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"We are alone now," Kassam finally says. "Speak to me, Carly."
"Kassam," I sigh.
"I want to know who dared to attack my wife. Who dared to touch what is mine."
I rub my brow. "So that's it? Someone touched your toys and you're mad?"
Kassam's grip tightens on my hand. "No, I am not mad because someone touched my toys, as you put it. I am furious that someone hurt you. I am beside myself with anger that someone attacked you and it was my own foolishness that left you unguarded. I am upset that because of this stupid curse, I was in the dining hall, watching strangers fuck, while someone crept into our rooms and stabbed you." Self-loathing fills his voice. "I am upset that I cannot be a better husband to you. That I made a promise I did not keep and you were hurt as a result." He turns those furious silver eyes on me. "So let me fix this by claiming vengeance on the one who did this to you."
Oh. I reach out and touch his cheek. "You can't help your curse, so don't beat yourself up. But…thank you for being so sweet. It makes me feel a little better."
"Still you will not speak the name? Why?"
I'm not as good at deflecting as I'd hoped. "Because you're going to attack them and I hate to say it, but we probably need them."
His face darkens. I can see the exact moment he realizes what I mean, and he fairly bristles with fury. "Was it Seth?"
I give him an exasperated look. "Even if it was, what can you do?"
"I can do a lot," Kassam growls, danger written all over his face. "I can make him pay—"
"No," I say sharply. "You can make Margo pay. Because Seth is a god, and she's the only way he's vulnerable. Would you do this to her?" I gesture at my stitched-up chest. "Knowing that she's innocent? That she was pulled into this because he manipulated her? He knows you can't do anything to him." I shake my head. "I know you want to avenge me, but we have to think this through. It's not black and white." Squeezing Kassam's hand in my grip, I continue. "I hate the guy. You know I do. I don't trust him. Never have, never will. But he needs you and you need him if you're going to take down Riekki. That's why he did this—he thought you'd be able to do more as a full-blown god instead of trapped here in a mortal form."
Kassam looks furious. "He touched you—"
"He killed me," I correct. "But you've said yourself, gods don't feel anything for mortals. We're nobody and nothing. Why would you think him killing me would mean anything? He probably thinks he's doing you a favor."
That flummoxes him. "You are not nothing to me," he says after a moment. "You are my wife."
I pat his hand. "And if I wasn't, would you care? Did you care when your other anchors died?" I can tell I've made a point then, because his expression grows mulish. "Look, I'm just as upset as anyone else over this." I try to keep my tone light, but there's a hard knot in my throat. "But I'm trying to not take it personally."
Not take my own murder personally. Jesus.
"The point is," I continue, rubbing his hand, "Seth doesn't know or doesn't understand how you feel about me. To him, I'm just another Margo—a pain in the ass you have to drag along with you. To him, getting rid of me probably means nothing more than squashing a bug. You've told me a dozen times that gods don't think like mortals do. So let's look at this from a god's perspective. You still need him to take down Riekki. Two heads are better than one. Seth has shown he's not afraid to do dirty work, so don't make an enemy out of him…yet."
"Yet?" Kassam's expression perks up.
"Oh yeah." I manage a faint smile. "After we take care of this Riekki business and you're back to your full power? Burn the asshole for all I care. But let's get our vengeance on her before we take him out."
Kassam studies me, his expression thoughtful. "Delaying our revenge on him will be difficult. I want nothing more than to find him and tear his tongue out. But…perhaps you are wise. Perhaps I am not considering this as I should." He rubs my knuckles thoughtfully, gazing down at them. "I have said many times that gods do not think much of mortals."
"Many, many times," I point out.
He glances up at me, silvery eyes unreadable. "I hope you realize that you are different. That the way I feel about you is…different."
"Different…how?"
He brushes his lips over my knuckles in an almost-kiss, watching me as he does. "I love you."
