“How did you do it?” I ask. I have to know, in case my mother ever falls again—so I can save her myself.
Wilde releases my hand, extends her palm, and catches a snowflake on it. We both stop walking as she studies it, as if committing every last detail to her memory. I watch her, somewhat awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say.
When the snowflake finally melts from the body heat coming through her glove, she looks at me and says, “Everything beautiful must die eventually. And to her, your father was the most beautiful thing in the world. All she needed was to understand that.”
And, of course, that explains everything and nothing, but I’m thankful for it either way.
~~~
I still feel sort of awkward being alone with him, but I couldn’t put it off any longer, so I pulled him aside.
Feve stares at me with dark eyes, waiting expectantly. “Are we just going to look at each other all day, Icy?” he asks.
I take a deep breath. “Look, I know things have been…rocky for us from the start, but I want to thank you. I don’t know if my sister will wake up, but she’d be dead without you; and you never backed down from a fight that wasn’t really yours in the first place. So thank you.”
Feve raises his chin, cocks his head to the side, looks at me thoughtfully. “I still don’t like you much,” he says, “but I accept your thanks. And you did save my life once. Who knows, maybe we’ll become friends one day.”
Not today, I think. “Maybe,” I say, nodding.
Chapter Thirty-Five
They’re leaving later today, Siena and Circ and Wilde and Feve and Skye.
Going to find the Stormers. To find Jade, if she’s still alive. It may be the last time I see any of them again. Buff’s going too, even though I’m not. He said he’ll get my revenge for me, as long as I take care of his family.
I’m scared of losing all of them, but I won’t abandon my family, not when we’re so broken to pieces, and yet feeling like we have the potential to be whole again.
Skye said she’ll come around later to say goodbye, but I think she’s delaying it as much as I am.
Mother’s out. I know, it sounds weird even to me. She hasn’t been out in a long time, doing normal things. The bakery, which was burned to the ground during the Stormer attack, has been temporarily relocated and is back up and running, so she took some of Abe’s silver and went with Wilde to buy some fresh bread. I’m thankful we don’t have to eat Buff’s hard rolls anymore.
I’m holding Jolie’s hand, just holding it, telling her a story. A story about her brother’s bravery, about how Wes was her hero, trying to break down walls to get to her, to save her. How he gave his life to save hers. My tears are flowing before I’m even halfway finished.
That’s when I feel it.
A twitch. Her finger moves beneath my grasp.
I swear it does.
I stop speaking, stop moving, wait.
Nothing.
Nothing.
My imagination or a random muscle spasm. Nothing more. I can’t hope for more.
So I go back to telling my story, hoping for the day when a twitch is real and turns into more—
She twitches again and I know this one is real because right after it her mouth opens and she yawns—really yawns!—lifts an arm above her head and stretches—
And I’m staring, just staring, tingling all over, my mouth gaping open, but sort of turning into a smile, but sort of not, because I could wake up anytime and it could all be a dream, but then she’s opening her eyes, pushing the sleep—the long, long sleep—out of them with a little fist, the way she always has and—
—looking at me, really looking at me, with adoring eyes that I’ve missed so much, missed more than I even realized until I see them right now, at just this perfect, perfect moment.
“Dazz?” she says, and it’s the same voice that spoke to me when the king had her, when he was stabbing her, trying to take my whole life away from me for no reason other than he could. But she’s not in his grasp anymore, won’t ever be in his grasp again, and I drop to my knees and I hug her, feeling an explosion of warmth and love running along and through every part of me, concentrating in my chest, right where my heart is beating furiously for my sister. My sister who’s alive.
Alive for good.
~~~
I’ve been arguing with Jolie for near on an icin’ hour now.
After all the tears and the hugs and the mourning for Wes and the big family reunion with my mother, Jolie demanded I tell her everything. So I told her the whole story, and I told her the parts about Skye—leaving out certain details, of course—three times over, because she wanted to hear them again and again, and I’d do pretty much anything for her right now.