Page 60 of Hell-Bound

“Ren, our agreement was that I answer the questions to the best of my ability. I have done that. I have warned you to be prudent with your questions—”

“But you are agod.Isn’t redemption one of the things that youdo?”

A vein twitched in his neck.

“I’m not that kind of god, Ren. I am the god of damnation—not redemption. If you want those answers, take it up with Nainaur.”

He sat down again and, with a strained expression, continued.

“Ren, after so many bad things, even if you can’t remember them, you are tainted. Stained. Irredeemable. In some moment, after so many sins, there is no turning back.”

Pieces fell into place. She must be evil—that is why she was so quick to sin. She had killed Fae in the wars, and no matter what the reason, she had blood on her hands. So much blood. People in Vergessen thought her a hero, but all she felt was shame. Shame only compounded by the lack of shame for killing that very night.

“Even if I’m sorry—repentant? I can’t…be better?”

“Technically, that is another question, but,” he paused, “my brother Nainaur says that once violence has entered your heart and your soul has been lost to it, you cannot be saved.”

Ren started.

“Nainaur is your brother?”

Azur clenched his jaw.

“All of us gods are siblings. We are bonded through our very essence. All with our own special blessings and powers.”

“And you? Nainaur says I can’t be saved. And what do you think?” she asked, surprising herself. Why would it matter what the god of all evil thought about redemption?

Maybe she had asked because she was desperate. As Jester said, no one comes to Azur unless they have no other choice. And this must be the reason why she abandoned everything. She couldn’t live with herself and what she’d done. It was the only explanation that made sense. She had forced herself to forget—to rid herself of the bonds of shame and trauma. Hers and everyone else’s who lost family and friends to her hand.

“My opinion on the matter is irrelevant.”

It was all the confirmation that she needed. She was truly lost—truly damned, and she deserved it. She deserved to be a mindless husk—a sleeper.

So, it was this knowledge that she knew what shewanted her last question to be. She heard Jester’s taunting voice in her ears. “You can’t fool me!”

She cleared her throat, hoping it would mean that her voice wouldn’t shake from embarrassment.

“What I want is…something you took from me.”

His eyes flashed in warning.

“I cannot restore your memories.”

“I know the rules,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

To smother her nerves, she let Ren the Performer take over—she let this be her stage.

“I want something you took. But not a memory.”

His eyebrow raised in question. She had piqued his curiosity.

“Go on.”

“An experience I would very much like back and that, I feel, I very much deserve to have. As a woman of such great accomplishment, as you’ve said.”

Her heart skipped.

This could end in two ways. He would either be so fascinated by the idea, an opportunity to toy with her, or he would show his full wrath as king for even suggesting it.