“One day he will find you.” Her mother’s tone was as steely as her expression. “He will remember all you do not. And I promise he will stop at nothing to win you back. His pride will see to that. Only you’ll be at a disadvantage, having forgotten him. Do you think he’ll be a devoted husband after that? You’ll have shamed him, bruised his legendary ego openly in front of his whole court. In front of the whole realm. And you won’t even remember.”
Lucia shook her head. She knew what her mother wasn’t saying—she disapproved of Lucia taking a tonic to forget. It wasn’t a smart battle tactic, and Mother considered witches and demons to constantly be at war. But the pain in Lucia’s chest, the acute, all-consuming grief, was too great to overcome; she couldn’t walk away from Pride if she remembered him. “I’ll take the dagger. Just see to it I never fall for another prince of Hell again.”
Mother’s gaze turned hard, like the hell-forged steel in Lucia’s hand. “When I’m through with the demons, I’ll make sure no witch ever falls for their lies. And they will hate us in return, so passionately they wouldn’t deign to fall in love with a witch again. That I vow on my life’s blood, daughter.” She whispered a summoning spell, and within moments another witch appeared. Lucia vaguely recognized her from one of the more powerful covens. “Maria, I have an assignment for you. You’re living in the Shifting Isles’ version of Palermo, correct?”
While Mother plotted with Maria, Lucia read over the spell. It was nothing more than an herbal tea blend, really. It would be easy to make. Even when she forgot why she was making it, she’d be able to pull the ingredients together. As she set the spell aside and picked up the roughened crystal, a steaming mug appeared before her. She glanced up, meeting the other witch’s kind eyes.
“Drink. It will help ease the pain, bambina.”
Lucia knew it was the first dose of the spelled tea. Knew that once she brought the porcelain to her lips, things would truly be over between her and Pride. Her mother didn’t speak, but Lucia felt her attention shift to her, almost in challenge. Lucia picked up the cup, pausing before she took that fateful first sip that would signal both the end and a new beginning for her.
“I want a new name. A new family. I want to forget everything except that I am a witch.” Lucia finally brought her focus to her mother’s. “And I do not wish to see you until I ask for you.”
There was a flash of what looked to be hurt in her mother’s face, there and gone in an instant. “Very well. Maria will monitor the situation from afar and will set you up with a family in a dark coven.”
The other witch nodded. “You’ll be well cared for.”
“Good.” Lucia nodded back—a quick jerk of her chin, then gulped the tea down in one, scalding shot. It took a few moments, but the heavy pressure on her chest lessened. Her muscles loosened. The sadness and despair lightened. If there had been something troubling her a moment ago, Lucia couldn’t recall what it was. Perhaps it had been a bad dream. She blinked at the crystal in her hand and the dagger on the table before her, her brow creasing. “What are these for?”
Maria gave her a sad smile. “You must never show this dagger to anyone. Never speak of it. It’s only to be used on the Wicked.”
“The Wicked?” Lucia’s heart pounded furiously. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think someone was manipulating her emotions. But that sort of power was supposed to be forbidden. “Who are they?”
An unfamiliar witch with strange starlight eyes slowly moved around the small wooden table. Power radiated off her, and Lucia fought a shudder. “The Wicked are bloodthirsty creatures known as princes of Hell. They seek to destroy you. To destroy all witches.”
“If you see one,” Maria added, “you must hide. And if they come for you…”
Lucia glanced down at the deadly-looking blade. “I must protect myself.” She inhaled deeply, feeling the truth settle inside her. The Wicked. Her mortal enemies. She prayed to the goddess she’d never encounter one but was thankful for the dagger just in case. Lucia picked up the rare blue crystal. “Is this a memory stone?”
The witch with starlight eyes nodded. “For your safety, you must purge your memories of this night now. I’ll give you a sleeping draught, and when you awake, Maria will have taken you home.”
“Am I in danger?” Lucia asked the witch, hating the edge of fear in her voice.
“Not anymore.”
As Lucia held the magic crystal and started feeding her memories of the night to it, the stone took something she couldn’t recall if she wanted to lose or not. She drew her brows together again as the stone heated up, taking more and more of her thoughts from the last few hours. “Who… what is my name?”
Starlight eyes didn’t seem to think her lack of memory in that area was a surprise, which indicated she had wanted it gone. At least, that’s what the witch without a name thought. “Your name is Claudia. You’re from Palermo. You’re a powerful witch with an affinity for dark magic and have been blessed with Sight. You are talented with a blade and aren’t squeamish around the dead. And your family is waiting for your arrival.”
Claudia. She nodded; the name seemed to fit. Though the rest of the story didn’t ring as true. Claudia noticed the witch hadn’t said her family was waiting for her return. Only her arrival. Claudia didn’t remember taking the sleeping draught, but her lids suddenly felt too heavy to keep open. She managed to ask one more question before sleep claimed her. “Who are you?”
“A powerful ally to some. A nightmare to others.”
As Claudia drifted off to a troubled sleep, she prayed to never see the witch with strange eyes again.
TWENTY-THREE
Back in the Well of Memory, I stared at the roughened crystal in my palm. For the first time since I’d become immortal again, I swore I felt the phantom beating of a human heart I no longer possessed. I couldn’t believe it. I’d found what I’d been searching for, but collecting the blade would not be easy. Claudia, my dearest friend, was the First Witch’s daughter. Lucia. Pride’s missing wife who was presumed dead, even by Wrath. And Claudia did not remember any of it.
Unlike me, she’d chosen to forget her prince. A decision that tore her apart, but she’d found the strength to do it. Because she’d felt it was best for her. Blood and bones. I didn’t want to be the monster who made her recall her heartache, and I had no desire to lead any of the demon princes to my friend after she’d successfully disappeared. It was a miracle none of them had encountered her while they’d been on our version of the Shifting Isles.
Claudia clearly didn’t want to be found, especially by her husband, and she’d moved on. She was happy, content with the new life she’d carved out for herself.
But my choices were limited. Claudia had the Blade of Ruination, the only weapon capable of severing the curse, and hidden in her mind was a secret about how to get the dagger to work without destroying it. I carefully replayed that part of her memory in my mind, desperate for any other way to get the information and leave my friend to the peace she’d found.
The dagger was also rumored to break curses, but Lucia knew a secret about it that no one else did, save her mother. A secret that would either activate the blade or see it destroyed forever if done incorrectly.
I had little doubt my friend would hand over the dagger if I asked for it, but for me to use it properly, Claudia needed her memory back. I wasn’t sure if there was a limit to how many times one could purge a memory. If she took the memory of that night back now, she might never be rid of it again. In our realm it had been nearly two decades of forgetting, of moving on for her. And I saw no other avenue to take to avoid causing her pain. It was a terrible price to ask of someone else, and I’d do anything to pay the cost myself.
“Divine goddess above. There has to be…”
Lucia knew a secret about it that no one else did, save her mother.
“Blessed be the wicked.”
My lips curved. The devil truly was in the details as humans liked to say. Wrath, the king of even the most minute of details, would be pleased his reputation preceded him. There was one other person who knew the blade’s secret. One I did not mind hurting to get information from.
If anything, I was eager to offer revenge for my husband and my friend. I carefully placed the memory stone in my bodice and headed for the dungeon. It was time to thaw out Sursea and see what interesting things she had to say about the Blade of Ruination.
By blood and by pain, or of her own free will, she’d tell me what I wished to know.
Burning wildflowers floated above the frozen statue that was Sursea, the heat of my magic warming the otherwise frigid room. I sat on a stool a guard had brought in and watched impassively as ice melted and dripped onto the stone floor.
Thawing her was a tedious process that was taking longer than I’d anticipated, but it had to be done properly or she could revive “wrong,” according to my husband.
I normally wouldn’t care about any ill effects she’d suffer, but I needed her to tell me how to activate the blade, and I wouldn’t risk any chance of losing that opportunity for petty vengeance. My sister would roll her eyes if she saw me now, but this was how I hoped our House of Sin would handle such matters once reestablished.