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“Killing McFadden felt good. It always feels good, but this was different.” I finally admit it to myself as much as her. Vivian winces. She hates violence.

“It’s going to be okay,” Vivian assures me.

Underneath her placating words is the scared girl who watched me lose my shit. The one who dragged me away from certain death and gripped me until we finally were presumed safe. Our safety has been stripped away, and underneath all of those contained layers she’s there, afraid of what I’m truly capable of.

“I haven’t told Aedon.”

At first, she appears confused, then her eyes widen with the realization. “That’s a pretty big thing not to tell your husband.”

“What am I supposed to say? How do you tell someone something like this? ‘Hey, by the way. When I loved someone else his death was basically my fault. Oh, and I also burned the world down in my own rage.’ Does that sound right?”

“Josie.” It’s a warning. I’m not going to like what comes next.

“Vivian.”

“All this time, have you thought Killian and Kate were your fault?”

Her question hangs in the air begging for the truth of it all. I’ve spent years with their blood on my hands. Years containing a monster that threatens to swallow me up every chance it gets.

“But it was, wasn’t it? You’ve held it against me all this time.” I shrug it off. Vivian has never said as much, but after the last few weeks I’m seeing things differently.

“Jo,” I see tears well up in her eyes. “I have never once blamed you for what happened to them. You shouldn’t either. That mess was theirs, and theirs alone. They manipulated you.” She's never quite admitted that before. In fact, she had always looked the other direction when I spoke badly about Kate.

“I know that,” I answer sharply. “I know that. But what if…What if everything Kate said is true?”

“What if it is? What’s really going on? Did you impulsively marry Aedonaeus?”

“No. I mean yes, but…this isn’t about me being impulsive.”

“It’s not too late. We haven’t gone to the gala yet.” The words rush out of her mouth. “There’s still time.”

“Aedon is it for me.” There’s a finality in my tone. I feel panic tighten in my chest at the thought of us not being together.

“If this isn’t regret then why haven’t you told him?”

“You haven’t been listening!” My voice rises, and I reel it back in. “I’m afraid of who I am, Viv. What if I destroy this, too?” I look at the ornate rug spread across the floor.

She sucks in a breath and lays back on the couch staring at the ceiling in deliberation. “I don’t know how you don’t see it,” she finally says.

“See what?”

“How everyone else sees you.” She glances over at me. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’re loyal. The way you care about things is unfathomable. Do you know how beautiful it is to be loved by you? Did you burn the world down? Yeah. But do you know what I realized? That you would burn the world down for me, too.” She watches her words sink in.

“What if it’s Magic?” I hiss, looking around rapidly to make sure there is no one that could hear. Vivian blinks.

“If anyone should have it then it’s you.” She sits up, coming nearer. The cucumbers have been laid aside so she can look me in the eyes. “Aedoneus might not know what it is that he sees, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You’ve brought the prince of the fucking Underworld to his knees. That’s no small accomplishment. That’s, like, the accomplishment. All the rest of the complications aside, why can’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I’m afraid.” It’s the rawest form of my truth.

“I am, too.” She nods in agreement. “I’m glad you’re finally admitting it, even if it’s under the duress of a party.”

“What am I supposed to do about the Grimoire? About the people coming after me?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been good at advice, but Aedonaeus is a man with determination. If he doesn’t have the answer, he will find it, and he won’t rest until he has. He can’t do that if you’re not open with him.”

She’s right, of course. Aedon has done nothing but tell me time and time again that he won’t leave me alone, and he hasn’t. We’re married. That must count for something, right?

“I hate this,” I groan, laying back on the sofa.