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A lump rose in my throat I didn’t ask for.

“Well, Damon did.” I muttered, trying for levity. “We’ll have to replace the carpet.” I eyed the blood still dripping from her fingers.

She frowned as she glanced down at her hand, and Xavier’s heart fell to the carpet with a wet, muffling plop.

“Dibs on picking the color,” Lust added, arms crossed, eyes still locked on her like he wasn’t sure whether to kiss her or kneel before her.

Outside, the sky answered her with a crack of unnatural thunder. What did it mean? One thing was clear: we weren’t facing it alone anymore.

“Oh hello! Did I miss something?”

We all jerked at the interruption, as Diana strode in through the French doors with nary a care in the world.

To make matters even more confusing, Sloth followed behind her with a child on his hip.

I hated guests.

They touched things. They breathed too loud. They filled the air with noise and energy that disrupted the delicate balance I’d curated over centuries. And though I had agreed to house Juniper, the fae child was a new complication.

It was all a major inconvenience.

And yet...the house was full. It filled me with strange feelings and emotions.

I turned back to Juniper. She stood in the entrance hall like someone expecting to be punished. Good. I didn’t trust people who adjusted too quickly, after all. Perhaps she was learning.

“Oh my goodness! Who are you?”

Wrath leaped up from her chair with renewed vigor, arms out and face bright as the sun. The heart lay on the floor, forgotten. Envy shot me a look and kicked it into the fireplace with his foot.

“This is Kiva,” Sloth began, not looking any of us in the eye. “I found her trapped in the gatehouse; she was running from poachers.”

My heart fluttered, even as Wrath went to her knees before the fae child, visibly containing herself from wrapping her in a hug.

“You poor dear! Are you alright? Do you want a hug?”

The fae child’s–Kiva’s–bright amethyst eyes watered and widened for a split second before she vaulted herself into Wrath’s arms.

“You’re warm now,” Kiva said, voice soft. “Not scary. You were scary before.”

Juniper smiled at her—slow and sad and radiant. “I know. I didn’t mean to be.”

Kiva leaned into her, unfazed. “You smell like lightning.”

“She smells like justice,” Pride corrected, though his voice was low. Reverent.

I leaned against the doorframe, folding my arms. “So. Are we going to talk about what this means?”

“She’s Wrath,” Envy said. “It means war’s inevitable.”

“No,” Juniper said. “It means I’m ready for it.”

Magick swirled and thickened in the air, but it was calm. Sated.

“The bad men hurt mommy and daddy!” Kiva wailed. “They kept me in a cage and didn’t give me food! I’m–I’m so hungry!”

Kiva dissolved into wails as she crumpled into Wrath’s arms, which folded tightly around her.

Her sin burned and glowed, lighting her skin.