“Lovely.” They were this realm’s version of a vampire.
I set that illustrated journal aside and scanned the next grimoire, one ear turned toward the entrance. There were just pages of notes on spells, charms, and hexes. I dropped the book onto the towering pile beside me. Then I pulled up my knees and leaned against the shelves.
No matter how hard I tried to stop imagining creatures feasting on hearts, I couldn’t shove my sister’s mutilated body from my mind.
One night in Palermo Wrath had said that Pride’s wife had had her heart torn from her, too. He’d also mentioned that the First Witch had used the darkest of magic to remove her daughter’s power and it had unforeseen consequences.
What if her missing heart wasn’t part of the murder ritual? What if it was one of the consequences brought about by La Prima? It might have also been a way to set her free from any mortal constraints. I vaguely recalled Nonna saying something like that in passing.
If La Prima’s daughter was cursed and not dead, she might be the monster who ran around ripping out witch hearts and devouring them.
Perhaps she was motivated by revenge against her mother, at whatever humanity might have been stolen when her powers were wrenched from her. If the devil was her eternal love, maybe she was driven mad and killed any potential brides who would take her place.
Or maybe it was as simple as the illustrated journal claimed—if she was no longer in possession of her humanity, maybe she craved hearts for everything she no longer had.
“Perhaps there are too many maybes and not enough definitive answers.”
I stood and pulled my shoulders back. Now that I was alone, I would go back to the matron and directly confront her about my suspicions. If she was the First Witch, I didn’t think she’d harm me. There was a reason she’d been sending the enchanted skulls, and it wasn’t to frighten. Maybe she could tell me more about the Triple Moon Mirror and offer any ideas on where I might find it, or the Temptation Key.
I brushed my hand against the hidden sheath at my thigh. And if she did try to hurt me, I would not go without a fight.
Anticipation had me standing outside the matron’s tower chamber in what felt like mere moments. Disappointment had my jaw clenching as I tore off the note tacked to the door and read the hastily scratched message.
Gone for a spell.
It was impossible to determine if she meant it literally or figuratively. The matron would either return in a few minutes, or she’d gone in search of a spell. There was no telling how long the latter might take, but, on the off chance she’d be back soon, I milled around outside her tower until snow began falling and chased me away.
I’d taken all of two steps into the corridor of my bedroom suite when a prickle of awareness slid over my skin. Wrath leaned against the door to my chambers, his attention fixed on my face. I swallowed the surge of… whatever that feeling was and arched a brow the way he’d done countless times before. I still hadn’t seen or spoken to him after our last training session. And this visit was most unwelcome.
I paused a decent distance away. “May I help you?”
“I was here to ask the same.”
He didn’t elaborate, and I was not in the mood to play the game of ask Wrath a thousand questions and receive frustrating answers. I moved toward my door, expecting him to step aside, and inhaled deeply when he didn’t budge. I crossed my arms and waited.
Sensing my resolve, or attempting to re-strategize his battle plan, Wrath changed tactics. “The library is in shambles.”
“That’s a bit dramatic. There are a few piles of books scattered in one section. I will clean everything up this evening.”
“You’re looking for information on the First Witch.”
“I’m interested in my history. She is part of that.”
His expression darkened. It was not quite thunderous, but certainly stormy. “Lie.”
“What I may be searching for is none of your concern.”
“Everything in this castle is my concern. You, especially.”
“I do not press or pry into your plans. I expect the same courtesy.”
“Even if I’ve come to offer assistance?”
“After our last ‘lesson,’ I was under the impression you wished for me to take matters into my own hands from now on. Quite literally.”
Wrath’s attention drifted along my silhouette. He looked as if he were mentally replaying our weapons room tryst, dragging my gown up my thighs, touching and caressing me as if my pleasure was his own. When he brought his gaze back to mine, there was no heat or hint of the emotion that had just claimed him. He was remote, unfeeling. A wall was slowly being built between us. I couldn’t tell if it was relief gnawing at the pit of my stomach, or something else.
“We leave for Gluttony’s royal House in three nights. Send word to me if you’d like to train before then.”
He turned to leave and, devil curse me, I called out, “Fine. Meet me in the weapons room at midnight. We’ll have one final lesson before the real games begin.”
I arrived in the weapons room nearly a half an hour ahead of schedule. I wanted to set the tone of our lesson and with each strike of the ticking clock, my pulse raced faster. I glanced at my reflection in a particularly shiny shield hung on the wall, relieved that I still looked impeccable on the outside, no matter the chaotic state of my insides.
I shook my jitters out and moved to the center of the room.
At precisely midnight, Wrath stepped into the chamber and halted near the door. It closed with a snick that reminded me of a blade sliding free of its sheath. A fitting sound, given the battle that was about to be launched between us.
Wrath took in my gown—a black off-the-shoulder bodice covered in pale beaded flowers and vines with frothy dark champagne skirts that split on one side a little past my knee.