Vittoria’s eyes flashed with something that looked like victory. “His heart for yours?”
I paused. I didn’t want to give up my mortal heart, but I couldn’t let my old friend die. Vittoria had me backed into a corner, and she knew it. I took a deep breath. “I—”
Envy—who’d been silent up until now—spoke. “You know, I’m curious. How does it feel, knowing your mother favors Emilia? I don’t have a mother, but I imagine it’s a nasty feeling. One that would inspire my namesake sin.”
I felt the slight pulse of Envy’s sin, so subtle my sister might not have realized he’d used magic at all. Her eyes narrowed. “For that to be true, our mother would need to show an interest in our existence. She created us, then moved on to the next passing fancy. Do you see her here?” Vittoria didn’t even bother to make a show of looking around. Though her use of the term create did make me cringe. Apparently, we hadn’t been birthed. It was another oddity I had to get used to, though my sister didn’t appear disturbed at all. “The Crone is not here because she has more important things to do, souls to torment, and whatever else she indulges in.”
Envy’s smile was feline—a large, predatory cat who was about to pounce. “My spies have whispered interesting stories. Ones Emilia can verify.”
Another soft flicker of his sin. I remained where I was, unmoving, not wanting to break the spell. Though internally I was screaming for him to hurry. Antonio needed his heart back.
“Would you like to know where your mother has been these last years,” Envy continued, his tone taunting, “what she’s been doing?”
And then I saw it. The slight movement of a shadow on the wall. Someone was standing just out of sight. I tensed, hoping Envy had sensed something my dulled mortal senses had not and that was why he’d started distracting my twin. Vittoria hadn’t taken her focus from the prince, making me wonder if she was already aware of who was slowly approaching and was unworried. Or if they’d cast a glamour, hiding themselves from her. I prayed the latter was true.
“I don’t care,” Vittoria finally said. “She hasn’t been trying to break our spell-locks. Hasn’t bothered to come to our aid. She created us to watch over the underworld, then left. She’s wonderful at disappearing, traveling to whichever realm or universe that strikes her fancy. It could be a thousand years before we see her again.”
“House Wrath is a peculiar choice of residence for someone who is uninterested in her daughters. Well,” Envy amended, “at least one of them.” He looked to me then. “I believe her title was the Matron of Curses and Poisons.”
“Celestia.” My voice came out in a shocked whisper. I wasn’t answering Envy. I was speaking to the woman with silver and lavender hair that had come up behind my twin.
Her dark eyes met mine before dropping to the claw marks on my chest. Something like anger flashed in her ancient gaze, something I recognized in myself.
From one blink to the next, she’d summoned the roots from above us, wrenching them from the ceiling, and wrapped them around Vittoria, chaining her arms, legs, and body. My sister thrashed, completely caught off guard, then stilled as the Crone stepped in front of her.
Celestia’s smile was the thing that made monsters afraid. Here stood not simply a goddess of the underworld, but its creator. “Hello, daughter.”
TEN
“Mother.” Vittoria’s shock dissolved almost as immediately as it had appeared. She thrashed against the roots binding her, shouting curses and hexes. Celestia watched, unconcerned. My sister was a powerful goddess, but Celestia was the Crone. A titan. Seeming to realize that, Vittoria stilled, breathing hard, her gaze even harder. “You proved your point. Let me go.”
The bars on my cell flared with lavender brilliance, then sank into the earth. I gingerly stepped over the barrier, relieved when I exited the cell without pain or difficulty.
I rushed to the cell beside mine, gripping the bars tightly. Antonio’s broken body was slumped on the floor, a pool of ruby-red blood catching the torchlight. My twin lying on an altar, a similar pool of blood surrounding her, flashed across my mind. Unlike my sister, Antonio wasn’t immortal. He wouldn’t rise again. He would rot, his bones eventually turning to dust. And he would cease forever. No matter what he’d done to me, he didn’t deserve this.
“Help him,” I turned to the Crone, “please. Give him his heart back.”
Celestia’s attention moved to the body. There was nothing in her expression to indicate her thoughts. She looked back at me. “He’s gone, child. To bring him back now… it is not natural. He would not be natural.”
I looked from the Crone to my twin, desperate. “Vittoria brought a werewolf back. And Antonio didn’t die a natural death. There must be some way to fix him.”
Celestia pulled the jar with his heart from the ether and held it up for me to see. I wanted to be sick but forced my gaze to not waver. Celestia tapped the glass. “It no longer beats. There is nothing to be done. He’s beyond our reach now. You must let him go, Daughter of the Moon.”
“I can’t.”
The tears I’d been holding back broke free and spilled down my cheeks. It was too much. All of it. Wrath was missing and poisoned; he could be suffering at the moment, and I felt powerless to help him. My childhood crush was brutally murdered before we could find true closure and forgiveness. And my twin—who I literally traveled to Hell to avenge because I loved her that much and was desperately trying to save—was the source of all the heartache.
A sob racked through me. The more I tried to suck it back in, the more I broke down. It wasn’t just Antonio’s senseless death. It was everything. My whole world was crumbling. My family. My life. Nothing was as it seemed. Not even my understanding of my own life, of who I was as a person, as a goddess. The weight of it all, it crushed me.
I went to my knees and submitted to the waves of grief tugging me under. I didn’t know how to go on. To get back up. I didn’t know if I wanted to get up. I was tired of fighting so many battles, both emotionally and physically. Maybe the world would be better off without goddesses and their cruel, inhuman power and wicked games.
Everyone I loved, everyone who had the misfortune to meet me, was suffering.
Envy’s gleaming boots came into view as he stepped beside me. I half-expected him to offer a cutting remark, to provoke me into feeling something other than the crushing sorrow weighing me down. Or perhaps to call me the pathetic creature I was.
Instead, he extended a hand. Tears streamed down my face as I stared at it, my sobs nearly choking me now.