‘You will,’ she grunted, rising and leisurely walking toward her rose bush throne.
The moment she took a seat, I winced, knowing the pain of the thorns cutting flesh. She leaned back as if it were cushioned. This realm must have been working on a different set of rules.
With a quick twist of her hand, she conjured a similar chair made of a rose bush for me. ‘Join me. I want to talk in a civilised manner.’
Taking my time, I steadied myself, allowing my legs to adjust to the weight of my body once again before slowly crossing the distance between us. The throne might as well have been in another world for how many steps it took to get there, but at least she healed me enough to restore some strength.
She watched my struggle in deep contemplation, her unnaturally green eyes reflecting sunlight with a strange delay, as if it had got ensnared inside her irises before she reluctantly let go.
Disturbing.
The muscles of my thighs and shins burned as I collapsed on a shockingly soft chair. Where were the thorns?
Resting her hands on her knees, the Goddess proclaimed, ‘Though I have never faced your struggles, I imagine this situation must be peculiar. Ask me what you want to know.’
Wasn’t that precisely what I had been doing ever since she snatched me here? ‘You said I am blessed by you. What does thatmean?’
She beamed. ‘It means when the time is right, I will help you accomplish your goals.’
How vague. Story of my life. ‘My goals? What if my goal was to destroy the realm?’
‘Then I wouldn’t have chosen you, would I?’ Melinda sighed, playing with a rose bud that kept growing the more she touched it. Within seconds, it bloomed blood-red, and she tore it off to place it in her hair.
My throat felt dry. ‘My point is, how did you know what my goals would be?’
‘Being a goddess has its perks. Next question, please,’ she claimed, this time toying with a thorn.
‘You said you could only act if particular conditions were met to help me. Can you explain that?’
The Goddess looked reluctant to share. Eyebrows creasing, she finally muttered, ‘I can only intervene if the blood witches are about to kill you.’
‘And why is that?’ I crossed my arms. ‘Why only then?’
‘Because Gods aren’t to unnecessarily meddle in mortal lives,’ she shot back in a harsh tone before clearing her throat. ‘And it’s my fault their kind exists in the first place—’
The Goddess blanched, before a vibrant moonlight replaced the scorching sun.
‘At last he’s here. Watch this, he likes to make an entrance,’ she complained, visibly appalled.
The front door burst open in an explosion of the blackest flames I had ever seen. It was pure darkness, seeping out of every pore of a towering, overwhelming man.
No. A God.
Dressed in a fitted black shirt, covered in darkness that stretched around him, where sunlight pooled in Melinda’s eyes before—in his was pure…
Death.
He was a God of Death.
‘You called. Have you reconsidered my proposal?’ His hopeful tone echoed through the room.
She snickered. ‘Not at all; I merely need you to untangle your imprint on my blessed.’
The God looked annoyed. ‘Have you at least considered what the union might mean for you? Our power would be unparalleled.’
Melinda’s eyes flashed with light. ‘I will not be bullied into marriage, nor will I marry you to make you stronger.’
‘It would make you stronger too.’ The God of Death materialised, kneeling in front of Melinda, who sat on her throne. ‘Give me a day in my realm, and I will prove you’ll make a great queen.’
