Page 89 of All Hallows Fate

Orwell rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you, too.”

I laughed, but my attention drifted behind him, to a tiny glimmer of white through the dark space. That white, empty realm. Exile.

Somewhere on the other side was the friend I’d known for too short a time. Another friend who survived. But Ender was alone, forgotten by everyone.

“What’s that look for?” Duncan asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” I replied, but in the secrecy of my mind, I began to plan.

EPILOGUE 6

Cat

Nerves tangled up my stomach until I felt like I’d be sick.

“You are Judgement,” I told myself as Fuzzball slowly climbed the cliffside that overlooked the flower-strewn fields of the domain’s western lands. The fields went on forever, as beautiful as anywhere I’d ever seen in the mortal realm. Three villages peeked above the flowers like sprouts, their pointed rooftops a pale blue that reflected the rare colour in the sky. I took that as a positive omen that this would go well.

“You are Judgement,” I repeated, guiding Fuzzball down the narrow path worn into the ground. “You vanquished Violence. You survived curses and gods who tried to kill you ten times a day. You can do this.”

Except I nearly leapt off Fuzzball’s back and fled when her hooves carried us through the flowers towards the nearest village. Through sheer grit, and mostly by yelling at myself, I kept my mount as she carried me into the village.

“You’re like a heat-seeking missile,” I told her, and judging by the way she straightened and puffed out her chest, she enjoyed the remark. “How do you know exactly where to go?”

The look she gave me said, I’m a heat-seeking missile, remember?

And she was, because she’d carried me past spirits going about their daily afterlife, falling back into patterns they’d had while alive—some pushing prams holding ghost children or ghost Chihuahuas, some calling out today’s prices outside a butcher’s shop, a group of spirit men scratching their heads as they stared at a house mid-construction. And sitting outside a café with striped awnings, was Honey and Byron.

They glanced up when I slid off Fuzzball’s side and landed in front of them, and if I’d expected a lack of recognition that was immediately disproved when Honey leapt to her feet and Byron grabbed me up in a bear hug.

“They got to you, too,” Byron said miserably, squeezing me tighter until I grunted.

“No.” A smile crinkled my eyes when Honey threw her arms around both of us. “I got to them.”

“But… how are you here?” Honey’s eyes were wide, filled with tears. “Why are you here? Did your husbands allow you to visit?”

“Actually, about them.” I failed to hide my smile. “I came to invite you to a wedding.”

Honey squeaked.

“As my best man and maid of honour,” I added, and Honey’s happiness was so loud we drew the attention of the whole street.

And I did not give a single shit, because I had my best friends back. We should have been alive, all three of us, but we had this. We would always have this.

Cat

Of course, I wasn’t supposed to know about the wedding, but that didn’t stop me making my own arrangements. I knew my husbands wanted to give me my dream day, but I wanted them to have theirs, too. Which brought me to arguing with a stout, bearded man called Ambition.

“I’ll only need to borrow a single one,” I said in my most polite voice, trying to wheedle him into acquiescence. “And only for one day. I promise I’ll bring them back.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, chin cocked out. “No.”

I smothered a groan of frustration, looking at the house behind him where small, fluffy, bodacious dogs wriggled in the window. If Madde wanted a corgi ringbearer, he’d have a corgi ringbearer.

I considered the god. “One day, one dog. What will it take to make it happen?”

Her eyes brightened. “You want to make a deal?”

Finally. “I do.”