If he would’ve simply died, deities would have never been born. Finnian and all the others would be nothing but mere mortals at the mercy of another higher power, an insufferable road of thought that he didn’t dare to explore. The idea alone was appalling. At least he understood why the Council was formed, and why its members were chosen.
Cassian was slow with his words. “Now that I am aware of what Death truly is, most certainly not. Death is peace.Rest?—”
“Death is separation.” Disgust rose in Finnian’s throat. “Ceasing to exist, losing a life of joyous wonders.”
“I thought such a thing too once,” Cassian replied, his tone composed despite Finnian’s disdain. “Before my reign as Death, it may have been so, but that is no longer the case. Death is not so bleak. There is no pain, no hardships. Only peace.”
“Save the speech. I’ve heard it multiple times from you.” Finnian stood and stalked back to the bar cart, setting his emptyglass aside and glaring down at the elegant drinkware and the long, sparkling necks of the bottles filled to the brim with melted caramel-colored liquor. The urge to flip over the cart ached in his hands. To wreck this pristine room and cause a scene ofsome kind. The silence, stillness, organization—it was suffocating.
“I am surprised you remember.”
Finnian turned to find the High God grinning over the rim of his glass, a goading gleam in his gaze. His nostrils flared, longing to choke the look off the bastard.
Approach him with fucking kindness, Finnian.
“All these years of talk and you’ve never once shown me your Land.” Finnian walked around the sofa and rested his tailbone on the back of it, shortening the space between him and Cassian.
The High God tilted his head at the request. “You wish to see my Land?”
“Yes,” Finnian said, free of as much sarcasm as he could muster. “Show me around before we attend this festival. Let me see what Death is truly like. For myself.”
Cassian analyzed him, his eyes shifting across his face for a long moment.
Finnian’s mouth went dry, but he refused to retract his gaze from the golden chasm of Cassian’s. No end in sight, no matter how deep he delved. His stomach dipped, as if he were dangling off the edge of a fjord.
Cassian strolled to the space in front of him. He leaned in, bringing his mouth dangerously close to Finnian’s unimpaired ear.
The muscles in Finnian’s neck pulled taut as Cassian’s breathy laugh traveled over his skin. Tingles spread down his set jaw.
“Like you said, we’ve played our game with one another for years, Little Nightmare. If you desire for me to open up, you’ll have to do much better than this.”
11
I LOATHE YOU
Cassian
The Past
Pine needlesand the sharp acrylic of magic dotted the air surrounding Cassian as his feet touched down on dry, butter-colored leaves. Dusk darkened the atmosphere as commotion echoed from the distance.
He rushed to the edge of the tree line, careful to remain hidden while he assessed the situation.
Tombstones encircled a small granite structure just beyond the wooded area. A burial vault. Columns flanked the rusted doors.
Pinned against the vault with his arms severed, Finnian fought against the blades jabbed in each side of his pecs and through both ankles.
Cassian’s pulse spiked at the sight.
Finnian shouted out as Malik thrusted the blade deeper into his ribcage. His hair spilled down his shoulders, strands sticking to the rust-colored splatter marring his cheeks and neck. The chalky shade of his olive complexion and the amount of scarletblotches muddled across his linen tunic had Cassian wondering how long ago the triplets showed up.
Blood spewed like a crimson stream from the wounds of his severed arms. Strewn off the side, Cassian counted four sets of arms tossed about.
A body lay on the pavement behind them, their limp frame engulfed in a cloak.
A few yards away, Astrid lodged her heel against the sternum of a young woman with ginger strands. “Try any more funny business and I’ll puncture your frail little heart.”
“Isla, run!” Finnian bellowed.
