and falls quietly. Steadily.
“You know, princess, I’d feel a hell of a lot better about tonight if you’d pop those beautiful eyes of yours open and give me a kiss goodbye.”
Her lids flutter. I want to hope they’ll do more than that, but I know miracles don’t happen.
I part my lips to speak again when her fingers twitch.
The words I was about to utter die on my rushed inhale.
Her eyelids quiver, and then they lift, and I get to look upon the most priceless jewels—Cadence de Morel’s aquamarine eyes.
“Slate?” Her voice is broken, hoarse.
My heart expands so suddenly I think it might injure my ribs. My dying wish came true. Not only is she awake, but she remembers me. I lean over, thread my arms between the wires and tubes and take her face in my hands. “Thank fucking God.”
She raises a hand, knuckles my week-old stubble.
I swallow the rawness that’s gripped my throat. “How I’ve missed you, Mademoiselle de Morel.”
“I would hope so.” Her smile ignites something in me. Something that hurts, because it’s about to burn out.
I lean forward and graze her bruised, pale skin with my lips—her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, her nose—before finishing with a soft kiss on her mouth.
The machines beep out of time as though hooked to my own pulse.
Suddenly, the door of the room flies open, and the student nurse hurries to the bedside. “Mademoiselle de Morel!” When she sees Cadence is awake, her eyes grow wide with relief. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” Cadence smiles at me, and the sight fucking takes my breath away. “More than okay.”
The nurse resets the machines. “Let me call the doctor. She’ll want to see you.”
When the door closes, Cadence’s grin turns fiercer. “We did it. We defeated the Quatrefoil.”
I swallow down a sharp prickle in my throat. Do I go with it, or set her straight? I don’t want to upset her.
I don’t have a chance to decide, because her gaze falls on the Bloodstone, and her face goes from pale to bone-white.
“Slate, why are you still wearing the ring?”
I clear my throat. “It . . . well . . . it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re alive and your brain’s working.”
“Take it off. We defeated the Quatrefoil. Take it off.”
“Cadence—”
She sits up, her breaths coming faster and faster, making the machines go wild. “Ares crumbled. I got the leaf. I got it.”
“Cadence, it’s okay—”
“I got my piece, Slate. I won it!”
The machines bleat anew.
“We looked for it.” I avert my gaze, smooth a crease in the sheet that covers her body.
The door swings open again.
“Can you give us a fucking minute!” I snap.
The nurse freezes midway to Cadence’s bed. “I was just going to switch off the machines.”
“Okay. Switch them off.”
She does it, then rolls the equipment against the wall. “If you’re upsetting the patient, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Cadence’s eyes flash. “He’s not upsetting me!”
The nurse blinks before trundling out. She’s probably going to phone up Rainier. Fucking Rainier, who’s going to have a lifetime with Cadence while I get a handful of seconds. My tongue itches to reveal all Nolwenn said, but I think of Gaëlle’s twins, whom I have yet to meet, of her stepson, whom I have met. I won’t betray her or them, but she better hold up her end of the bargain or I will fucking haunt her ass like Matthias haunted her daughter-in-law.
“Slate, how long have I been in the clinic? How much longer before the new moon?”
Before I can answer that it’s already risen and will soon set, the whole Quatrefoil crew piles into the room—Adrien, Gaëlle, Alma, Bastian.
“Alma!” She yanks the IV out of her arm and scoots off the bed to give her best friend a one-armed hug before returning to my side. “I had the leaf before . . . before . . .” She puts a hand on her rumpled hair. “We have to go find it. It must still be there.” She twists her neck left and right, most likely looking for her shoes. “I remember where I dropped it.”
“We searched everywhere.” Adrien rubs his chin, eyes downcast.
“You mustn’t have searched everywhere,” she snaps.
My eyes slide to my watch. For once, I hope Bastian’s calculations are wrong. But they never are.
He glances at me, his eyes bloodshot and swollen behind his glasses. Ever since our botched attempt at removing my finger yesterday, he’s been bawling on and off like a freaking