Impossible. There shouldn’t have been anything left between them. A broken bond didn’t leave ghosts behind. Everyone knew that.
His grip slipped away, fingers pulling briefly into fists before he shoved them into his pockets and stepped back.
“You’re alive.” His nod was small, more to himself than anyone else. “Good.”
Emmaline grabbed Lara’s thick fur and clawed her way up, coughing as the Corgi let out a low, put-upon grunt.
“Oh, for the love of bones, you’re ruining the shine,” Lara grumbled, twisting her head to glare up at Emmaline. “Do you know how long it’s going to take to get blood, cellar dust, and whatever that smell is out of my coat?”
“Deyric. What are you doing here?” Emmaline panted, using the Corgi like a furry crutch until she could brace against the nearest wine rack.
From across the room, the man folded his arms. “Well, you almost got my sister killed. What was I supposed to do?”
“Oh, shut it.” Aeren strode into view, closing on Deyric in three hard steps. “You could have been here to help.” Both her palms hit his chest, shoving him back until his shoulders smacked the wall. “If you weren’t so godsdamned blind and stubborn.” She pressed against him, then raised a fist and let it drop against his chest in a half-hearted punch. “You should have been here.”
“Debatable,” Ursula drawled, her face emerging from the dark, shadows clinging to her skin like a second cloak. “Apparently, we’re turningKill the Lord Nightinto an open invitation.”
Emmaline squinted into the gloom, trying to find her, but the shadows didn’t behave the way they should. They clung too thick, too heavy as Ursula’s magic bled into the room's edges.
“Don’t mind her.” Margo stepped up beside Aeren, nudging her aside with a bump of her hip, and slipped both of Deyric’s hands into hers. “Ursula’s just not used to sharing. It’s usually just the five of us.” She looked down and blew Lara a kiss. “Including the beast.”
“You’re alive.” Emmaline tried to step toward Margo, but her legs buckled, forcing her to grab onto the wine rack again for balance. The wood creaked under her grip, cold sweat prickling down her spine.
“Thanks to you.” Margo glanced over her shoulder. “We’ll talk later about how spectacularly foolish that was.”
“Margo—” Emmaline started, but Margo had already turned back to Deyric. Her gaze traced over him, slow and assessing, like someone weighing whether a shattered vase was worth gluing back together, or if it was beyond saving.
“Well.” Deyric shifted under the weight of her attention. “Your other friend, the dark and scary one, won’t have to worry about company much longer. Aeren and I are leaving the second Caelith is dead. You won’t see either of us ever again.”
“You don’t speak for me.” Aeren’s hand snapped up, but Margo caught her wrist before she could land the hit, lowering it with gentle, deliberate pressure.
Margo’s gaze stayed locked on Deyric. “Is that really what you want? To never seeanyof us again?”
“You’re all insane.” His shoulders tensed like he was bracing for another shove. “I have to keep Aeren safe.”
Margo stepped closer, fingers trailing down his arm. “That’s not an answer. What do you want?”
His chin lifted so fast she almost missed it—just the briefest snap of his eyes finding hers before slamming back down to the floor. “It doesn’t matter what I want.” His voice scraped raw. “Then or now. She made the choice for both of us.” His lips pulled back, teeth bared. “She broke whatever we might have had.”
The words hit like a fist to the ribs. Emmaline could barely breathe. She’d braced herself for his anger, for bitterness, even for hate, but hearing it out loud, cold and final, still hurt more than she was ready for.
Margo’s fingers closed hard around his face, her grip nothing like the soft, graceful woman she usually showed the world. That mask slid off in a flash, leaving only sharp edges and the dangerous steel underneath.
“Look around you, Deyric.” She yanked his head toward the darkness thickening at the edges of the room where Ursula’s magic still flared into the stone. “Look at where we are. Look at what we’ve done. What we’re going to do.”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer before jerking his face back, forcing him to look directly at Emmaline.
“Look at her.”
He fought it, shoulders twisting, head jerking like he could physically break her hold, but Margo didn’t let go.
“Stop,” Emmaline whimpered. She couldn’t stand to see him forced into this. She deserved his anger, his hate, every ounce of it.
Margo ignored her, nails digging into Deyric’s skin, her knuckles white with strain. “Does she look like someone who wanted to break your bond?” Her voice dropped lower with every word, trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer effort of holding herself back. “Or does she look like a woman who, against everything we know about mating bonds, still loves you? Who risked everything to punish the real monster. And to protect you.”
Her breath came faster, harsh enough to catch at the edges, the polished veneer cracking wide open to expose something feral underneath. “And you dare stand there and judge her? You want insane?” Her smile bent. “I’ll show you insane.”
Margo plucked a slender pin from her hair, the silver catching light like a blade. She pressed the point just under his jaw.
