“Wait!” Sofia cried out. Desperate to learn more, she gripped the skull resting on the south point and whispered a spell that made it shatter, scattering bone shards across the dark surface, hoping the mirror would use them to fuel more images. And it did. Except once more they weren’t quite what she’d expected. Sophia saw her island, then flickers of other unfamiliar cities and times bleeding in and taking over. The images had to be wrong. Yet… if they weren’t, then everything the coven elders had told them had been a lie. Including where they were from.
It was so preposterous; there was no way that could be true. Determined to figure out the mystery, she reached for the last skull. This one had rubies in its eyes, an added gift for the goddess who ruled over the dead. Sofia shattered the skull and was immediately thrust into another time, one where that same young witch from earlier appeared to be… a rough hand came down on Sophia’s shoulder, shaking her from the vision. Heart thundering, Sofia blinked until Death’s temple came back into focus. Fearful of what—or who—had torn her from the vision, she snatched her dagger and shot to her feet, her attention landing on the person who’d interrupted. The robed figure tossed back the hood on her cloak, revealing a familiar, stern face.
Sofia’s shoulders slumped forward as she lowered the blade. For one frightening moment, she thought she’d summoned an enemy. “Thank the goddess it’s you. I’ve learned something incredible about our curse and our city. I know who the First Witch’s daughter is, at least I think I do. You’ll never believe this discovery.”
Sofia was too full of dark magic, too shaken by the truth she’d learned, to notice the dangerous gleam entering the other witch’s eyes. “Neither will you.”
“I don’t understand—”
With a flick of her wrist and a harsh curse, the witch cast a spell that knocked Sofia backward. Her skull cracked against the altar, causing her to see a bright flash of stars that left her momentarily stunned. Before she could gather her wits and utter a protection spell of her own, Sofia’s mind fragmented just like the mirror the other witch stomped on, destroying the truth still playing across its dark surface.
Sofia opened her mouth to scream but found herself unable to do more than speak in tongues. Soon all she could see were those strange images the mirror had shown her.
If she’d been about to call for help again, Sofia couldn’t remember why.
She stared, not truly seeing, as the other witch retrieved the first book of spells and slowly made her way through the temple, never once glancing back at her friend. All the while Sofia quietly repeated one phrase, a chant, a benediction, a plea.
Or perhaps it was the key to unlocking everything…
“As above, so below.”
ONE
All at once, candles flared to life around the Prince of Wrath’s bedchamber.
Despite my best efforts to not grin at the demon, my traitorous lips curved upward on their own. Tracking the small action from where he stood on the balcony, the prince’s attention moved to my mouth and remained there a beat longer than necessary.
His heated stare coaxed a different kind of warmth to spread over me just as gold-tipped flames erupted in the fireplace, sizzling and crackling like mad.
It was a welcome feeling, especially after the coldness that had swept in earlier and settled in my bones. Seeing my sister in the Triple Moon Mirror broke something vital in me.
Something I refused to examine at the moment.
Lingering near Wrath’s bed, tunic now discarded at my feet, I knew it wasn’t his namesake sin that had the fires blazing in his private chamber. It was the desire he was struggling to control; the passion I’d ignited when I chose him—knowing exactly who he was—and still agreed to become his wicked queen. Since he’d already stolen my soul, I was now offering him my body. Without games or magical bonds urging us together. Without focusing on Vittoria and the way my heart ached each time I thought of my twin’s deception.
My eyes prickled with unshed tears just thinking of my sister now, and I tried desperately to rein in my emotions. Wrath would sense my hurt, and it was a conversation I didn’t wish to have. That sorrow could wait until I met my twin on the mysterious Shifting Isles tomorrow and heard what she had to say. Until then, I didn’t want to spend another minute wondering why she’d faked her death. Or how she could hurt me so horribly for so long. I’d already given Vittoria months of my tears and fury while on my path to avenge her.
Tonight I simply wanted Wrath. Samael. King of demons. Most feared of the seven immortal princes of Hell. General of War and the literal devil. Temptation and sin made flesh. A nightmare to some, but to me he currently looked like a dream. And if the cursed demon didn’t crawl between the sheets with me this instant, I’d unleash a bit of hell myself.
“Are you going to stand out there all night, your majesty?” I arched a brow, but Wrath’s solitary response was a slight narrowing of his golden-eyed gaze. Stubborn, untrusting creature. Only he would question why I stood in a state of undress before his bed and not simply unleash his baser, carnal urges like I desired. “If you require further proof of my decision…”
“Emilia.”
The way he said only my name made me brace myself for disappointment. His tone indicated we needed to talk, and talking was the absolute worst thing I could imagine right now. Talking would lead to tears, and that would force me to confront just how deeply seeing Vittoria earlier had affected me. I’d much rather lose myself in Wrath’s addictive kisses.
“Please don’t,” I said, quietly. “I’m fine. Truly.”
The demon looked apprehensive, unconvinced. He’d once told me to want but never need, but tonight I felt both strongly, and I didn’t care if that made me weak. I prayed he wouldn’t send me to my own bedroom suite alone. I couldn’t bear the solitude. I needed comfort, a connection. Some bit of peace only he could give me right now.
Just then, the sheer curtains separating his bedchamber from the balcony fluttered in the wintry breeze, enticing him to join his half-naked queen. It was as if the realm itself wanted us to finally be united. With softly flickering candles and midnight fabrics, the bedchamber exuded quiet sensuality. It was a room made for all sorts of whispers: the ones where words were spoken tenderly, reverently against lips, and the whispers of clothing sliding slowly over skin.
Two things I wished to experience with this prince at once.
By his own admission, Wrath believed in the power of actions over words. And with that reminder, I made my move. He remained motionless outside, watching me bend over and shuck off my boots. I couldn’t tell if he’d picked up on my emotions about Vittoria and misinterpreted them or if he still didn’t trust that I wanted to complete the next step in accepting our marriage. Sleeping together was one of the two final acts needed for us to become husband and wife. We could certainly have sex and not be married, but I wanted to complete our bond.