The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(75)

Would I be the widow with the baby, marrying three strangers?

“I can’t do that,” Jack said. “Having provisions stockpiled could be the difference for us. For Tee.”

“Why are you working so hard to provide for us? When you have no idea what will happen between you and me?”

He seemed confounded by my question. “Because that’s what I do.”

“Circe might never appear again. I need to start accepting that. She wasn’t doing well before, and it’s only getting colder out there.” My eyes began to water. “Convince me to let Aric go.”

“You could no more give up on him than you gave up on me. The second you figure out a way to reach him, you’ll be saddling up to go.”

“Why won’t you yell at me? Get mad? Stop being so freaking patient and fight for me!” I knew I wasn’t being fair, but I was frantic for resolution in at least one area of my life. “Tell me I’m staying with you no matter what happens in the Arcana world.”

“And what about the Reaper’s son?”

“You said if we couldn’t save Aric, then you and I would raise this kid together. Could you love Tee?”

“Your kid?” Jack leaned in and put his forehead against mine. “Ouais.”

“Then tell me you’ll raise him as your own son. Demand to.”

“I’m trying to do right by you, Evie. You think this is easy for me?” He drew back, something like panic in his eyes. “I’m scared to hope. Scared to get too attached. I know how this song ends.”

The Jubilee all-hands-on-deck horn blared over his words, signaling LOOT! More than that shift could carry.

Jack muttered a curse. “I bet they breached our goddamned frigate.” He strode over to his gear. “I got to get down there, me, or all the meds’ll be picked over.”

Wait, what? “You can’t go without Kentarch.”

With a resigned shrug, he said, “Got to learn to navigate those ships without him.” He dragged on his coat and grabbed his helmet. “I give him a couple of days tops.” He turned toward the door.

I rushed forward, grabbing his arm. “Don’t you dare leave!”

“You just got through telling me you want me to step up and demand to raise Tee as my own. Then you tell me not to go out and provide for him? You can’t have it both ways. You stay put, you hear me?”

“No.” I jutted my chin. “I won’t. If you leave, then I will too.”

“I’ll be so worried about you, I woan be able to focus. You want my concentration divided?”

He knew how much I feared losing him again, and he was using that fear to manipulate me! “Of course not, but—”

“Then stay put.” He slammed the door behind him.

“Ugh!” I hadn’t felt this helpless since the days right after the Flash when I would primal-scream in my barn.

If he could risk himself in the trench, then I could risk grabby hands and drunken apocalypse survivors in a freaking eatery. Either we trusted saintly Lorraine’s laws—or we didn’t.

I went to the makeshift sink and washed, then laid out my best outfit: new jeans and a red sweater that Jack had found for me. I had to lie on the bed to zip the fly over my rounding belly.

Suddenly the ground seemed to totter. Metal screeched in the trench, and explosions sounded.

A sob escaped my lips. “Jack.”





33


Death


Just inside the sphere





I gazed over my shoulder at the castle in the distance, then forced my attention back to the road. The edge of the sphere loomed not even half a mile away.

No time for doubt, Domīnija.

Thanatos whickered impatiently, as if reminding me of the stakes: the loss of the entire game. And just as importantly, the loss of revenge.

I would find my wife before she died, in time to collect her head myself, and then I would proudly wear her icon for the next several centuries.

As I always did.

How badly do I want her, Fool? Very badly indeed.

I dropped the visor on my helmet, urging Thanatos into a gallop. His breaths smoked, his hooves crunching the snow.

As we picked up speed, I leaned forward in the saddle, our movements unconscious after all these years together. I’d missed this rhythm, had missed the chill air stealing through my helmet.

We approached the yellow boundary. Nearing . . . I tensed as we crossed.

Freed.

I took a mental inventory, then exhaled with relief because I felt no different. My hatred of the Empress still seethed. I laughed and ran my gauntlet along Thanatos’s neck.

My laughter faded as a hollow feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. Clear of the Hanged Man’s influence, my memories began to take shape differently in my mind. I shook my head hard, fighting vertigo.

As emotions shifted, righting themselves, bile rose in my throat. Paul had . . . reversed me.

He’d buried anything good in me—as if in a grave.

I spurred Thanatos into a breakneck pace. What had I done to my wife and child? Images of her escape flashed through my mind.

I gnashed my teeth, my insides flayed. Dear gods, what have I done?





34


The Empress