I had not expected, when I woke that morning, to find this.
It was clear nearly from the moment I woke that something was amiss; there were shouts, strange noises, sounds of fighting and misery and fear. My first thoughts were for Phedre and Joscelin, and I went to their treehouse to be certain they were unharmed, but it was empty. Had they been
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Slowly, so slowly, I approached Hyacinthe, my eyes glued to his face, not letting myself look at who it was he held. When I finally stood before him I put out my hand and laid it on his shoulder. "Hyacinthe," I said, my voice quiet and hoarse. "What-- what has happened?"
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It was not at all what I thought. It was me-- but it was not, could not, for I was here-- and my next thought was for the woman who had my face, the blacksmith named Kate-- but no, for this woman's eyes were open, and they were twin to my own, down to the red spot of Kushiel's favor in the left.
I knew not what to say, what to do, and so my mouth hung open like a fish and I stood agape for several seconds, looking back and forth between Hyacinthe and the body he held, wondering how by all the gods this had come to pass.
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Once outside, she spotted Hyacinthe on the path, holding a lifeless body in his arms. She could not see the woman's face at first, but the dark hair was quite familiar, and as she drew nearer, her suspicions were confirmed.
"Phedre!" she cried, dropping to Hyacinthe's side, still utterly graceful even in her horror. "How did this come to pass?" she asked Hyacinthe, tears filling her violet eyes as she reached a hand to Phedre's hair.
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It was all she could say, all she could think to say at the sight of her near-cousin, one who had grown so very dear to her over the years, and one hand went to Hyacinthe's shoulder as she bent to press a kiss to Phedre's temple.
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