“It is my choice to give up my magic. I cannot imagine a better reason to do so.”
The demon crossed his arms, his expression turning darker than his increasingly stormy mood. “I respect that, but not stabbing my wife is my choice.”
We stared at each other, neither one of us backing down. Any other time, any other instance, and I’d not argue. He had every right to make his decision without interference. This was bigger than him, though. Bigger than us. And we had to act, now.
“We are running out of time and options. Quite literally. We have less than an hour to complete the activation or this option is lost. Please. Do not fight me on this. It is our best opportunity to shatter this curse, and you know that.”
“And if the witches are lying, what then? Do you really believe Sursea?” He stood from his oversized desk, jabbing a finger down at the blade he refused to touch. It was likely the only dagger the general of war wouldn’t wield. And ironically the one he needed to the most. Sursea had played her game well. “They have proved they lie and manipulate time and again. Where is our guarantee that if I stab you and remove all your power, you won’t die? How do we know if the blade requires your magic or if they simply wish to take it for their own? We don’t have enough information, and I will not risk you or your magic being given to an enemy, especially when Sursea is involved.”
I pressed my lips together. I could not tell him who’d given me the information or who’d helped me. “I trust my source. And you will need to trust me.”
“Trusting you isn’t the issue.” Wrath paced away, his hands flexing at his sides. “Your source might also be trustworthy, but there is no guarantee that their information wasn’t planted. They might not be aware it’s false. If I knew who you got this from, I could investigate further.”
I’d already considered that Claudia’s memory might have been tampered with and decided to press ahead. I glanced at the clock near the mantel. I wasn’t sure how long the process of removing my magic took and didn’t want to continue arguing. I loved my husband, but I would never betray my friend a second time. Claudia had a right to choose if she wished to become involved with the princes of Hell again.
I also would not put Wrath in a position to keep this secret from his brother, either. If Pride discovered that Wrath knew his wife was alive and where she could be found, that wouldn’t be something easily overlooked or forgiven. With good reason.
I held my hands out, pleading. “The blade might kill me, but it also might do exactly what you, your brothers, Sursea, and my source say it does: break curses. When I first summoned you, you said, ‘One day you’ll call me Death.’ You had to have known this was a possibility. And it would not have stopped you then. Do not turn soft now, demon. Not when we need your sin the most.”
Wrath’s gaze was pure gold fire when it clashed against mine. “Stop.”
“No.” I sensed the simmering rise of his sin and I sauntered over to him, eyeing him from head to toe. “When I stabbed you I hated it. Hated that you’d made me do something so brutal. But it was necessary. I do not want to bring only vengeance and hate to the world. I want to right a terrible wrong. It’s the right thing to do, and I know you care about true justice, fair justice. Even when it’s hard or personal. And then, when you are able to love me fully, you’ll be free to tell me.” I rolled up onto my toes and brought my lips to his ear. “Then you’ll take me right here. On your desk. And show me.”
Wrath’s jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t crack any teeth. He drew back and stared at me with a strange mixture of emotion playing across his face, as if simultaneously memorizing my features and also desperately searching for a way out of this. But, the mighty demon of war knew I was right.
“Do you have my cornicello?” I asked. “And Vittoria’s?”
The temperature plummeted. “Do you think my wings will tempt me?” Wrath’s voice was low and dangerous as he prowled around the room. “That I’d put you at risk to get them back?”
“No. But I want to make sure when the curse breaks, we’ve truly succeeded. If your wings are restored, there will be physical proof it’s broken.” My breath came out in little white clouds as the air turned colder. Frost coated the iron chandelier above us. “We are going to get through this, Samael.” A new thought crossed my mind. My husband wanted an equal, so perhaps the loss of my magic was another burden he didn’t wish to bear. “Will you be all right if I don’t have magic?”
He cast an incredulous look my way. “You haven’t had access to your full power for twenty years, according to the way time works on the Shifting Isles, and you could cast only minimal spells as a shadow witch. Aside from my anger that they’d done that to you, and you were unable to know the truth, that didn’t matter to me in the least.”
“But this will be different. I’ll never have that much magic or power again. Is that something you’re concerned about? For your court? I’m sure there are more like Lord Makaden who would stir the pot and gossip. Call you weak. Is choosing your heart something that will bring destruction to your House?”
His anger flared as he stalked back to me. “I don’t give a high holy fuck about my court, my lady. Magic does not make you powerful. Your courage. Your heart. Your mind. Your very soul makes you a force to be reckoned with. My only concern is whether you will survive. I will take you without magic. Without godsdamn royal titles. Or care for anything other than your happiness. Once restored to my full power, I’ll have enough magic for both of us. Trust in that.”
If only he could share it. I reached for his hand, rubbing my thumb in calming circles over his skin. “We’re running out of time. Where should I stand, by the desk, or is it easier if I sit?”
He shook his head. “I’ll send for the Crone. There has to be a way around this.”
“We don’t know where she is.” I squeezed his hand gently. “And if we wait any longer, we might never have this chance again. Please. Don’t keep your heart from me out of fear.”
I let go of his hand and moved to the desk, yanking the Blade of Ruination from where he’d stabbed it and held it out, hilt first. “Take this.” Frost kissed the wood, coated the journals on each demon House. I ignored it. The temperature didn’t warm, but Wrath finally came to my side and accepted the blade. It was too soon to feel relief, but the first hurdle had been crossed. “Get the amulets and put them on. Once you’re ready, we’ll begin.”