48. Chapter Forty-Eight
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
WILDER
“ Y ou can’t just barge into the bathroom,” I scold Caius.
His tail flicks with irritation. “What if they’ve drowned?”
I pull air into my lungs. “I’d know. They’re fine. Have a seat.” I gesture to the couch.
Caius huffs, his tail lashing behind him as he reluctantly drops onto the cushion. "Fine. But if they're in there much longer, I'm breaking down the door."
I roll my eyes, settling into the armchair across from him. "They need this time together. Az just came back from the dead. Give them a moment."
Aggonid emerges from the kitchen, a steaming mug in his hands. He passes it to Caius before taking a seat beside him. "Drink. It'll calm your nerves."
Caius sniffs the contents suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Not absinthe." Aggonid drops his head back onto the couch, his lips twitching with amusement. “Sparseed tea.”
Caius takes a tentative sip, his nose wrinkling. "Tastes like flowers."
“That’s the point.” Emeric chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes drift to the bedroom. “They’ll be out soon. ”
Caius sets his mug down on the coffee table. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have just …” He throws his hands up. “Poof. Healed him with magic.”
“He was dead .” I drum my fingers restlessly against the arm of my chair. "It's not that simple. His body needs time to adjust, to remember what it means to be alive again."
Caius grumbles, his tail twitching impatiently. "I still don't like it. We should be in there with them."
“They’re showering .” Em raises a brow.
“Exactly!” Caius’s knee bounces as he glances at the bedroom door.
Aggonid places a hand on Caius's knee, stilling it. "They need this time together. To reconnect, to heal."
Caius sighs dramatically, slumping further into the couch. "I know, I know. It's just ... frustrating. Sitting here, waiting."
“Don’t worry.” Aggonid smirks. “You’ll be the first to tell them.”
As if on cue, the bedroom door creaks open. We all turn, watching as Morte emerges, supporting a still-weak Azazel. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends where it rests against his shoulders, and he's dressed in fresh clothes—a simple black T-shirt and sweatpants. The dark circles under his eyes are still prominent, but there's more of his golden color in his cheeks now.
Morte guides him to the couch, and Caius immediately shifts to make room. Azazel sinks into the cushions with a soft groan, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before reopening to take the rest of us in.
“Tell us what?”
Arranging pillows, Morte helps Azazel settle onto the couch next to Caius, who immediately shifts closer, his tail curling protectively around her legs. Azazel looks exhausted but more alert than before. His eyes roam between all of us.
"Tell us what?" Azazel asks again.
“Thanks to our merfae,” Caius says, a grin tugging at his lips—the deliberate use of our doesn’t slip past anyone, possession clear in his tone— “we’ve got a brand-new way to torture King Valtorious.”
Azazel's eyes widen slightly, a flare of interest breaking through his exhaustion. "A new way to torture my father?" His voice is still rough, but there's a hint of his old fire in it. "Do tell."
Caius's grin widens, his tail winding around Morte’s leg excitedly. "Oh, you're going to love this." He leans forward, eyes shining. "Wilder here came up with the brilliant idea of using his siren song."
While I’m not a siren, there is a kind of enchantment in merfae songs. We can use it to manipulate emotions, memories, even reality itself, to an extent.
Azazel's brow furrows. "Siren song? But that's ..." His eyes dart to Wilder, understanding dawning. "You're going to make him relive his worst memories."
I nod, a grim smile on my face. "Over and over again. Every terrible thing he's ever done, every moment of fear or pain—he'll be trapped in an endless loop of his own making."
“Wait until you hear what else.” Aggonid crosses an ankle over his knee.
Caius’s grin widens, his tail flicking excitedly as he leans forward. "And now we can use acid, too!"
Azazel’s head snaps toward me, his brow furrowing even deeper. “Acid?” he repeats.
I lift a hand, and a faint shimmer gathers as I pull from the environment—trace elements from the moisture, the soil, the lingering salt in the air. The water dances at my fingertips, twisting and shifting, its clarity darkening as it becomes something volatile. The sharp odor of chemicals rises, pungent and suffocating.
“Not just any acid.” There’s a cold edge in my tone. “I can pull what I need from the earth, the air, even the smallest particles in our blood if I have to. Corrosion at my command.” The liquid hisses softly as it drops to the ground, eating into the stone with a tiny sizzle, leaving a dimpled scar behind.
It operates a lot like his blood fae magic does, because he can pull elements, too.
Caius chuckles darkly, his tail tapping as though giddy. “Imagine being trapped in your worst memories, and when you think it couldn’t get worse, your body starts to dissolve. ”
Aggonid’s lips curl into a smirk. “Creative, isn’t it?”
Azazel’s eyes trail to the spot where the acid ate through the stone, then back to me. “Remind me not to piss you off, Merfae.”
A grin splits my face. “You can start by apologizing for what you did to our mate.”
“He’s already done th—” Morte starts.
“He might’ve apologized to you, but he hasn’t apologized to us.” I tilt my head, raising my shoulders in a shrug. “I could punch him.”
She scowls at me, and I chuckle.
Az's stare shifts between us, a trace of guilt passing over his features. He swallows hard, his words rough as he speaks. "You're right. I owe all of you an apology." His eyes meet mine first, then Emeric's, Aggonid’s, and Caius’s. He takes a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for hurting our mate. For hurting you all.”
I step forward, crossing the distance between us. My arm moves before I can stop it, but I don’t aim for his face—instead, my hand claps onto his shoulder, a grin spreading across my face. “Good.” I lean in slightly, my voice dropping lower. “Then don’t fuck it up again, yeah?”
Azazel’s hand lightly brushes Morte’s arm, his eyes softening as it shifts to her. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, not fully,” he murmurs. “But I want to spend the rest of eternity proving I’m worthy of you. Of all of you.”
Emeric lets out a sigh, his eyes rolling upward in mock irritation. “Alright, enough of this serious shit. I’m starting to feel emotions I’d rather ignore.” He grins, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around Az’s shoulders, ignoring the wince that comes from the added weight. “Come on, let’s get you some food before you collapse. Then we can get rid of this fucking ache in our chests.”
We all feel the massive loss of Morte and Azazel’s bond, though none of us have had to wear the matching X’s on our skin.
Az huffs out a laugh, allowing Em to guide him towards the couch. “I’ll do my best,” he says, and for the first time in weeks, a genuine smile crosses his face—one that reaches his eyes .
Morte shakes her head, but a smirk tugs at her lips as she watches us. Her fingers move to touch Az’s arm briefly.
Soon.
Soon, we’ll rid ourselves of the grief and sorrow that’s taken residence in our mate for too long now.