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“My father isn’t answering,” Evie said. “Moira, I hate to ask you this. I need you to try to remove that mark from Soren’s chest.”

I blinked. “Uh. Okay. Why?”

Soren’s golden skin had taken on a chalky tone.

“A few reasons. My father can spy on us through it.”

“Shocker,” I said deadpan.

“Soren’s life is tied to yours.”

“I’m aware.”

Evie hesitated. Her magic soaked into Soren’s body, turning the air around us a myriad of colors. “If he lives, and the mark is still there, the bargain on his side will be complete.”

“My mother isn’t dead.”

“Right,” Evie said, “but he made the ultimate sacrifice in protecting you. My father worded it carefully. If he wakes up, Dad will have no choice but to grant his request.”

I wasn’t picking up what Evie was putting down. “So? And that’s a bad thing?”

Evie sighed. “Moira, Soren asked my father to kill him.”

I blinked at her like an owl for a full ten seconds. “I’m sorry. He did what?”

“Ponder the reasoning behind it later,” Evie said through gritted teeth. “Get that fucking binding off him. I can’t do it. My magic is too mixed and volatile. You have a lot of my father’s power pouring through your veins. It may confuse the magic and grant you the ability to do it. Now, Moira. Do it now.”

“Shit. Fuck.” I blew out a breath. “Okay.” I closed my eyes and slapped my hand down on Soren’s chest.

Epilogue

“If I were a better person, I’d kill you myself,” I hissed to the handsome man lying on my bed.

Soren’s brilliant blue, unfocused gaze finally settled on me. He licked his lips and tried to speak, but only a wheeze came out.

“But I’m not a better person,” I continued. “I’ve always had a little bit of a vindictive streak running through me. I don’t get as disturbed by certain things as other people do. I have a high tolerance for pain and torture.”

My lips twisted. “Obviously. I’m still standing. But I try to be nice to people, though it’s not my first instinct. Mostly I’d like to be left alone. Give me a pile of books and some tea, maybe some soothing acoustic music on the radio or one of those YouTube videos where they’re doing something like baking or gardening, and they’re silent—the only sound the crumple of parchment paper or the trill of a bird in the distance. And chickens,” I added. “I like the way they sound when they’re pecking the ground.”

Soren’s brows drew together in confusion.

“But instead, I somehow, despite all the odds, made friends. I have people who love me. People who would take a bullet for me. Or, in your case, a death spell with my name on it.”

Soren blinked and opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh no,” I said softly. “You don’t get to speak until I’m finished.”

He snapped his mouth shut. A wary look overtook his expression.

“I always thought I didn’t deserve their love, that I was somehow unworthy of the faith and fidelity they’ve always shown me. I know now I was delusional because I’m capable of the same. Everyone deserves to have such love, Soren. Everyone.”

Soren’s mouth tightened.

“No matter what we’ve done in our past. No matter what vices we reveled in to deal with our pain, we all deserve to be loved.” I leaned forward and poked him in the chest. “I’ve seen inside you, Soren, been inside all your dark and twisted places. I know what you’ve been through. I see past your charming smiles and wicked wit to the wounded man hiding behind them.”

The Lord closed his eyes.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” I whispered.