I stare. “No, you wouldn’t have. You were happy in your life.”

Her smile dims. “Not happy.”

“Content, then. You’ve said before that you liked your job. You have Pope. You . . .”

Eve clears her throat. “You know I grew up in foster care.” She continues before I have a chance to respond. “I was one of the privileged ones. Nothing bad ever happened to me.” Her eyes shine in the fading light streaking through the trees around us. “But no one ever chose me.”

I choose you.

I know better than to say it aloud. It’s not the right time. She won’t welcome it.

“That’s part of what I like about the sex work. My clients choose me. They do more than choose me. They go out of their way to have me. They pay extravagant amounts of money, they beg Pope for the privilege, they do their best to ensure I never have cause to turn them away.”

“Eve.”

“So, yes, I like my job. I like the challenge of providing their perfect fantasy. I like the money—gods, I like the money. I love the freedom my life allows me. Or what it allowed me.” Her lower lip quivers. “But what I really like—what I crave—is being chosen.”

Gods, she’s tearing my heart right out of my chest. “I’ll make it right. I swear I will.”

It’s like she doesn’t hear me. “You were my favorite. Did you know that? All those years ago, you picked me out of a lineup, and then afterward, you only wanted me.” A single tear slips free. “I asked Pope, you know. If you were contracting any of the others. I was jealous.” Her laugh is a little wet. “But you never did. You chose me that night and then you kept choosing me.”

“I only ever wanted you,” I whisper. I remember that first night. Pope is particular about their clientele and their people, and so they hosted an event. A trial run for both new clients and new sex workers on their staff. I had gone, sure that I saw my opportunity to make a deal with Eve slipping away. That’s all that was supposed to happen that night. An offer.

Instead, I saw her standing in that line of people, proud and beautiful and a tiny bit unsure but trying not to show it. And I knew I wouldn’t be offering a contract. I knew she was beyond me, but I wanted her in whatever way she’d allow. Becoming her client was the simplest and most honest way forward. Until I lied and ruined everything.

“I know.” She wipes away her tear and visibly pulls herself together. “That’s a heady thing, Azazel. So, yeah, if you’d come to me with a contract and an explanation . . . I might not have believed you at first, but I can’t pretend I would have turned you away entirely.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Bargainers may be able to jump realms, may be able to manipulate the timing of such jumps, but we can’t actually time travel. I can’t go back and do things differently. I can’t fix anything.

“Me too.”

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CHAPTER 19

Ilie in bed next to Azazel each night, tucked against his strong, warm body, only to wake up alone each morning. When we have sex, it’s frenzied, as if each time is our last. We share meals, the conversation stilted and filled with things unsaid.

It feels like we’re saying goodbye in slow motion. Truly, this time.

I love him, but how can I let myself sink fully into something that should be a joy when the circumstances make it a horror? I’m still trapped in the castle, still knitting away as if I’m the miller’s daughter, trying to spin yarn into forgetting my reality. In the weeks that follow, I finish both sleeves of the sweater and complete the ribbing of the hem.

I’m weaving in the last end when the entire castle shudders. In my time here, we’ve never had anything resembling an earthquake, and from the way the floor suddenly angles beneath my feet, that’s not what’s happening now. “I’m going!”

The shaking continues as I hurry down the newly opened hallway and a single staircase. I nearly keep going, but the castle raises a step in front of me, stopping me in the doorway near the front entrance. I realize why immediately.

Azazel stands there, taking up even more space than he does normally. I thought I’d seen him furious before, but that was nothing compared to how lethal he sounds as he snarls, “What are you doing here?”

For a horrified moment, I almost convince myself he’s talking to me, but he doesn’t seem to even be aware that I’m close. Instead, he’s glaring at . . . I shift a little to the side, trying to stay as much in the shadows as possible. Oh.

The bargainer in the doorway is nearly the same size as Azazel. The familial resemblance is uncanny: the same crimson skin, the same bald head with the same shape horns, the same massive body. The same ruggedly handsome face. The only difference is this bargainer’s dark eyes are flat and furious. Brosh. It has to be.

He spreads his arms, arrogant and hateful. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you where you stand.”

“You’re too honorable.” Brosh says it like it’s an insult. “Which is why you’ve taken us down a route we may never recover from as a people. That stops now.” His grin is downright mean. “I challenge you for leadership of this territory.”

I expect Azazel to curse him. Maybe to attack right here and now. He certainly looks like he wants to. Instead, he laughs in disbelief. “You bloody fool. You actually think you can beat me.”

“I know I can.”

Azazel shakes his head. “So be it. I accept. I’ll have the square cleared within the hour. Get out of my sight until then.”

Brosh backs up slowly, still smiling. “Best say goodbye to your little human. She won’t survive to see nightfall.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. I’ve had some truly horrific experiences with exes, but I’ve never been threatened so casually—or intentionally. The doors slam shut in Brosh’s face, then the lock clicks loudly in the sudden silence. It won’t be enough to keep him out, not when Azazel has accepted his challenge.

Azazel has accepted his challenge.

“Don’t do it.” I step up and into the hallway, crossing to Azazel. “Don’t fight him.”

His brows go up when he sees me, but he doesn’t chastise me for eavesdropping. He just pulls me into his arms, holds me close like he may not get another opportunity to do so. “This was always the plan, Eve.”

Eve. Not baby girl.

There’s no reason for that distinction to hurt, less reason for it to worry me even more. I cling to him and bury my face in his chest. “Please, Daddy. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.” We might be broken to a degree that there’s no fixing, but I still love him. I don’t want him hurt. I sure as fuck don’t want him dead.

He strokes a hand up my spine and cups the back of my head. “You’ll be safe as soon as he’s dead. I intended to challenge him, but he’s made things even simpler. He challenged me. No one in my family, my territory, or the entire damned realm can say it wasn’t fairly done.” He kisses my forehead and steps back. “And when he’s dead, I’ll nullify the contract and send you home. You have my word.”

I stare up into his handsome face. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To be safe. To return home and regain my freedom. To get my life back.

So why does the idea of it feel so empty?

Azazel doesn’t give me time to process. His attention snags on something behind me. “You heard.”

Ramanu’s voice sounds just as troubled as I feel. “I heard. You sure about this?”

“Yes.”

Ramanu sighs. “Then I’d best get to work on getting the square ready.” They clear their throat. “Eve, I’d like to introduce you to Lenora. She’s been here a little while, but you’ve been distracted and I didn’t want to intrude.”