“You’re really going to remove all curses from the earth?” I gawk.
“Yes.”
A realization strikes me, and I tense, staring her down. “Even the steward of Limbo’s?”
Arati flaps her hand at me like I’m bothering her. “We’ve been over this, even before we swore the oaths. You made it beyond crystal clear that you would agree to nothing unless that mortal incubus’s curse was alleviated with the others. Or don’t you recall the arguments you made in favor of ending the Legacy Curse and shifting the maintenance of Limbo onto all living incubi?”
Her words sound kind of familiar. I still struggle for a moment to pick the right memory from my head before I realize she’s right. We’d argued about it in this very room.
“The Legacy Curse was made to unite the monsters of old to stop their warfare. That’s what all legacies in the world believe—but that’s manticore shit,”I had pointed out.“Galene herself told me fate picks matches. The Legacy Curse was a way to tame the more violent legacies long ago. It gave them a selfish reason to accept their matches and work together, but now it’s time for you to trust in the humanity of legacies. I can tell you from firsthand experience that the urge to find your quintet is now so ingrained in legacies, down to the fiber of their beings, that having a curse on top of it is fucking ridiculous. It’s antiquated.”
“Fine,”Arati had snapped at me.“I’ll lift the Legacy Curse.”
“From everyone?”
“Yes. All legacies living and yet unborn. Let’s just get on with it, then.”
I’d stopped her from cutting her hand to make the blood oath.“The steward of Limbo needs to be freed, too.”
“What? No. The Limbo must be tended to.”
“I agree,”I’d shrugged.“But there are thousands of incubi in the world. They can all go into Limbo. Why can’t they all maintain it? Why make only one suffer? If all curses are gone, that burden needs to be shared. My incubus will be freed with every other legacy, or I’ll drop this blood oath right now and good fucking luck finding someone else stupid enough to tie their soul to the Nether.”
It took more arguing, but Arati had agreed.
Relief hits me hard and fast as I refocus on the six gods around this table. They’re all watching me expectantly, but I keep my face carefully unreadable as powerful emotions well inside me.
I told Crypt I would find a way to fix it, not realizing I already had.
I may have sealed my quintet’s fates to the Nether along with mine without asking for their permission, but…I have no regrets.
Galene was right. Coming here was vital.
“All right,” I nod. “Seal my soul to the Nether.”
“I will,” Arati shrugs before impaling something on one of her plates with a golden fork and savoring the taste of it. She smiles, half smug and half amused. “But first, you’ll have dinner with us.Clothed,this time.”
I stare at her. “I can’t eat. Or drink. Or touch anything.”
Koa glances at me. “We’ve enjoyed watching you in the mortal realm, but despite the rather awful wringer you put us through when you first arrived in Paradise, we’ve…well, we’ve missed you.”
“You will visit us in projections like this in the future, but not often,” Galene adds. “Therefore, allow us to enjoy this small celebration with you before we make such great changes to the world. Syntyche, especially, is pleased to have you here.”
Could’ve fooled me. She looks as expressionless as always as she scoots something across her plate as if she’s bored.
Whatever. If the gods want a one-sided dinner with me before I get my happily ever after with my quintet, I suppose I can suffer through it.
Several angels slip into the grandiose golden room while the gods eat. They start setting up instruments. One of them clears their throat before they begin playing music and dancing.
“Dinner comes with a show,” Arati adds, smirking at me
“And dessert!” Pheli grins, guzzling another goblet of wine. “You’ll be here a while, my dear, and we couldn’t be happier.”
Oh, my gods. This isn’t just dinner and a show. It’s payback for all the shit I put them through when I first came here. There’s no other explanation for these holy sadists wanting to watch such a boring dance routine while I sit here and watch them enjoy dinner together.
Gag me with a fucking knife.
53
