Page 131 of Married to the Devil

That gift had been a symbol to me. One I clung to as surely as the silver thumb ring that I wasn’t the only one getting too entangled in this.

When I returned to my workshop with my heart in pieces, I picked up the crystal I’d admired many times, had held onto when his motives were a mystery, and I chiseled it a part.

I deceived myself by thinking I could just love him one-sidedly. Dismantling the stone is the first step in building a different relationship. The professional one we were supposed to have.

“I believe you now,” I say, and I can’t stop the ache of my words even if tried. “About you not being a place for my heart to rest.”

Stoneheart clears his throat, but if I was expecting him to give me some reasoning or cajoling, I’d be left wanting.

“Good,” he says, but he looks anything but happy. There’s a long pause where I act like I’m getting back to work, though I see nothing of the silver in front of me.

“You should rest.” His voice is just as textured with complicated feelings without me seeing him. “I’m patrolling tonight, so you’ll have the room to yourself,” he says, as if offering an olive branch

The room of moody colors and romantic touches that gave me hope. The bedsheets that smell like us. The memories of Ben at the piano before he vanished.

I’d rather sleep on the chair, but I don’t say that. I only nod, turning back to my work. Funny how the intricate magic that was such a struggle to master is the only thing that makes sense right now.

There’s a pang in my chest that would make my breath catch if it were any stronger. It feels foreign, like I’m picking up Stoneheart’s emotions instead of my own. But with Ben gone, there’s nothing between us except the political gains of the other’s presence.

“Till we meet again, wife,” he says, and the words are soft.

I only nod as if to myself, and he leaves me again.

Maybe there will be a time in the future when his absence doesn’t hurt.

42

BEN

“Rina would’ve saidthat my brooding is the worst in the house, but I do believe you’ve won that award.”

“What?” I shake myself from the circles of thoughts that try to pull me in.

Kalos’s patient expression makes me want to run, but I won’t. This is my place. Here in his office with my tablet, solving problems while he leans back in his desk chair. The leather couch under me would be well worn if Maggie didn’t employ maids who are thorough in their maintenance. Yet it feels different.

Katarina has probably been hanging out here, changing the shape of the couch a small amount so it doesn’t feel as comforting with its sameness as usual.

Better to be here doing what I do best than struggling with the memories of a certain gargoyle and witch I’m bound to. I don’t have solutions for that. Avoidance is all I can manage.

And I’ve successfully dived into my job for two days, but the look in Kalos’s eyes heralds an end to that.

“What are you doing here, Ben?” he asks.

“What do you mean? This is my home.” My throat dries. “This is exactly where I belong.”

Not acting as a useless bodyguard to a different territory leader’s wife, not falling in love with the devil, and not connecting the three of us in a web.

“A certain pregnant witch would disagree,” Kalos says before catching himself and snorting. “The other pregnant witch. My mate also disagrees, but she’s letting me broach the subject with you.”

Katarina had been cold toward me since I’ve returned. I assume that Stella has told her something unfavorable but honest. I’m under no illusion that my leaving and subsequent silence hasn’t hurt her.

She hasn’t tried to contact me, but even if she did, I wouldn’t respond.

It’s better this way.

I’m distracted from my practiced mantra by a detail Kalos let slip.

Stella is still pregnant. My inhale is painful.

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