She swallows and shrugs. "Maybe three days ago. Maybe longer. Everything blends together."
Jesus. She's running on fumes.
I slide down in the bed, pulling her with me. I say, "You're exhausted."
She doesn't argue.
I kiss the top of her head again. "Go to sleep. Right now. When you wake up, things will be better."
Her breathing stutters. "What if they're not?"
I order, "Look at me."
She sniffles and obeys.
I wiggle my eyebrows. "You're married to me. It's only up from here."
A tiny smile plays on her mouth.
I kiss her on the lips. "Go to sleep, Minx. Everything is going to be okay. I promise."
Her body finally sags, the last fight draining out of her. Her lashes lower, then lift once, then lower again. In less than a minute, her breaths deepen, slow and even, the kind of sleep that comes only when someone is past the edge.
I stay still so I don't wake her.
The cabin hum wraps around us. The jet's engines rise into a steadier thrum as we lift higher, cutting through clouds and distance and whatever Underworld shadow still tries to cling to us.
The entire flight, she sleeps on my chest, and everything clicks into place with a clarity that sharpens my focus.
I'm on the Royal Council now.
The vow tasted like poison, but I'm going to use the seat as a weapon.I'll have access to files, names, and histories of every order that anyone ever uttered. Masks won't protect any of them.
They thought branding her with a scarlet letter and dressing her in black would shame her. They thought dragging her through rituals would bend her into something smaller, quieter, easier to control.
They're wrong.
I look down at Valentina.
She sleeps, her mouth slightly parted against my chest, her curls spilling across my arm. She's not tainted. She's a woman who deserved better than the monsters who kept taking from her. And now, she's my wife.
I make a vow that has nothing to do with loyalty to the Underworld and everything to do with the woman in my arms.
It's to whoever decided to brand her, whoever decided she belonged in black, and whoever thought shaming her was a privilege they had earned.
I will find them.
And when I do, I will take them down piece by piece, with the same patience they used to try to erase her.
19
Valentina
Heavy, enveloping warmth presses against my back, wrapping around my waist, cocooning me like I'm something fragile. A heartbeat thumps against my spine, and a thumb circles my belly button.
I attempt to inhale, but my breath barely moves. My ribs ache like I've run a marathon with no training. My eyelids could be lead. My mouth's dry, my throat's rough, and my mind is as soggy as wet cotton.
Where am I?
