“If I’d taken Richter down that night, I would’ve killed Joules and Kentarch as well. If the witch rules me, will I be able to stop myself from killing you?” Her thoughts had begun to infiltrate my own, her lust for icons and immortality surfacing at times in my mind.
“You’ll find a way. And besides, nothing matters more than keeping you and our child safe. My life would be a small price to pay.”
I drew my head back. “How easily you talk about dying. About leaving us.”
“I don’t wish to die, sievā. I finally have more than this game to live for, and I am desperate to experience a new life with my family. I’m going to stay with you for as long as I can.”
Somewhat mollified, I said, “Good.”
His phone pinged with a text message. Though my heart still clamored over Aric’s words, I was tempted to grab that phone and call Jack.
Yet hearing his voice might send me into a tailspin. He must think so too; he hadn’t asked to speak with me in all this time.
“What is it? Are the guys okay?” Apparently, Sol had attacked them with an army of Bagmen. But I couldn’t really see the Sun Card as the aggressor like that.
“They are fine.” Aric pocketed the phone. “They managed to make good time today toward Louisiana.” Fresh from my dream, I wished I was going there too. “And the Chariot is doing better.”
According to Jack’s last update, Kentarch had teleported Issa’s body and one bottle of Tusker beer to Africa, laying her to rest at the foot of a mountain significant to his family. He’d returned, focused and committed to soldier on.
Could that level of confusion just disappear? I hoped so. I hoped he’d broken free of the loop he’d been caught in.
“What do you and Jack usually text about?”
“Their progress,” Aric said. “And he relates anything from the others he thinks might help us overturn the game. I’ve told him no detail is too small.”
This was interesting. “Like what?”
“The Archangel said his sect’s elders told stories about nudging the gods into doing something. According to them, a hero first had to garner the gods’ attention, then make a precious sacrifice.”
“Well, it just so happens that I’d like to nudge them about something. So how do we get their attention?”
“My question exactly. Jack thinks you basically have to be the loudest non-god on earth. A megaphone.”
“Any idea what a good sacrifice might be?” Ogen, the Devil Card, had hungered for them. Circe too.
“I know much about the history of sacrifices, but the subject is not one I wish to ponder at present.” His uneasy glance dropped to my belly.
Ah. First-born stuff. Gods were shitty.
Then I recalled the vision Matthew had sent me of the ten of swords. He’d asked, What would you sacrifice? What would you endure?
Had Aric and I gotten the gods’ attention that first night we’d made love? When I’d conceived Tee?
Just as uneasy, I said, “I should go start on breakfast.”
“Allow me. Why not relax awhile?”
“I like to keep busy, and sourcing food is enjoyable when it’s right there.”
Collecting the eggs and milk had soothed me. At least it had until the last couple of weeks when the awkwardness between me and Aric had morphed into something else entirely.
Down in that plant-filled nursery, he and I experienced a symphony of little tortures. When I’d raised my face to the sunlamps and sighed with pleasure, he’d clenched his fists and turned away. Same when I’d bent over to collect a sprig of rosemary, and his focus had drifted to my chest.
How long could he continue to turn away? How long did I want him to?
Resuming my relationship with Aric had begun to feel inevitable. I desired him just as much as he did me. Each time he emerged from the bathroom, with just a towel around his hips below his damp, tattooed chest, I would melt with longing.
Physically, I was beyond ready. Emotionally, my love for Jack got in the way of my love for Aric.
I rose from the bed, then frowned at the strangled sound he made. “Aric?” I followed his gaze down. “Whoa.” My enlarged breasts strained against my gown. Growth spurt? I’d put on weight overnight.
His brows were drawn as if I’d slugged him. “Sievā?”
My attention roved over his tensed muscles. He looked as if he debated striding over to kiss the ever-living hell out of me.
Before he could decide, I said, “I’ll, uh, go shower. Be back in a minute.”
As though he didn’t trust himself to speak, he merely nodded.
In the shower, I replayed the stunned look in his eyes while trying to ignore the spray of warm water on my sensitive skin. Drops hit my icons, my growing belly, my bare ring finger.
I wasn’t yet ready to resume our marriage. I gazed over my shoulder in his direction.
But I will be.
7
Death
I paced our bedroom, a seething mix of frustration, lust, and my ever-present guilt. These past weeks had only increased each.
We should never have had this divide between us.
But hadn’t this schism been inevitable as soon as Evie had learned Jack lived? She hadn’t preferred me over him. She had settled for me.
Did she love me? Yes. But I would forever know that she hadn’t chosen me.
Still, I chose to be hers with everything in me. I willed her to take her wedding ring from that drawer and return it to her finger.
As much as my body missed pleasure, my mind missed communing with hers. My soul missed its mate.
Yet even if she wanted to resume what we’d shared, we would only be together for a time. I became more convinced that we couldn’t thwart the game, even with our son’s birth.
I regretted not telling my wife about my plan to defeat the Emperor. Despite my unfailing honesty, I chose subterfuge now, because our lives were not the only ones on the line.
But hadn’t I misled her from the very beginning? I’d never shared with her that the Fool had predicted my future—one part heaven, one part hell. . . .
When Evie emerged from the bathroom, she avoided my gaze, allowing me to take in all the changes in her miraculous body. As she grew our child, her breasts and belly had swelled. Her clothes barely contained her curves, her blouse a tight wrap across her chest.
The button just above her cleavage hung on by a mere thread. I hung on by a thread.
In agony, I half prayed it would come loose, half prayed it wouldn’t.
As she combed the length of her gleaming hair, that button bobbed up and down. Up. Down. Gods almighty.
“I’m thinking strawberries today.”
Excellent. I’d have to withstand the sounds of her delight as she sampled the fruit. “As you wish,” I said, scarcely recognizing my voice.
When we headed out into the castle together, I resisted the impulse to take her hand in mine and relived memories of stealing kisses from her.
In this hall, she’d grinned against my lips.
In that vestibule, she’d nipped my bottom one.
Beside that window, she’d threaded her fingers in my hair to draw me closer. Harder. More.
I scrubbed a palm over my face. When we descended into the nursery, I turned my attention from the potting bench, where I’d taken her more than once.