I ran my finger along the length of the haft, trying not to shiver. A pit formed in my stomach as I grasped the enormity of being presented with something so haunting and sacred. Looking upon it forced a confrontation with the terrible finality of Death—and yet, it was nothing more than an instrument of his purpose. His handsome face and gentle touches were a distraction from the reality of his scythe and his wings. His nature. A mote of fear sparked in my breast, and the warmth of his hand on my back became unbearably noticeable.
Then I looked back up at him, and my unease melted away. Thanatos was Thanatos. He awaited us all at our ends, save for me, the lucky oracle blessed to meet him in the middle. The pressure of his touch sent renewed arcs of pleasure across my skin.
“Your scythe is pretty,” I finally said.
“I am quite fond of it,” he replied. The softness in his eyes made me glad that he had not seen my fear.
“What’s its story?” I dared to ask.
“Hmm.” Thanatos tilted his head, contemplating, and a lock of his light hair slid over his shoulder. “It is something that I chose as a companion a long time ago. Reaping mortals is but a game, you see. It is not as if I need anything like this to be myself. But among the instruments forged of the gods, I suppose I thought it to be elegant as well. Over the ages, it has become a statement: a symbol of my own, tied to me forever in the minds of gods and men.”
Studying his scythe, I savored his new gift of knowledge, trying my best to grasp the privilege he’d bequeathed unto me with his trust. I couldn’t help but smile as I ran my hand over the smooth metal once more. “It’s incredible.”
“Not frightening?”
“Oh, it’s definitely terrifying,” I replied in truth. “But it’s yours, and I trust you, so I get to see the beauty of it as well.”When I looked up again, I found him watching me intently, and for the briefest of moments I lost myself in his eyes. How strange, for Death himself to be so inescapably beautiful.
Thanatos sighed. “It is good to see you smile again,” he said. “Still, I do not wish to leave you so despondent tonight.”
“Despondent?” I repeated, sardonic. “Please stop worrying about my face—I’m fine, and what’s done is done. And you know, you’re not supposed to tell ladies they look sad, either.” I scooted closer and laid my head on his shoulder. He tightened his embrace in return, shifting his hand to my hip, and I relaxed against him. His comfort calmed my tempest.
“What am I allowed to tell you, then?” he murmured into my hair. The soft stroke of his fingers clashed with the glint of the scythe in our laps.
I let out a shaky breath. “Tell me you’ll come back.”
“I will always come back, so long as you ask.”
6
I went to sleep in a strange state that night. I collapsed into bed and let out all the tears I’d been holding back, thankful that I’d made it to my pillow without letting anyone see me fully break down. I was a huge mess, but somehow also a happy mess, high on touch and promises. I couldn’t fully parse out all of my raging feelings. I was simply overwhelmed. My conjured fantasy of Thanatos crushing Keeper’s throat added fuel to the fire in the form of guilty anticipation. I wondered anxiously what he would do. He had been so furious.
In the morning, I did try to be somewhat useful, but that was difficult since I wasn’t permitted in the prayer grounds looking injured. So instead I kept an eye out as I crept around the temple, trying to hide my face as well as possible. For the first time in my life, Iwantedto see our keeper, if only to know what had happened. What a strange thought. But he never showed, so my curiosity would have to persist. I reluctantly took this as a blessing. After all, there was someone I wanted to see much more.
Thanatos and I were standing at a precipice, a truth underscored by my nervous anticipation as evening drew closer. He touched me all too easily now, and I was fairly certain he’d been on the brink of exploring his curiosity before becoming distracted by thoughts of vengeance for my injury. He’d even tried to warn me of his faltering restraint.
You can always tell me to stop. To leave.I knew he meant to caution me, to ensure I understood the myriad ways our relationship could lead to my reaping at his hand.I may like you, Cyrie, but I will not spare you.At least Death was honest.
But at the same time, he had given me a gift, one that was a precious rarity in my life. Agency. He made no noble gesture to decide for me either my welfare or my feelings; I was safe in the certainty that whether we continued our visits would be my choice. And somehow, I found that the choice was easy. The fury of Apollo or the deadly judgement of the temple paled in comparison to another danger: that if I gave Thanatos up, I would be trapped forever in the oracles’ tower, and never again have the chance to be held so sweetly by someone I desperately wanted.
So when the sun sank low, I walked decisively back to our meeting place and paced in anticipation of his arrival. But for the first time, Thanatos was late. Anxiety pitted in my stomach when the sunset faded away.
The night sky continued to darken until only the soft light of my lantern brightened our room. Surely he would come to see me, wouldn’t he? Surely he wouldn’t discard me, not after we’d been so vulnerably honest with one another. I tried to calm myself by lying across the bench, right on the spot where I’d drifted to sleep in his lap. This fact was not lost on me, but there was nowhere else to go. Nearly everything in sight held a memory of him.
I waited nervously for what seemed like an age, until—finally—I heard the sound of his arrival in the room. When he appeared, I twitched in surprise. I sat up quickly, and tried to arrange myself as though I hadn’t just been stretched, undignified, across the seats.
“I am sorry,” he said, and he walked to sit beside me, a hint of worry on his face. “I was trying to get something for you.” His feathers looked a little bit ruffled.
“Oh?” My tension dissolved as I leaned forward to let him arrange one of his wings behind me. He seemed to mirror my relief, his countenance brightening considerably. “You have a twig in your hair,” I noticed.
“Oh, never mind that,” Thanatos replied hastily. He tugged the stick free from his pale strands and threw it to the ground. Then he smiled tentatively at me, a glint in his eyes. “Come here.”
I obeyed and slid closer until our thighs touched, watching him curiously. I could see now that he was holding a short, clear glass jar that fit neatly in the palm of his hand. Inside was what looked to be some sort of cream, smooth and tan in color. I watched, perplexed, as he dipped a thumb in and scooped some of it up, then tossed the jar onto the table.
When he reached for me, I leaned in, understanding now. With one hand he held my face, cradling just behind my ear. With the other he carefully smoothed the product over my injured cheekbone. I closed my eyes and let him do it, trying my best to not wince away. When he was satisfied, he let me go. I opened my eyes, and for a moment, nothing happened.
“Ah!” I gasped. It felt like I’d been stung by an insect. But just as quickly as it had come, the pain of the sting faded, taking along with it…allof my pain. My brows drew together as I lifted a hand to my cheek and felt nothing but smooth skin and a swipe of cream.
Thanatos wiped off the remaining fluff and smiled shyly. “That’s better.”
