The balcony railing he made Aidia and me stand on was curved. My feet were so cramped from gripping the stone, it took almost two weeks of foot massages for the knots to finally release.

I shiver at the memory of the time I was bedridden and grieving.

Rafe finally gets himself upright.

Henry steps up behind me. He’s close enough that I can feel his body heat, but he doesn’t touch me. “You just say when, lovely.”

We stand there in silence for a few long minutes.

“You know what? I don’t think I can do it. I don’t know if I have it in me.” I step up to the railing beside Rafe, and he looks at me hopefully. “You know what might change my mind?” I hold his gaze and smile. “Begging. You remember how long you made me beg? You like begging, right?”

And he does. Rafe begs in the most pathetic way. I thought it would feel more satisfying, but the fact is, the only thing he loves in this world is himself, and that just doesn’t have the same impact.

“Enough,” I sigh. I look at Henry and nod. “I’m good.”

Rafe tries to crane his head to look at us, but he wobbles and nearly falls.

“Rafe, jump to the first floor face-first,” Henry says.

And then he does.

I don’t watch him fall, but I hear him land with a sickening thud. For a moment, I’m right back on the balcony, staring down at my sister.

I feel sick and also free.

Rafe Mattingly is dead, and he can never compel me to hurt someone I love again.

But my husband can.

Henry tilts my chin up. “I know you want to punish me.”

Of course I want to punish him. He made me feel so stupid and blind. It’s hard to describe this kind of betrayal. I thought he understood me in some innate way, but what if he was just using his magic to sense things about my emotional state? What if he doesn’t know me at all?

I thought he was someone who understood how to help me put my armor on. But what if that only applies to people who aren’t him?

These are all things I wish I could say, but they’re trapped in my throat, and I’d rather choke than let him hurt me again.

“Here’s a way to do it.” He hands me a small metal object.

“What is this?” I turn it over in my hand.

It’s a lighter.

“It’s what you wanted since we got married.”

“A way to murder you that would actually stick?” I shouldn’t make light of this, but I’m so uncomfortable under the weight of his astute assessment.

“Yes.”

I wait for him to smile, but he doesn’t. I open the lighter and spin the wheel with my thumb.

A small blue holy fire flame sparks to life. I’m so shocked, I almost drop the lighter and set the whole house on fire. The lid clicks closed, snuffing out the flame.

I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Of course holy fire would work. How did I watch Gaven’s body burn so fast and not think of it then? How did I not think of it after he told me about how his sister couldn’t be called back because she burned away to nothing? Regardless, it wouldn’t have mattered then, because it’s not magic I can wield myself.

Until now.

“You’ve never been killed by holy fire,” I whisper.

“If I had, there would be nothing left to call my soul back to except a pile of ashes,” he says. “I know that not telling you about my second blessing made you feel unsafe, but I only realized after the fact how bad it was for you. If I had known what Rafe did—” He groans and rubs the back of his neck. “By the time I realized all that you’d been through, you were reeling from remembering these horrible things that happened to you. I wanted you to feel safe. I didn’t want to make you feel like I had tricked you, like I had used you, which is exactly how I made you feel.”

“So you gave me a way to kill you.”

He strokes my jaw with his thumb. “I gave you a way to feel safe.”

The words take the wind out of me. He’s right. He literally handed me a way to hurt him any time I want to. He’s trying to make peace.

I’m breathless. I wasn’t imagining it before. He does understand. He just didn’t have the whole picture before. It’s so tempting to throw myself at him, but I’m feeling too many things to sort through them all right now.

His face is full of earnest contrition. “Harlow, come back with me. Please.”

I’m mortified, so overwhelmed with gratitude that there are tears in my eyes.

The first thing he wanted to do when he found out what I’d been through was make me feel safe. But I’ve never been good at being taken care of, and everything he does makes me feel too fragile. I’m too raw from the day and too shaken by all the revelations that have come to light just as the eclipse shadow is lifting.

For a woman who has stayed in one place her whole life, I suddenly can’t seem to hold still.

There are so many things I don’t know how to express. My heart knows Henry is safe, but my body can’t feel it. Everything is too intense right now.

All that I can think to do is lean on the first and most important survival skill I have. I turn and run.

OceanofPDF.com

65HARLOW

Iknow I won’t find peace at the bottom of a wine bottle, but I will at least find a temporary escape.

When I fled North Hold, I had nowhere to go. I couldn’t go back to South Hold and face the chaos, or to the boarding house and face Henry. So I went to the only place I could think of, the small two-bedroom apartment Bea had set up for me and Aidia, right before Rafe killed her.

It took half of the first bottle of wine stolen from Bea’s secret stash to even get myself to go inside, but once I was in, it wasn’t as daunting to be there as I expected.

The space was a dream—not a real place my sister had a chance to inhabit. I have no memories of Aidia here. It’s just a place where I rented out hope for a short time.

After my sister died, Bea kept paying for the space. It’s right across from her bar, and I think she was hoping I’d move in so she could keep an eye on me. Even now, I can only vaguely remember the conversation we had the first time I ventured out after recovering.

I drain the last of the first bottle of wine and place the empty bottle on the side table. Then, I cross the room and yank the darts from the bullseye on the living room wall.

Turning back and crossing the room, I lob all of my darts in quick succession. One misses the board entirely, lodging itself in the wall just beneath it. The rest stick at the very bottom of the bullseye.

The apartment door creaks open, but I don’t turn. I know it’s Bea.

“You always were terrible at darts, Low,” she says.

I shrug a shoulder. “Imagine how insufferable I would be if I was good at everything.” I turn slowly and take in her appearance.

She’s wearing a tight pair of black pants and her signature button-down, which is open enough to show a glimpse of her cleavage. I’m sure the bar was an absolute madhouse given the day’s events, but Bea looks as fresh as if she just started her shift. Her short hair is still immaculate, and her brown skin has a golden glow, as if she were blessed by Harvain.

It’s actually offensive for an ex to be so beautiful, but that recognition is more a habit than backed by real emotion. It’s not like how I feel when I look at Henry, when it feels like the Divine have conspired to make a man so devastatingly handsome that I can hardly breathe when he looks at me.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

Bea crosses the room, grabs the second bottle of wine, and uncorks it. “I saw the light on when I stepped out for some air.”

She takes a sip of the wine straight from the bottle and moans in satisfaction. Then, she hands me the bottle.

“Big day,” she says.

It’s an invitation to tell her everything, but I am too tired to relive it all. “Henry lied to me.”