My baby? My magick? Bastien? Everything?

  Gorrath shook his head. Hands raised in the air. Mouth full, he said, “I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t.” Desperate, he turned to Damien. “Tell her I didn’t know.”

  “He didn’t know,” Damien affirmed. “These are my rules for immortality.”

  Gorrath swallowed down his large chunk of meat, eyes locked with mine. “There’s gotta be another way.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Could she trade immortality for her mortal life back?”

  My breath was caged in my chest. Yes. I would trade anything, anything to have my life back. Immortality was nothing if I couldn’t have him.

  Damien tapped his lip in thought. “That is a possibility,” he finally said. “Yes, I think I could make that work. A trade then. Her gift of immortality in exchange for her mortal life.”

  I rose and extended my hand. “Agreed. Take my immortality and give me my life back.”

  Damien arched a dark brow. “So quick to give up forever just for some magick and a mate? If you went back as a vampire, you’d feel just as passionately about someone else.”

  He might be a god, but he knew nothing about love. “Respectfully, no I wouldn’t.”

  Damien stood as well and shook my hand. “Then we have a deal.”

  A sense of relief washed over me once again. I wouldn’t be immortal. But I would have one life with Bastien. One good life. Until, of course, I was reborn, and we’d be able to find each other again. This time, Bastien wouldn’t hesitate to search for me once his bloodstone indicated I’d been born.

  “Should we drink, then?” Damien asked, nodding to the goblet placed before me. “To your good health.”

  I lifted my glass to theirs and then took a sip. It was the most delicious wine I’d ever tasted. I savored the flavor, then set the glass back down. Anxious excitement to return to Bastien was collecting in my chest.

  “There’s someone who asked to see you before you leave,” Gorrath said. He waved, and a set of doors opened. For a moment I didn’t understand what I was looking at. Then all at once, I did.

  Devlinn.

  He was whole and well. Not a speck of rot to be seen. I opened my mouth to scream, to sob, to say his name, but nothing came out. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I crossed the black marble floor in a blur and collided with him, my arms locking around his shoulders as if he might disappear.

  “It’s good to see you too, Claire,” he said with his familiar dry humor.

  “I’m sorry,” I choked. “I’m so sorry.”

  He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Sorry for what?”

  “For everything,” I said. “For Mellie. For pushing her. For not stopping it. For not being fast enough⁠—”

  “Claire.” His hand came up to cup my cheek, steadying me. “Don’t you dare be sorry. We all die.” He smiled, and I tried to smile back at him. “Listen, I don’t have much time. But can you tell Tansy something for me?” I nodded. “Tell her that I love her laugh. It’s the thing that made me fall in love with her. And that I don’t want this to be the reason why she stops laughing.”

  Tears flooded my eyes. “Of course I’ll tell her that.”

  “And don’t butcher my funeral.” A grin pulled on his lips. “I want all the honors. Hero of heroes.”

  A broken laugh tore out of me. “I already miss you.”

  Carefully, he kissed the top of my head. “Me too. But we’ll see each other again.”

  Then he was just gone. One second, I was holding on to him, the next he vanished. The doors closed and I was left with the emotions his absence left behind.

  “You should be going too,” Damien said. “If you open that door just over there, I think you’ll find your way back.”

  I glanced in the direction he was pointing, and found a golden door was being etched onto the black walls.

  “You better hurry before I convince you to stay,” Gorrath quipped. “I know how much you like me.” I pursed my lips and the demon snorted out a laugh, but the humor quickly evaporated. “If you ever need me, you know how to reach me.”

  I offered him a real smile. Then I headed for the gold door. Just before I seized the handle, I stopped. There was one thing I wanted to ask Damien. Something that I needed to know. “Whatever happened to your daughters? Where did they go?”

  Damien studied me for a long moment. Then bowed his head. “I don’t know. But, perhaps, one day, you’ll be able to tell me where they went.” He forced a tight smile. “I do miss them very much. Especially my Rosa. She was such a firestorm.”

  It wasn’t the answer I wanted, not by a long shot, but it was the only answer I was going to get. “I hope you do find them. The world could use more joy. The fighting, the hate, it feels endless.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  Whispering started just beyond the door. Words I couldn’t quite understand called to me. I was reminded of the time when I opened the ballroom door and found Bastien standing shirtless in the greenhouse. His hands covered in dirt.

  I knew, just as I had then, that I had the power to see him again. I could walk through the veil of death and return to him. All I had to do was say his name, and it would draw him to me. Touching the bloodstone, I whispered his name and opened the door.

  When I awoke, it was not to incense smoke and the smell of frankincense. I was on the ground, covered in my own blood, the metallic scent filling my nostrils.

  When my vision cleared, I realized Bastien was right here. And he had the woman I once called Mama in his grip. I tried to force myself off the ground, but my sluggish body struggled to bear my weight. He wasn’t going to kill her. Not before I had the chance to do it myself.

  My throat throbbed with pain, torn from whatever death had done to me, but I forced the word through my lips, a broken rasp of defiance.

  "No."

  Bastien immediately turned toward the sound of my voice.

  And when our eyes met, for the briefest, most agonizing moment, he just stared at me, like he couldn’t believe it. Then his sword hit the ground with a clang. Mama collapsed to the ground, weakened by the rot I’d spread inside her, and Bastien Allard, a vampire prince of the Unified Territories, fell to his knees and crawled toward me. Reached for me with bloodied fingers.

  "Claire," he rasped.

  He was everything. All at once. All-consuming. And just seeing him again made me feel like I was back in his gentle tide, floating down his river. At ease and safe despite the horror all around me.

  I swallowed hard around the pain in my throat. “You know the truth. That she sent me. Angelina. She was the one. And I’m sorry. I know this is a betrayal of your trust.”

  He cupped my face. His thumbs traced the curve of my cheekbones. “Do you remember what I said I’d do to the convent sisters?”

  I blinked. Confused. “There were no convent sisters. I’m a Prideaux.”

  He continued as if I had said nothing. “I told you I’d have them excommunicated from the faith. Didn’t I?” I nodded. “I explained, quite clearly, that I’d tear down the Nightfall Convent stone by stone. That I’d make them pay for daring to put ideas in your head.”

  “You’d said those things before you knew the truth.”

  He drew me an inch closer. “Do you remember when I made love to you on the bed of our enemies? And told you I loved you with every shred of my being and nothing could change that?”

  He leaned in, his breath skimming across my lips. The space between us shrank until I could taste his fury.

  “But,” I tried to say.

  “My wife belongs to no one but me. Not some coven. Not some family. But to me. And only me. And no one,” he said, “no one, harms my wife and lives.”

  He leaned into me and pressed his mouth against mine. It was a claim. A resurrection of my spirit. I fisted his jacket, dragging him closer, wanting to drown in him, in the way he kissed me like he could pull me back to life. I tasted blood. Mine, his, ours. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was this.

  He eased back far enough to look at me. I stared into the depths of his eyes, seeing him as if it were the first time. Like I had that night we met in the ballroom of Château Corbin. Except this time, I wasn’t meeting the polished vampire prince who was being asked to put on a polite smile for the courtiers. I saw him, every dark, desperate, and unhinged part of him.

  "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice raw, barely more than a breath. "I thought—" His hands slid down my neck, his fingers pressing against my pulse as if he needed to feel it, to make sure I was really here. His voice cracked. "You came back to me."

  I covered his hands with my own, pressing them tighter against my skin. “Damien himself couldn’t keep me from you.”

  Bastien kissed me again. Slower this time, in a way that truly brought me back to life. I’d choose him, again and again, over and over. It would always, only ever be him.

  Chapter 42

  Châtiment

  CLAIRE

  “Angelina Prideaux.” Natalia’s voice cut through the yard. “I should’ve known.”

  Bastien and I broke apart and found her standing at the entrance of the ruined training yard, blade drawn, the end of her braid dripping red. Behind her stood Bastien’s entire force. Sir Gavin. Destinee Gris. Men and women whose names I didn’t know but whose black and gold doublets marked them as ours.

  These were my people. I was their duchess—mate to their lord—and yet I stood here unable to explain why my mother was at the center of this horror.

  “I see that we arrived just in time for a prisoner execution.” I couldn’t tell if she meant Mama or me. Bastien stepped in front of me, and I knew we shared the same thought.

  Natalia had distrusted me from the beginning. And now she had the proof.

  Bastien snapped something at her in Sanguisi. I knew it wasn’t friendly, despite how beautiful it sounded. I silently committed to learning this language that meant so much to his family.

  “With all due respect, Uncle,” Natalia replied, switching deliberately into the Common Tongue so every soldier in the yard could hear her, “you left me in charge. And as their commander, I led the army to ensure the Duke and his wife were brought home safely.”

  I stilled. She… what?

  Natalia’s attention drifted to where my mother lay on the ground. “I know what it’s like to draw the disdain of your parents. I know what it’s like to be called a disgrace.”

  The soldiers at her back banged their swords against their shields in support of her. I had expected suspicion. Judgment. Perhaps even an accusation. Instead, what I found in her expression was something far softer. Understanding.

  She strode forward, but Bastien didn’t move until she sheathed her blade. Natalia stopped an arm’s length away and stared at me. Then, the woman who had never trusted me held out her hand. “I’ve always said your mother was a buffoon. Now I see she’s far more malicious than that.”

  Heat rose behind my eyes before I could stop it. I had spent so long fearing this moment that I had never prepared for the possibility of being seen. I put my hand in hers, and we shook like equals.

  “Don’t even think about embracing me,” she said.

  For the benefit of her pride, I tried to hide my smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Natalia let go of my hand and glanced back at Bastien. “Where is Shayla?” She asked. All business once again. “Have you captured her?”

  “Tyson and the wolves went after her,” Bastien said.

  “Ah.” Natalia reached for her belt, unfastened a leather waterskin, and handed it to me. “You look half dead. Drink.”

  I accepted it and drank deeply. The water burned as it slid down my throat. My neck felt as though it had been scraped from the inside out, but I forced myself to drink as much as I could stand.

  The sound of hoofbeats broke the hush as Lady Okeri rode in with Tansy behind her on the same horse. The moment Tansy saw me, the color drained from her face.

  “We need a healer!” she shouted over her shoulder. Not waiting for the horse to stop, she half-slid, half-fell from the saddle, boots sinking into the mud as she ran for me. “If you weren’t on your feet, I’d swear you were dead.” She wrapped her arms around me, holding me gently.

  I didn’t tell her that I had died. That I’d seen the God of the Underworld. I didn’t tell her that Devlinn had given me a message for her. Not yet.

  She stepped aside and made space for the healer to tend to the wounds around my neck. I winced when she peeled off the black lace, which was caked with blood. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the lace is ruined.” She dropped what was left of the necklace into my hands. It seemed so benign, so harmless. I stuffed it in my pocket, unable to leave it here.

  The healer blotted an herbal tincture onto my torn skin, and I hissed in pain. Bastien knelt beside the healer and took the tincture from her. “I’ll handle this.” He bid me to lean back against his chest as he dripped the liquid onto my wounds, allowing it to wash the dirt and blood away. I couldn’t look away from his face as he let the liquid run over my neck, washing away dirt and blood.

  “What have you discovered about these weres?” Natalia asked while Bastien worked.

  “Angelina purchased them from Shayla,” I replied tightly. “She’d made some deal with Shayla.”

  Natalia cursed, then barked, “Buffoon!” at my mother.

  Across the yard, the surrendered weres were huddled together. Bastien’s soldiers were binding their hands with ropes, but I didn’t see enemies. I saw a group of lost people.

  “Turn and face me,” Bastien said gently. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to do this. The healer who was holding the bandages was perfectly capable of assisting me. Or Tansy, who was worriedly hovering. But I knew he wouldn’t agree.

  I shifted so that I was kneeling in front of him, and he accepted a small glass jar from the healer.

  “They are villagers,” I explained, as Bastien began dabbing the thick, sticky salve over my wounds. It smelled of honey and lavender. “People who were lured in by Shayla’s promises. We need to help them.”

  Bastien glanced at them. “I don’t know if there’s a way to help them.” Once he’d finished applying a thick layer of salve, he carefully wrapped silk bandages around my neck, while Tansy held my hair out of the way.

  “Your mother is guilty of crimes against the Blood Treaty, and in Marius’s name, the sentence must be carried out.”

  I shifted just enough to see her. The woman who had bound me. Betrayed me. Killed me. She thought she was going to get rid of me for good, but she hadn’t. She’d only made me stronger.

  “Claire should be the one to do it,” Natalia insisted.

  Bastien fixed his frost blue eyes on me. “As the Duchess of Roselyn, you may be the one to carry out her sentence.”

  If we waited long enough, Angelina would die from the rot I’d sown inside her. She was already writhing in pain on the ground. But she’d killed me. It was only fitting that I returned the favor. After all she’d done. To these people. To me. I staggered to my feet, and when I nearly stumbled, Bastien offered me his hand. Even though my dress was heavy with blood and mud, I had never stood taller. I had never felt more powerful.

  “I am the consequence,” I muttered. Words that Gorrath had taught me. Bastien placed his dagger in my palm and curled my fingers around it.

  Natalia forced her to her feet while Bastien passed judgment. The black rot had turned her once haughty face to a ruin of pustules. Finally, the exterior reflected the hate within.

  “Angelina Prideaux, you conspired to start a war. You cast spells that turned innocents into weres. You inflicted unspeakable harm on every member of your family, including the Duchess of Roselyn. For this, you are sentenced to death.”

  Angelina’s lips parted, her throat bobbing like she might try to speak. "Don’t," I warned. "You don’t get to say a damn thing. No one asked for your last words.”

  Natalia forced her to her knees.

  “I was your daughter,” I reminded her. “All you had to do was love me.” Angelina’s nostrils flared. Her chest rose and fell in quick breaths. I took a slow step forward. “You enjoyed watching me suffer."

  "You don’t⁠—"

  I struck before she could finish. A flick of my hand, a crackle of dark magick, and suddenly she was gasping, choking on the weight of my power as it wrapped around her throat like an invisible collar. Her eyes widened, panic flashing as she clawed at her skin, trying to tear it away. I let her struggle like I had when she’d done the same to me. I crouched in front of her, my voice dropping to something dark.

  “I will ensure you are not buried in our family cemetery. I will ensure no rites are given to you. Your soul will be cursed for all eternity.”

  “I always knew you were a demon,” she gurgled. A bubble forming at the corner of her mouth. Black liquid staining her chin.

  “No,” I asserted. “I’m a witch.”

  For the first time in her wretched existence, she was not the one in control. And she knew it. “This is for every night I went to sleep, praying I was someone else." I pressed the dagger to her throat. “And for every lie you made me believe."

  Just before I slit her throat, a voice said, “Claire! Wait!” I stilled. I would’ve recognized it anywhere. “Before you kill her, there’s something I have to say.”

  Chapter 43

  Libérer

  CLAIRE

  Iwas one cut away from my justice, but the dagger in my hand faltered. Barely daring to believe it was her, I chanced a look over my shoulder to find my little sister standing a few yards away. Tears flooded my eyes. It was her. It was really her.

  “Sera?”

  “Claire.”

  Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, my arms finding their way around her, pulling her into a tight hug. At first, it was clumsy and awkward. Neither of us knew how to fit back together after everything that had happened. Her body was different, more rigid and wiry than I remembered. But it was her. My sister. I’d missed her terribly.