Page 111 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

“Two,” it countered.

“You shall have a whole kettle for all I care.” She was too desperate to bargainwell—andwhat did such a small show of generosity cost her, anyway? “Are we agreed?”

It looked spiteful but huffed out a childish “Fine.”

Lorelei nearly wilted with relief. “You’ve been following us, yes? Do you remember the man accompanying us?”

Without a reply, the alp’s form swirled into the rain. In the span of a heartbeat, it refashioned itself in the imageof...well,not quite Johann. It had captured his imposing size well enough, along with the color and texture of his overlong hair, slicked back with rain. It had also somehow mastered the tortured glint in his eyes behind the steel frames of his glasses. But its featureswere...justslightly off, more delicate, morepretty, than they actually had been.

At least someone remembered him fondly.

“That’s the one,” she said. “Now go. Call out toher—andmake sure she sees you.”

The alp hesitated for only a moment before plunging into the flood.

Lorelei’s heart thundered in her chest as she bent the mist around it to give it cover. She rummaged through her pack frantically until she found a knife, then slid off the branch. She landed with a splash. Rainand wind tore at her viciously. The current begged for her to surrender, its pleas bouncing through her head like nixie-song, but she waded in a slow circle to get a better vantage point behind Adelheid.

She had only one shot at this.

The alp had situated itself just over Sylvia’s shoulder.

Now or never. Lorelei sliced through the mist. It billowed around not-Johann, shrouding his form with a ghostly pall. From this distance, the only thing betraying him was the tarnkappe, which had taken the form of a crimson cravat. It looked like his torn-open throat.

“Adelheid,” the alp called out.

At the sound of her name, her head snapped toward him. Her entire bodycrumpled—withshock or hope, Lorelei could not be certain. She knew how itfelt—thatbreathless moment when you realized the dead might not truly bedead—butshe was beyond pity. Steeling herself, she stood and crept out of the mist, clutching the knife as hard as she dared. It felt impossibly heavy in her hands. It felt like judgment.

As she rose up behind Adelheid, Sylvia’s eyes locked on hers. Her gaze was steadyand—Godhelpher—forgiving.She could almost imagine Sylvia’s fingers encircling her wrist, guiding her true. Floating just beyond her, she could see Aaron there. It was a brutal reminder:never again. Never again would she hesitate to use her magic to protect someone. It burned up the last of her hesitation.

“Johann?” Adelheid asked brokenly.

“Seeing ghosts?” Lorelei plunged the knife into Adelheid’s back. She almost recoiled in horror. It had gone in soeasily—andAdelheid hardly made a sound.

The alp dissolved into a whirl of shadow. Adelheid collapsed to her knees, and the storm dropped like a discarded cloak. The mist lifted. The last of the rain fell in one great, shimmering sheet. Finally, the winds slowed, sweeping a lock of Adelheid’s hair over her shoulder before it died with a mournful sigh.

The three of them stood at the center of all the wreckage. The glade was a graveyard of floating branches, snapped like broken bones. Smallbodies of wildeleute floated face down in a tangle of leaves. But worst of all was Adelheid, now kneeling at Lorelei’s feet with her head bowed. Her hair fell over her face like a death shroud, but through the tangled mess of it, she looked utterly exhausted. Blood vessels had burst in her eyes, and bruises snaked down her arms. Her every breath was shuddering and wet, as though she were breathing through mud.

“I don’t want to kill you, Adelheid,” Sylvia said quietly. “We can treat this wound, surely. Don’t force my hand, I beg of you.”

It seemed to Lorelei baseless optimism, but she did not say anything.

“Very well,” Adelheid rasped. “I give up.”

“Truly?” Sylvia asked breathlessly.

“Yes, truly.” Her voice sounded broken. “I will give my family one less thing to be ashamed of. If I cannot protect them, I will at least die with honor in the capital.”

The relief on Sylvia’s face was immense. “Thank you.”

“I want to know one more thing,” Lorelei said. “Would you have kept your word to me?”

Adelheid lifted her head slowly. A challenge burned in her eyes. “For as long as it was convenient.”

It hardly even stung to hear her admit it. That was the problem with all of them. Not just the expedition, but this whole damn country. They clung to survival, striking like vipers in a mad scramble to the top. Adelheid’s reign in Ebul would have been fragile, and she knew it. She would have never rested easy another day in her life. What remained of Brunnestaad would be watching her for any cracks. But her promise to Lorelei was convenient, exactly as Wilhelm’s had been. As long as she had a Yeva in her retinue, she had one last recourse.

One more escape route.

“I understand,” Lorelei said.