For a blighted, blistering moment, Madeleine wanted him to. In the next moment, she opened her mouth to scream in protest.

“You’ll die with her, then.”

Madeleine turned so quickly that her wet hair smacked her cheek. Jonathan had finally raised the shotgun and was aiming it straight at Asgall. The barrel held steady, not shaking a bit. “Piss off before I shoot you between the eyes.”

Asgall backed up and lowered his head like a bull about to charge. “You cannot. You’ll never bring yourself to do it. No more than I…”

He trailed off, but Jonathan seemed to know what he’d meant. Now the shotgun wavered.

“I spent too much time with you,” Asgall spat. “You made me weak. It won’t happen again. Lower the gun, you sad old man, and let me give her what she deserves. She deceived you worse than I ever did.”

Jonathan set his jaw and hefted the gun more firmly. “Then she’ll answer to us, not you. I said go.”

Asgall pawed the earth, drawing ruts in the mud. “She said she loved you. I heard her!” His voice had lost its superior, mocking edge. “Do you actually believe it?”

“You don’t know what love is!” Jonathan’s shout was another thunderclap, as shocking as the one that had hit just over the cottage. For a moment, his eyes flashed like lightning too. “I knew the second you dragged me into the water! And for that? To shit out lightning?”

“To fly,” Asgall said. “You’d have been part of that. You’d have flown with me.”

Hæra cried out softly when he said that.

“You bastard.” Jonathan’s chest heaved. “You ruined me. Years I’ve spent thinking—no, decades—” He stabbed the gun’s muzzle forward. “You took decades from me, the two of you stole my whole fucking life, didn’t you? Mine, and hers too.”

He glanced at Madeleine, who could neither move nor speak. Hæra, still kneeling, groaned.

“Stole your life? You dare say that?” Asgall’s voice rose with new fury. “When I let you keep it? I could have—” He went up a little on his hind legs, as if preparing to fight again.

Jonathan said nothing, but his eyes closed, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I still can,” Asgall rasped. “I will, you pathetic—you wasted what I gave you.” He looked down at Hæra. “As soon as I finish this business first. The new Sire will reward me for it. For all three of you. I’m sure of it.”

He rose up again on his hind legs, higher this time, and poised right over Hæra. When he brought his hooves down, he’d crush her head.

“No,” Madeleine cried, as if that’d help anything, “no, stop⁠—”