Page 45 of The Fated and the Damned
“Of course,” Margit went on, “it’s been something of a miracle for me to get her shining like she is today. The girl needed work. I’ll tell you that much.”
“How generous of you,” I drawled, giving András the side-eye—the knowing look girls shared when gossiping or spilling secrets. I’d only ever had Eszter to do that with. It felt kind of nice to do so with another. And András was basically one of the girls. The man loved to prattle and preen over pálinka—alcohol distilled with fruits—as much as the next woman in court.
It helped that he’d bedded most of the men and women there. He was scandalous … I loved it.
“I know that look,” Margit added, moving in front of me and glaring at us both. “And I merely meant you haven’t had much time to treat yourself lately, what with your little treks hunting cultists in the woods and the endless blood baths you find yourselves in. Not to mention your makeup sex after training with Dante. Yes, don’t think I haven’t noticed or heard.”
A bubble of laughter escaped me. “My what?”
“Oh, don’t get me started on the sex,” András said, studying his own nails as if we were talking of the weather. “The pair fuck like jack rabbits. This girl needs a gag.”
“Or maybe their own dungeon,” Eszter chimed in.
“Decked out with chains and handcuffs? Please, don’t tempt her with a good time,” András replied.
I burst out laughing. “You’re all deranged. Perhaps you could find your own partners instead of investing yourselves in Dante’s and my love life?”
Margit’s nose scrunched up. “First of all, don’t be crass. Dante is family. Secondly”—she pouted, sitting on the chair beside András—“the last time I was with a lover, I had a vision partway through and, well, let’s just say he won’t be warming my bed again.”
I patted her knee sympathetically. Her visions were getting in the way of her sex life now. Some god had a serious vendetta against her. “Speaking of visions, have you seen anything more about the ball? If there’s something different—even the smallest thing—it could help.”
“Nothing has changed. All we can do is wait.” She shook her head, her hands wringing in her lap. I noticed the skin around her nails was red and raw, just like my own. A hard habit to break. My heart sank as I looked at her. So beautiful and broken. Her porcelain skin was beginning to show the cracks of exhaustion and stress.
She started picking at her fingers as we sat in sombre silence, and I leaned forward, taking her hands in my own. “Margit, if you could rid yourself of your power, would you?”
When she looked up, her blue eyes burned, her sheet of long black hair shifting with the movement. “If you could rid yourself of the dark magic in you, knowing it might save someone’s life or the lives of people you love, would you?” I sighed, hanging my head in defeat, because of course I wouldn’t. Neither one of us would forsake our strange little family. She smiled sadly. “We don’t get to choose our gifts, but we do get to decide how to use them. I show the path, the boys lead our armies, Eszter keeps everyone grounded and you, my dear, send that dark bitch back to hell.”
I chuckled. “It doesn’t sound so bad when you put it like that.”
Her red-lined lips curved in a vicious grin. “Good. I think I’d rather like to see you do it. Drink in hand and a smile on my lips.”
“Before we skip to the celebration, there’s something we need to discuss.”
She looked at me sceptically before eyeing off András and Eszter. “Why is she pulling that face? Why, on her wedding day, is she pulling that face?”
“Scheming expression,” Eszter said, nodding. “Never a good sign.”
I scowled. “I take offense to that. My plans always turn out well.”
András grumbled something under his breath about demigods and cultists and folded his arms, one brow raised.
“Okay fine, some have been a little hairy, but we all still have our heads, right?”
Margit just glared at me. “Out with it. Now.”
“It’s about those masks for the ball.” I looked at Eszter. “I might have some … changes.”
I told them my plan. Margit’s glare was enough to kill and András looked ready to cut my head off. My sister said nothing and her skin paled, but she nodded her acceptance. It took some convincing, but once the others settled, both seemed inclined to agree it had merit.
“I still think this is reckless and dangerous as hell,” András muttered.
“Of course it is,” Margit said and I was surprised to find a bit of a spark in her gaze once again. “And that’s why it just might work.”
“Then it’s settled. Now we just wait and hope for the best,” I said, pleased with my progress.
Margit pulled a vial of bloodmorphia from her dress. “I need a drink.” She saluted us, tipping it back in one go before frowning. “A real fucking drink. Let’s get you married … I want to taste the good stuff.”
András bounced up like an excited puppy, pressing a kiss to each of our cheeks before linking his arms in our own. “Finally, something we can all agree on.”
