountains every few days, he tells me, and they keep it insulated with straw and sawdust. Sundar’s body was stored in a steel box, one that was also insulated, and together with two other servants, they carry it into an empty storage room, only then daring to pry it open.

I imagine Anton doing just this when he returned my soul to my body. Mercy had given me instructions for this, too, simple as it is, and when I asked if he would experience the same war between his spirit and his flesh that I did, she informed me that he wouldn’t—and neither would I. Kastiel set all that to rights.

Once I lay Sundar’s soul overtop his body, it seems to melt right in. Color returns to his face over the next few minutes, but it will take several hours, if not days, for him to wake. Meanwhile, Laurent instructs the staff to carry his body into a guest suite next to Gustav’s. “He will be watched night and day, and you will be informed the moment he wakes.”

I smile gratefully and nod. And, finally, we have a chance to talk. I tell him about all the happenings, everything that led to this moment.

When we reemerge into the kitchens, I stop short at the sight of Brigitte, standing right behind Marian.

Rise from your ashes, my dear. Do not crumble alongside them.

I can’t help the tears that fall. “You’re here.”

“I went to get her the moment I returned from the Gathering,” Marian tells me. “His Majesty sent an escort with me. Illian’s courtwas in upheaval, and it took us awhile to find her, but find her we did. She’s living here with me now.”

“Marian told me all about the Gathering,” Brigitte says, smiling softly. “And look at you, a hero.”

It’s me who bounds toward her, hugging her close. “What you did—”

“I did little,” she says.

“You treated me with kindness,” I rebut. The only one who had, after Illian brought me out of that cell.