“Only to die less than an hour later.”
“But that wasn’t because of you,” Ezra reminded me. “His second death had nothing to do with that.”
But hadn’t it?
I tried not to think of that night, of what’d happened when Tavius had gone to my mother to tell her what he’d seen me do. The Queen had promptly lost her ever-loving mind. Granted, I was sure discovering that your child had brought life back to a dead barn cat would be quite unsettling, but enough that she had ordered the cat to be captured and…?
Squeezing my eyes shut, I reopened them as Ezra said, “You can help her.”
I slowly shook my head. Marisol had always been kind to me. She was a good person. “Butters was a cat—”
“Have you done it since?” Ezra challenged. “Have you given life back to some poor creature since then? I’m sure you have, so don’t lie. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals. There’s no way you haven’t.”
I thought of the kiyou wolf.
“Have you tried it on a person?” Ezra asked.
Immediately, Odetta replaced the wolf. That was what I’d been about to do when she opened her eyes, but I’d been panicked then. I hadn’t been thinking. I was thinking now.
“Ezra…” I loathed the mere idea of refusing her. She was family. The real kind that went beyond shared parents and even blood. On more than one occasion, she’d been there to shield me from Tavius’s barbed remarks when I’d been the Maiden and couldn’t talk back. It was always Ezra who stayed close to my side during the rare moments when we all gathered—like last night—so I didn’t look as awkward as I felt. She saw me as someone and not a thing. But bringing back a dead person?
“I haven’t tried it with a mortal,” I said.
“But you can at least try now, Sera. Please? There is no harm in trying,” she said. “If it doesn’t work, then I know…I’ll at least know we tried everything. And if it does? You will have used this gift you have to help someone deserving.” She carefully dabbed at the blood on Marisol’s neck. “And if it works, I’ll make sure she doesn’t realize how injured she was. No one but you and I have to know the truth.”
Pressure clamped down on my chest as I stared at Marisol. The chalky gray pallor of death hadn’t yet set in. The animals I’d brought back had all been normal afterward, living until fate or old age took them once more. But people had to be different.
“Please,” Ezra begged, and my heart squeezed. “Please help Mari. I can’t… You don’t understand.” Her voice cracked as she focused on Mari. “I just can’t lose her.”
The breath I drew hitched in my throat as I glanced between them. Things began to fall into place. The two had been close, from childhood and into adulthood. Marisol remained unmarried, and Ezra had shown no interest beyond courtesy in any of the numerous suitors who’d called upon her. I thought I might’ve just figured out why.
“Do you love her, Ezra?” I whispered.
My stepsister’s gaze lifted to mine, but there was no hesitation. “Yes. I love her very much.”
Love.
I wondered what it felt like to care for someone so deeply and completely that you would be willing to do anything for them. I’d barely felt anything beyond passing curiosity and lust, and the gods knew I’d tried to feel more—to want more and seize it. But nothing like that had ever sparked for those I met in the Garden District.
I had no idea how it felt to have that kind of love inside you. Was it as exhilarating as I believed it to be, or was it terrifying? Both? I knew it had to be miraculous. And I knew I couldn’t let Ezra lose that.
Cursing under my breath, I leaned forward. “I have no idea if this will work.”
“I know.” Her eyes met mine. “I wouldn’t ask this of you, but—”
“You love her, and you would do anything for her.” I knelt before Marisol’s legs, unable to believe that I was actually doing this.
“Yes,” she rasped.
I reached out, placing my hand on Marisol’s. Her skin already felt different due to the lack of pumping blood. I ignored the feeling as I curled my fingers around hers and did what I’d done before. It required no real concentration or technique. Warmth poured into my hands, causing them to tingle. Moving my eyes to Mari’s face, I simply wished that she was alive.
But there was no sign of life from Marisol.
I stretched up, placing my other hand on her cheek. Live. She should live. Like Ezra, she was actually helping the people of Lasania. She was good. Live.
Something happened then as another firework exploded in the distance. With my touch.
I gasped. Or maybe it was Ezra. It could’ve been both of us at the sight of the faint whitish glow seeping out from under my skin and along the edges of my fingers.
“I don’t remember that happening with Butters,” Ezra whispered.
“It…it didn’t.” I watched with wide eyes as the silvery glow throbbed, sluicing over Marisol’s skin. The light…it was eather. The thing that had to fuel my gift. I had just never seen it coming from me before.
But still, nothing happened.
Sorrow for Ezra and Marisol started to creep into me, and the warmth dimmed in my hands, along with the faint radiance. “I’m sorry, Ezra, but—”
Marisol’s fingers twitched against mine. Then her hand jerked. Her entire arm spasmed.
“It worked,” Ezra uttered hoarsely and then said louder, “Did it work?”
My gaze shot back to Marisol’s face. I swore the warm undertones had already returned to her skin, but it was hard to tell in the lamplight. I didn’t dare speak, and in the farthest corners of my mind, I thought of the seamstress. What if she came back like that?
I probably should’ve thought of that beforehand.
Marisol’s eyelashes fluttered as her chest rose in a deep, sucking breath that ended in a hacking cough that rattled her entire body. I saw her teeth then. No fangs, thank the gods.
It’d worked.
Good gods, it’d actually worked.
Letting go of her fingers, I leaned back as I looked down at my hands. I lost my balance, falling onto my butt as Ezra clasped Marisol’s shoulder.
It’d worked.
A sudden breath of cold air touched the damp skin of my neck, causing my head to jerk up. A shiver crawled its way down my spine. I slipped my hand under my hair and clasped the back of my neck, feeling nothing but skin.
“Take a couple of deep breaths.” Ezra glanced at me, eyes shining before she shifted her focus back to Marisol. “How do you feel?”
“A little woozy. My head aches like it’s been trampled by horses.” Marisol frowned, turning toward Ezra. “But, otherwise, I feel fine. A bit confused, but did…did we retrieve the girl? Is she okay—?”
Ezra clasped Marisol’s cheeks and kissed her, silencing whatever she was about to say. And it was no friendly peck.
I guessed that cleared up any doubts about their relationship I might’ve had because it was the kind of kiss I’d read about in those books—the kind I had shared with Ash.
When they parted, there was a dazed sort of smile on Marisol’s face. “I have a…a strange feeling that I might’ve done something incredibly unwise.”
Ezra laughed hoarsely. “You? Do something unwise? Not this time.” She smoothed her thumbs over Marisol’s cheeks. “You were knocked aside. You hit your head.”
“I did?” She pressed a palm to her temple. “I don’t even remember falling.” She lowered her hand. “Sera?” A slight frown pinched her brow. “What are you doing here?”
“Ezra thought you died,” I said. “So, she brought you here so I could help bury you.”