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The castle behind us pulsed with life—her life now, not just mine. The demons kept their distance. Not from fear, but from reverence. Carmen wasn’t a mortal girl stolen by the Devil anymore. She was a woman who looked at fire and said burn for me.

“I love you,” I said. “I love you, Carmen, and not the way people use that word like it’s currency or armor or debt. I love you like it’s a promise. Like it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to keep.”

“Only monsters born in fire may enter. All others will be devoured.”

Death looked at me, something ancient and aching in his eyes. “Because if he loses you, he won’t just fall apart.” His voice dropped like a grave sealing shut. “He’ll burn the fucking world.”

His voice dropped lower, reverent now. “Let me worship you, baby. Let me earn the right to be near you. Because there is no one—nothing—that could ever make me want anyone else.”

“You try that again,” I said, voice like a god’s judgment, heat unfurling like brimstone, “and I’ll make sure you walk the Earth without name or title. You’ll be a shadow no one remembers. A regret not even Hell can house.”

He looked at me then—eyes like dying stars.

“She’s the only thing keeping you from burning the rest of this place down,” Death murmured. “And you’re not even being honest with her.”

He and Death were more alike than either of them realized. Sure, Death was a complete psychopath, and Damon was a control freak, but I could see why they were friends. Or whatever you called that brand of mutual chaos and borderline insults.

“Right,” Death murmured, like he was agreeing with a child’s delusion. “Of course you’re not.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, cigarette dangling from one hand. “But let’s call it what it is,” he said, gentler now. “You’re not just keeping her. You’re orbiting her. You’re building a goddamn solar system around her and pretending it’s just gravity.”

“And Carmen,” he said, “there may come a time when I do ask for your soul.”

“You’re interesting,” he said finally, like it was a sentencing, not a compliment. “Let’s hope you stay that way.”

“Come with me.” He chuckled, soft and self-deprecating. “Since it seems you have no intention of leaving me in peace.”

It was terrible . . . in the most gorgeous, ruinous way. The kind of beauty that stripped you bare. That lured you closer, whispered stay, and then devoured you whole.

“I could rip every soul from this plane who has ever harmed you and not feel an ounce of guilt.”

“Rumors,” she said lightly, “are just stories waiting to be corrected.”

“Why the fuck are you so unbothered by all this?”

I could’ve laughed. I almost did, in fact. But instead, I looked. Really looked. At the scar arcing above her brow. At the bruises blooming along her knees. At the steel in her spine. Someone had tried to break her and failed spectacularly. Someone had marked her, carved into her like she was nothing. And yet here she stood. Breathing. Insolent. Beautiful.

He was head of the castle’s servant staff, which felt absurd considering he looked like something from a cursed puppet show.

I stared at my reflection and swore to the Moon that I will find every being responsible. And I shall kill them one by one.

My own tears seemed foolish given the circumstance, but I could not rule my heart, therefore I had to deal with its storms. For it was my heart that whined so loudly in my chest; for it was my heart that broke into dozens of small snowflake-like pieces, making me feel all the pain and grief I wished to bury deep inside of me and never see again. For it was my heart that bled bright crimson.

“Not a chance in hell,” Francis scoffed. “You are not going anywhere where that man is involved. He should be grateful I did not slaughter him at the meeting.”

“You did not raise me at all, Mother.” I leaned back on the chair. “Need I remind you, you only took interest in my life when it suited your future political proposals?”

“I am afraid there is no salvation from me, Your Highness,” Francis winked.

“No one will touch you,” Francis’ voice grew colder, “I swear.”

“And what did I do?” Francis chuckled. When silence fell between us once again he sighed. “I don’t understand you, Cordelia.” He offered me a sad smile. “If you despise me so much, why did you kiss me?”

My Royal upbringing had taught me that lesson a long while ago: everyone kept secrets and would use you for their own gain.

My soul wanted to run and hide, though my mind felt empty. My body did not feel like my own, my eyes studied the wooden door through the glass that covered my vision. This was a dream. A nightmare.

The disturbing urge to set him on fire truly worried me. I’d never wished anyone harm, but it wouldn’t have gone past me if the opportunity arose.

It was hard to believe that this was the same person I had once hated so deeply. Proof that anything can change with time. It was a simple thought, but it echoed through me like a gong. There was still more change to come, but right now, in this moment, I was content to soak it in and let the future, however soon to pass, stay ahead of me.