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I didn’t know how Millicent answered. I was completely focused on Isbeth as she clutched the rim of the casket and stared inside. An arrow of raw, pounding agony pierced straight through me, surprising me. The emotion belonged to Isbeth. The Blood Queen shuddered.

What I could see of Malec was…it wasn’t good. Strands of dull, reddish-brown hair lay against sunken cheeks. Too-dry lips were parted, peeled back over fangs as if he had lost consciousness while screaming. He was skeletal, and more weathered flesh than man. A husk of whoever he may have once been. And the sight of him, no matter what his actions might have caused, was a pitiful sight.

“Oh, my love,” Isbeth whispered and then slipped into a hoarsely spoken language I didn’t understand.

“Old Atlantian,” Kieran explained.

I may not understand what she said, but I understood the agony mingled with the sweetness of love. The sorrow. There was no relief. No joy or anticipation. Only the bone-deep, icy anguish that hurt more than any physical pain.

“As you can see, we have held up our end of the deal,” Casteel said, silencing Isbeth. “Lift the curse.”

Isbeth didn’t move or respond for what felt like an eternity. My heart seized. If she didn’t do as she’d promised and the Joining hadn’t usurped the curse…

I reached down, grabbing Kieran’s hand. He was stoic, his emotions shielded, while Casteel was a rapidly building storm of rage.

Then Isbeth nodded.

Callum came forward, driving Millicent back and away. Her reaction to him was unsettling. I’d seen her handle Delano in his mortal form as if he were nothing more than a child. But this Revenant was supposedly old—really old. The essence stirred as he drew close. Through the notam, I nudged Delano back.

“Lift the wounded arm,” Callum requested with a pleasant smile. The Revenant was utterly unfazed by the wolven’s and Elementals’ glares.

I let go of Kieran’s hand, and he did as Callum requested. The Revenant cocked his head to the side. “The mark of the curse?” One wing rose as he looked down at me. The smile spread. “It’s gone.”

“It is,” Casteel answered.

“It shouldn’t be.”

“And?” Casteel’s voice was soft, in the way that was always a warning.

“Nothing. It’s just interesting.” Callum closed his fingers around Kieran’s arm as he withdrew a dagger, one made of some sort of milky-white stone I’d never seen before. “This may sting.”

“You harm him, and you will regret it,” I warned.

“I only need to make a shallow cut as before,” Callum said. “But I suspect there is not much I could do that would seriously harm him.” His hand was quick, making a shallow cut on the same area of Kieran’s forearm as before. “Now is there?”

I didn’t even bother responding as a faint black shadow lifted from the shallow slice. My heart tripped. Did that mean the Joining wouldn’t have overpowered the curse? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure if we would ever know. What I did know was that it didn’t matter.

“Gods,” Naill muttered as the inky mist flowed out from Kieran’s blood and rose to where it disappeared into the night.

“There you go.” Callum dropped Kieran’s arm, sheathing the strange dagger as he smiled brightly.

“That’s it?” Casteel asked.

The Revenant nodded.

Kieran’s arm flew out in a flash. I saw a glint of bloodstone, and then the hilt of the dagger was flush with Callum’s chest. “Thank you,” he growled, jerking the dagger up and out. “Fucker.”

Callum staggered back. Blood trickled from his mouth. “Godsdamn it…”

A rough laugh came from Millicent as Callum hit the floor. “Never gets old,” she said, stepping over his body. “He recovers fast, though. Go for his stupid head next time.”

“Advice taken and accepted,” Kieran muttered, glancing at me as I folded my hand over his arm. “I’m fine—” He sighed as the healing warmth hit him. His eyes flicked to Casteel.

“Let her do her thing,” Casteel replied, his focus now on Isbeth. “It makes her feel good.”

Kieran quieted then, and when I lifted my hand, there was no mark. “You do feel fine?” I asked, not trusting the Revenant at all.

He nodded.

“He’s fine,” Millicent snapped. “Unlike the Queen, who appears seconds from climbing into the casket.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Emil asked.

A choked laugh left me, the sound quickly fading as I saw that Isbeth leaned over Malec’s body.

“He’s my heartmate—a part of me. My heart. My soul. He’s my everything. If Nyktos had granted us the trials, we would be together.”

“And ruling over Atlantia?” Casteel surmised.

“I don’t think so. He was done with that godsforsaken kingdom,” she said. “We would’ve traveled the realm, found a place that we were at peace with. There, we would’ve stayed. Together. With our son. Our children.”

Who knew if what she spoke was true to anyone but her, but it was painful to witness, nonetheless.