Page 50 of The Fated and the Damned
“Shown me what?” I frowned at her silence. “My gods, must you always be so dramatic?”
She gave me an affronted look and dragged me into her creepy dungeon where Dante and András were already waiting. My husband’s gaze raked over me, ever appreciative, and I felt my cheeks pink from the hunger. The promise oflater.
András sighed impatiently. “Finally. This better be worth it. I was in the middle of something very pleasant before.”
“Or someone?” I remarked, smiling cattishly at him.
“Two someones, if this meeting hadn’t so rudely interrupted.”
A bark of laughter escaped me. “I saw you eyeing off your old flame in the hall not five minutes ago. You managed to find a third wheel in that time?” I clicked my tongue, doing the shape of a cross like the Christians. “Poor man whore. Your soul needs cleansing.”
He batted my hand away. “Nothing wrong with spicing it up a little.” András smoothed his hair back, his green eyes a little glazed from the drink. I supposed tonight could be our last chance to indulge in a little pleasure. The gods knew we wouldn’t find much of it when the final battle truly began.
“I won’t keep you from your dalliances for long,” Margit said, shoving him out of the way as she rounded the table. She rifled through the many sheafs of ink, pulling out an open book and slamming it down. “Look.”
András looked down his nose at it. “A dusty tome? Really, Margit, books don’t quite do it for me, so if you don’t mind, I—”
“Idiot.” She whacked him over the head with a frown. “Shut up andlook, all of you.”
Curiosity piqued, I squeezed in beside András, gazing down at the page before us. “Oh my gods,” I gasped, shoving András along further, earning me grumbles. “You found it.”
“The crown,” Dante said, his voice rumbling against my back from where he towered behind me.
I leaned in closer, studying the illustration of the head piece. It was an unremarkable thing as far as crowns went. Gold, jewel-studded, like most were, but its simplicity made its secrets even curiouser.
Words jumped out at me from the page. ‘Power of the ancients’, ‘passed down from the gods’ … the more I read, the more my excitement grew.
“It belonged to the gods?” I breathed, looking up at Margit, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“A priceless artefact,” she said, nodding. “It renders the bearer’s power essentially limitless. Whomsoever wears this crown would be unstoppable. They’d have the power of all the gods and immortality at their fingertips. Its magic is … unfathomable.”
“At what cost?”
We all looked at Dante, and I was keenly reminded of Death’s warning about magic. He moved around me to the other side of the table, pressing his palms flat on the surface. “Such an artefact wasn’t meant for mortals to wear. Tell me Kitarni can wear this without consequence. Tell me she will still be her after using its power.”
Margit swallowed as all eyes swivelled to her. “I can’t.”
“Margit.” Dante’s features darkened, and he took a deep breath, his voice low. “Explain.”
She sighed. “The crown has been worn by many over the ages. All were consumed by its allure. Power of this magnitude is not meant for mortal beings. It … takes from them. Their sanity, their morals. Even with Kitarni’s power, I cannot promise she will be the same if she wears it or if she’ll survive what comes out of it.”
The breath caught in my lungs and I sagged against the table. Their voices melded together as they bickered, weighing every positive and negative. The truth was, I’d always known using the crown would mean sacrificing something of myself. If someone as powerful as Fate sought it, what hope did a mortal have? I was strong, but I was not immune to the gods’ will, and Margit was right. This crown was never meant for lesser beings.
If we didn’t use it, my power would not be enough to match Sylvie’s, not to mention if she ever got her hands on it then we’d all be dead before lifting a finger. Fate too, was still hunting, which was another troubling thought. Nothing good would come of that greedy bitch overthrowing Death. He was the lesser of two evils.
At some point Dante had starting shouting, and Margit and András were all exchanging verbal blows. My skin grew hot, my temper fraying with each passing second until I just snapped.
“Stop,” I yelled. My power blasted from me in a single wave—not enough to hurt them but enough to get them to shut the hell up. I blinked, turning my hands over before shoving them down to my sides. “We all knew it wouldn’t be easy, but this is my choice to make. I will find the crown, and I will use it to stop Sylvie. As far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed.”
“But Kitarni,” András said, seemingly fully sober now. “The cost—”
“Is mine to bear and mine alone,” I replied firmly. “You cannot change my mind.”
“You’re wrong,” Dante said quietly, taking my hand. I hadn’t even noticed him move to me, but he had a habit of always knowing what I needed. “You are not alone. We’ll find a way to prevent the crown from taking you. I refuse to lose you again. And I swear, I will walk to the edges of the earth, to the very bowels of hell if that’s what it takes to find an answer. You are mine and I will not let it take you.”
I smiled softly, stroking his skin with the pad of my thumb. “Then let us promise that if we lose each other, we’ll never stop looking until we’re together again. One way or the other. In this life or the next.”
He cradled my head to his chest and I breathed in the leather and sandalwood scent of him. His hands clutched at me tightly, as if afraid letting go meant I would disappear entirely. Even with everything we’d been through, I knew deep down the feeling was mutual. I buried my face in his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart.
