32. Chapter 32 #2
Ursula stood, her hands coming together once more. “That is some seriously unhinged shit, Emmaline.” She turned to the others. “I approve.”
Ursula’s purple eyes went to Cassidy and Aeren.
“Any objections? This is technically just potion work—targeted magic that will burn itself out in a single use, similar to the charm. And he still dies from a simple blade to the heart, so no underworld shenanigans. Clean kill. Even Vale-legal, based on mate Law. Technically.”
Emmaline unscrewed the vial’s stopper, her fingers steady as she squeezed the dropper to pull the smallest amount inside. Then she waited, holding it up like an offering, daring anyone to object.
When no one spoke, Emmaline turned to Aeren, the only other one there with a debt to settle. She was not willing to steal the woman’s chance at vengeance. “Aeren?”
The woman’s lips pressed tight, and for a second, Emmaline could swear her skin looked paler against the green shine of her hair. “I got my pound of flesh. This one’s yours.” Aeren moved forward and glanced down at Caelith. “The punishment is well-earned.”
“All right, then. If we have no further objections...” Emmaline lifted the dropper over Caelith’s face. His whole body convulsed, shoulders jerking, neck straining, chest heaving so hard the veins stood out like ropes.
“Nobody’s coming, my Lord.” Her grin pulled at the corners as she watched him.
She let the first drop fall. It hit the open eye, spreading thin and fast across the exposed surface.
Then, the second drop, aimed for the ruined socket.
And as the liquid vanished into the shredded mess, a low keening sound leaked from Caelith’s sealed mouth, choked and pathetic, like a scream trying to claw its way out through his nose.
Emmaline closed her eyes, breath slow and steady as she reached inward. Light danced behind her eyes, clean and bright, while Dark twisted up her spine, soft and cold as fog. She wove the two together, folding them tight until the edges blurred into something Grey.
Finish it.
The Goddess’s presence settled at her left shoulder, the weight of eternity pressing cold into her skin. On her right, Deyric’s hand closed over hers, grounding her in the warmth of now.
Magic bloomed from her chest, and the potion stirred. First, the room stretched wide and too thin all at once, expanding until the edges dissolved into haze. Then, it snapped down to a pinprick, before wobbling back into place like the world itself had to recalibrate.
Emmaline exhaled slowly as the magic burned through her veins, stripping her raw, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that felt completely right.
“That’s it?” Ursula’s brow lifted.
Caelith no longer struggled. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven pulls, his jaw hanging loose, lips slightly parted like a doll left broken on a shelf.
His remaining eye stared ahead, the pupil wide, but there was nothing behind it now—no arrogance, no fear—just a hollow stretch of emptiness.
“You’re sure he’s awake? Aware?” Cassidy stepped in, curiosity flickering behind her cautious tone.
“He is.” Lara stayed back, body rigid, hackles bristling down her spine. “We should go, Cas. We heal people. This—” Her ears flattened. “—this is something else.”
“Lara…” Emmaline started.
“It’s nothing against you.” The Corgi’s tone softened, but only slightly. “The punishment was earned—and I can smell the Goddess on you, clear as the crimes on his hands. If this isn’t divine justice, I don’t know what is.”
“The Goddess?” Ursula frowned.
Finish it. The command slammed into Emmaline’s ribs, louder this time, vibrating straight through bone.
“Yes. Her other face, the one none of you like to talk about.” Lara grunted, already nudging Cassidy and Margo toward the door, her body half-herding, half-shoving. “That’s the face who’s watching tonight. I’d rather not introduce myself.”
“Lay off, Lara, we’re coming!” Cassidy stumbled under the push. “We have to go anyway to report Margo’s attempted murder.”
Margo, already halfway through the door, paused just long enough to blow a kiss over her shoulder. “I expect that pin back and cleaned when you’re done!”
Then there was silence.
Emmaline stood over him—the man who she thought should’ve been her mate, the man who used her body like it was owed to him, the man who ripped her open and didn’t even bother to learn her name. Her knuckles paled around the hairpin, the metal slick between her palms.
She’d come so far. Pushed herself past fear, past shame, past every whisper telling her that she deserved the pain. And now here he was—bound, helpless, already ruined—and she wasn’t sure she could finish it.
Not because she forgave him. Not because her resolve had wavered.
But because none of this felt real. Her body felt weightless, like she might drift out of her skin if she let go of the pin.
Was this a dream? Some fevered hallucination born from the damage she’d done to her mind by rejecting Deyric? Would it end when she finished it?
Mate bonds didn’t heal. The Goddess didn’t speak to the Ellyllon, not anymore. Was everyone right? Was she simply crazy? She knew that’s what they thought.
Then she looked at Deyric as his thumb traced the back of her hand, and his fingers wrapped over hers, easing the hairpin from her grip. He didn’t speak, didn’t rush, just stood with her, shoulder to shoulder.
“Let me do this for you,” he said finally. “I knew what he was, and I didn’t protect you. Let me put this blade in his chest while you watch the essence bleed from whatever rotten thing pretends to be his heart.”
And just like that, the fear, the doubt, the fractured pieces of herself—all of it quieted.
“Okay.” She exhaled. And prayed this was real, that when the life finally drained from the monster chained before her, Deyric would still be there.