He understood.
UnderstoodI had to go back to Stormfell and marry another man.
He understood.
How stupid to feel disappointed when I knew the stakes. But I couldn’t help it.
Given all that we’d been through and all that we were supposed to be to each other, I was expecting…more.
And all he could do was look at me.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door. It broke the tension between us and the acrid silence.
I looked toward the door when Bastian appeared.
“Our ship is here.” He beamed. “We can go home.”
I gasped, and relief flooded me so fast my head lightened.
Blessed Mother. Thank you. Finally, we could leave this Gods awful place.
“Get everyone together,” Wolfe replied. “Each of you will need to pay Titania's Tithe.”
Bastian nodded and flashed me a warm smile before sauntering away, but my mind was stuck on Wolfe’s instruction to payTitania’s Tithe.
That was something I’d only ever heard associated with death and funerals. In the magical realm, the tithe was a payment to Titania—the Goddess of Death—for safe passage into the afterlife.
I looked back at Wolfe, wide-eyed. “What is happening? Why do we have to pay Titania's Tithe? We’re not…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word—dead. Perhaps the reason I’d felt off was because I didn’t know I’d crossed over.
“No. We’re still alive,” Wolfe answered, putting my mind at rest. “The tithe is for our host. The Reaper. So, he’ll allow us to leave his realm.”
“Reaper? As inGrim Reaper?” My voice quivered as if caught in a gust of wind.
“Yes. One of them.”
The shiver that hit my body was unlike any other. It turned out that eerie feeling I’d had of being watched was right.
It was great to know I wasn’t being paranoid. But what comfort was I supposed to take in knowing that the Grim Reaper had been watching us?
“Where are we?” I furrowed my brows and glanced outside at the brightening suns.
“Boerläch. Another placeyoushouldn’t be. It’s a dead realm, a path to the heavens or the hells.”
A lump swelled my throat, and my nerves scattered like mice. “Oh Gods. This is all too much.”
“Take my hand.” Wolfe stretched out his hand to me.
“What?” I looked at it and took in the firmness in his long fingers.
“You are half-human. A tithe will not be sufficient payment for you.”
“What will I have to do?” I searched his eyes. They darkened to a savage shade of cobalt that could be malice if it were a color.
He cocked his head. “Take my hand and show him who you belong to, Ziyka.” His words carried a dark promise, laced with possession.
Menace and danger flickered in his expression, void of compromise, like he was already imagining the Reaper's reaction.
Wolfe pushed his hand closer toward me. I took it without hesitation, deciding not to argue that I belonged to myself. Now was not the time for that.
