Page 134 of A Resistance of Witches
She paused, trying to feel her. There was so much she wanted to say, and she was suddenly choking on her grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I need to tell her—” She faltered, unable to form the words. “I love you,” she said to the air. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save—” The words caught in her throat and lost their shape. Henry held her tighter.
“She’s so proud of you,” he whispered.
He looked up suddenly, almost as if he were listening to something. After a moment, he nodded.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
•••
Henry held on gentlyto Lydia’s hand as she closed her eyes, letting just the tips of their fingers brush against each other. She waited, unsure what was about to happen, feeling her skin prickle in the chilly room.
Then a rush of cold swept over her. It spread through her bones and her flesh, and suddenly she felt as if she were not fully alone inside her own skin. Her body felt strange to her. Alien, but also familiar. She could feel emotions that were not hers, a deep, primal love.
She saw things inside her mind, as clearly as if she were watching afilm. She saw herself as Evelyn had once seen her—a squalling infant with thick black hair and startling gray eyes. The serious child, all knees and elbows, who seemed to see everything, and miss nothing. The woman—that beautiful, brilliant perfectionist, so hard on herself that it broke her mother’s heart. Evelyn had adored them all with a savage, sharp-edged love.
And she saw Evelyn too. Not just as she’d died, but as she’d once been—a young woman, fierce and vibrant, running wild through the streets of London, bursting with magic so strong her skin could barely contain it. An expectant mother, barely older than Lydia, carrying her child inside of her, singing lullabies to her daughter in those last quiet days before she greeted the world.
We shared a body once before, she heard her mother say.I loved you then, long before we’d even met. I will always love you.
She sounded so far away, Lydia thought, and even as she thought it, she began to feel Evelyn fade. The memories were slipping away from her, like waking from a dream.
I think I’m going, love.
“No, Mum, stay.” Her hands felt warm, when just a moment ago she’d been so cold. Something was seeping out of her, slowly but surely. Henry twined his fingers more tightly with hers. “She’s leaving,” she sobbed.
“I know.”
She had never felt so alone.
“Mum?”
Silence. Terrible, heartbreaking silence. Lydia held her breath, and there, underneath her own thoughts, and her heartbeat, she thought she could hear her mother’s voice. She was humming a song. A lullaby.
And then she was gone.
Forty-One
Lydia stood alone under a carpet of glittering stars. The air was icy, and mountains loomed around her, casting shadows over the white castle. Overhead, the crescent moon hung like a pendant in the sky.
Rebecca appeared beside her. They stood in silence for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said. “About your mother.”
Lydia couldn’t seem to speak, the grief snatching the words from her mouth. She felt a deep ache in her rib cage, as if someone had cut a hole where her heart should be.
Rebecca glanced at her. “What are you going to do about…” She nodded toward the castle. Sybil was inside, locked away in one of her own binding sigils.
Lydia took an unsteady breath. “I’ll project home and ask for a Traveler to transport her back to the academy. Sybil will answer for her crimes before the high council.”
“What will they do with her, do you think?”
Lydia looked straight ahead. “Tradition dictates that a witch who betrays her coven must burn.”
“Is that what you want?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know.” She paused. “I think she should pay for what she’s done.” It wasn’t quite an answer.
They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the night.
