Ilys swatted his hand away, but her brows furrowed as she watched him, her amusement fading into concern.
“You’re drunk,” she whispered, half in shock.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Mortals are weak.” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Including this one.”
She tilted her head, studying him.Was he slurring?
“By the unbound,” she muttered, unable to stop watching as he derailed in real time, his limbs loosening and lazing.
“I could fall asleep at this table,” he confessed.
Ilys sat up straighter. “You should go to bed,” she advised warily.
“Yes.”
He pushed himself to his feet, only to sway dangerously. She barely caught him before he could crash back down. She braced herself, wrapping an arm around his waist as she hauled him upright. Together, they made their way up the narrow wooden staircase, his weight leaning more heavily into her with every step. By the time they reached the room, he had given up on dignity entirely, letting her half drag him toward the bed.
She deposited him onto the mattress with a huff, brushing her hair out of her face. He flopped onto his back, exhaling deeply, like a man relieved to be at peace with his fate.
Ilys, meanwhile, grabbed her sleeping mat, rolling it out onto the floor.
Indoors is enough of a luxury,she reasoned.
“For a god, you should be embarrassed right now,” she quipped, adjusting the thin blanket she had pilfered from the extra linens.
Death hummed against the pillow. “I should be so many things,” he sleepily whispered.
She moved to leave him to whatever strange state of half-consciousness he had found himself in, but before she could fully turn away, his hand shot out, catching her wrist. With surprising strength, or perhaps just desperation, he pulled her down beside him, his arms securing around her like a snare.
“Ilys.” His breath blew warm against the hollow of her throat, his voice softer now, slurred but clear. “Please don’t kill me yet.”
She stilled. Her pulse thrummed against her ribs as she took in his slackness.
How convenient. Her blade sat mere inches away. Death lay indisposed.
She could slit his throat now. Drive the dagger between his ribs. End him while he dozed pliant and human.
She thought of it. Thought and thought, her fingers flexing, muscles taut, the will coiling through her like a strike held back. And still, she hesitated.
Baron’s face rose in her mind, his crumpled body, lifeless. Her breath caught, claustrophobia pressing the walls in tight. She would never see him again. She missed him. She could not have him. Grief, raw and gnawing, always there. And it was his fault.
This man.
This god.
His fault.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, bitter with hatred.
And then Grim. Grim with his secrets, the pieces of him she would never know. All of it locked inside the creature before her, the god who knew everything of Grim that she did not.
She stared at him long and hard.Tomorrow,she promised.Perhaps tomorrow.
But tonight… tonight her gaze lingered too long. Her body, heavy with grief and drink, betrayed her resolve. Sleep bled into the edges of her thoughts, until it pulled her under, stealing the decision from her hands entirely.
Chapter 19
Ilys stirred beneath the quilt, sleep hanging on her skin like fog. The room was dim, dawn barely creeping through the small window, painting the wooden walls in soft gray light. She blinked once, adjusting to the quiet, and then she realized she wasn’t alone.
