Page 33 of Antiletum (The Nocturne #1)

She’s convincing, my wife

Val

I t’s agonizing, really. This act with my wife. Smiling with her through it while we mingle among our people. Not knowing what the purpose is. What she’s thinking.

By the time we make it back to The Citadel, the energy between us is explosive. Both of us ready to spout off like a tea kettle. Or, more accurately, about to erupt like warring volcanoes. The heat, the pressure, it’s too immense to contain.

I can’t wait for it to implode.

Every kiss on the cheek, every little laugh and not so subtle affection, I could feel each one ratcheting Delaney tighter and tighter. Becoming more aggressive and heated. But probably not for the reasons I wish they were. That I would have thought they were.

She’s convincing, my wife. It’s spellbinding.

For a short time after I tracked her down, I thought that my delusions were reality—as I so like to do when it comes to her—and that Delaney was ready to forgive me. That she finally, finally sees exactly what we are, and that none of it matters because we made it here. Together. Against all odds.

And we can bring Rainah back .

If it hadn’t been for that short drop in facade at the bakery, for that cool way Delaney told me to smile—because people were watching—I would have believed her cruel little farce just as much as the crowds she paraded us around for.

Would have believed all that chemistry between us meant she was ready for me to bring her home, bend her over a table, and fuck her tight little hole deep and hard.

All night long. Until neither of us could stand. Well and truly ruin her.

I should throw her over my shoulder right now, lock her in our room, and not let her leave. Ever. Probably should have done that already. Taught her a lesson. I’ve never needed to fuck someone so desperately as I do now, with all of this passion firing between us. No matter its origins.

Desire is exacerbated further by this clear willful defiance of my wife’s that is part of what makes me adore her.

Despite my irritation and confusion, flaring like an exploding, dying star, thank the deos Delaney’s finding that fire again.

She deserves to have it. It’s who she is.

It never should have been denied the oxygen it needs to burn.

Heat of the day staving off when I march us through The Citadel, Delaney dutifully lets me lead her with equally pounding footsteps. She may not want to admit it to herself, but she likes it when I boss her around.

In the foyer of our apartments, a handful of servants are replacing a vase of flowers, lighting the gas lamps, and drawing curtains in preparation for a quiet evening for the Lord and Lady of Noctua . Two are headed towards a dining room with heaping trays of food.

“Get the fuck out!” I scream so loud I think the windows shake.

Delaney pulls out of my grasp, whirling on me with a promise of violence.

That’s a downright criminal sight. My wife glaring at me like she might just want to wrap her hands around my throat and choke the air from my lungs. I wish she would try. Give me a reason here and now to hike up that pretty black skirt and turn her ass pink with my palm for fucking with me.

A growl rolls from my chest when the servants scatter at my enraged command, but a handful of people stroll from the dining room with no intentions of leaving.

A swarm of smoky figures flutters around me, wriggling into my hair and the neck of my shirt.

I’m too distracted to note their forms when I slap them away.

Blair lets loose a low laugh. Beside her, Mallin, Selise, and Alaric share a wary glance.

“I’m going to wager that Delaney found out,” Alaric mutters.

“Good,” Blair says firmly. “She deserved to know.”

“Know what?” Selise questions.

It has been such a whirlwind of chaos, I forgot what day it is. That it just so happens to be the standing weekly dinner with the people closest to me. The ones who are still alive.

I pay them no mind; the only thing in existence is my wife in front of me. “What are you playing at, Delaney?”

“What are you talking about, Valledyn?” she fires right back with infuriating sarcasm. Like she’s thinks it’s funny to have me wound so tight and reeling over what the fuck is going on.

Our entire time in the city today, so precious to me, was nothing but a game.

“What exactly are you trying to furnish?” I demand with no shortage of accusation that barely hides my hurt feelings. “I thought you were merely looking for fucking paintings. A new rug. Not a mansion’s worth of furniture.”

“I think you already know,” my wife seethes.

So she did leave me out of the first part of her morning to meet with her parents’ solicitor. I began to suspect as much while she bought whole suites right in front of me with no explanation. Giving me challenging little smirks while she wrote out an address for delivery. Waiting for me to ask.

Bet she thought it was very entertaining.

Delaney wanted me to join her while she shopped for a house that is not our home. To rub it in my face that she thinks she can separate herself from me in the only possible ways.

What a diabolical little creature. Too bad— for her— that it’s not going to work.

I point an angry finger at her, teeth gritted, and hiss, “You are not moving into that fucking house!”

“Yes I am!”

Oh, that defiance. Looks like I should match it with my own. “Fine. I’ll have my belongings moved too. Plenty of room for me as well.”

“You’re not invited!” Delaney screeches. Face red-hot and hair falling from its elaborate braids. How I want to brush it back. Lose my fingers in it. Hold her head in my hands and press my open mouth into hers.

“Please, Delaney, enlighten me on how you think you’re going to stop me.”

With a menacing step forward, I lean down to be closer to Delaney’s face. She doesn’t balk. I’m practically existing outside of my body, in no real control of what I’m saying or doing.

But like I said last night, probably best to get it all out in the open now.

“You really want to live in the house that your parents didn’t even tell you about? That they bought after selling their estate and antiletum fields to Parliament with the intention of finally being able to pretend you don’t exist?”

Joy bursts within me, remembering that Parliament’s money bought them nothing. What a tragedy—the antiletum fields went up in flames and the particular growers who made that field fertile are now dead.

I really do impress even myself sometimes.

Delaney smiles cruelly. “And how exactly would you know this, Valledyn?”

All that pretty blue sprinkled in her eyes has transformed from summer springs to icy chips.

Magnificent.

As always, my pathetic little heart stutters when she says my name. The witch. It just sounds so good coming from her pouty mouth. Like an incantation. Or a prayer.

“I know because it wasn’t poor, enraged citizens that killed your despicable parents and razed their fields. It was me ,” I offer her the confession she longs for. Happily. Proudly. “And it’s one of the best decisions I have ever made. Should have done it sooner.”

Though I’m pretty sure Delaney came to such conclusions already, hearing it confirmed has angry tears wavering in her eyes. She throws her parasol at me. I duck before it can skewer my chest.

“As good of a decision as killing Rainah?” Delaney screams.

Shattering glass answers her question.

“What?” Selise asks quietly at the same time a quiet “Fuck” releases from Mallin.

“You knew?” Selise demands her husband, furious. Their ensuing conversation—surely starting another marital spat—is drowned out by the rushing in my ears.

“Better,” I tell Delaney passionately. “I almost wish I hadn’t burned them alive just to bring them back and kill them all over again. You don’t want to know what they had planned for you.”

“I think I should go,” Alaric announces with uncertainty, worried he’s about to be roped into this fight .

Delaney swallows hard, fighting off tears. My gaze slides to the column of her throat, tracking the movement. Wondering how that flexing flesh will feel under my tongue. Or my palm. “I’m sure it would have been better than what your father did to you,” she says with menace.

Now, that sounds like an accusation. One I am not a fan of. Not at all.

I laugh, anger rising in my chest, prepared to fiercely defend the most important man in my life while my heart aches fiercely for him. Because of him. “And what exactly did my father do to me, Delaney?”

“Spare me, Val. I already know it wasn’t your own scheme to raise Heartstones.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about.”

The wound she pokes at is raw—only just opened when I found the letter from Parliament to my father. Him not telling me…

I’ve wondered too many days since if I’ve been so blinded by my own motivations that I’ve allowed myself to be nothing more than used. That he never cared at all.

Can’t say I don’t deserve Delaney’s clawing, but it still fucking hurts.

My weak response is the confirmation she’s looking for. “How convenient. Your father having a necromancer son for him to radicalize and see things through.”

“My father gave me everything.”

“He forged you into a fucking weapon!”

“I was always going to be exactly what I am, Delaney. He gave me everything !” I repeat on a scream.

I can’t breathe.

“So you might be willing to be his puppet. And look at you now, Val.” My wife gestures towards me scathingly.

“Congratulations on making your father proud at the expense of everyone in my life. You have a lot to say about how my parents failed me. But what about yours? My parents hid my necromancy to protect me. Your father exploited you . ”

Stalking towards Delaney, she retreats until her back is flush with a wall.

My arms cage her in, our stares locked together.

“My father was a great man who I loved very much. I would be nothing without all he did for me. And I refuse to hear anyone speak ill of him.” Delaney doesn’t flinch at my anger. “Not even you.”

Both our breaths heave, mingling in the infinite, too close space between us.

An insurmountable chasm that I’ve cleaved, and I’m starting to fear I may not be able to mend it.

Claws of desperation rip at me, wanting to drop this fight.

To hug my wife tight to my body. Tell her I’m sorry.

Beg her to forgive me. Remind her that I can fix this.

Delaney composes herself first, tone quiet and voice shaky. “Don’t worry, Val. I’ll help you honor his memory in a way that would make him proud.”

Ice slithers down my spine. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You want to raise the other Heartstones, right?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

Make her understand . I scream at myself to do so, but I can’t force my tongue to form the words.

Delaney laughs, tired and sad, eyes shining. “Isn’t it? It’s okay, Val. All your hard work isn’t for nothing. I’ll help you bring them back. I’ll help you fulfill the purpose of Suredeis . I want to.”

Worry clogs my throat, making it difficult to speak. “And why would you do that? After everything? Why would you willingly help?”

Dread weighs me, hoping she doesn’t answer .

The tree in my chest is defeated at this point. Mangled and tangled in wire. Hanging on by splinters from all the ways my wife keeps chopping it with her cruel hatchet. Maybe she will douse it in accelerant, strike a match, and laugh as I free fall into misery while she burns the fucker down.

One can hope.

“Because maybe then I’ll be able to find a way to free myself from you.” Delaney glances over at the silver ring on my left hand. Her meaning washes over me, the prickly sensation of panic fizzling to life fully behind my lungs.

I pop away from the wall.

“No.”

I shake my head, backing away more. Breathing hard. Too hard. About to be sick. The silence that meets me is too loud and overwhelming. I notice now that our audience left somewhere along the way.

“No. That’s not going to happen. You’re my wife. And I’m your husband. And we belong to each other. It won’t happen.”

Delaney takes a determined step towards me. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to try.”

My eyes widen, her actions of the day making a heartbreaking amount of sense. My wife wants to play her part until we achieve the overall goal of Suredeis . What I have dedicated my life to in order to serve my own means. Only to cancel them out in the end.

Delaney wants to resurrect Heartstones. Raise deos . And plead for the severing of our vinculum bond. Beyond our magic.

“Then I won’t fucking do it,” I hiss.

This takes her off guard. Silence bloats between us.

“What?” she whispers. Utterly shocked by my changed stance .

“I won’t go through with it. I’ll never use necromancy again, with you or otherwise, until the day I die if you think it’ll force me to let you go.”

Indignation, disbelief, maybe a little bit of humor comes to life in Delaney’s expression. “You would give up everything you’ve worked for, the whole point of murdering my family to have me here with you, just to keep me as your wife?”

“If you truly think Heartstones is all this has been about for me, then you’re not paying attention ,” I practically snarl. Mindless. “But I suppose I already knew that.”