“I’m not sure what happened between you two then,” Vittoria continued. “My spies weren’t close enough. All I know is that within the next moment or two, you were gone. There was blood. Some torn-out hair. But nothing else. Wrath went ballistic. He stormed into the castle and nearly destroyed his brothers, convinced one of them had been behind the attack. At that time, no one knew what struck you. Umbra demons were blamed, hired by someone. Envy was the prime suspect, though I know for certain he’d left the party well before the bloodbath began. Then Wrath focused on Greed, and finally Pride.”
Vittoria closed her eyes, as if reliving the memory of that night. I wasn’t there, but it was easy to imagine Wrath detonating. The chaos, the fear. The raw, unchecked power of his sin seeking to destroy as he unsuccessfully searched for me.
My sister looked at me, and maybe it was the memory of that night, or some mortal piece of her finally slipping through, but she signaled to Domenico—who I’d forgotten was still leaning against the wall—and he magicked my restraints away. They fell to the floor in a heap of metal. It was only through sheer force of will that I didn’t follow them down to the ground.
“While the bloodbath between princes continued to rage, I went to find you. Wrath had revealed to everyone that we were twins, so our scheme was over, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t abandon you,” Vittoria said, her voice softening. “It didn’t take long to find you, but I’d been too late. Once the witches had you, they moved quickly. The twin witches who had been born? They sacrificed them immediately. Kept their hearts pumping through magic.”
“What?” Chills raced along my spine. Another realization clicked into place. I glanced at Nonna, who finally looked regretful. “The prophecy of the twin witches wasn’t about us.”
Vittoria shook her head. “It never was. The prophecy of the twin witches simply says that they would be sacrificed—we are not those witches. Yes, twin witches—babies—were born that night, and the Star Witches sacrificed them and took their hearts. They put those hearts inside of us and created our spell-locks. We were infused with their mortality.”
“Nonna raised them, raised us,” I said, still reeling. I gave my grandmother a horrified look. “You were in our earliest memories. You taught us to bless our amulets. You taught us to cook.” I rubbed my hands over my arms. The chill had turned bone-deep. Our grandmother had brutally killed two innocent witches. Witches she went on to raise. It was unfathomable. Looking at her now, I was unable to process the mixture of emotions swirling through me. She’d been the ultimate force of good in my life. Had hated everything to do with the dark arts. And all along she’d been the ultimate evil. “How could you? How could you do that to those girls?”
Nonna’s fists curled at her sides. “Duty. We all knew a day would come when we’d be forced to sacrifice. They gave up their lives, and we gave up our hearts that day, too. It is our destiny to watch the prison of damnation. To ensure the Wicked and the Feared don’t get out. Once the curse had gone into effect, you posed a great threat to our world. You are a vengeance goddess. We did not want to risk your fury once you’d discovered that a witch had taken something so precious from you. The First Witch wouldn’t—and couldn’t—break her curse, and we acted accordingly.”
“All to bind us? Because of hate and fear?” I saw the truth of that in Nonna’s eyes, but I also saw something else. Something more complicated. Like perhaps Nonna started to question her duty. Perhaps she’d grown to love us, her enemies. And maybe that was why she filled our heads with lies of the Wicked. With telling us who to fear. One of the warnings she’d told us repeated itself in my mind.
Whatever you do, you must never speak to the Wicked. If you see them, hide. Once you’ve caught a demon prince’s attention, he’ll stop at nothing to claim you. They are midnight creatures, born of darkness and moonlight. And they seek only to destroy.…
Knowing what I did now, I understood the true warning. They’d been hiding me from Wrath. They knew he would stop at nothing to claim me, to destroy what the witches had done. He’d bided his time; he’d searched. And even through his hate, he never let that ember of love die.
The story and warning weren’t lies. They just weren’t my truth. Those warnings only belonged to the witches. They did everything in their power to keep us apart. To break our bond. And they failed. I refused to meet my grandmother’s pleading stare another moment. I looked at my sister. She might be a monster now, but she wasn’t pretending to be anything else.