That took me aback. “But I’m barren.”

“Your womb is healthy and hale.”

Cautious excitement coursed through me. “Because you untwisted it.”

“Oh, my little one, you have never been barren,” he said. “Has it never occurred to you that the fault was with John?”

My blood chilled.

No. Never.

Every man knew the woman was to blame. But then again, no man knew Enosh was a god, so maybe men knew nothing at all. If the god who ruled over flesh and bone said I’d never been barren, then why would I doubt him? Enosh could be cold and cruel, but he was as honest in his threats as in his promises.

My next breath suspended itself at the idea and all that it implied. Had I truly blamed myself all those years for no reason, shouldering John’s disappointment and the gossip of Hemdale?

Unwoman.

Subtle anger weaved through me at the memory of the word, the hushed whispers that had followed me from village to village. How some had warned women away from me as if I carried a disease. What if I fell pregnant with Enosh’s child?

Heavens, my heart beat too quickly for all the wrong reasons. A child was what I’d wanted for so long; the thought of cradling my own, feeding it from my breast, kissing it—

But I couldn’t want it with him.

I didn’t.

I paced my breathing, which helped clear those thoughts that would only drive me into useless hysteria. “Thank you for rotting Anna.”

He offered a low grunt. “Don’t ask it of me again beyond our agreement.”

Oh, but I would.

I might have forever failed at escaping Enosh, but that was a small price to pay in exchange for children to find rest and peace. Smaller yet for what I set out to do during my eternal life—to open the Pale Court to the dead. But how?

Once we returned, Orlaigh and I needed to have a chat.

“You should have negotiated for my silence if you didn’t want me to ask it of you again,” I said. “I might have settled for less.”

“I might have offered more.”

A genuine smile curved his lips, offering a strange sight with how it smoothed away the edges of his usually severe face. Had he been like this before the loss of his unborn child? Could he be like this again?

As if he’d seen the question in my eyes, his features hardened, shutting me out, as though he decided I’d seen enough of him. “This search for the temple is starting to bore me.”

“Over there.” Untangling myself from his grip, I pointed left toward the sunstar peeking from the treetops of scattered pines. “Guess I can no longer call myself your whore since I’ll be your wife.”

He clicked the horse into a faster pace toward the temple. “You’re about to wed the King of Flesh and Bone. Correct me if I am mistaken, but that, my little one, makes you a queen.”

That shut me up until we reached the temple grounds, which turned out to be nothing but a shrine inside a small building of whitewashed brick. Few graves scattered to one side, most weighted down with boulders. To the other side, a small cottage lay quiet, although a candle flickered in one of the small windows.

Enosh rode up to the door, giving it two hearty kicks with the heel of his boot. “We are in urgent need of a priest!”

Inside, furniture moaned and plates clanked.

The door swung open and a moment later, a man poked his gnarly nose out. “Who dares disturb my silence during such ungodly an—” Stumbling back, the man made the sign of Helfa as he blinked at us from underneath thick, white brows. “This cannot be…”

“Are you what they call a priest?”

“A priest is what you seek…” The old man scrutinized Enosh for long seconds. “Father Leofric is my name. A priest I am, yes.”

“Prove it.” Enosh dismounted, seashells crunching underneath the impact before he pulled me down and draped me over his arms. “You shall wed us before your… god as we take our vows as husband and wife.”

Father Leofric stood mute for a moment, his eyes flicking between us and the stack of books on the table beside the door. As much as he recognized Enosh, word of his presence might not have spread to this quaint place in the woods yet.

“You are the evil that plagues these lands, as depicted in the holiest of books,” Leofric said, his voice thin and shaky. “I cannot possibly wed you before the eyes of Helfa.”

“You will either see to our wedding or I will see to your funeral, mortal.” The threat in Enosh’s voice had the man’s neck shorten by an inch. “Choose, Father Leofric.”

A faint wail escaped the old man before he stumbled for his Tome of Helfa, which rested on a wooden holder on a shelf. “Vows, yes, yes, yes. The King wishes to be wed… Where is my… ah—”

Father Leofric haphazardly draped a gold-embroidered stole over his shoulders and slipped into his brown, hooded cape before he grabbed the holy book. Then he stopped and eyed my dress. “Does your bride not wish to don her blue?”

I looked at Enosh. “The bride has to wear blue, the color of innocence.”

“If a blue gown is what she requires, then she will have it,” Enosh said. “Lead me to the place of this… ceremony.”

“Right this way, if you will.” Father Leofric dipped his head, waving toward the shrine. “It’s small indeed, erected almost one hundred years—”

“Inside then.”

Enosh carried me through the wooden archway, the building only big enough to hold two short pews and a small pedestal before a simple sun made of metal, nailed to the brick behind.

And as he carried me, plumes of smoke danced around me. They brushed my skin, tingled my neck until, surging toward me, they manifested as feathers in all shades of blue. Traces of green weaved through them, almost like in the shape of eyes, depending on how the low-hanging sun filtered in.

It was… beautiful beyond words.

When my feet reached the ground, Enosh clasped my waist tightly to keep me from falling. “You will begin now.”

Father Leofric hurried up the pedestal, his eyes flicking between the gown and Enosh, the word witchcraft on his trembling lips, but he kept it to himself. “Kneel before Helfa.”

 “I kneel before no mortal,” Enosh scoffed, “and certainly not before the faithless figments of man’s feeble mind. And my wife cannot kneel for I twisted her legs. Begin the ceremony!”

Father Leofric’s face wrinkled up, but he spared me no more but a sideways glance before he nodded. “Very well. Your names?”

My throat tightened. “Adelaide.”

“Enosh.”

“Enosh,” the old man mumbled as his shaky fingers clasped a nearby quill, pulling it from the inkwell before he scribbled into the book of bindings. “We will recite the vows before God. Adelaide, speak after me.”

But I knew the vow by heart. “I, Adelaide, take thee, Enosh, to be my wedded husband, to serve and to obey from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, for eternity, and thereto, I plight thee my troth.”

Everything stilled around us as I gave away my vow, and with it, myself in every sense of the word—my body for him to have, my life for him to hold for eternity.

Father Leofric gave a curt nod. “Now you, Enosh.”

Hands clasped around my waist, the god repeated the vow with no hesitation. “I, Enosh, take thee, Adelaide, to be my wedded wife, to command and to protect from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to… to…”

When Enosh stalled, Father Leofric cleared his throat and repeated the last part, “To love and to cherish, for eternity, and thereto, I plight thee my troth.”

A whirlwind of emotions swirled in the depths of Enosh’s gray eyes as he cupped my cheek. “I shall cherish you for eternity and give you all of what I have. Except for my heart, for we both know I have none to give.”

My stupid stomach sunk slightly as though I could possibly feel rejected by a man I didn’t want. Perhaps because Enosh had a heart, as much as it disturbed me to admit it—one filled with rage and grief, but not as black and hateful as I’d first accused.