“Do you think I killed him?”
He swirled the liquid in his glass, his attention riveted to it. “Would it matter if you did?”
“Of course it matters. I don’t want to be a murderer.”
“Defending yourself is not the same as attacking without cause or reason.”
“Which, by your refusal to answer, I’m assuming means I did.”
“You do not bear the burden of that demon’s death, Emilia.” Wrath set his glass down and faced me, his expression hard. “I do.” The smile that tipped up the edges of his mouth was not warm or friendly. It was cold, calculating. Designed to frighten, to call forth fear and seduce it. “Here I am, the very essence of evil and sin. Am I the monster you feared?”
I looked at him—really, truly looked. There was nothing overtly indicative of his emotions in his face, but there was something in the way he’d asked the question that made me carefully formulate my response. He did not want me to think he was a monster.
And, goddess curse me, I didn’t. I met and held his gaze. “Did he suffer?”
“Not nearly enough.”
“Were you able to get information from him?”
Wrath shook his head. “His tongue was recently severed. It appears to have been a choice he made, likely in case he was caught.”
I don’t know what madness came over me, but I put my wine down and moved to where Wrath stood rigidly, awaiting judgment. Slowly, as if approaching an animal ready to bolt, I wound my arms around his waist and laid my head against his chest.
For several long moments, he barely breathed. Then, he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin atop my head. We stayed there, holding each other, until the little windup clock dinged. Even then I didn’t let go right away. This demon, this living embodiment of sin, was so much more than the monster he was supposed to be.
I pulled back gradually, and rolled up onto my toes, pressing my lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss. “Thank you.”
Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I hurried to the oven and removed the toast and roasted garlic. I placed them both on the cutting board, then added the hunk of goat cheese and the bowl of pesto. I grabbed two small dishes and stuck a butter knife near each item on the board. I smiled down at my work, pleased beyond measure with the outcome.
“You’ll have to serve yourself, but it’s easy.” I took a slice of toast and smeared a few roasted garlic cloves across it like jam. “Next spread some goat cheese on top of the garlic. And finally”—I added a generous spoonful of pesto—“top it off with the pesto.”
Wrath watched me work, then picked up a slice of toast and made his. He took a bite and his attention slid to me. “I think I like this almost more than the sweets you made.”
“That’s high praise indeed, coming from the cannoli king.” I grinned at him. “Sometimes I’ll add a poached egg if I have any leftovers from breakfast or lunch. Vittoria likes to—”
I abruptly stopped speaking and set my snack aside.
Wrath lightly touched my elbow, drawing me back to the present. “What is it?”
“I miss her.”
“Your twin.”
“Yes, desperately. Sometimes, for a second, I forget she’s gone. Then it all comes back. Part of me feels terrible for forgetting. And the other part wants to lash out. Lately it seems like I’m at war with myself, and I can’t decide which part will win.”
“I have no personal experience with death, but I know that’s normal for some mortals.”
“I wonder, though.” I looked him in the eye. “I’ve been consumed with rage and anger since her murder. The intensity of those emotions doesn’t scare me, which does frighten me. I never used to be like this. Then tonight… tonight, when that demon tried to kill me, I wasn’t scared. I was furious. I wanted to inflict pain. One of my first thoughts after the fact wasn’t terror, it was anger that I hadn’t been taught dark magic.”
“Your mortal family should have taught you to protect yourself.”
I inhaled deeply. I might as well lay all of my fears out. After the events of the evening, I needed to purge the dark feelings from my whole person. “Sometimes I worry that it’s not the devil who’s cursed. But me.”
Wrath went still. “Why would you believe that?”
“My twin was murdered. My grandmother attacked. My parents were held hostage by Envy. And yet what has happened to me? Aside from tonight’s assassination attempt, I mean.” I searched his face for answers. “Maybe I’m cursed and everyone I love is in danger. What if I’m the villain? One who’s so vicious, so terrible, I was punished to forget? What if the witches who were murdered started to remember? Maybe I am the monster and I don’t even know it.”
Wrath was silent for an uncomfortably long time. When I’d started to feel foolish for sharing so many fears with him, he said softly, “Or maybe they all dabbled in pursuits they shouldn’t have. And you’re the one picking up the pieces of their mistakes.”