Tella sat up straight. “Tell me where the Assassin is and I’ll leave right now.”

“Even if I knew where he was I wouldn’t tell you, Donatella. Contacting the Assassin is not a good idea, and not just because of his nickname. Before the Fates were trapped in the deck, the Fallen Star, the Undead Queen, and the Murdered King all used the Assassin to travel through space and time, and all the different timelines made him insane. He’s not always aware of when he is, and he’ll disappear for long stretches. People who’ve convinced him to take them back in time don’t always return. As I said, worst idea.”

“Nothing could be worse than this! Please, Jacks.” Tella grabbed his damp shirt with her fists, pulling his cruel face even closer. “Help me find him. I’m begging you. It hurts so much. Too much. Everything is painful. Each time I close my eyes I see him murdering her. Every time it’s quiet I hear the awful click-clack of that wheel. And I can’t shut it off!”

Jacks’s hand went still against her back. “What if I could take away the pain and the sadness?”

“How?” she asked.

“It’s one of my abilities.” He wiped another trail of tears from her cheeks.

A warning flare cut through some of Tella’s grief. Myth had it that the Prince of Hearts had the ability to control emotions. But, since Jacks had not been in the Deck of Destiny when Legend had freed the other Fates, he should have still been at half power. “I thought you didn’t have your full powers back.”

“I don’t,” he bit out. “I still can’t control emotions the way I used to, or give someone feelings that they don’t have. But I can temporarily remove unwanted feelings. I can take away your pain for tonight.” His icy fingers lingered on her cheek, a numbing promise and a warning all at once. “I won’t be permanently erasing it, my love. You’ll still experience it. But when your sorrow returns tomorrow, it won’t be as powerful as it is now.”

His other hand stroked up and down her back again until it was easier for her to breathe. Too easy. She wondered if he was using his powers to calm her. But Tella couldn’t bring herself to care as much as she should have. The heartache was too overwhelming. She knew that the instant Jacks let her go, her lungs would tighten once more, her tears would return to sobs, and even if she didn’t close her eyes, she’d see her mother dying over and over and over. A hundred deaths in the span of one heartbeat. Too many heartbeats and she might die, too.

“Do it,” Tella said. A part of her knew how desperately wrong it was to take comfort from a Fate. But even if it was a mistake, it couldn’t be as bad as this. “Take the sadness and the pain—just take everything that hurts.”

13

Donatella

Jacks’s cool hand cupped Tella’s cheek. “All right, my love.” He tilted her face toward his as he lowered his lips to hers.

Tella pressed her palms against his chest and shoved off of his lap. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking the pain away.”

“You didn’t say you had to kiss me.”

“It’s the most painless way. It will still hurt, but—”

The last time they’d kissed, her heart had stopped working properly.

“No,” she said. “I’m not letting you kiss me again.”

Jacks ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking for a long minute. “There is another way, but”—a second hesitation—“it requires an exchange of blood.”

A rigid spike of awareness shot down Tella’s spine. Blood sharing was powerful. Tella had learned during her first Caraval that blood, time, and extreme emotions were three of the things that fueled magic. Tella had drunk blood before. She didn’t recall it clearly, but she knew she’d been on the brink of death after her altercation with the Undead Queen and Her Handmaidens. She might have even died, but then she’d been fed blood, and it had saved her life. But blood also had the ability to take life. One drop of blood had once cost Scarlett a day of her life.

“How much blood would you need to drink?” she asked.

“I don’t need to drink any, unless you wish to do it that way.” He flashed her a feral smile as he pulled a jewel-tipped dagger from his boot. Half the gems were missing, but the ones that were still there sparkled, bitter-blue and ruinous-purple.

He sliced the dagger down the center of his palm. Blood, glittering with flecks of gold.

“You’ll need to do the same.” Jacks handed her the knife.

“What happens after I cut myself?”

“We clasp hands and say magic words.” His voice was teasing, but his unearthly eyes were gleaming with grave intent as he held his bleeding palm for her to take.

He did not look human at all as gold-flecked blood continued to well in the hollow of his hand. It should have frightened Tella, but there was too much grief and too much pain, she didn’t have room for emotions like fear.

She didn’t even feel the dagger’s cut as she pressed it to her palm. Blood welled, darker than the glittering stream running down Jacks’s wrist. But he made no move to stop its flow. His eyes were on her hand, watching as two red beads fell and stained her sullied yellow sash and her periwinkle skirt. Her gown had started out the day so bright, but now it was ruined, like so many other things.

Tella handed Jacks the dagger back, but he dropped it to the ground, and took her bleeding hand in his.

His pulse was racing. His palms had never felt so hot. The blood from his wound felt eager to mingle with hers. “Now repeat after me.”

The words that followed were in a language Tella didn’t recognize. Each one rippled to life on her tongue, metallic and magical-sweet as if she could taste the blood flowing between their hands. It surged faster and hotter with every foreign word. Jacks had promised to take her sorrow and her pain, but something about the exchange made her feel as if she was agreeing to give him even more.

Stop, before it’s too late.

But Tella couldn’t stop. Whatever Jacks wanted to take, she’d let him have it—if he just took away her grief.

The last three words he spoke all at once, in a voice that thrummed with power: “Persys atai lyrniallis.”

These words did not taste sweet at all. They latched on to her tongue like barbs. Biting and sharp and utterly unholy. The leather couch, the empty fireplace, the cluttered desk all disappeared.

Tella tried not to scream or crumble against Jacks as invisible cords of magic lashed around their clasped hands; it felt like threads of flames and burning dreams. Then the fire was spreading, searing her arms, scorching her chest, and branding her flesh as raw magic infected her veins.

“Don’t let go,” Jacks commanded. His other hand was now clutching her unwounded palm. But Tella could barely feel it. She was back in the cavern, on the rocky floor, watching her mother walk away from her. Then Gavriel was there, and this time there was no spinning wheel between them. Tella was seeing the Fallen Star pull the dagger from his chest, thrust it into her mother’s heart, and twist until—

“Look at me,” Jacks hissed through his teeth.

Tella opened her eyes.

Jacks’s forehead was damp with sweat and his chest moved unevenly as his ragged breathing matched hers. He wasn’t just removing her pain, he was taking it. Bloody tears streaked his cheeks and agony turned his eyes pale.

Tella clutched his hands tighter and pressed her forehead to his.

“Is this transaction too intense for you,” Jacks panted, “or are you actually worried about me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Don’t lie to me—I feel everything you’re feeling right now.” His lips moved so close to her mouth she could taste his bloody tears dripping down the edges. They were bitter, full of loss and grief, but also cool and pure like ice. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it didn’t hurt so much when she brushed her lips against his.

Maybe she should have let him kiss her … maybe it wouldn’t hurt her this time.

“I promise it won’t hurt this time,” he rasped against her mouth.

Tella let her lips pass over his again. He was a liar and a Fate. But when she pressed her mouth to his, it felt better than anything else had that day.

Her pain shattered as he kissed her back. Everything was a tangle of tongues and tears and blood and heartbreak as Jacks continued to take her sorrow. He drank it in with every needy movement of his cold lips against hers. His hands stayed locked with Tella’s, but they snaked behind her back, holding her tighter and caging her in as they both tumbled onto the floor.

This was nothing like their flawless first kiss during the Fated Ball. This kiss was urgent and wild and raw and corrupt. Full of all the terrible emotions flowing between them. A torrent of sorrow and pain. They were on the rough carpet and all over each other. Her teeth sank into his lips, biting sharp enough to draw blood.