the wounds inflicted by the Man-Stag. The Witch confirmed his fears. When Jacob described to her who had attacked his friend, she shook her head with a vicious smile.
‘I can save his life,’ she said. ‘But I can’t do anything about him maybe wearing antlers one day. You can stay in my stable. This will take a few days, and you know the price. His life will cost you two cups of blood.’ The Witch cut off Fox before she could protest. ‘Careful now! ‘Or I might also ask for the dress that’s out there in that devil-horse’s saddlebag. I’m sure it gives you a beautiful fur.’
The Witch cut Jacob’s arm expertly, and the two cups were quickly filled. Then she rushed them out of the house. Dark Witches never allowed anyone to witness their craft. The cups had taken a lot of blood. Fox and Jacob chained the devil-horses to some trees, and Fox took the saddlebags with her. Jacob had found the fur dress in the servant’s room – and only then had the fear finally disappeared from Fox’s face.
She caught a few will-o’-the-wisps before she bandaged his arm in the dark stable. It was barely more than a shack, and definitely not the kind of place he’d wanted to take her to after the Bluebeard’s chamber. But the woods out there were no better. This will take a few days. Jacob had wanted to return to Vena as quickly as possible, to start searching for the Bastard. The moth on his chest was missing only two more spots, and the heart was no good to him as long as the Goyl had the head and the hand. But they could hardly repay Donnersmarck for all his help by leaving him alone with a child-eater. The Witch’s needle had kept him from bleeding out, but there wasn’t much life left in him. Jacob didn’t tell Fox about the fourth bite in the Bluebeard’s labyrinth. He was so relieved to have her by his side again, breathing and unhurt, that the moth seemed nothing more but a nightmare, and death was something they’d both left in Troisclerq’s red chamber.
Fox was so exhausted that she was asleep before Jacob could explain to her why he’d taken the necklace off one of the dead girls. She probably hadn’t even noticed – all she’d been concerned about was whether Troisclerq had destroyed her fur dress.
Jacob lay down next to her on the filthy straw, but he couldn’t sleep. He just listened to her breathing. At some point a crowned snake crawled into the stable, a kind found only in Lotharaine. The black lily on its head was worth a hundred gold thalers, but Jacob didn’t even lift his head. He didn’t want to think about treasure, or about the crossbow, or about having to die soon. Fox was sleeping a deep sleep. Her face was peaceful, as though she’d left all her fear behind in the Bluebeard’s house. She was back in the men’s clothes she’d worn on their trip to Albion. She’d left the Bluebeard’s dress next to her sisters-in-death. Jacob couldn’t take his eyes off her sleeping face. It finally erased all the images that had been tormenting him since Vena. It felt like a miracle that she was still alive, a magic that would pass. No Fairy island, no Larks’ Water, just a bed of filthy straw and her rhythmic breathing – yet nothing had ever felt better.
Jacob had spent years looking for one of the hourglasses that stopped time for the Empress. He’d never understood why this was one of the most coveted treasures one could find behind the mirror. There had never been a moment he’d wanted to hold on to for ever. The next one always had more promise, and even the most glorious day began to taste stale after a few hours. But now he was lying in the stable of a child-eater, his arm sliced open and death in his chest, wishing for an hourglass. He waved away a will-o’-the-wisp that had settled on Fox’s brow – they often brought bad dreams – and brushed the hair from her sleeping face.
His touch woke her. She reached out and ran her finger over the cut Troisclerq’s rapier had left on his left cheek.
‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered.
As if it was her fault he’d been too blind to protect her from Troisclerq. Jacob put his finger on her lips and shook his head. He had