46. Rotten to the Core

Chapter 46

Rotten to the Core

ELIO

D aylight blares through the tower window as I crack one eye open. I stir awake and reach out for the empty space next to me. "Lori?"

My lovely bride stands in front of the mirror, examining herself. The Winter crown Thanatos granted her during last night's ritual is no longer resting on top of her loose, messy black waves, but the new power flowing in her veins makes her gray eyes appear white as snow in the reflection.

I roll out of bed, eager to hold her in my arms again. "You look…fucking beautiful, Your Highness." I bow, coaxing a smile out of her.

She inspects her hands, cracking each finger one by one and rolling her wrists back and forth.

"Rough night?" I curl an arm around her frame and caress her smooth, bare thigh with my other hand.

"Not at all," she answers. "It was wonderful, actually."

The lull of sleep fades, replaced by a smoldering desire to make her mine again. I want to spend weeks with her in our bed. And in the hot springs. I want to take her through the provinces, just the two of us, and show her the wonders of our kingdom. We'll take moonlit strolls under the stars, barefoot in the snow—preferably naked.

Being in love certainly won't allow for a lot of time to rule, but the eerie, joyful excitement for all that's to come melts my insides. I'm not used to waking up with an unquenched thirst for life.

Lori pecks my lips and untangles herself from my grasp. "I need a shower."

"Can I come with?" I ask with a mischievous smile.

She pauses on her way to the adjoining room, as though my offer caught her off guard. "I guess."

Shaking off the urge to tease her about her less-than-enthused response, I switch on the light in the royal suite's bathroom. Even though I never use it, Sara had the whole place renovated in recent years, and the new marble rainfall shower is big enough for the both of us.

I thread deeper into the room to grab fresh towels and a bar of soap, placing them on the counter next to the shower while Lori figures out the functions of the different knobs and handles controlling the shower heads.

Steam quickly fills the room, fogging the large glass doors, and I step in next to her. My wife's body is perfect, but wet and glistening, it's damn near maddening, and my morning hard-on swells and throbs at the sight.

I move to stand behind her, admiring the view. "We should get you clean, my queen. I humbly offer my services."

Hot water sprays my face as I hold the soap underneath the jet for it to foam before slowly dragging it across her breasts and stomach before dipping lower to the place between her thighs.

She remains strangely stoic, and I hesitate. Maybe what I mistook for a sleepy answer earlier was actually her way of saying she'd rather be alone.

The soap slips from my grip, but I leave it on the floor and gather her hair to one side, nuzzling her neck. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

A sudden, violent wave of magic freezes the entire shower from floor to ceiling. We both tilt our heads up to examine the frozen shower head, the plumbing iced through.

"I-I just need a breather. I'm still adjusting to all this ice…" she stammers.

"Of course."

I'm all for giving her some space if she needs it, but I can't resist the urge to steal a kiss before I go. I slip my tongue inside her mouth with a low hum, savoring the moment.

She pushes me away with both hands, and my bare, wet feet scramble for traction on the marble. I brace myself against the wall of the large shower to stop my fall.

"Elio!" she shouts, clearly spooked by what just happened.

A pang of guilt shrinks my chest as I shake off the surprise and clear my throat. She did ask for space, and I crossed that line by kissing her anyway. "I'm sorry?—"

"She's here."

The intense flash of fear and panic written in the gap between her lips sends my heart into a frenzy. I yearn to rush forward, itching to reach for her, but I force myself to stay back, keeping my arms close to my sides. "Lori, what's happening?"

Her lids close, and when they snap open again, a jolt of electricity runs down her body. Her muscles tighten and relax in uneven spasms. "I don't know what happened. I feel fine now," she croaks, but her body tells a different story.

I've seen that haggard, disoriented look before. I'd just never thought it would happen to Lori, too. And so soon after the wedding…

I hiss. "The curse is already working its way through you."

She gives me a decisive slice of the head. "Not the curse."

"What then?"

"It's I-Iris." Lori shakes as she raises her index and middle finger to her chest, and the small, trivial movement reeks of pain and agony.

Ice spreads in my chest, the name enough to kill what's left of my libido and send tingles of warning up my spine. "Iris?"

"Yes."

Her shoulders hunch, and the ice she mistakenly summoned melts all at once. The broken pipe above our heads erupts with hot water, the spray hitting us hard and interrupting our conversation. Steam clouds the shower and mingles with our startled gasps.

I turn off the main knob and rub the water off my face. "Here. Let's get you dry and figure this out." I wrap a towel around her shivering frame and gently guide her to sit on the cushioned bench in front of the vanity, kneeling in front of her.

With a stifled cry, she sobs, "I'm so sorry."

"Hey. Hey. You're safe, alright?" I gather her shaky hands in mine. "What about Iris?"

Her soft, heartbreaking sniffles morph into a bitter snarl. "Why did you have to go and be so…handsy? She won't shut up now, like you're some kind of prize worth fighting for."

I tilt my head to the side, and something inside me clicks. That voice… It's similar to Lori's, but sharper and full of reproach.

A ball of saliva burns my throat as I release her hands with a start, and when she combs her hair away from her face and looks down her nose at me, I see nothing but the ghost of my first wife, sitting right in front of me.

My soul shrivels with a mix of shame, horror, and rage. "You're not Lori."

"You figured it out, bravo," she says on a strangled laugh. "I can barely move, let alone stab you through. I was so sure this body was the one. Another disappointment," she mumbles to herself. "I guess I'll just have to wait and try again."

I stagger to my feet, widening the distance between us. "Where is Lori?" My voice hardens as the truth slowly sinks in. "What did you do with her?"

"Relax, she's here. Exhausted from what she just did, but she's here. With the others, it was like they were sleepwalking, and I felt groggy and numb all the time. But Lori… Lori cares for you something fierce. Her body was made for this, and yet she's clearly not willing to just step aside."

"What others? You've been haunting and possessing my wives?"

"Your queens, yes."

A hiccup quakes Iris, my first wife more honest in that moment than she's probably ever been with me.

I'm frozen, struggling to process the gravity of what Iris is saying. Grief slams into me next, a gut-wrenching weight that knots my stomach and blurs my vision with unshed tears. Olena, Deirdre, Hannah, Jillian… the haunting lullaby that sings me to sleep each night echoes in my ears. My teeth grind at the knowledge that, had I realized Iris's dark soul was killing them, I could have saved them. The crushing realization that I was blind to her presence and let them die in vain nearly chokes me.

My father had refused to send his soul catchers, but with my light magic, I should have been able to see her. I'd always assumed she'd fled to Spring.

"How did you manage to hide from me?" I rasp.

"You couldn't see me. Nobody could. Only the queens and the few odd brides I killed to gather my strength caught a glimpse of me," she explains, but instead of sounding satisfied and evil, she simply sounds… haunted. "I was so alone, Elio."

I arch a brow at the obvious remorse in her tone. "Why are you telling me all this?"

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because Lori's making me. It's all very…muddled."

I search the room for a solution. I could throw on clothes and get Sara, but I don't trust Iris one bit. If her dark soul has taken over Lori's body, she might present a picture of defeat only to stab me when my back is turned. The large mirror catches my eye. Whatever is happening here, my mind is too clouded to understand it fully. I need backup.

I summon an ice blade to cut my thumb and draw a series of quick runes over the mirror. "Damian Morpheus Sombra, I pray to you. Shadow King, I implore you. Get the fuck over here, and quickly. We need you."

The glass shimmers as it absorbs the blood, and I wrap a towel around my naked bottom.

Iris shakes her head, a mix of exasperation and resignation in her eyes. "He's not going to know what to do with us. By Eros, I don't even know what to do with myself."

"Hush. I need to think." I hand her one of my old shirts from the closet. "Just put this on for now."

Iris scoffs and lays the basic cotton shirt down in her lap. "Really? Preventing another man from seeing me naked is at the forefront of your mind, right now?"

My mouth hangs open at her jab. "You were always so obtuse! I'm not dying of jealousy, here. I was just trying to preserve your—Lori's—modesty."

"Pfft," Iris snickers. "Sure. And I'm not here to cause any trouble. I just stopped by to say hello."

My lids close for a fleeting moment. A few minutes in, and we're already back at square one, arguing over meaningless stuff. Iris so quick to believe the worst about my intentions. Me so damn tired of having every single word and action spun out of context, always relegated to the role of the overbearing husband.

Less than a minute later, Damian slips out of the glass, the morning light filtering through the windows snuffed out by his presence.

"I came as soon as I could. I thought maybe the Gray Man was back…" He removes his mask, and his brows raise as he takes in our appearance, clearly taken aback by our blatant state of undress. "But that's obviously not the case."

I force my fists to unclench, my gaze skidding over Iris. "Lori managed to warn me… Iris is in there with her, somehow."

Iris raises a hand in the air and wiggles her fingers at the Shadow King in a sassy, impertinent wave. "Hey, Damian. Long time no see."

The shadows around Damian swell and writhe along his skin as he considers the naked huntress in a new light, and he quickly presses his mask back in place. "How did this happen?" he asks.

"I don't know. According to Sara's research, Lori and Iris look the same because her grandmother was somehow infected with Iris's blood upon her death, but we don't know much more than that."

The room settles into an awkward, miserable silence. Damian shifts uncomfortably, his eyes averted as he avoids looking at Iris. The shadows around him twist and pulse, mirroring his unease.

The soft sounds of shifting feet and the constant drip of water from the broken pipes whip my heart into a frenzy, each drop a relentless reminder of the chaos we're engulfed in. The rhythmic plop of water against the cold marble echoes through the room, amplifying the oppressive silence.

Damian finally clears his throat, breaking the tension. "Lori?"

Her eyes water, her confidence shattered, replaced by a trembling uncertainty that hangs in the air like a heavy fog. "Hey, boss."

"Lori," I murmur, reaching out to touch her bare shoulder, overwhelmed by the slight shifts in her expression that reveal who's truly in control. "I love you."

She places her palm over mine and gives it a sad squeeze.

Damian rakes a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. "Fuck. I don't know much about blood magic, either. We need a witch."

The meaning of his words sinks in, and I bite the insides of my cheeks. "I'm not willing to strike a deal with Morrigan?—"

"Not Morrigan," he interrupts. "I wouldn't trust her with this, either, but her grandmother might help us."

Iris raises one brow at that, her arms crossed over her breasts. "Are you saying you know where the Old Queen is hiding?"

Damian clicks his tongue and angles his face to me. "I didn't spend decades hunting for Morrigan without covering my bases. But Mabel isn't exactly in the business of granting favors. We'd have to barter, and she drives a hard bargain."

"Can we trust her?" I ask.

"I think so. Mabel has a large family to protect, many of them mortal. I don't think she'd cross you on purpose."

My jaw clenches, but there's no doubt in my mind we need to do something drastic. And quickly. "Let's go."