Page 55

Chapter

Thirty-Five

WRATH

“ I t’s time for the children to go home,” Pride announced.

I dropped my spoon and it clinked loudly against the porcelain bowl.

The children erupted in moans and groans around me, but only half-hearted. Their time here had been filled with garden outings, laughter, and more joy than Gluttony ever had thought possible in his dingy manor.

But all things came to an end, and they were excited to go home.

“Alright now, everyone outside.”

The children practically tripped over themselves as they ran, an admonishment dying on Pride’s lips as they were already gone. He gave me a smirk, and followed them out the foyer and front door.

Kiva sat still at the table next to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Her lips pursed.

“My parents are dead. Why can’t I stay here?” she whispered.

I sighed and stood. “The fae council wants to ensure you grow up with your own kind, so your magick develops as it should.” I left out the part where fae children were so rare that every influential fae family had been chomping at the bit to claim her.

She’d be a bit of a celebrity once she returned to fae society.

“I don’t want to go. I like it here.”

She ran out of the room, only to be caught by Sloth.

Kiva sobbed, throwing her arms around him.

“Come on, sparkles. You can always visit.”

He carried her out the foyer, stroking her tiny wings gently.

I followed them all outside at the front steps, crossing my arms loosey over my chest. A line of cars, enchanted carriages, and floating chariots appeared one by one in the long driveway.

Birds chirped overhead, and the garden bloomed brighter than usual, as if even the flowers knew something good was coming.

They came to a halt, and the first carriage door creaked open.

“Mama! Baba!”

The dryad’s father scooped her up in a whirlwind of spinning laughter while her mother knelt down, arms open wide for a second, tighter hug.

Leaves rustled in their hair as they wept openly and joyfully into Lark’s wild curls.

Watching them reunite was like witnessing spring crack open in the middle of winter.

Next came the selkies—an older woman with silver hair and kind sea-green eyes, flanked by two teenage selkie boys who immediately began arguing about who got to hug Sula first. Sula, all smug, sauntered up to them and was promptly tackled in a flurry of water-scented cloaks and happy tears.

Her sealskin was draped carefully over one arm.

Her mother kissed her forehead three times in a row before enveloping the girl in her massive shawl like it was armor.

“I didn’t think they’d all be so…” Kiva whispered. “Happy.”

“Of course they are,” I said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Children are the most important thing in their world. Just like you are to us.”

Nic’s reunion was more understated but no less moving.

His father, a sharp-dressed incubus with worried eyes and thick braids, looked up at the manor as though bracing for a fight.

Nic stepped forward quietly—and then was swallowed in a hug so tight his glamor briefly slipped, revealing the delicate wings he usually kept hidden.

“You grew taller,” his father murmured.

“You shrank,” Nic shot back.

“You’re grounded.”

They both laughed.

The goblin boy stood a few feet from the others, small and round with wide ears and sharp little teeth. He didn’t fidget like the others. He watched the horizon with the stillness of someone who wasn’t sure if what he hoped for would really come. My heart ached for him.

His parents didn’t come by carriage–no, they did something different.

A portal shimmered in front of us and opened with a soft crackle.

Goblin magick rippled jaggedly, like someone had cracked reality with a crowbar.

Through it stepped two goblins: one squat and stern, the other taller with soft eyes and a large knit sweater that immediately caught in a bramble.

“Jib?” the soft-eyed one called, voice trembling.

Jib stiffened. His claws dug into his sleeves. “Mama?” he whispered.

She rushed forward with a speed that belied her age, scooping him up into arms that didn’t care about sharp edges or dirt-smudged cheeks.

“You’re safe,” she murmured over and over, pressing kisses to his forehead. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”

The other goblin—his father, I assumed—stood nearby, blinking hard. “Been searchin’ every corner of the world,” he muttered, voice thick. “Didn’t think we’d ever see you again, boy.”

Jib squirmed in his mother’s arms only long enough to launch himself at his father, who caught him with a surprised grunt and held him like something precious. The kind of holding that said, You are never leaving my arms again.

“I was brave,” Jib said, voice muffled against his father’s chest. “I wasn’t always brave, but I tried.”

“You were more than brave,” I said softly, stepping closer. “You were brilliant.”

Jib turned to look at me, his eyes shiny and a little wobbly. “Will you miss me?”

“Terribly,” I said, crouching to his height. “But you’ve got a home to return to, and you’ll always have a place here, too. If you ever want to visit…”

He nodded fiercely. Then, to my surprise, he threw his arms around me in a tight hug, his nose squishing against my shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, barely a whisper.

I held him for a long moment before letting go. His parents murmured their thanks too, their voices thick with emotion, and then, just like that, they stepped back through the portal—Jib’s little hand firmly clasped in theirs.

The rift shimmered shut behind them, leaving only the sound of birdsong and the rustle of grass in its place.

Kiva clung to Sloth’s leg on the other side of me. I could feel the tremor in her tiny frame, the moment tightening around her like a knot.

Then they came.

Her new family.

It was fae couple obviously, radiant, willowy, and wild.

The mother had sunset-colored eyes and wore golden moss along her sleeves.

The father had curling horns, kind eyes, and a quiet smile that radiated patience.

But it was the two fae children skipping beside them—one a boy with a crown of dandelions and the other a girl with freckles like starlight—that made Kiva go still.

“They brought… kids,” she whispered, in awe.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t believe it myself. Fae children were so … rare.

Lust came up behind me, putting an arm around my waist.

“The council didn’t listen to any of the wailing and whining about all the fae couples who don’t have children. They decided to put her with a couple with children so she wouldn’t be alone.”

Oh my gods. I was going to cry.

The fae boy spotted her first and waved so hard he nearly toppled over.

“I’m Tamsin,” the girl said with an impish grin, “and we made you something!”

The two fae children ran forward and thrust a necklace of leaves, beads, and what looked like squirrel bones into her hands. “You’re cool. Wanna come live with us?”

Kiva stared at the necklace. Then at them. Then at Sloth.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, kneeling beside her. “You can go. And if you ever want to visit, the manor’s door is always open to you.”

She hesitated—just for a moment—and then launched herself into Sloth’s arms.

“You’re not my dad,” she whispered fiercely. “But you’re mine.”

My throat clenched as he responded. “And you’re mine, you tiny terror.”

She pulled back, gave Sloth’s cheek a kiss, and finally turned to her family.

Her new family.

They welcomed her without hesitation, her small frame wrapped in warm arms and laughter as they led her away, the boy already asking if she could teach him how to steal cookies without anyone noticing.

I stood there long after the last child had gone.

Just as I turned to go, a voice stopped me.

“Hazel? Or … sorry, Wrath now, is it?”

I whipped around, my mother standing directly in front of me in a peasant skirt and tank top, hands sheepishly fidgeting with the large bangles on her wrists.

The sins hesitated behind me, picking up on my hesitation.

“I … what are you doing here?” I asked.

She sighed.

“I’m sorry about Xavier. I hadn’t known he was such a piece of shit.” Her face twisted. “I knew they were babysitting a cabin for a minor god, so I went and tripped the wards hoping he’d show up and kick their asses.”

Her eyes flitted up to me.

“Is it true you did most of the work?”

Lust made a sound of disbelief from behind me. I didn’t blame him.

“Wait …” I began, trying to keep it all straight. “You went to one of the pack’s hidden cabins and tripped the wards to get back at them for me?”

She nodded. “But apparently you were already there kicking ass and taking names.” Her face twisted with distress.

“The kidnapping. What nonsense. I heard the remaining females and cubs will be absorbed by another pack, probably the Yellowstone Pack out west. They’re rebuilding and have a new Alpha, a female! So progressive.”

I blinked, confused about this new brave world of a supportive mother.

“T-thanks,” I managed.

She put her arms out. “I might not always understand, but I love you. I’m sorry that we let traditions get in the way of good sense. I’m trying to tweak the betrothal process so prospective mates apply, and the witches can pick.”

She laughed nervously. “Letting you all pick. Can you imagine?”

I grinned. Yes, I could.

“Thanks, mom.”

I moved forward and collapsed into her arms, taking in the scent of her lavender and patchouli perfume.

After a moment she withdrew, sniffing slightly.

“I’d love to stay, but perhaps another time. Cassandra is the first witch up to use our new choosing method and I want to make sure those witches go through with it!” she prattled excitedly.

“Did you want to come?”

Her head tilted to the side, just like I did when I was anxious.

The six sins gathered around me, Gluttony last, hovering from the front door as the others hugged me.

“Thanks,” I began, “but I’m good here. I’m a sin now.”

Lust’s hand found mine. Pride leaned against my side. Greed ruffled my hair and Envy smiled. Gluttony kept a careful eye on all of us from the door. Sloth gave my mother a lazy grin.

“I can see that,” she laughed.

“Well, good luck!”

She disappeared in a swirl of purple and sparkles. I’d never figured out how to get the sparkles.

“Dinner is ready,” Gluttony said succinctly.

I let the others guide me back inside. The house felt a little quieter and emptier. But for the first time ever, that wasn’t a bad thing.

I knelt at the window, pressing my fingers into the soil. The Sins gathered behind me—Pride, Lust, Envy, Greed, Sloth, Gluttony—each one silent, watching, their presence a shield and a comfort. Diana set a teacup beside me, her smile gentle.

Sloth took the daisy, and handed it to me with a nod. My throat was tight as I planted it in the waiting soil. Magick sparked at my fingertips—gold and green and every color that now lived inside me. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, slowly, the daisy straightened, petals reaching for the sun. Another bud unfurled beside it, blooming in impossible time—a promise of more to come.

I looked up, blinking away tears I hadn’t meant to shed. All the Sins were there, close enough to touch, their faces alight with pride, hope, and something soft I’d once thought I’d never deserve.

“I never thought I’d have this,” I whispered. “Not after...everything.”

Pride touched my shoulder, steady as ever. “You earned it.”

Lust grinned, sliding an arm around my waist. “You made it.”

Gluttony pressed a kiss to my temple. “You’re home.”

I smiled, feeling it deep and true. “Till death and daisies bloom,” I said, the words a spell and a promise all at once.

For the first time since I’d clawed my way out of that grave, I didn’t feel lost. I felt rooted—planted in a place that loved me back.

As the others gathered around, laughter and light filling the kitchen once more, I looked at the daisy on the windowsill—proof that something beautiful could grow from broken things.

And I knew, whatever storms might come, I had found my forever.