If my body was exhausted, my mind was on the verge of shutting down.
I should hold remorse for the death, but all I could think about was how good it would feel to bring my song to an end. That low humming sound that I soothed myself with for years, like a child rocking itself back and forth in the dark, cold night to keep the ghosts at bay. That song could disappear, evaporate in the mist, if he would stay by my side.
The warm air of the conservatory made my chest swell and Jericho placed me on the couch. We were met with silence. Not a single person had come back to this room when he dismissed them.
I wondered if it was because everyone thought of this as my room.
The feelings inside me rose to a frightening height. I stared at the candles on the little end table. I struck a match beside it, and lit it so that the lilac and sandalwood scent filled the air. Lilacs for me. Sandalwood for him. I leaned back into Jericho, as I idly traced my hands over the flames, feeling the heat on my fingers. The pain. The heat grounded me, allowing some of the feelings in my heart to burn with the scent in the air. With the pain, I purged the feelings in my chest.
Everyone said it hadn’t been used before I was here, and I’d claimed it my first evening. It was fitting that the first night he’d taken me had been on this couch, surrounded by the only thing that had ever truly felt like home for me since being taken from Ireland.
The black of night was fading into a cool blue, surrounding us in its haunting glow.
It had to be nearing early morning, and despite knowing I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon, tomorrow we were to be wed. If we didn’t get rest, we would be too exhausted.
“We should postpone the wedding,” I murmured.
Jericho stilled. “Why would you say that?”
I didn’t miss the hurt in his voice at his question.
“There is a dead man in your backyard,” I said, my voice shaky.
“He’ll be gone long before sunrise. Maybe even sooner.”
We stayed in companionable silence as the black of night turned into the sweet blue of dawn. Then to the pinks and reds of a brilliant and beautiful sunrise. All the while, he stayed with me, as I watched one of my tormentors come down to nothing, sitting on the sofa that felt like a throne.
He pulled me into him. “Do you want to delay the wedding?”
There was a hitch in his voice. One I didn’t like.
“No.” Truly, the privilege of being his wife would fill me with more joy than I deserved. “No, I think I would like, very much, to become your wife.”
All that was left of our captive was ash. All that was left of Aoibheann Green was burned with the man.
I was now Evie Vasilieva.
Chapter Two
Jericho
Eve fell asleep on my shoulder when the man was nothing but a pile of ash. She fell asleep in my arms, quiet and exhausted.
But peaceful.
That was the important thing. A little bit of peace, where there had been none before.
I carried her up to our room, careful not to disturb her as I pulled the blankets back and tucked her beneath. I pulled the duvet up to her chin and pushed back her red hair so that it spread like flames behind her on the pillow. My sweet, little witch…
My heart wanted to beat out of my chest. I was a madman on a crusade, ready to take up my sword for her. But unlike those crusaders, there would be no salvation for me in the end. Just more battles to fight, probably alone.
That was the Vasiliev curse, after all. The one my sister and I had inherited with our bad blood.
It wasn’t lost on me that my daughter, now carrying her own children, would slip from my fingers when I had just found her. My sister, Yuliya, would one day find love that deserved everything that she was, and she would probably want to find her own place.
But Eve might stay. She belonged by my side. Hell, she was a reason to fight. A reason I had lost sight of a long, long time ago.
For years now, the fight was all I had. It was the only thing that pulled me out of bed in the mornings. But undeservingly, I had her. That was right. That was good. That was perfect.