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“I’m sure the sprained ankle sucked,” I say, sniffling a little.

My friend laughs. “It did hurt like a bitch,” she says as she continues rubbing my back. “But then I got to ride a broomstick—I even cackled for the sheer hell of it.”

I let out a sad little laugh at that. “I’m pretty sure youhaveto cackle when you’re flying on a broomstick,” I say, pulling away to wipe at my tears. “It’s part of the rules.”

Sybil smiles at that, but it quickly disappears. “Honestly, Selene, I don’t even know where to start with this one, except that, babe, that was a crap ton of secrets.”

I laugh again, even though I know she’s saying this just to lighten the moment.

She reaches out and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I know you’re innocent.”

I pull away to look miserably at her. “I don’t think I can prove it,” I admit.

“I’ll help you,” she says. “I’ll ask the other coven sisters if they saw you at the times in question. We’ll make a new notebook for you and create a timeline, one that I am sure will clear your name.”

“You’d do that?” I’m so used to winging it on my own that I forgot I have people in my life willing to help me.

“You’re my best friend, Selene. Of course I will. Now,” she says, her tone changing, “forget about the Politia and that case for a minute. I want to chat aboutMemnon.” She says his name menacingly.

“Ugh.” I place my face in my hands, trying to wish away my life.

What hurts the most is that before he burned my notebooks, I had actually started to fall for him. I caught glimpses of what it would be to care and be cared for by a man like Memnon.

You and I, Empress, we are eternal.

But then he wanted me to hurt like him, to be lost and confused in this modern world just like him. His vengeance eclipsed whatever feelings he has for me.

Sybil rubs my back. “So you’re bonded to a fucking loser. If he wants to be enemies, let’s make himpay.”

I lift my head from my hands, my magic rising.

Yes.

“Listen,” she says, seeing my interest, “this bastard is your soul mate. He may be the dirtiest rim job out there, but he is fated to you, which means the guy is basically walking around with a hard-on every time he sees you.

“So you and I are going to find some killer dresses, we’re going to go to the ball, and you’re going to enjoy the fuck out of yourself in front of that bastard. Bonus points for flirting and dancing with every mage who’s up for it.

“He’ll see what he’s missing, and it will behimwho comes groveling back toyou.”

I stare at her.

And then I smile.

CHAPTER40

Let’s make him pay.

That thought sticks to me like a barb through the weekend and into the following week.

It’s there when I forget I have a coffee date with one of the witches in my wards class, and it’s there when I miss turning in an assignment for spellcasting. I cling to the promise of vengeance every time I see Politia officers on campus, interviewing witches or examining cordoned-off sections of the woods. I reassure myself of it after each weird look a coven sister casts my way, and I bask in the thought of it when Sybil and I go shopping for dresses in San Francisco.

The problem is, the longer I muse on Sybil’s plan, the more I realize…it’s not settling my demons.

Not by half.

I think of all the burned books—years of life and work meticulously documented—and how the sorcerer relished destroying them. Then I think of how he attacked Kane in my room and how he’s repeatedly threatened me.

Despite Memnon’s wicked tongue and the budding thing we had between us, he has made it clear since the beginning that we are enemies. And what have I done to stop him?