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Eris looks as if she may explode. “Why was the wedding rushed? Don’t tell me you weren’t careful?”

Stupid. Fucking. Bitch.

You can’t have children in the Underworld. Not really. The only ones who can are Remnant, and only if you aren’t marked. She wouldn’t know that, though.

Before I can act, Aedon's fingers dig into my neck, holding me in place. If I didn’t have him, I may very well have lost my shit. His calm demeanor is menacing, not to mention his possessive hold on me. Hades asked me if I believe in love, and I couldn’t admit it, but I do. I love Aedon fiercely with the depth of a bottomless pit.

“You have always been quite the jester.” He gives her one small chuckle. “I would like to enjoy the rest of my evening with my wife. Now bow, thank her for her time, and crawl back into whatever hole it is that you two seem to crawl out of,” Aedon snarls.

Eris has been bested. She bows quickly, mumbles a thank you, and stalks off. Killian stays in place like a statue.

“Jo, can we talk?” he asks. It’s hopeful to a degree, but with bad intentions. He clearly has a death wish.

Aedon turns back to him. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t tell you she knows me?”

Fear washes over me. Fear that whatever Killian says next could somehow make me lose favor with my husband. It’s irrational, but I feel it, nonetheless.

“No, I can’t imagine there are many words of substance to say when it comes to you,” Aedon snickers. “My wife tends to speak of things she finds worthy of her words.”

Killian returns to staring at me, except now it’s filled with some sort of nostalgic want. I give him a glare that could kill. I don’t know why he insists on standing here doing this. We have no common ground, and he's dead to me either way. Aedon can feel that I’m uneasy, but he doesn’t order Kilian to leave, which tells me he wants to hear what other bullshit he'll spew.

“If you know her at all you know that it’s her silence that speaks the loudest,” Killian retorts.

I start to laugh because my silence was brought on by being groomed to be silent. By him. Not some magical fucking characteristic that he has secret knowledge of.

“Actions speak louder than words.” I bite my bottom lip, looking away from Killian at Aedon. My husband, the man who can make me shudder with a look and orgasm with his words.

Aedon takes two long steps over to Killian and grips the collar of his shirt, almost lifting him from the ground. “Leave, before I change my mind about sending your fiancée pieces of your body parts for your disrespect.”

When he’s done, he readjusts Killian’s suit, pats his chest, and walks back to me. Whatever beef exists between them has nothing to do with me, but now that I know it’s there my marriage to Aedon is that much sweeter. I’m getting a revenge I didn’t know I wanted.

Killian bows obediently. His once dead orange eyes glow like embers, and I know he won’t crawl back into his hole for long. “Thank you for your time, Princess Josephine.”

He disappears back into the crowd, and after a breath, it all catches up with me.

Killian is alive. Killian is alive. Killian is alive.

And he’s with Eris. I don’t know how I feel, but it isn’t well. I intertwine my fingers with Aedon’s and search for him in my soul. He’s there, but he’s distracted.

Shit. Vivian. If she sees Killian she might lose it. She might not go home. The darkness snaps back into the deep, making me a little dizzy.

“Is Vivian gone?”

“What?” Aedon looks stressed, but also a little confused.

“Vivian. Has she left yet? She needs to be gone. Can you check?” I try to push off the impending conversation.

He wants to fight me, argue, ask a question, or challenge my decision, but instead he grits his teeth, and his jaw twitches. “Whatever you want, love.”

With a gentle kiss to my forehead, he disappears into the crowd.

Panic is rising in my throat, and the nausea is returning. Expect the unexpected he had said. I quickly check the bodice of my dress to make sure the Eye is still there. I stalk down the stairs to the edge of the garden, hidden away. I look around, making sure no one is watching before I pull out a lone cigarette. I always carry one with me out of habit—a way to remember Killian.

A hand with a lighter appears in front of me, and a small flame erupts from it, lighting my secret cigarette for me.

“It’s me,” Killian whispers in my ear. He closes the lighter and puts it away before looking at me with genuine interest.