Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Once we’re downstairs, he leads me out past the gardens, but my footsteps falter when I see where he’s directing us. The statue of Shemhazai has been removed from the churchyard, but the memories that lurk there are still fresh in my mind.
“What is that?” I ask, staring at the white sheets draped over two large objects. They’re exactly where Shemhazai’s statue used to be.
“It’s what I wanted to show you.” He squeezes my hand in his before he wraps his arm around me, holding me close. “It’s a good thing, I think.”
It takes a moment for my feet to cooperate and move in that direction, tension still straining my muscles. I haven’t been back here since we both almost died. But I trust Azrael, and I know whatever it is he plans to show me can only be good. He wouldn’t bring me here otherwise.
“Here.” He stops when we’re a few feet away, rubbing my shoulders before he releases me. “Stay right here.”
Even though my stomach is in knots, I smile at his retreating back, watching as he pulls both sheets off at the same time. His large body obscures the view until he steps aside to return to me. It’s then that I see the white marble statues that have been erected in Shemhazai’s place. Their features are soft and unmistakably familiar. On the left is Azrael’s likeness, handsome and strong, just as he is now. From his back, two large wings emerge as he bends to caress the face of the other statue of a woman with long, flowing hair adorned with delicate roses. She’s beautiful, and I can do nothing but stare as I take in every detail of her, knowing that this is how Azrael sees me—that I am exactly this likeness in his eyes.
“What do you think?” he asks softly.
In answer, a sob wrenches from my chest before I can stop it, and I start blubbering unintelligibly as he pulls me into his arms. He comforts me, even though he doesn’t know what he’s comforting me for until I get myself under control. It’s a common occurrence at this stage of my pregnancy.
“I love them,” I sniffle, finally getting the words out.
Azrael breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I thought…”
His words drift off, but he doesn’t have to finish his sentence for me to understand.
“They’re beautiful,” I tell him. “It’s our legacy. Many years from now, when our grandchildren come to this place, instead of thinking about tragedy and death, they will remember our love. The love that broke the curse.”
“An enduring love.” Azrael brings his lips to mine. “Unrivaled by any other.”
Just as he says it, the breeze picks up, and something drifts between us, grazing Azrael’s shoulder before it flutters to the ground. He pulls away, his brows pinching together as he stoops to retrieve the fluffy white feather to examine it.
As he does, the energy in the air shifts, and I feel it. The presence of someone passed. Someone who wants him to know he’s at peace.
“Abacus,” I murmur as goosebumps break out along my skin.
Azrael’s eyes snap to mine, and the hope I see there warms my heart. “You think so?”
I smile, leaning up on my toes to kiss him once more. “I know so.”
EPILOGUE
AZRAEL
Amélie Elizabeth Wildblood Delacroix comes into the world as lovely and headstrong as her mother, and on her own terms—three weeks early. She is a ball of fire with the softest crown of flaming red hair and bright golden eyes. I find myself completely and utterly under the spell of both mother and daughter alike.
Willow gave birth to our little girl two months ago today. She was born in our house, and the occasion is another marking of time, one that is significant for the change it brings. For the joy it brings. Up until the day of Amélie’s birth, I realize that the anniversaries I’ve noted have been sad occasions and losses. Those losses will be remembered, and the lives of those we lost will be celebrated. But this—Amélie—her arrival is a line of demarcation from a past of shadows to a present and future of light and life.
I still remember what I felt the first time I walked into the Wildblood house on the night of the Tithing. How vibrant it was, how colorful. How happy and full of life and love.
I kiss my sleeping wife’s forehead and climb out of our bed. From inside the nightstand drawer, I take out a sheet of paper, unfold it and set it on my pillow for her to find when she wakes, then I walk into my daughter’s room just as the sun begins to rise on the horizon.
A carousel of animals make their rounds in a light show across the pastel colored ceiling and walls. I smile, because I didn’t stub that vibrance out. Instead, we brought it here, into our home. Willow and I—our impossible love—broke an ancient curse and opened the door to joy. This house, which only ever knew darkness, suffering, and loss is now a home of light and possibility and happiness.