Page 177 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
Dyonisia flicked a finger. Her power released me, and I stumbled forward, gripping my crescent knife tightly in a fist.
Protect him.
Save him.
“Kill him,” Dyonisia said.
“I—”
“Kill him. I’m not in a very good mood, you know. My best Mind Manipulator is dead, one of my elites has abandoned me, and all of my monsters appear to have fled.” I barely had time to feel relief at the realization that Kimber and the exiled ones, at least, had escaped her clutches. “Prove to me that I shouldn’t give up on you, child. Prove to me that I shouldn’t just scrap this whole island and start anew.”
My blood chilled at those words, and I turned to Coen.
My muscles screamed at me to stop.
I resisted their cries, dragging myself forward, until I was positioned right in front of his blurring form.
I love you, I whispered into the void.
For Hallow’s Perch and Alderwick and the rest of the island, I could do this. No matter what Dyonisia claimed, this was a test she didn’t realize she was giving me, and I was determined to pass it.
So I plunged my crescent blade into Coen Steeler’s heart.
CHAPTER
51
Warmth gushed over my hand.
The sound of his body hitting the cobblestone was like a crack to my senses, jerking me out of a trance and straight into a nightmare.
I’ll find the right version of myself when Steeler is dead,I’d told Willa at the beginning of the year
Now, I was staring at the dead, blank-eyed form of him at my feet, and I’d never felt less like myself: hollow and cold. Oh, so very cold.
Never again. I never wanted to see this image again.
I ripped my eyes back to Dyonisia, who had momentarily gaped in surprise, as if she hadn’t thought I’d actually do it.
When she saw that Coen’s body didn’t so much as twitch on the ground, though, she smiled again—this time almost genuinely.
Her mist dissolved around us.
And as soon as my two powers flooded back into me, I used the opportunity to pounce.
Eat the corpse, I commanded the crows.
They obeyed instantly. Eagerly. Hungrily.
“Food!”
“Food!”
“Food!”
The Wild Whispering coachman couldn’t hold them back. With a great flurry of sleek black wings, the crows pulled the carriage toward Coen’s body and began to peck at every inch of his exposed flesh.
“No!” Dyonisia shrieked, flapping her hands at them. “Stop it!” She turned to the Wild Whispering coachman. “Tell them to stop! I want that body!”
