Page 19

“You’re right. Maraveth would have never been captured in the first place.”

She gave me her back and walked towards the door. Each click of her heels against the floor grated against my nerves.

“Come,” she called without turning, expecting me to trail behind her as she disappeared through the large doorway. “Compose yourself.”

I bit back my irritation and followed her into the sprawling hallway, my steps quick and deliberate.

I was angry. I was heartbroken and dragged to the hells against my will.

Of course I was fearful.

Paintings decorated the walls, evenly spaced apart with candelabras in between them. The pastel colours would have been beautiful if it were not for the cold unsettled feeling they gave me.

I looked at one closely and realised it was a woman’s face, mouth agape in a scream of pain. The colours shifted like a thousand insects, as if it were alive. I blinked, certain that it was my eyes playing tricks on me and quickened my pace.

“Who are you?” I asked the red headed woman.

“Kaezlyn,” she replied coolly, red braid swaying behind her with each step. A part of me wanted to use it as leverage to slam her face into my knee. But no, that wasn’t playing nice.

“Fallen God of love.”

My steps faltered before recovering, mouth turning dry with disbelief.

I wanted to ask more, but I would wear civility like armour until I had what I sought, allowing the fractured remnants of my power to knit themselves back together after whatever Cerilla had carved from me.

A slow, searing heat unfurled inside me at the thought of her. It wasn’t the betrayal that set me ablaze—I had survived worse.

Like the man I loved turning out to be the monster made to kill me in every lifetime.

As angry as I was for Rythos not telling me who he was, I still did not want to hurt him.

Though, I would rather carry his hatred than have him die simply for loving me.

I just wish I knew why he hadn’t told me who he was.

Did he not trust that I would love him regardless? Did he think I would be frightened?

I squared my shoulders and followed Kaezlyn down the sweeping steps, shoving the thoughts deep down inside me where they wouldn’t surface again.

Determined to focus, I forced myself steady with every barefooted step against the cool, pale stone.

At the bottom of the staircase was a vast foyer.

Pale flowers framed a double opaque door in large ornament planters.

I reached for them, wanting to run my fingers over the soft petals. It was as if the hells themselves had drained the colour from something that was supposed to be bright.

“Careful,” Kaezlyn said, grabbing my wrist to stop me. “Sometimes the most delicate things are the most lethal.” Her deep crimson eyes held mine for a moment, as if she were waiting for me to respond. She released me slowly, her fingers lingering a fraction too long.

A quiet breath of frustration escaped her nose, as if she had expected something different other than my silence.

The doors opened in a fluid motion and I startled.

Kaezlyn stepped back, unbothered, and sauntered inside, disappearing into the swirling mass of bodies.

I stood at the threshold, stuck somewhere between awe, horror, and dread.

Ballgowns bloomed in lavish swirls of silk and satin beneath a towering crystal chandelier, its fractured prisms scattering molten light across the masked faces of the demons dancing.