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“Marry me again, Deyanira. Choose me. And us.”
Chapter 52
He’d left me lying in bed with a choice to make. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t forced me to decide, had only gone for a second to bring a package to my room from his and close the door behind him. I stared at the brown paper-covered box for a long time, eyed the letter scripted with elegant writing—his, most likely—and lived in the torment of my heart. Eventually, curiosity won out, and I caved, snatching the letter.
Deyanira Sariah Faber, Death’s Maiden, Princess to the fallen kingdom of Perth, the sharpest of blades and greatest of hearts,
The choice is yours. I will wait for you in the garden until midnight. If you don’t come, we will not chase you. We will let you live the life you choose in peace.
Orin Faber,
the most sorrowful of husbands
My eyes lingered on my title from Death far longer than it should have. Death’s Maiden but also Life’s, or the God of Life, whoever that was. The second that thought had come to me, a thrum of peace rippled through my body, as if my soul embraced a foreign power I’d never realized laid nearly dormant within me. I hadn’t told him. And I wasn’t sure if I should until I had no doubts.
Still, I slid the box across the bed, pulling it onto my lap. Tearing the packaging away, I tossed it and the lid, gasping as my fingers grazed the black silk fabric within, lying beneath Chaos. The writing on the note inside was not from Orin’s hand. The letters were smaller, clean, but with a different edge to them.
Deyanira,
As I write this letter behind the stage where you and I will share our final words, I want you to know that I am grateful for this escape. I choose this end. I choose to be with my beloved once more.
I fear for you, my darling. Hidden truths will fester, and while we all played a part in this deception, just know that I’ve witnessed his hardest days made easier by your simple touch, and I was not strong enough to deny him the escape. I am sorry. There will come a day when truths unfold. I’ve asked for this letter to be delivered at that time because my final lesson, and possibly the most important I will ever leave you with, is to love your family through the masks they wear and the hardships you will all endure.
When Dahlia smiled, even when the madness had consumed her, I couldn’t stop loving her. My sister was part of my first family, but you, my dear girl, are my second. The one I chose.
Do this old man a favor and choose them back, though none of us deserve you.
I will see you in eternity with open arms, no matter your choice.
Hollis
Such heartache should not have been meant for humans. Losing that old man was an agony I wasn’t prepared for, but mourning him was so much worse. Fine one moment and all-consuming the next, I couldn’t think beyond the sadness and the pain of missing him. I blinked away tears I wished I could have controlled. I forced a breath to fill reluctant lungs. With the heaviest of hearts, I lifted the black silk gown from the box and moved my fingers over the lace edging on the open back and then the threading that was nearly invisible in the flawless masterpiece. He’d touched these pieces, and no doubt, had worried over each stitch, as I’d seen him do a hundred times. Hollis was the only man in my life to ever truly treat me as a princess and a person. Never as Death’s Maiden, simply a kindred spirit.
I wasn’t sure which way I’d go: if I’d walk out of the front door or the back. But I slipped from that bed and put the dress on all the same, letting the cool fabric hug my skin until I could almost feel those fragile arms around me. I hoped I truly would see him in Death’s court when my time came. But I couldn’t pretend to know the true workings of eternity. I had no idea what lay beyond the gates of hell. Past the hellhounds, and into a realm likely steeped in fear. Or if I would truly go there. If I was Death and Life’s Maiden, who would lay claim over my soul?
With a strong, steady breath, I opened the door and descended the stairs, stepping into the sitting room to take in the moment. A vase of Elowen’s flowers sat in the center of the coffee table, dying, drooping, mirroring the deflation of my heart. I reached for the peonies, their once-bulbous shape now limp. Desperately searching for a power that wasn’t solely Death’s, I burrowed deep, looking beyond the blackness that sat within me, searching for something light. A pinprick of luminescence, nearly drowned in a vat of dark, drew me nearer. I reached for that bit with all my grit, wishing for it to be enough. More than its counterpart. A vibrant wave of color wicked up the peony as I wrapped my whole self around that light. Its gentle petals grew with life in my palm, confirming the power buried within me. Heart pounding, I watched as it bloomed anew, rejuvenated. But only for a second before the opposing power took over like a snarling beast and turned the flower to ash.
For every day, so would be a night. For every life, a death. For every win, a loss. All things came with a balance. I thought of Orin, knowing he stood in the garden as time ticked away. He was my perfect counterpart. And I was his.
The night air was cool and filled with the gentle scent of jasmine as I stood at the edge of the garden, hidden in the embrace of the shadows. The moon hung low in the sky, its cool light casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene before me. Hollis’s fabric cascaded like liquid midnight.
As I took that first step, the grass was cool and slightly damp, with dew that had settled on the garden in the quiet hours of the night. The soft rustling of leaves in the nearby trees whispered secrets of the centuries, as if the very world were holding its breath, awaiting the union that was about to take place.
Orin stood there beneath an intricate golden archway. His eyes widened in surprise, and then a slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. It was a moment of pure understanding, a moment when he saw into my heart and knew that I had chosen him over all else. Each footfall on the cool earth resonated with a reassuring solidity, the sound echoing through the stillness like a heartbeat. The gentle melody of a distant nightingale filled the air, its song a haunting, sweet serenade that seemed to accompany me on my journey toward him.
The rest had come. Had waited for my final decision, just as he had. My heart, once heavy with hurt and darkness, beat in harmony with the rhythm of my steps. I released the pain, the doubts, and the shadows that had clung to me, and I felt as if I were walking on air. The weight of forgiveness and love lifted me higher with each step, propelling me toward the man I had chosen to marry, the man I had chosen to love despite it all.
“You came,” he said simply, reaching his hand toward me.
It might have been a simple gesture, had I not known the reality behind it. My touch was life and light. An escape for his darkness. And taking that hand would be accepting that as truth. As my fingers slipped into his, I couldn’t help the warm smile.
He pulled me near, smoothing his thumbs over my cheeks as he spoke. “I promise to do whatever it takes to coax this beautiful smile every day for the rest of my hundred years.”
“Is that your vow?” I asked, wrapping my arms around him.
Touching his forehead to mine, he whispered, “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Me either.”
