“Samael.” I reached for Wrath, but he was already there, holding me. Offering his strength. He must have sensed the slight fracture in whatever held my memories at bay, and he seized upon it, turning his power into a spear and aiming it for that one opening.
“Tell me who you are.” His voice was filled with that same magical command. “Remember.”
It felt as if I were now submerged, struggling to breathe, to think, to fight for air. I gasped, choking. Panic descended, and I was suddenly convinced I was on the edge of death. A warning rang in my head.
Death was not for me. Not yet.
I closed my eyes and stopped fighting, knowing innately I needed to let go, to give myself over to the force rattling its cage. The second I imagined myself floating instead of sinking, the frantic feeling subsided. The sunken memory skyrocketed to the surface, then broke free.
I opened my eyes, and Wrath drew in a sharp breath. A reaction so small it would be deemed unremarkable coming from anyone other than him, yet I knew this was the beginning of the end. The truth I’d fought so hard to find was no longer hidden by magic.
“I remember.” My voice was scratchy as if I’d been screaming for hours. Maybe I had been. Time felt strange. My prince looked weary, but hopeful. “I know who I am.”
Wrath’s dagger was now in his hand. He stood and motioned for me to do the same. We walked to a mirror hanging near the bathing chamber, and the demon nodded to the glass. “Tell me what you see. Who you see.”
Glittering rose-gold irises steadily gazed back at me. A mark of my true power. Though part of me wasn’t as surprised as I ought to be. Maybe deep down, where the curse couldn’t sink its claws in, I’d always known. There was a reason I was aligned best with my sin of choice.
Celestia’s words drifted back to me from the night I’d met her in Bloodwood Forest; the Crone had said Wrath was my mirror. I’d suspected then but couldn’t reconcile the truth of how.
Now the truth was staring back at me, waiting. “I see fury.”
“And?”
My fire. My anger. That ancient, terrible power I’d only barely scratched the surface of. They all belonged to me. “I see the goddess who rules it.”
“I see my equal. My queen.”
Wrath handed me his blade, his lips curving seductively. He seemed lighter, slightly less weighed down, like a nightmare was finally over. I wasn’t as sure but held my tongue. There were still plenty of things I couldn’t yet remember, which meant even with some of Wrath’s power inside me, the curse wasn’t fully broken.
My memories were only just starting to slip out through the crack we’d made, and I had a terrible suspicion that many more unsettling truths were waiting to be revealed.
Wrath pulled me against him, and tucked within the safety of his arms, I hoped perhaps he was right. That even if the curse wasn’t completely broken, maybe things would be better now. He angled his mouth close to me and whispered, “Welcome back, your majesty.”
SEVEN
“I need to sign the blood oath.” Wrath pressed a kiss to my forehead, then pulled his trousers on. It was so normal, mundane, after the cataclysmic realization of who I was. After what we’d just done, not to mention the scene we’d created and the potential consequences of Wrath’s destroying part of his brother’s castle. And terrorizing the duke. Goddess above. The duke. After his fear had worn off, I imagined he’d be embarrassed to have soiled himself in front of other members of the nobility. The last few hours felt like a wild, years-long fever dream. “We can discuss everything in detail once we’re home. Will you be all right?”
I kept staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was not a witch. I was the goddess of fury. If I didn’t just witness the truth, I’d still not believe it. My irises slowly returned to the warm brown I’d been used to for so long, another reminder I was not fully free from the curse yet. “Yes.”
Wrath watched me, noting the moment I really looked at the dagger. It wasn’t his House dagger as I’d thought it was. Up close it was slightly smaller than his. Lighter.
The snake also didn’t have lavender eyes; the gemstones in this dagger were dark pink. Vines twined around the hilt, winding delicately around the serpent, much like the vines I’d summoned earlier in his bathtub.
“It’s yours,” he said, answering my unspoken question as he shrugged on a crisp, new shirt. I searched for a memory of the dagger but didn’t recognize it at all. Wrath moved before me, tilting my chin up until I met his steady gaze. “I never had the chance to give it to you before. But it is yours. I designed it myself.”