Her fingers wrapped around his, the metallic shine of the cup peeking out between them as they held the chalice aloft. “You have a deal.” Strong and sure, her voice belied the truth beneath her skin.
Dark fire overtook the blue of his eyes, satisfaction evident in the minute lift of his lips. “To Elysia Parker, the only woman to ever initiate a katabasis with barely a shred of magic to her name. May fate always honor the willfulness within you.”
Elysia nodded, silently taken aback. Not difficult,willful. Like it was something to be proud of instead of torn down.
Fingers clenching against the cold of the cup, she drank.
She drank deeply of the waters of death, binding herself to both god and deal.
The river raged inside her now, and with terrifying certainty, she knew everything had changed.
Chapter 4
Elysia staredat the inside of her right forearm. She hadn’t noticed it yesterday after drinking from the chalice while in her long-sleeved sweater, but today a new mark stared back at her. A permanent reminder of how foolish it was to make deals with gods.
Thanks to her study of banned botany books back in Kava, she knew it was asphodel and narcissus poking out of the strange iron helm on her skin. The skull and dice Aidan had originally placed on her body for travel was now gone, replaced by tiny poplar leaves, which trailed down the shell of her ear.
A deadened anxiety flattened her mood the longer she stared. Elysia flexed her fingers, twisting her arm as she examined the design. It was both brutal and beautiful. She’d chosen this—chosen to help her people, to push back against the decay of her kingdom. But all she saw when she looked at the flora on her skin was deceit, she’d tasted it the second the river water had passed her lips.
She hadn’t meant to read him, but his relief had been so palpable it would have been impossible for her not to notice anything. Especially when his guilt had clamped down on her likea vise. Aidan, god of the dead, was telling the truth, butnotthe whole truth.
Fed up with staring at her own skin, she exited her bedroom and silently stormed through the halls. Her sock-clad feet struck down heavily on the deep walnut floorboards. Her mood effused into the air around her—she didn’t like being tricked, and the god of the dead was about to find out.
She was moving so fast she almost didn’t see him standing there in the kitchen, rummaging through the silverware drawer. Turning around, he held up a bowl of savory porridge and a spoon.
“Hungry?”
She stared at him incredulously. “No, I am nothungry.”
He pulled out a stool and sat down at the slate counter to eat. He took a mouthful and watched her, seemingly unbothered. Another bite disappeared and she seethed, fixing her gaze on the kitchen behind him as she tried to rein in her temper. Mid-toned wooden cupboards with smoky glass overtook the wall, built around an industrial-sized cooking range. Unsurprisingly, the cupboards did nothing to calm her.
Aidan’s spoon rested against his bowl like he was waiting.
Fine. Holding out her wrist like it was evidence of a crime, she spoke her question as an accusation. “Did you know?” She kicked away the fearful part of her brain that reminded her this was agod. God or not, she couldn’t spend her time cowering.
His expression cleared. “Deals, oaths, magical promises—they always leave a mark. I assumed you knew.”
She looked at him like he was dumb. “I grew up inKava. The place with no magic.”
“Or you didn’t.” One scarred hand rubbed the back of his neck before bracing on his thigh. The god of the dead was unperturbed. “If you’re ever unsure of something,ask.Magic has always been an inherent part of my life.”
Dropping his spoon with a clink and pushing back the bowl, Aidan strode over to where she was still haunting the doorway.He shoved up the sleeve of his black sweater and held his arm out for her inspection. Matching asphodel and narcissus wound up around a small flaming torch.
“I see,” she retorted. It was just lovely being completely unaware of what was common knowledge to everyone else.
Tugging his sweater back into place, Aidan deftly plucked her rigid arm away from her body, sliding her sleeve up until he could see all of the flowers and helm decorating her skin.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low. “The flowers are native to the Deathlands. One of my siblings brought them to your realm.”
Elysia hastily pulled her wrist out of his grasp. His eyes were doing that damn flame thing again, and she didn’t want him to feel her pulse rioting beneath his fingers and get the wrong idea. With her arms wrapped securely around her body, she stared him down.
“I don’t care that they’re beautiful. I don’t like surprises. And I don’t likelies.”
Curiosity emphasized the sharp edges of his face as he tilted his gaze down toward her. “I don’t believe I’ve lied to you, but I do have a solution for fewer surprises.” He returned to the counter, eating his porridge and looking far too patient as he waited for her to give in and ask what he meant.
Annoyed, she drew closer, but remained out of reach. “Lies, omissions, same thing. But go on.”
“Lessons. With me.” Finished eating, he placed his bowl in the sink, and turned to lean back against the dark slate counter. Staring at her, he pushed up both sleeves and folded his arms.
