Darkness rushed in, choking out the starlight.
For a long moment, I stood perfectly still, listening to my own pulse. The mark on my ribcage thrummed in time with it, hot and insistent. As if the god who’d imbued it already knew what I intended.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Let’s do this, then.”
I unbuttoned my shirt and shoved the fabric aside, exposing the black-inked rune carved into my skin. The lines were sharp even after all these years, looping around my ribs like a brand. At the center of it, a small, circular knot of ink.
I pressed my thumb there.
Heat flared. The rest of the rune answered, coming alive under my skin like a nest of serpents stirring.
I turned the tip of my blade inward, and without giving myself time to think, I sliced the tip across the knot of ink.
Pain lanced, sharp and immediate.
Blood welled, dark in the night.
I pressed my palm to the cut, smearing my own blood across the rune. “Ire,” I said, voice low but steady. “Get down here.”
The forest held its breath.
Wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of brimstone and storm.
Shadows thickened around the edges of the clearing, pooling at the bases of trees, creeping inward. My own shadows twitched warily.
Then the night… bent.
Afigure stepped out of nothing.
The youngest king of Hel looked exactly as he had the last time I saw him—tall, lean, dark hair falling in careless waves, eyes hard as iron. He wore no crown, no armor. Just a long, dark coat lined with starlight.
“Most mortals offer prayers,” he said by way of greeting. “Or at least address me with more respect than my first name.”
“Most mortals are afraid of you.”
“And you’re not?”
“I carry your mark on my body. I would think that makes us well enough acquainted for first names.”
His mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Fair point.” His gaze swept the clearing, then returned to me. “Traveling alone rather than at my daughter’s side. You’re far from your post, Shadow Prince. Lose your way?”
“You know exactly how we were separated.”
“You say that as if I had some hand in it.”
“You say it as if you don’t have your hand in everything that happens in Menryth.”
His expression hardened.
I sheathed my sword with deliberate calm. I wouldn’t need it. If he wanted me dead, steel wouldn’t make a difference.
He watched the motion, one brow lifting slightly. “You know what calling me like this costs.”
“Usually,” I said. “This time, I’m trying something different.”
“Ah.” He folded his arms, eyes gleaming. “You’ve come to bargain.”
“I’ve come to break a bargain,” I corrected.
