Aeren watched her for a moment, then reached across the counter, laying a hand gently over Emmaline’s. “Are you… Were you truly mated?”
Emmaline’s breath hitched, but she nodded. “Seems that way.”
Aeren’s smile dimmed as she wiped a tear from Emmaline’s face with the side of her thumb. “Well, I guess that makes you lucky.”
Emmaline’s eyebrows shot skyward. “In what world—”
“Because my brother is the absolute worst.” Aeren downed the rest of her mug, coughing through the burn. “You dodged an iron arrow. Truly.” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand like a tavern girl who’d long stopped caring about appearances.
Emmaline stared at her, stunned, then burst into laughter, the kind that comes from deep in the gut, the kind you can only manage after crying. She tossed back the rest of her drink, slamming the mug down beside Aeren’s.
As the laughter faded, Aeren turned fully toward her, expression focused. “Now that that’s done, what are we going to do to make him pay?”
Emmaline hiccupped, her mouth half-open like her brain had missed a step somewhere. “Deyric?”
“No.” Aeren waved that off. “That poor idiot’s suffered enough.” She leaned her elbows on the counter, chin propped on her fists. “I mean Caelith.”
Emmaline froze, her shoulders drawing tight before she could stop herself. Suspicion crept into the edges of her thoughts. Aeren’s tuition—Caelith still paid it.
No.She ground her heel against the rising doubt, crushing it flat. This woman wasn’t her enemy. Whatever strings Caelith had attached, Aeren wanted to cut herself free.
“You already have something planned.” Aeren’s eyes widened before Emmaline could answer. “But Deyric said you were the Lord’s date to the Solstice Ball.” Her nose crinkled like she’d tasted something sour. “I guess the shitehead really rubbed it in this morning. Deyric came home from work positively fuming.”
Emmaline’s pulse kicked hard, a sharp, involuntary stutter. Did Deyric’s anger mean something? Was he still…no...focus.
Her chin dipped, breath shuddering out like she could exhale the delusional hope trying to crawl up her spine and replace it with something easier, more comfortable. Her nails dug into the counter, the wood biting back against her skin as her chest filled with a dangerous heat—seething and ravenous.
When she finally lifted her head, her eyes caught Aeren’s.
Emmaline bared her teeth in a slow, deliberate grin, jagged enough to slice to the bone. It wasn’t the polished charm she showed at brunches or the brittle civility she wore in public. This was something older, something that tasted of blood and ruin.
And she didn't bother to hide it for the first time in longer than she could remember.
Reaching for Aeren’s mug without asking, she took a long, slow sip. “Caelith won’t be making it to the Solstice Ball.” She tilted the drink, watching the liquid swirl, then set it down with a soft clink. “Or any other ball ever again.”
Emmaline didn’t blink, waiting to see if the other woman would flinch before she leaned in and murmured, “Would you like to help?”
Aeren’s mouth parted slightly, but the hesitation lasted less than a heartbeat. Her back straightened, a steely edge settling behind her eyes, as if every quiet, private fury she’d ever buried had just been called to the surface. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“It won’t be quick,” Emmaline warned, her voice dropping lower. “And it won’t be clean.”
“Good.” Aeren took Emmaline’s hands, guiding them up to her own face, pressing Emmaline’s palms against her cheeks like a blessing—or a vow. She bowed her head. “It will be done as the Goddess demands.”
Emmaline’s skin prickled, fine hairs rising along her arms, the air turning too still for comfort. That voice—it wasn’t quite Aeren’s. It echoed, thin and distant, as if the words had been pulled from the earth itself, passing through her like a draft through an open door.
For a breath, Emmaline just sat there, pulse hammering in her ears, the silence pressing down like damp earth after a cave-in. Then, with a quick shake of her head, she pulled away, shoving the moment aside like brushing cobwebs from her path.
“I don’t know about all that.” Her smile crept back. “But it will definitely be done.”
Chapter twenty-seven
“And…done.”
Emmaline watched through the speak-easy as Ursula slipped the charm into her pocket, the third pulse of light confirming it had fully activated. Relief eased some of the tightness in her shoulders. One more piece was locked into place.
She barely had time to savor the victory before a voice rang out, “Miss Emmaline! There’s a young man at the front gate asking for you.”
“Hold on!” She rummaged through the mess covering her desk, papers sliding everywhere as she searched for her schedule.
