Cora’s hair was spread artfully across the pillow. Her hands were folded neatly at her breast. She wore a light blue summer dress, and her face was made up to look as lifelike as possible.
Even with all of this, she did not look peacefully asleep, as corpses were meant to. Her brown eyes were wide open, as if she’d been staring at the roof of her coffin.
Dubh stared down at her. He had not been sure until now. He’d seen the black smoke wreathe her, and he’d guessed. Now he was certain.
Still, he waited.
Behind him, his brothers shifted, but neither of them spoke.
The witch’s eyes fluttered shut, and then open again. She blinked slowly, several times.
Her mouth twitched, jaw flexing, as if she were figuring out the movement. At last her gaze slid to Dubh’s face, and her red lips curved into a smile.
“Finally.”