“It’s the toll of magic. I didn’t imagine you’d be so affected.”
His disappointment made my head throb. “But I didn’t do any magic?”
“You are so unskilled you can’t even tell.”
I rubbed my head, and it only ached more.
He opened the door wider. “Come.” The order was sharp and short, and he turned as if he did not care whether I followed.
I shuffled into the room and collapsed into the chair before his desk. But even that I couldn’t stand, and I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to curl tight enough to extinguish the agony.
Death disappeared into his private interior room. I rested my head on my knees, watching the door. I wondered what he kept there, andwhen he came out, I caught one glimpse of velvety black drapes before his body blocked my view and he closed the door tight.
“You need some beer and food.” He pulled a robe across the hard plane of his stomach and chest. “You need to get your strength up. If you were stronger, you would not feel this way. There, it’s right there.” He gestured to a tray that I had not noticed. “Or do you want me to feed you too?”
My stomach turned both in shame and the thought of food. I forced myself to take up the bread and pick off a tiny piece, but only because he was watching. Chewing nearly made me gag. “How do I become stronger, my lord?” I asked. I longed for him to dote on me, to push back my hair, to at least speak gently, like he once had. But I felt foolish for the longing. I did not deserve such things.
He tied a belt at his waist and sat in his desk chair.
I forced myself to chew. I knew he’d heard me and I clung to the hope he’d answer.
His gaze roamed around the room, to the door to the adjoining room, to the fireplace, to the corner. The only sound was the soft whoosh of flames in the fireplace. Finally, he spoke. “You sounded before like you knew some Latin?”
“I can both read and write, my lord.”
“How did a whore learn such a thing?”
I swallowed.Satan, I wanted to say bitterly, rehashing favored accusations of the Mother Superior when I made a mistake, though she stopped after I pointed outshewas the one who’d taught me. “The nuns. It came to me easily once I saw how it was supposed to be done. Words are just symbols, arranged in patterns, but once you know them, you can always understand it, no matter how they are arranged.”
“Symbols,” he murmured. “It’s clear you have a sharp mind, your sex notwithstanding.”
“I thought all were equal in death?”
He laughed. It came so fast and almost naturally that I knew I’d caught him off guard. “So they are, Salomé, so they are.”
I looked at my hands and tore off another piece of bread. I felt certain he would not throw me out if he was smiling. But then I remembered the keys and I froze. “Were you able to find the keys?”
“I have them. I’ll keep them for now. You need time.” He sighed and leaned back, folding his hands across his stomach. His dark gaze was thoughtful, softened from when I first appeared at his door. “I overestimated your skill, but I underestimated how dangerous you are.”
I blinked, my body going very still. “Dangerous?”
“You did not obey the rules, though you promised. You lost the keys I entrusted to you. You sit here now, a fragile shell of a person and yet …” He sighed a deep, tortured sigh and ran his hand though his hair again. “It’s been a long time since someone such as you has appeared. After watching you, I believe you are capable of hurting yourself. You might even be capable of hurting me.”
I stared at him. “How couldIhurtyou?”
He looked away, as if he could not bear to see me any longer. “Let’s hope you never understand.”
I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to say.
He stood, clasping his hands behind his back, and began to pace the room in short, clipped strides. Finally, with his back turned, he said, “I am uncertain whether I can allow you to remain. I should have taken you the moment I came across you, loose and feral in the wild.”
“No!” I cried. “I misunderstood the rules. I didn’t mean to lose the keys. I—” I heard myself begging and I snapped my jaw shut. He’d said I was too dangerousto him. This wasn’t because I broke the rules, but because of who I was. My curse.
There was a place inside me that had alwayshoped, a place I could barely look at and never truly acknowledge, but that remained, despite everything, green and lush and alive. It was where I kept the memory of my sister and Valerie. It was where I tended dreams like gardens for Dacia to walk through. But in that moment, I felt the darkness rollover those gardens like a blight, and the hope I’d clung to for so long withered and died.
Everything I had ever feared about myself seemed confirmed as true. Even here with Death, I was cursed.
This realization had the effect of shaking my shoulders and waking me out of the stupor of confusion and anxiety I’d been in. I suddenly realized how weak and silly I must seem. I’d arrived a woman and transformed into a sad, limp girl. His sudden eyeing of me as if I were mud on a polished shoe made perfect sense. I put another piece of bread in my mouth, chewing it without tasting, and reached back, far back—had it only been a few days?—to the hard-eyed glint of a prostitute. It was a protective kind of skin I could still wear, even in the presence of a god. “How long have you been Death?” I asked softly.
