Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

Resolute, I settled on a pattern to wake Reid, flicking his nose to wield it, eager to distract the others from this painfully awkward situation. One night of my own sleep in exchange for his consciousness now. Simple, yet effective. Nothing too harmful. With Reid awake, we could move on. We could gather our allies to march on Chateau le Blanc or return to Cesarine or—well, I didn’t know exactly, but we could do something other than gawk.

I flicked Reid’s nose once more, waiting for the pattern I’d enacted to dissipate. It didn’t budge. I tried again, clenching my fist this time. It actually recoiled, twisting into a different pattern altogether. And the other patterns in my web—they did too. They grew hopelessly knotted in a way I couldn’t trace or understand, as if the magic itself had grown confused.

I frowned down at him.

What the hell had he done?

Distracted by my nonsensical patterns, I didn’t see or hear Angelica move behind me. Her hand landed on my shoulder. “He will not wake,” she said gently. “Not until he is ready.”

I shot her an irritated look, shrugging away from her touch. “What does that mean?”

“His mind needs time to heal.” She dropped her hand without insult, lacing her fingers together in a maddeningly calm pose. “He is lucky to be alive, Louise. This spell could have done irreparable damage to more than his mind.”

“What spell?” When she didn’t answer, my frown deepened to an outright glower. I pushed to my feet, my cheeks hotter than usual. Claud, Constantin, Angelica—what was the point of omniscience, of omnipotence, if one didn’t use it? I shook my head. “If his mind has been harmed, why can’t you heal him? You healed everyone else!”

She only smiled again, a horrible, pitying smile. “Only he can heal himself.”

“That’s horsesh—”

“Do not worry, Louise.” A hint of that unnatural glow reentered her eyes, and I stepped back despite myself. “His injuries are not fatal. He will wake—of that, I am certain. His path forward, however, cannot yet be seen.”

The waters see things we cannot see, know things we cannot know. Constantin’s warning repeated in my mind. Angelica was a seer, and her magic shaped them.

“Your path, on the other hand, is clear.” She gestured down the narrow split in the waters. It led straight into the heart of L’Eau Mélancolique. In the silver light of the moon, the mist from its flowing walls sparkled like flecks of diamond. She looked almost apologetically to Coco. “I am sorry, fille, that our reunion is fraught with such complication. When you summoned me—”

“I didn’t know I was summoning you,” Coco interjected.

Angelica nodded, though something like pain flashed through her eyes. “Of course. When you called upon the waters, I heard it. I felt your need, and I—well, I needed to answer it.” Her voice gentled as she continued, though she spoke with no less certainty. “There is much you don’t understand, Cosette. I know you are angry with me—as you well should be—but we do not have the luxury of time for lengthy explanations and apologies.”

Coco stiffened at the straightforward words, and I squeezed her arm. Angelica was right, however; this wasn’t the time or place for this conversation. Not with Morgane and Josephine roaming near, not with a corpse at our feet, trapped between colossal walls of water. I eyed them nervously as a long silver fin flicked past.

“To do so,” Angelica continued, recapturing my attention, “you must understand three things. First, I am no longer safe outside these waters. Isla’s benevolence protects me, and she risked much in allowing me to come here. My sister lives in fear of my magic—in fear of Isla herself—but if Josephine had tried to enter these waters, I would not have been able to stop her. For as much as this magic is yours through birth, it is also hers because of our blood bond.”

She didn’t give us another chance to interrupt. “Understand this second: all of your life, Cosette, I have watched you.” Those blue eyes eddied with white, and fresh gooseflesh lifted the hair on my arms. It lifted Coco’s too. “I know where you have been and who you have loved. I know you have scoured the kingdom—from La Fôret des Yeux to Le Ventre to Fée Tombe—for allies against Morgane. You have befriended the Beast of Gévaudan and the Wild Man of the Forest. You have entranced dragons and witches and werewolves alike.”

For the first time, she hesitated, the white in her eyes flaring brighter. To me, she said, “You still wish to defeat your mother?”

“Of course I do, but what—?”

“Isla would make a powerful friend.”

Coco clutched my arm so hard that I nearly lost sensation in it. But her voice didn’t falter. “Whatever you’re trying to say, maman . . . say it.”

“Very well.” She waved her hand at the waters once more, and streaming tendrils shot forth, weaving midair to form a liquid lattice. They looked much like the roots of a glass tree, clear and bright and shining. Twining beneath Reid, they lifted his body and suspended it at waist level. I reached out to seize his hand with my free one. When Angelica motioned him down the path, the waters obeyed. He floated away from us, and I darted to keep up, dragging Coco along with me. “Stop it! What are you—?”