He looked like he was marching off to fate or war. Maybe it was both.
There was a dull ache in the back of her skull as his secrets pulled at her. She bit down on the temptation, remembering what happened last time she dove beneath his surface. Her feet slowed as the desire grew sharper. Pausing, she shook off the impulse to sift through his inner life and lingered at a piece of artwork. The dark, earthy oil painting in front of her shone, its shadows dancing unnaturally upon the canvas.It’s magic. There was so much she had never seen, so much she didn’t know about healthy, magically robust societies.
Aidan stood over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Stop dawdling.”
Elysia swayed toward his voice, accidentally leaning into the firm chest hidden beneath his dress shirt. Aidan froze briefly before stepping to the side, his fingers grazing her lower back. Gentle, relaxing warmth effused into her at every point of contact, a lighter version of whatever he had done to ease her pain when she arrived. Fighting the natural instinct to follow his touch, she arched beyond his reach and continued their walk to the throne room.
“I believe I mentioned the realms are woven by the power of the gods. The Deathlands are an extension of me—the dirt, the flora, the fauna.” He gestured and a sootlike haze appeared above his hand. “Raw, unformed magic. You’ll see it around me at times. Normally, the entire realm is cloaked in it.”
Guilt coated his admission, but she was distracted by the similarity between the raw magic and the soot of her homeland. She ran her fingers through the air, and the magic dissipated. “Reminds me of Kava.”
He nodded. “Raw magic is, in essence, decay. The problem being Kavaonlyhas decomposition. The raw magic accumulates,but the plants, the people, the ether of your kingdom cannot use it, so like any other decay, it rots your home.”
“And the people,” she finished, her gaze going distant. Clearing her throat, she tipped her face at him. “The sky was hazy when I was first here two weeks ago.”
“I’ve been doing my best to heal what I can. One day you’ll see it as it ought to be—the entire realm cloaked in a haze, raw magic at your fingertips.”
The hard resolve in his voice almost convinced her that was true. That they would somehow overcome the mountains before them, but no amount of confidence could change the cold hard facts of their situation.
Unthinking, she placed a hand on his arm, fingers touching both skin and the structured cotton of his button-down. The king of the dead halted, the surprise in his eyes making her draw back.
“Finding this talisman is going to be nearly impossible. You’re agod. If you couldn’t find it, then I’m?—”
He cut her off. “The only one in any realm above or below that could.”
They came upon the massive double doors to the throne room, and she faltered. “There are far better people for this job.”
Aidan’s hands gripped the swooping door handles as he looked over his shoulder, intensity radiating from his frame. “Did you not hear the song? Did you not fall through dreams and realms only to land at my feet? The fates marked you for death, andI am death.”
The doors swung open, and Aidan strode ahead, leaving her gaping at his declaration.
A burst of her usual fire had her stalking after him into the chilly throne room with her mouth moving fast. “Excuse me, I think there’s been someveryserious confusion that needs clearing up before we proceed.”There goes that voice again.
Aidan was back to being infuriatingly calm. “No confusion. Merely facts.”
I’ll give you some fucking facts.She stomped closer, but Aidan slammed his hands together, and a jarring crack rang throughout the room. Elysia immediately stopped, feet planting and arms bracing out into the air as the floor shuddered. Panic rose as an enormous fissure cracked through the throne room, its jagged crevice growing wider by the second. A wild river rushed violently into its hollow, water splashing and foaming over the spilled black candelabra wax and the burgundy runner.
Feet now permanently glued to where she stood, she gaped at the king of the dead. It was one thing to hear him say the Deathlands were a physical manifestation of his power, it was another to watch the world bend to his command. A soft charcoal haze drifted over the waters of the god-made canal. Soon enough, the fog dampened her feet, leaving the room in a state of eerie, static power.
Hands still clasped together, Aidan swiveled to look at her, satisfaction gleaming in his cobalt eyes. Once more, he held out a hand, beckoning her closer, and a shiver ran up her spine. Steps light, she made her way to him as distrust and misplaced excitement battled within her. Conjuring a chalice from behind his back like a street charlatan, Elysia failed to hide her laugh.
“You’d lose your head for that kind of trick in Kava.”
She’d been making a joke, but Aidan was silent, the fleeting compassion on his face saying more than enough. It struck her uncomfortably. In a land where executions happened frequently, humor was a dark, necessary thing.
Crouching down, he scooped up water from the river into the chalice. With drenched knees, he stood and held out the cup to her. Water dripped off his fingers, rivulets streaking down his forearm only to be stopped by the cuff of his rolled-up sleeve.
Why she quivered at the dark splotches on his knees and his river-soaked grip, she would never know. Maybe it was how his steady gaze burned as it turned on her, seemingly seeing past her cracked mask and into the dark uncertainty she hid beneath. Swallowing, she studied the gleaming bronze chalice. Blackened iridescentwater swirled in its basin, the water alive and its surface rippling.
Aidan cast his gaze over the crashing waters coursing through his throne room. “This river runs the edge of my realm. If anyone unwelcome were to drink or touch so much as a drop, they would find themselves aflame from the inside out.”
Elysia took an involuntary step back, and Aidan’s mouth twitched with the shadow of a dark smile. The white cotton of his button-down stretched against his shoulder as he lifted the chalice. Voice low and weighted, it wrapped around her with promise. “As this river separates what is mine from what is not, it will bind this deal between us. Should either of us break it, we will burn like the fire it is. Let no one say the god of the dead does not keep his oaths.”
Ice crackled through Elysia’s veins and time slowed.
For once, there would be no tricks or turns she could pull.
A vow with the god of the dead was unbreakable. Gods forbid either did not remain true to the end.
