Elysia and Mayaemerged from the woods into the night only to come upon the mouth of a great body of silver water, mirror-like in its sheen with an old stone bridge for safe travel. They stopped at the bridge’s highest point, and Elysia found herself staring down into a cityscape covered in mist. Gulls cried and Elysia could hear the wordless chaos of a marketplace. There was even the familiar scent of salt and fish in the air. She frowned and spun around to look at Maya, her body tensing in confusion.
“Why does it look like Relaclave?”
Maya’s brows rose as she looked at Elysia consideringly. “We are passing over the waters of the unlived life. We house so much more than the dead here.”
Elysia examined the people below her a little closer and felt her stomach drop at what she saw on the shining surface of the water.
Her sister. Hand in hand with the Doorman, looking lighter than she’d ever seen her. Pulling her girlfriend through the crowds. Movement to their right caught Elysia’s eye and a soft cry fell from her lips. Daphne examined a bolt of fabric that she showed to a sandy-haired man who had the look of someone who works with his hands. Her smile was enormous, his gazeon her soft and crinkled. Standing in front of rows and rows of attentive women who sat behind desks was Remy. The women waited, writing utensils in hand, poised and ready to begin. Muddy with axes strapped to his chest was the prince. Strolling through the forest, his shoulders were relaxed and a bottle of wine hung from his fingertips. Lina hopped along beside him and the grin on his face belonged to the boy she once knew.
Her eyes began to sting. “Unlived lives? They aren’t dead?” Fear constricted her insides. They couldn’t possibly all be dead, and yet their ghosts swirled on around her.
“People are always dying, Elysia.” At Elysia’s panicked expression, she took pity. “Life is constant death and rebirth. Some consider it practice for the real thing, you know. But everyone, no matter how well they live, has lives unlived. Andhereis where it all goes.”
She looked at Elysia intently. “Even the dead can get stuck here. It’s best not to dwell on what never was.” With that Maya walked on, never looking down into the waters once, her eyes set only on the path before her.
The waters swirled, then settled into a silver mirror once more. A red mist rolled in, heavy and thick, hurrying the women to the opposite shore. Past the waters, they walked for what felt like hours. The night stretched on and Elysia’s strength grew thin. She was tired, hungry, and worried about how long she had been here in this realm.
The topography finally shifted, kindling hope within her chest. Long grasses and hills replaced the bonewood trees and barren landscapes. Even in the dark, she could see foreign blooms hiding amongst all the green. The dirt path they walked on now looked well traveled and when they made it to the top of a hill, she could see a large estate nestled in the valley .
Smoke curled up and away from numerous chimneys and a few windows still glowed with golden light in spite of the hour.All three dogs charged down the hill, running faster than it seemed their legs should be able to carry them.
Elysia looked at Maya as reality sank in—agodlived inside the home below.
“Any pointers for meeting him?”
Her guide shook her head. “I don’t meddle with his deals. I value my neck too much.”
She nodded, trying to mute the building anxiety of what was to come, when a question occurred to her. “Will I be able to use my magic on him? Would that be rude?”
Maya responded under her breath as the estate grew closer. “Please, for the love of the dead, try.”
Elysia frowned. She couldn’t tell if her words had been sarcastic or some sort of black-humored plea.
They were almost to the front door now. Gorgeous rusty brown bricks surrounded a green door that was so dark it was almost black. In the center of the door was a skull knocker with dice threaded onto the loop in its mouth. Through that door was the undead god who could solve their problems. Thief and deviant, she would steal Kava’s magic back from him.
Whatever the cost, she was determined to make him yield.
Flickering sconces of flame lit either side of the door. Her eyes remained glued to the flames as her stomach flipped like a trapeze artist. One hand fluttered to her throat, rubbing at her skin. Was she supposed to address a god as you did a king? Did he have a name? What was the protocol, the expectations for a situation like this? Her nerves climbed higher, a flush starting to rise from her chest. She hated being ill prepared, and she was now realizing she didn't even know how to properly greet the person she was aiming to do business with today.
Gage had been right. She was in over her head and likely about to drown.
But resolve filled her despite the anxiety thrumming through her limbs.
She reminded herself who she was—the daughter of the Crown, the sister of an assassin, and a woman with nothing to lose. She could see through lies and feel the truth. Steal secrets and hide in plain sight. And most importantly, there was no length too far when one was already good as dead.
The door unlocked with a pop and Elysia mentally shook herself free of the doubts threatening to hold her in place. Stepping inside, she cautiously looked around. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. Black and red, perhaps? Dark and creepy with dust coating the furniture?
The dogs ran ahead, leaving the foyer behind, but Elysia moved slowly, studying her opponent’s home. Rich wooden paneling and stone floors. Thick rugs to still the cold trying to rise up from the ground. Candles that danced with too-tall flames and dripped wax down the iron candelabras. A blue-flamed fire that pushed delicious heat out in waves. Lingering in the air was the smell of bergamot and orange, hinting that someone in the house loved a strong cup of black tea.
She was loath to admit it, but his home wasrelaxing. More than relaxing, it almost felt romantic. As if you would find its owner stretched out on a leather couch with a drink and book in hand and the fire blazing behind them. Tiny dogs and a home that made her want to curl up and nap? She was half convinced they must be in the wrong place.
Eyes roving as if she were going to find a dead body or someone being tortured, she walked farther into the house behind Maya. “He really lives here?”
A man with dark brown skin and black hair worked into smooth, tight waves strode into the room with an apple in hand, lost in his own thoughts. He mumbled a hello to Maya, and then froze with his teeth stuck into the apple. His eyes and brainfinally shook hands, alerting him to the fact that there was a stranger in the house.
“Isthather?” The words were garbled and spit around his apple.
Maya made a face of disgust, but her tone was amused. “Yes, and this will be how she recalls meeting you always. With an apple stuck in your mouth like a piglet and spittle running down your chin.”
