“I don’t think I like that term.”
He caught her around the waist as she strode by him, tugging her against his chest so she had to plant her hands over his heart. She could feel it thundering against her palms as he leaned down and rasped in her ear, “Call yourself what you wish, gravesinger. Just know that the only thing youhaveto call yourself is mine.”
She hummed low under her throat. “What a romantic you are for a man who made a gruesome spectacle in the middle of the town square.”
“They needed to be reminded that I am here.”
“You made a statue bleed.”
“And I would do it again.” He pressed a kiss to her throat before letting her go. “Come, we are close to your Fortuna’s home.”
The banter and joking was the only way she was keeping herself together. The closer she got to Fortuna, the less she wanted to be here. Jessamine knew this was the only way to get back to her throne, because Fortuna was the only person in Callum’s memory who she knew could be useful, and yet…
“You hesitate,” Elric said as they walked the meager few steps left.
“Fortuna and I have never had a good relationship. She was always the pretty cousin, but that didn’t mean she had an easier life than I did. I was still the crown princess. She was always the woman who would never have the throne. It was difficult for her, to say the least.”
“So you hesitate, why?”
“I don’t want to make her life any harder than it already has been. We don’t have very good memories of each other, but that doesn’t mean I want to waste my time with revenge on someone who deserves it less than others.”
“You are not the child you once were,” Elric murmured quietly. “I thought you had learned that lesson after seeing Callum.”
“I did,” she replied. “I am a monster that none of them will recognize. For that, I am ever so grateful. But it will feel strange to see someone who once knew you and to know they no longer have any power over you.”
“We’re here,” Elric said quietly.
They crouched on the opposite side of the street, tucked against the edge of a stone staircase that led up to an equally grand house. Fortuna’s was the largest on the street, surrounded by a golden fence that was easily twice the height of a normal person. There were guards every ten feet or so, each of them in Leon’s signature dark blue.
The house beyond was made entirely of white marble. It stood as a monolith of money, four stories tall, with pillars that made it look like a small castle. Glass windows revealed every single room to passersby, sparkling with so much light she could only imagine how much whale oil the house consumed. Even from here, she could see the riches inside. Gold-leafed walls, black-and-white marble floors, countless artifacts from artisans all around the word. Marble busts. Oil paintings. Gemstones in every bedroom that made it almost impossible to guess which was Fortuna’s.
“She doesn’t want anyone to know where she rests her head,” Elric muttered, as though he had a similar thought to hers. “And the guards are certainly concerning.”
Indeed they were. It suggested Leon had placed more value upon Fortuna’s life than she’d originally guessed.
As they watched, the guards changed over. They did it in such a way that no one would ever be able to elude them. The guards were too vigilant, almost as though they knew someone was coming. Even as they changedover, they were back to back, both of them looking everywhere until the person being relieved could leave knowing that no one would sneak in on their watch.
“He’s nervous,” she whispered.
“Your king has heard about you,” Elric said, his voice low and melodic. “I would say he’s afraid there is a witch back from the dead.”
“Whatever will he do when he hears I brought a god with me?”
They shared a look, but Jessamine knew this was the moment when everything changed. She’d always planned for Leon to know that she was alive. She wanted her almost-husband to be terrified as she crawled her way back to that throne. She wanted him to lie awake at night, haunted by the ghost of what he had done.
“You can’t die,” Elric murmured, his eyes on hers. “You know he can’t kill you, because I will not let him.”
“I cannot die, but I can still feel pain.” The sensation of a knife sliding through her skin was a phantom memory that plagued her even now. Jessamine smoothed her hands down the shirt beneath her cloak.
Her fingers danced over the scar on her side where Callum’s thugs had cut her up and left her for dead just because they found out she was a witch. Then she moved upward, feeling the mark on her ribs where a young man named Benji had thought to finish what his master had started. And finally, the last touch that always made her feel the worst pain.
She wrapped her hand around her own neck where her betrothed, who should have been vowing to protect her with his life, had slit her throat.
“I want my revenge,” she whispered. “I want to know that everything he worked so hard to get, all that he desires, is ripped from his hands piece by bloody piece. I want to see him crawl and beg me for mercy.”
“Where do you wish to start?”
“With what he loves.” Her eyes moved to the stately home where Fortuna hid. And as if she had summoned the woman herself, Fortuna walked in front of one of the largest windows.
