Page 88 of All Hallows Fate

“Very pretty,” she remarked, brushing my cheek with a lingering touch. “We’re okay. I promise.”

My chest deflated with a sigh and I folded her into both arms, the warmth of her settling into my front. “It’ll take me a while to accept it, but I know we’re safe.” My lips were drawn to the flat of her temple. “Thanks to you.”

“Eh.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I had help.”

“No.” I held eye contact, reached through the bond for the wash of comforting warmth from being connected to her. “You came for me. You dug me out of the dirt. You saved me. I’ll never stop being grateful for it. You’re my miracle, little bride. My saviour.”

She rested her cheek on my shoulder. “You saved me first. Not just with the curse and Nightmare. I felt so alone when I got to Ford. Even with Honey and Byron, there was a loneliness that nothing healed.” She turned her face to kiss the space above my heart. “But you healed it. Healed me. I don’t feel lonely anymore. And even if I get anxious, I know I can handle anything, so it never lasts for long. It’s hard to feel terrified about what the future holds when I fought a god and killed him.”

I stroked the length of her hair, easing some of the bed-induced tangles. “Have I told you that I’m proud of you?”

“Every day since I got you back. Sometimes multiple times a day,” she added with a wry look up at me.

“Well, I am. I’m proud of you, and I’m so proud to be your husband. I’m honoured to call you mine—as Judgement, as Violence’s killer, and as Cat, my little one.”

“Sweet talker,” she accused in a voice so husky I knew she was emotional. “Speaking of being my husband… you do know I’ve seen the marquee in the garden, right?”

“Don’t let Madde hear you say that.” I glanced at the gates, just once, before returning my attention where it belonged. “He’s determined to keep it a secret.”

“And the mountain of boxes that were delivered yesterday? Are those meant to be secret?” she asked dryly.

“Top secret,” I confirmed. She absolutely couldn’t know about the secret wedding we’d planned. “Pretend you don’t know.”

“Know what?” She blinked up at me.

My smile stretched the confines of my face. “I’m so glad you’re my wife.”

And I couldn’t wait to marry her for real tomorrow.

EPILOGUE 5

Cat

“You’re not going to die,” I said, rolling my eyes as Duncan dug in his heels and refused to pass through the veil. “Would I lead you to your death, after everything?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Phil got locked in a mirror; maybe you’re gonna stuff me into a chandelier to decorate your new home.”

I paused on the edge of the doorway between life and death. “We already have a chandelier, and it’s prettier than you.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “You know, you’re not very nice. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You,” I replied. “Frequently on the walk from the village to this road.”

He groaned and stepped up to the edge of the veil, batting a flop of brown hair from his eyes. He looked better than he had the last time I saw him, his eyes rimmed in red as he sat beside Orwell’s immobile body—again—and stared into space.

“Duncan,” I said, catching his attention. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

I’d lost too many friends; I needed to hold onto the few I had left. He must have realised that too, or remembered that he did in fact trust me, because he sighed and followed me into the domain of Death.

It was a short walk to where the passage between the domain and the white, empty realm had been thinning for days, curls of dark mist drifting from the space. Fuzzball had trudged into the darkness an hour ago to retrieve our new Violence, so it shouldn’t be too long now. Death had sensed the domain getting ready to greet a new god—one. So far, no one had come through as Cruelty. I hoped for someone who’d handle that job with care and respect, and as gentle a hand as possible, not another selfish psychopath.

“Are you sure about this?” Duncan asked, ruffling his hair again as he glanced at me. “If you’re wrong—”

“I’m not.” Or at least, Fuzzball wasn’t. She’d sensed the new Violence, and I trusted her judgement.

And then she was there, shoving her nose through the smoke, hooves and legs following, bringing a new rider with her.

“Just so we’re clear,” I said, meeting the hard eyes of her passenger, “this horse is mine.”