“Do you have my cornicello?” I asked. “And Vittoria’s?”
The temperature plummeted. “Do you think my wings will tempt me?” Wrath’s voice was low and dangerous as he prowled around the room. “That I’d put you at risk to get them back?”
“No. But I want to make sure when the curse breaks, we’ve truly succeeded. If your wings are restored, there will be physical proof it’s broken.” My breath came out in little white clouds as the air turned colder. Frost coated the iron chandelier above us. “We are going to get through this, Samael.” A new thought crossed my mind. My husband wanted an equal, so perhaps the loss of my magic was another burden he didn’t wish to bear. “Will you be all right if I don’t have magic?”
He cast an incredulous look my way. “You haven’t had access to your full power for twenty years, according to the way time works on the Shifting Isles, and you could cast only minimal spells as a shadow witch. Aside from my anger that they’d done that to you, and you were unable to know the truth, that didn’t matter to me in the least.”
“But this will be different. I’ll never have that much magic or power again. Is that something you’re concerned about? For your court? I’m sure there are more like Lord Makaden who would stir the pot and gossip. Call you weak. Is choosing your heart something that will bring destruction to your House?”
His anger flared as he stalked back to me. “I don’t give a high holy fuck about my court, my lady. Magic does not make you powerful. Your courage. Your heart. Your mind. Your very soul makes you a force to be reckoned with. My only concern is whether you will survive. I will take you without magic. Without godsdamn royal titles. Or care for anything other than your happiness. Once restored to my full power, I’ll have enough magic for both of us. Trust in that.”
If only he could share it. I reached for his hand, rubbing my thumb in calming circles over his skin. “We’re running out of time. Where should I stand, by the desk, or is it easier if I sit?”
He shook his head. “I’ll send for the Crone. There has to be a way around this.”
“We don’t know where she is.” I squeezed his hand gently. “And if we wait any longer, we might never have this chance again. Please. Don’t keep your heart from me out of fear.”
I let go of his hand and moved to the desk, yanking the Blade of Ruination from where he’d stabbed it and held it out, hilt first. “Take this.” Frost kissed the wood, coated the journals on each demon House. I ignored it. The temperature didn’t warm, but Wrath finally came to my side and accepted the blade. It was too soon to feel relief, but the first hurdle had been crossed. “Get the amulets and put them on. Once you’re ready, we’ll begin.”
Silently, Wrath removed a pouch from a secret compartment near the fireplace and dumped the contents into his palm. Silver and gold glinted in the firelight. Our amulets.
I felt nothing when I looked at them. No sense of nostalgia. No warm memories of blessing them each full moon with Vittoria while Nonna guided us. I saw them for what they were: objects that had caused my husband pain and torment for years. Objects that brought confusion to my memories and Vittoria’s, forcing us to remain in the dark. It was time for them to return to where they belonged. Wrath looped them over his head, jaw locked as he came back to where I waited.
He stood before me, blade in fist, and stared down. His expression was as cold as the air now. My husband was donning that mask again, becoming the king his realm needed, even beyond his court. He was becoming the partner I needed.
We’d been through hell and back, quite literally, and this would set our world right. I held my own emotions in check, refusing to show one second of doubt. If he sensed any trepidation, he would damn us for eternity.
Wrath’s attention finally dropped to my bodice. It was a simple, rose-gold gown with lavender, pale blue, and green flowers embroidered onto it. After I’d returned from Claudia, I’d quickly changed. I didn’t want any trace of where I’d been remaining, and I hadn’t put much thought into what I’d grabbed from the wardrobe.
Now I realized my mistake in wearing the pale pink instead of black. My husband would see me bleed as he twisted the dagger. Just as I’d watched his white shirt turn red when I’d stabbed him. It was not the sort of favor I wished to return.
With nimble fingers, I unlaced the front of my dress, pulling the top slightly apart—just enough to expose the bare skin over my heart. I held his gaze, pouring all the love and emotion I felt for him into it. I imagined how it felt to kiss him, how incredible it was to make love to him and feel him joined to me as if we were one.