“If Lucia asked him to stop having dalliances, do you think he would have?”
Wrath considered that for a minute. “At that time, I believe he already had stopped. And if he hadn’t, he would have done anything she asked of him. At his court, dalliances are not scandalous or looked down upon the same way they are in the mortal realm. If that was what made her unhappy, he likely wouldn’t have even considered it a possibility. Not out of callousness, but ignorance.”
I looked my prince over closely. “Is that how you feel about taking lovers?”
He gave me a slow, devilish grin. “No, my lady. I’m quite satisfied with my wife.”
“Good answer, husband.” I thought back to my friend’s memory, how troubled she’d been by her decision to leave without writing a note. “You believe Lucia was murdered?”
“I never found a trace of her when I looked. And when the new murders began, I thought perhaps one of Pride’s enemies had found her.” He lifted a shoulder. “After finding you again, I believe she may be alive and well. Pride had searched for witches with the strongest bloodlines matching hers, the ones with the most goddess magic, but he hasn’t located any direct descendants. He has a chamber dedicated to grimoires and witch history. He’d hoped if he’d found the right bloodline, he’d work backward until he found Lucia.”
Wrath continued to massage my feet, and my mind drifted through the tangle of lies, deceptions, and schemes everyone had been involved with, both together and separately. No wonder it had been hard to unravel. When Vittoria had said the devil was looking for a bride, that had been true. Just as breaking the curse did, in a twisted way, involve the devil marrying within a certain time frame. In this realm Wrath had only six years, six months, and six days before all was lost, while nearly twenty years had passed on the Shifting Isles.
Our bond and my subsequent sacrifice because of it did break the curse. However, the murders of the witches unfortunately tangled with Pride’s quest to find Lucia—he had been seeking women descended from Star Witches, in the hopes of finding his former wife.
Unbeknownst to him, Vittoria sought the Star Witches, too, but for her own gain—she hunted them down because their matriarchs had spell-locked us long ago.
And Wrath had investigated each of those murders to see who was killing anyone that was potentially related to Lucia. I recalled the night I summoned Pride—unlike when I’d summoned Wrath, Pride had been unable to appear.
Wrath’s hand slid up to my calf and he squeezed gently. “What are you thinking now?”
“I finally understand why you were trying to stop the murders,” I admitted. “The curse took your wings, but it locked Pride in the Seven Circles, correct?”
“Yes. When it went into effect, it took something from each prince. Pride lost his ability to travel outside our realm, hindering his attempt to locate Lucia.”
Knowing what I did now about the night Pride’s wife left, that had to be terrible. Rushing home after Wrath nearly destroyed his brothers, only to find his wife gone without a trace. Then to be locked in the Seven Circles without any way to search for her… it was another form of hell. Especially if he truly hadn’t done the things Lucia believed he had. It was tragic for both of them.
“And your other brothers? What did they lose?”
Wrath shook his head. “They’ve never spoken to me about it.”
“That’s peculiar, isn’t it?”
“Not really. To admit to losing something, even a small amount of power, would signal vulnerability. They would not risk their courts. I only knew what Pride lost because he understood how it felt when I lost you. He set his sin aside in the hopes if I found you, Lucia wouldn’t be far behind.”
Now that the curse was no longer an issue, I wished I could set everything right, but some choices weren’t mine to make. Claudia had made her decision before the curse was activated. And while Vittoria and I had played a terrible game House Vengeance had been contracted for, my friend had realized she wasn’t happy before our scheme. Cracks had appeared in her relationship long before her mother broke them apart. Sometimes loving someone was shown by letting them go, not clutching them closer. Though I couldn’t help but wonder what the ending of their story might have been if they’d just talked.
“Are you all right?” Wrath pulled me across the tub and hoisted me onto his lap. “Is it the loss of your magic?”
“A little.” I rubbed his shoulders, noting that, unlike me, he was no longer tense. “I also want to help your brothers. I hate that the mess is only partly cleaned. There’s much left to do.”
Wrath brushed his knuckles against my jaw. “You have helped them.”
“I know breaking the curse has helped to some extent, but the rest is up to them, isn’t it?”
“Standing back so someone can walk the rest of their path alone is often the most difficult part, especially when you care.” Wrath leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to my heart. When he looked at me again, his expression was contemplative. “Do you want to become queen?”
His question caught me off guard. I thought it over.
“I want to stand beside you. And while there are some unappealing aspects of ruling, shouldering the burden, becoming a united force, it’s something I do want.” I smiled sadly. “I may not wield the magic of Fury anymore, but I still rule over it. I am happy to join your House. It feels right.”
Wrath didn’t say anything for a moment; he simply studied me in that intense way that indicated he was seeing far more than I wished to share.
My attention dropped to that pale ink on his collarbone, Acta non verba. He might not believe I wanted to be queen, but perhaps I might show him otherwise. My lips curved. “Do we need to send the invitations this moment, or do we have a little more time?”
Wrath’s gaze turned molten as he sensed my true question. He hardened beneath me, devious demon. “What did you have in mind, my lady?”
“As if you don’t already know.” I guided him into me, laughing as he cursed softly, and rode him until we both swore the old gods and new.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“I’ll take over from here.” For a moment, Pride’s mask of a proud, debauched royal slipped, revealing the calculating demon hidden underneath the courtly charm. Gone were most traces of his sin; the magic and ego were shed as easily as one removed a winter coat. The demon with us in this room had earned the scar that cut through his lip, and he seemed proud of it.