“He is having a dangerous thought,” whispered Spite to Envy.

And she was, of course, correct.

Even as Valor, it appeared I was not immune to these feelings. Even now I missed her. Yearned for her presence. To hear her say my name.

Undone by her so thoroughly, I had failed even to tell her one thing of true consequence. Yet there was some solace in the fact that I had, as Valor, possessed enough courage to beseech Rastin’s intercession.

Which was why I needed to implant the heart. The rose.

For him to make another attempt at what he liked to assume would be my deliverance, his plan required my soul to be all in one place. Yet my soul was in shambles for a reason. Why risk attempting to focus it now? What if Rastin was wrong? What if I was better off as I was while I waited for his arrival? Empty? Splintered. Scattered.

The hearts—objects not meant to harness a soul—always gave. As a result, the masks, having been silenced for that time, all came bursting out of dormancy to rain down on me, all of them all at once seeking their revenge. And to take hold . . .

This rose. Would its implantation put Wrath to bed for long enough? Rastin had promised he would come soon but . . . when? What if he was delayed?

But then . . . what if he was right?

What if Wrath, or any other mask, overpowered me?

After all, they all wanted what I did. Unfettered by reason, though, which one of them would not find a way to take it? Take her.

She would hate me then.

Decided, I grasped the rose.

“Don’t,” warned Envy.

“Remember what it cost you last time?” hissed Spite.

Ignoring them both, determined not to buy into their warnings—my own nagging doubts—I allowed my fingers to find the buttons of my waistcoat.

“He’s going to do it!” cried Envy, her voice shrill with a panic that was more my own than hers. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you?”

“The pain,” said Spite. “It will be so much worse . . .”

Resolute, I took the rose and snapped from its stem the half-unfurled bloom.

“It will break,” said Envy.

My waistcoat open, I paused at the task of unbuttoning Valor’s white dress shirt.

And here was where I wavered.

Because Envy was right.

My heart. It would break. Just as all the others had. Perhaps this time, though, it would rupture even as soon as I inserted it.

Because Stephanie was not here with me. And could never be.

Deep down, didn’t I understand that was the true reason for the pain?

Valor, though. Without a heart, was he strong enough to protect her? Was Erik strong enough? He had been strong enough last night. Both to stop me from sealing our fate with a kiss that could only have driven me mad and to conspire toward my own destruction.