Page 50 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

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MEMORIES

The scene in Hell, however, was not from her own memory, but his.

“I am told you’ve come to make a bargain with me, Rowington Silver.” The King of Hell smirked down at Rowin from his throne, the flames that surrounded the room rising with the volume of his voice.

“Yes,” Rowin confirmed. “I would like to bargain something to bring back a loved one’s memories.”

“Your wife’s memories, correct?” the King mused.

“Yes,” Rowin stated proudly.

“Memories are delicate things,” the King told him. “Once they leave the mind entirely, they dissipate like smoke on the wind. It’s why hiding memories is a lot more advantageous than destroying them. Recovering them takes a lot of magic.”

Rowin waited.

“I don’t particularly approve of creatures of Hell consorting with mortals,” the King decided. “But perhaps for the right price I’d consider helping you.”

Rowin lifted his chin. “Name it.”

The King’s smile was wicked. “I want you to use your newfound proximity to my son to convince him to pay me a visit.”

Rowin glowered. “No. If Genevieve found out I betrayed her sister in order to get her memories back, she would never forgive me.”

The King shrugged. “That sounds like a personal problem. If you cannot agree to my terms, you can seek help elsewhere.”

Rowin balled his fists. There had to be something he could give. He would stand here for the rest of time if he had to. Until ? —

An idea sliced through his mind.

“What about my immortality?” he offered the King. “If you don’t think creatures of Hell should be with mortals, then why don’t you tie my lifespan to hers?”

The King perked up at this. “Interesting.”

They stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, the King seemingly willing to make Rowin keep his promise to wait there forever.

Then finally, “I accept your trade. Do you have a token I can draw her memories into?”

Rowin glanced down at his hand and plucked the signet right off his finger. The one that used to be her wedding band. He handed it over to the Demon guard standing at the base of the dais, and they passed it up to their ruler.

“Here’s the catch,” the King began as he shifted the ring back and forth over his knuckles. “You must deliver it to her personally, and she must choose to put it on herself. When she does, your lifespans will be merged. Do you agree to these terms?”

“Yes,” Rowin said, his voice ringing out clear.

“Very good. And when you inevitably see my son again”—the King’s smile tightened now—“do tell him I’m waiting patiently for his homecoming.”

Rowin dipped his chin in a single nod.

The King raised his hand to Rowin then, and at first Rowin felt nothing. Then His Highness tightened his fist, and Rowin felt the King of the Devil’s ancient magic spear through his body. He nearly vomited all over the polished floors as a vital piece of him was pried away from his soul, extracted from his magic and drained from him entirely.

When it was over, the King turned his focus to the signet Rowin had given him, but Rowin could barely pay attention to what happened next. The weight of mortality crashed over him, churning his stomach. He felt weak, barely able to stand. He reached inside of himself and prodded at the magic in his core and sighed in relief that it, at least, remained untouched.

A bright flash of power erupted in the King’s hand and rippled throughout the room, making Rowin cover his eyes. When it was over, the King held the ring up between them. Admiring his work.

“An eternity in exchange for such a brief moment in the life of a mortal,” the King mused as he tossed the ring back to Rowin.

Rowin snatched it out of the air with a smile.

Rowin bowed and turned to leave. When he got to the grand entrance, however, someone slid into his path. A Devil with slitted, crimson eyes and long dark hair.

“Give Salem a message from me, too, would you?” the Devil snarled.

Rowin narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Devil said. “Just tell him I’m coming.”