Chapter 31
EMBERLINE
Idrowsed in the nest of Dante’s arms, hardly believing this was real.
I was afraid to close my eyes because part of me wondered if I would wake up and he’d be gone again. That the past month would stretch on and on without end, and no matter how much I cried, he would never come back.
His skin still smelled faintly of explosives and iron and the sharp bite of hot desert sands, as if the prison clung to him, no matter how many times he bathed. His skin was hot, like the desert sun was still beating down on it.
Right after we’d made love, I swore flames flickered in his eyes, and then they were gone.
But at least he hadn’t suggested leaving again.
Or that he wasn’t safe.
Soon, I promised myself, settling deeper into his arms. Soon, he will put that place behind him, once he has his vengeance on his father, and I have mine. Then we can start all over again. Then we can finally be happy.
Right now, though, revenge felt a world away, marooned on some far-off shore, along with the rest of our troubles.
He stirred beneath me, heart rate picking up, hands skimming down my bare back, callouses dragging against my skin. I closed my eyes again, letting the warm, comforting presence of him ground me, the way an anchor tethered a ship during a storm.
“Emberline,” his voice was still sleep-rough. “The Overseer said something before he died. I’m… wondering now if it might be important.”
My spine went rigid, wishing I could stop fate from shoving us into a future that held nothing but more fighting and more death.
“Anything that came out of that bastard’s mouth was a lie,” I said, staring at the wall. “I doubt he’d recognize the truth if it bit him in the ass.”
“Gods, I’ve missed you.” Dante chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “Normally, I would agree with you, but this was… not something you could make up.”
I tipped my head up to peer into eyes that were too dark, hollows carved out around them, despite feeding from me last night. No, it would take weeks for my husband to regain his full strength, and I planned on keeping him in bed until that rough chuckle turned into a real laugh.
Until he wasn’t haunted and hollow.
Until I could trust him in the world.
Beneath the male I loved, something else prowled. Some part of the prison he’d brought home with him, as I’d brought something back with me from the Underworld.
That was how I recognized the difference in him so clearly.
Because now we were the same.
Both of us hiding our secrets.
And one of these days, I’d tell him mine. My mother, her warnings, the way I felt like I still had one foot in the Underworld… but those were stories for another day.
“He knew he was about to die, and he laughed.” Dante ran his finger down my arm, and I shivered. “Told me I was thinking too small when it came to Giovanni.”
My stomach tightened at his grim tone. “Too small, how?”
“He said Giovanni doesn’t plan to rule the five families.” Dante swallowed. “He plans to turn us into his slaves.”
The word landed like a hammer on my heart.
“Slaves,” I repeated. “How, exactly?”
“The Overseer said he was a thrall. So were all the guards. He pointed to the brand on his cheek and said Giovanni would turn us into thralls, too. I thought he was just…” Dante shook his head. “I thought he was fucking with me one last time, but now… now, I wonder.”
I shook my head automatically. “Enthrall an entire Dynasty… that’s just… not possible…” The words were no sooner out of my mouth than my mind went quiet.
Hadn’t the Overseer hinted that my uncle was capable of terrible things? No, little princess, if you knew what your uncle intended to do to your kind, you would hide somewhere he would never find you.
“What else did he say?” I asked, and Dante’s jaw flexed.
“He told me I was lucky I hadn’t bled into the Basin these past fifty years like everyone else.
Like I was better off for it.” Dante’s eyes met mine, filled with worry.
“He wasn’t raving, tesoro.” He smoothed his hands down my goose-pimpled arms. “I looked straight into his eyes, and he welcomed death like a reprieve. Ever since, I can’t stop thinking.
About the Blood Compact. About blood magic. ”
“Outside of the DiSange Covenant, blood magic is forbidden. And Emilia is the only necromancer in the Dynasty.” I sat up slowly, winding the sheet around me.
“That we know of,” he cautioned, tracing one of my curls where it fell over my shoulder. “Thralls are created through blood magic, and everyone in the Dynasty bleeds for the Compact. Everyone.”
One of my father’s favorite sayings was, “Only a dying man betrays the secrets he kept while alive”.
And the Overseer seemed like just the sort of asshole who would feed my husband a line of bullshit before he died to fuck with him, but… there was truth to my father’s words.
The Basin held centuries of blood.
Generations of blood.
And, as I’d wondered before, I wondered now about where all that blood went after the Basin absorbed it.
“Nobody knows how the Basin even works… except Emilia,” I mused.
Emilia, who controlled the council. Emilia, who’d had her fingers in every Dynasty decision as far back as our records went. Emilia, who dealt in favors and secrets and would be just the sort to switch sides if it served her purposes.
“What if…” I snorted, shook my head. “Never mind; it’s stupid.”
“What if…” Dante tipped his head to the side. “What are you thinking, tesoro? You know him better than anyone. If you have any idea of what he might be up to, just say it.”
“What if Gio’s preoccupation with the whole religious thing isn’t some eccentricity?
What if he’s not actually interested in human religion?
” Now that I thought about it, the monk costume was the only remotely human thing about my uncle’s whole obsession.
“I’ve never seen him read a Bible, never seen him wear a cross, and all those supposed jaunts to the old Benedictine Abbey on Isola della Cenere…
who said he’s there for religious reasons? ”
“You think it’s cover for something else?”
“Why not? All I know is he would always come home smelling of cedar and limestone and incense and…” I stopped, hit by a realization so obvious it took my breath away.
“What?”
“Have you ever seen the abbey?” I asked slowly. “Ever been to Isola della Cenere?”
“I haven’t had much time in the past fifty years to go sightseeing, so no.”
I slanted him a look. “Smartass. You know where else I’ve been that smells of cedar and incense? Emilia’s temple. And I find that to be a curious coincidence.”