After a few minutes of watching him poking around at the scampi, I skewered one with my fork and held it out to him. His suspicion deepened. “What are you doing?”

“This is langostino. It’s like a baby lobster. I’m pretty sure you’ll like it. Unless you’re afraid . . .”

Wrath accepted the shellfish as if in challenge. He must have enjoyed it, because his focus shifted to his plate and he didn’t look up again until he’d sampled a bit of everything.

While he experienced the wonder of human food, I ate my scampi, enjoying the fresh lemon they’d used to cut the richness of the butter. Theirs was a bit heavier with citrus than ours, and I decided to experiment one day soon.

Maybe if I sliced a lemon in half, and grilled it facedown—

I paused, fork to mouth. I’d been enjoying myself so much I almost forgot the reason I was sitting there, with one of the Malvagi, eating. A month. My twin had been gone for a little more than a month, and I was daydreaming about recipes for Sea & Vine while in the company of our worst enemy. The food turned to stone in my stomach.

I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry.

Wrath watched me in a way a human might study a fly buzzing over their dinner. “Experiencing a moral dilemma, witch?”

I couldn’t muster an ounce of anger or annoyance. A hard blade of truth carved into me; I had no idea what I was doing. I was pretty sure my sister had summoned a demon, but didn’t know which one. I knew about the Horn of Hades, but didn’t know how we came to be the keepers of it.

Then there were the cryptic clues in Vittoria’s diary about her ability to hear magical objects, and the possibility of the first book of spells being in this world. I knew my sister agreed to become the devil’s bride, but still hadn’t figured out why she’d made that awful choice, or why she didn’t confide in me or our grandmother.

I had more questions than answers, and no one I could fully trust. Nonna almost died because of my quest for justice, and I refused to put anyone else in my family in danger by going to them for anything related to the murder. While Wrath might have saved me, he was a prince of Hell, and even though he’d vowed to not force a witch into a bargain, I still didn’t know how or why he was picked for this mission.

I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “I want to know everything about the curse.”

I stared at him, and his gold eyes—speckled with black—gazed back. “Have you considered moving in with me until we find the murderer?”

A most unexpected deflection. “I have.”

“Where are your belongings?”

“At home.”