She wanted to reach for him, to call his name, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. Something wet dripped from her lips. Drool. Vomit. She felt it pool beneath her chin, but she couldn’t even summon the strength to wipe it away.
He lifted his head to her. His face… she didn’t recognize it, morphed as it was in anger.
“How could you?” His fingers dug into the floor.
Then—a shift. The fury in his gaze fractured, the sharp edges dulling into something worse.
Sadness. Regret.
“How could you destroy the greatest gift the Goddess can give?”
Destroy? The greatest gift? What is he talking about?she wanted to ask, needed to ask. But she still couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Deyric let out a slow, shuddering breath as he planted his fists beneath him, gathering his strength. Groaning, he pushed himself upright, staggering slightly before catching his balance.
Then, he looked down at her. His face was unreadable, though his voice was not.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you, little killer.”
The nickname—soft and teasing whenever he’d used it before—felt like a death sentence now.
He turned toward the door, each step unsteady, and, without looking back, he paused.
“You two deserve each other.”
Andthen—
He was gone.
The moment the door clicked shut, Emmaline knew she had made the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter twenty
Steamdriftedinlazytendrils from the rainfall stones embedded in the ceiling of Emmaline’s shower, the enchanted mineral filtering the water into a steady, scalding cascade. Veins of glowing blue light pulsed along the carved rock walls, faint remnants of old magic woven into the foundation, casting the chamber in an otherworldly glow.
Emmaline stepped out, the moisture on her skin already cooling too quickly, the air biting against her exposed flesh.
She still wasn’t warm.
Her hands trembled as she squeezed the thick towel over her hair. She had run the water as hot as it would go, standing beneath it until the reservoir had emptied, but the chill clinging to her ribs—to her heart—wouldn’t leave.
The icy pain lingered, woven deep into her bones.
She stiffened as the chime of her speak-easy sounded yet again from the kitchen.
That was the third time. If she didn’t answer soon, she might have Margo or Ursula pounding on her doorstep, and she couldn’t face anyone right now.
Anxiety tightened her stomach as she crossed the room, dragging the towel over her arms, forcing her still-numb fingers to work.
Then she saw it, the fractured kitchen countertop. A jagged, splintering crack split the wood in a spiderweb of destruction radiating from where Deyric’s fist had slammed into it.
She swallowed hard and snatched up the speak-easy.
There were five messages. Two from Margo. Three from Ursula.Brunch.
Rot and ruin.She’d completely forgotten it was Saturday.
Her fingers flew over the symbols as she typed out the same response to both of them.I’m fine. Can’t make brunch today. Busy.
