I’d been tended to by three healers, taken a hot bath, and changed into clean clothes.
Gabriel himself had tucked me into bed, after coaxing me to drink from his wrist, both of us pretending we didn’t notice how fast our heart rates sped up or the way heat built between us with every mouthful of blood.
He’d still been here, holding my hand when I’d fallen asleep, but was gone when I woke from a nightmare.
Nico was back from the mountains. I detected the faint scent of cherries wafting through the crack in the door when he’d peeked in to check on me when I was sleeping.
But Dante wasn’t.
I told myself my husband was right behind him. That the dangerous light in his eyes wasn’t a suicidal gleam. That at any moment, he’d walk through that bedroom door, and everything would go back to how it should be.
But as the hours passed, doubt rooted itself deep in my chest.
I stood at the tall windows, the hem of my borrowednightgown brushing the floor as I watched the mist roll in, clinging to everything in ghostlike tendrils until I felt like I was suspended in a muted, dusky world.
The sumptuous gown I wore had belonged to their mother,Zafira. Gabriel mentioned her name absently when he’d handed the slip of silk to me, likely to cover up the fact I’d been in nothing but my underwear after the healers left. He’d been looking anywhere except at me, blood splattered and broken, too exhausted to pretend anymore.
The soft, aged silk whispered against my skin, too elegant to sleep in, the style from long before I was even born. Wide sleeves hung slightly loose, the high waist hugging my stomach, flowers and vines and small birds neatly stitched in a pattern as complicated as any tapestry.
I wrapped my arms around myself, staring out over the lagoon.
The water stretched endlessly, its surface a shifting mirror of gray and silver as clouds rolled in overhead, the barest flickers of moonlight filtering through. There was something inside Dante.
A fire demon, like the ones Enzo used to tell me about.
A demon he couldn’t control, and if I knew my husband at all, his first—and only—thought would be to keep me safe. Which meant he would be willing to do anything to protect me, including destroying himself.
I swallowed hard.
Maybe he was on his way here, even now… but there had been a hopelessness in the way he’d stared at me, as though he was committing my face to memory.
As though he didn’t expect to see me ever again.
If I had more strength, I wouldn’t have let him out of my sight, but I hadn’t been thinking straight and had allowedGabriel to bustle me out of there, wrapped up in his coat, telling me we’d regroup on the island.
On our way out, I’d seen the destruction he’d wreaked. The blackened walls, the melted stone, the bent metal. The piles of ash that used to be bodies.
All of this had to do with his scars, with those tattoos, but I didn’t know enough about his time in the Fossa to piece everything together. All I knew was that he would die before he would ever hurt me.
Andthatwas the nightmare that had woken me up.
I blinked hard. “Ofcourse,you would sacrifice yourself,” I murmured, pressing my hand to the cool glass, fog outlining every finger. “So much easier than talking to me.”
A vague shape was moving through the fog, and my heart stuttered, fear stealing my breath before hope rose like a tide.
Slowly, the figure took shape. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Mostly naked. Without a hint of fire or flame, Dante moved with his usual surety, prowling up the shoreline toward the dock.
“Thank the gods,” I breathed, pausing when another figure materialized behind him. Every bit as tall, but rangy, longer hair. I squinted, trying to penetrate the shifting mist.
Luca. Is that really you?
I’m right here, Emberline. Safe and sound, but gods, do I have a story for you.
Finally, I sensed my husband, the bond opening up, his presence flooding to me, brushing against my awareness like a low, constant heat. As if I was holding my hands up to a flame on a cold day.
Dante was alive, and he’d brought my brother here, where he’d be safe. Somehow, Giovanni didn’t have him, and Bruno hadn’t…gods, I had so many questions.
I whirled away from the window and was through the door, bare feet flying down stairs, then over rugs and wood floors, taking the turns too fast, slamming into a wall in my haste. I yanked open the first door I came to and burst out into the night, the cool air kissing my face, tears streaming down my cheeks.
