But I didn’t remember lying down. I didn’t remember falling asleep.
I threw the blankets off. “Grim!”
His smooth voice came from the bathroom doorway. “Great, you’re awake.”
Adjusting the cuffs of a crisp button-down, he looked perfectly intact, as if he hadn’t crumpled to the floor the nightbefore while I watched in horror, powerless to do anything but wait.
I rose from the bed slowly, my movements tight. “You collapsed,” I said, my voice a bit raw.
He didn’t respond. His jaw ticked. Just a flicker of something behind his eyes, then he went back to buttoning his shirt, unbothered. As if I hadn’t been one breath away from calling for an ambulance and explaining that Death incarnate was having a seizure of some sort.
“You fell asleep in the chair,” he said at last, quiet and unreadable. “I tucked you in. That’s it.”
“That’s not it.” I stared at him.
“We’ve got a lot to do today.”
“I saw marks on your body, Grim. Something was wrong with you.”
“I’m fine, Astoria.” His voice was sharper now. Heavy. Deliberate. Each word was a brick in the wall built between us. He disappeared back into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. No explanation. No opening. Just silence. “There’s coffee and some breakfast for you on the buffet,” he called through the door, as if that closed the matter.
It didn’t.
But I wasn’t going to keep talking to a locked door.
The scent of fresh coffee lured me over, and despite myself, my stomach growled. A tray of pastries, fruit, sausage, and bacon waited beside a steaming pot of coffee, cream, and mugs. I tore into an almond croissant, swallowing it in three angry bites and chasing it with a long gulp of black coffee.
I needed the strength. Because clearly, this wasn’t going to be easy.
Grim reemerged a minute later, fully dressed and looking annoyingly perfect in a tailored suit. Ignoring me as he poured himself a cup of coffee, he plucked a blueberry from a small dishand popped it into his mouth. “You’ll find what you need in the bathroom,” he finally said. “There’s a dress and shoes. We leave in thirty minutes.”
I stopped mid-bite of a second croissant. “Where are we going?”
“You know,” he said, glancing over with bored menace, “I’d rather taste your mouth than let that question decay between us again. At least it would shut you up.”
“Go ahead, then,” I said, low and bitter. “Take what you want. Like you always do.”
His expression faltered—just for a second. A flicker of something unguarded passed through him, a crack in the dark. “We are going to a funeral,” he said, the words landing gently, as though they weren’t meant to bruise.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the softness vanished.
“You’ve got twenty-six minutes.”
I set the half-eaten croissant down, appetite hollowed out. “Is this how it’s going to go?” I asked, voice cool. “You throw orders at me and expect obedience. I don’t have a choice?”
He turned away, his gaze slipping to the window. “You made the deal, Star. You want my help? This is me helping.”
“Have you helped, though?” I said sharply. “I’m still a ghost. A name that won’t stay in anyone’s mouth. A face moving through time without trace.” I didn’t wait for a response. I pushed past him and stalked into the bathroom. The door shut behind me—without my touch.Magic.Of course.
Then, the click of the lock.
“Locking the door doesn’t protect you from me,” I called, stripping the sweat-damp shirt from my skin.
His voice came through, low. “No. It protectsyoufromme.”
I froze, hand tightening around the fabric.
“Is this funeral going to break my curse, Grim?” My voice cracked, my frustration brimming. “Is it mine?”
