“We will go back and strike another deal with the Crone.”
I drew back enough to look him in the eye. “You’re nervous.”
“You carved a name into a tree that demands blood in exchange for truth.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course I’m wary.”
I moved my free hand to cup his face. That wasn’t the full truth behind his nerves and we both knew it. “I know who you are.”
“I highly doubt that.”
His tone indicated if I knew his truth, I would not be standing so near, embracing him as I was. His secret terrified me, but I would never get past it if I didn’t bring it into the light. I would never discover who I was, what happened to my twin, if I remained afraid of the truth. The Crone was right. I’d grown accustomed to the dark, I’d been kept in it for so long. First from Nonna, and now by my own design. It was time to set aside my fears and step into the light.
Before he could register what I was doing, I kicked the table as hard as I could, sending it tumbling over, the fruit and cheese and Cursed leaf shattering in the rubble.
He wrapped his arms around me, as if he could shield me from the Curse Tree collecting its price. But I did not feel any sudden onslaught of pain. Nor did I weaken or lose consciousness. I did not die. Did not even bleed.
Wrath held me tighter, his breathing coming hard and fast.
Tears suddenly pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Standing there, safe in the circle of Wrath’s arms, meant I was right. And the Crone was correct once more.
Now that I possessed the truth, I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought I’d been prepared, thought I could handle his secret being out in the open. I’d been wrong.
And I hated myself.
I exhaled a shaky breath, needing a moment to fully digest what I’d discovered. Wrath sensed me tunneling inward and reluctantly dropped his arms and stepped away, putting much-needed space between us. He said nothing, only waited patiently for me speak.
Blood and bones. This was hard. But I’d been through worse, and I’d survived.
No matter what happened next, I’d survive that, too.
“When you brushed off the name I’d called you in the monastery, I’d wondered if there was a reason why you didn’t react more strongly.” I swiped at my eyes, still not looking at him. “You acted as if it meant nothing, that I simply irked you.” I smiled down at my hands. “Because, according to Nonna, a prince of Hell will never reveal their true name to their enemies.”
I could feel his attention boring into me, but I still could not meet his gaze.
“I know witches and demons are enemies. But there’s more to our story, isn’t there?”
“Emilia…”
“You are temptation. Seduction.” I finally dragged my focus to his arm, nodded at the intricate snake tattoo. “The serpent in the garden. The one who’d encouraged mortals to sin.”
I pulled my attention higher, finally settling it on his eyes. I took him in, really looked at him objectively. His face, his body, his entire presence and how he carried himself screamed authority. Domination. And was designed to seduce. He was temptation made flesh.
His expression shuttered as he waited. Now, more than ever, I desperately wished I could sense his emotions. Though I suspected he was sensing mine, and that was why he’d grown so distant. His armor was firmly back in place. And he was shielding himself from me.
“I don’t know how you’ve fooled humanity for so long, but it’s as Envy said. You are the most skilled liar of all. Samael.”
His true name seemed to unsettle him. It didn’t look as if he’d taken a breath since our conversation began. He exhaled now. “Prince of Darkness. King of the Wicked. I have been called many things, but I am no liar.”
I searched his face. I’d been right. I knew it the moment the tree did not collect its due, but the truth was hard to digest. Wrath was the devil. The evil feared the world over.
And I’d stupidly fallen for his seduction. For his smoldering gold eyes and keen wit. His pride in his appearance. The way he protected those under his care and chose justice over revenge. No wonder the mortal world confused the two princes so easily—Pride and Wrath certainly shared a lot of similarities.
“You had plenty of opportunities to tell me you were the devil. You were the one cursed by La Prima. Did Pride’s wife even die, or was it your consort?”
“I have not directly lied to you.”
“Stop omitting things.”