a day.
I still really want to push him over the fucking railing.
That’d probably be rude now.
I guess.
She thought it over for a long time and imagined how much he’d complain later. It wouldn’t be worth it. She broke the kiss and watched him for a long moment. “Say it again, Simon. Say you love me.”
“Say what?” He blinked, then frowned. “Why?”
“I like the sound of it.”
He pulled in a breath, held it, and let out his words in a long rush. “Why-do-you-have-to-delight-in-debasing-me?”
“Because you deserve it.” She jabbed him in the ribs. “Say it, or I’m throwing you overboard.”
“I—” He gagged. “I luu—” He hacked dramatically. “I lo—loo—louuurrrr—” He let out a hurk, coughed, and hit his chest with his fist as if to clear it. “Sorry. Give me a moment.”
She jabbed him hard in the ribs again and laughed. Once again…despite all odds, his antics were cheering her up. And she knew that was the point.
“Okay, okay, okay.” He waved his hands, cleared his throat, straightened his clothing, and smoothed his expression into a serious one. “Cora Glass…from the moment your frying pan met my face, you did the unthinkable. You committed a grievous sin. You broke my nose and stole my heart in one swing of cast iron kitchenware.”
She snickered, and his expression flickered and threatened to crack. He crooked his finger under her chin. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “I will follow you to the ends of the Earth. I will stay at your side until we crumble to dust. I will protect you as best I can, even from myself. And when I cannot, I can only pray you rip what’s left of me apart. Because I never, ever wish to hurt you. And I never, ever wish to fail you.” He cradled her face in his hands and stepped close to her. “Cora Glass, my monstrous and villainous Queen of Harrow Faire…I love you.”
She went up on her toes and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt every emotion a person could feel. Joy. Sadness. Grief. Elation. Anger.
But most of all, she felt love.
He had played a twisted game. She had drained the lifeforce from a man. They had both done terrible things. People had died.
She loved a monster.
And it was okay.
Because she was one, too.
22
Simon lay in Cora’s bed, holding her. She was asleep, nestled against his chest.
He should be asleep. He was exhausted.
But he couldn’t quite get his brain to stop whirling in circles.
I won. I won everything I could possibly want. Ringmaster is dead. Cora has the Key, and the Faire is now hers to command. I got my revenge and made sure the traitors suffered. And I have Cora. She still loves me…
And I love her.
It wasn’t guilt that was keeping him awake. It wasn’t regret. He would repeat everything he did that day if given the chance. But still, his thoughts spun, replaying the day over and over again in his head. Perhaps adrenaline was to blame.
Jack had walked away from the Faire with his mother, the Soothsayer. Turk was dead. And Aaron was slightly less insufferable. Most of his major annoyances had sorted themselves out. Cora wore his engagement ring. She had agreed to marry him. She trusted him—she loved him.
He smiled.
And he loved her back. He could admit that now. Not just to himself, but out loud. He was happy. He couldn’t sleep because he was happy.
He shut his eyes and wished his happiness would take a raincheck. But once more from the top, everything played over again in his mind, the adrenaline and excitement of the day still burning itself out like the last bits of a spent candle sputtering at the bottom of a puddle of wax.
Ringmaster had played beautifully, and predictably, into his hands. Simon had not known what to expect when he asked him to sacrifice Amanda. When he had said yes, he knew the fat man’s desire for justice would fool him into thinking he could still win. What a glorious revenge he took on them both. Watching Ringmaster cry over the loss of his love would fill his heart with joy for many, many years to come.
Listening to Jack scream in pain, muffled against the gag in his mouth, had been perfect.
Simon didn’t need to remove them from the vote. That hadn’t been the point. The point was to make them hurt. Because they hurt the woman he loved. He would have gladly peeled Jack’s flesh off