“Uh, hi?” I finally managed to say, still trying to wrap my head around him.
He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m Day. Well, Time. But I’ve decided to go by Day. I mean, you gave Death a name, so I thought I deserved one too.” He barely paused before continuing, “I picked Day because, you know, there’s twenty-four hours in a day and I’m in charge of your days…” His eyes widened, a dramatic pause as he leaned in closer. “Get it? Days…”
There was something immediately, impossibly likable about him. In the same way Death was unreadable, Day was theopposite. Open. Effortless. As if the truth of him sat plainly on the surface, waiting to be noticed.
“It’s nice to meet you, Time-slash-Day,” I said, offering my hand with a raised brow.
Day didn’t shake it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, lifted me off my feet, and spun me around the room in circles.
Grim, standing off to the side, reached out as if to stop us, until Feodora’s voice sliced through the air.
“Death has something he needs to discuss with you, Day. Why don’t you two find somewhere more private to talk? I’d like to speak with Astoria.”
Grim rose from his seat, gliding past me with barely a sound, his fingers brushing my shoulders in the softest of touches. There was something in the way he paused by the door—just a brief moment, but I got the feeling he wasn’t quite ready to leave. Day shifted beside me, eyes flicking between Grim and Feodora, sensing the stillness in the air.
Feodora broke the silence, her voice sharp. "For all the stars, she will be perfectly fine in my care. Now take the panting puppy and go."
With a snap of her fingers, the doors to the revelry beyond flung open, the chaos of the party once more pouring into the room. Bodies roamed in a haze of smoke, lights strobing and flashing to the erratic beat of the music. Drunken voices wailed along to the songs, laughter echoed in bursts, sharp and carefree.
Day hesitated one last moment before following Grim out. Before the door clicked shut behind them, Grim paused, turning back with a look that bore more than his snide remarks and mean jabs. His eyes were dark, and serious…
“Be good, Tempest.”His voice filled my mind as the words lingered, echoing their promise.“I’ll be back for you.”
My heart skipped. My palms turned clammy and I watched him leave, unwilling to move until he was out of sight.
Feodora turned toward me, a sly smile on her lips. “Alright, my dear. Time to break this nasty curse.”
eighteen
“Why is it that you call Grim... Death? If you all have names?”
Feodora had tea delivered to the room. I sipped at mine now, making small talk while she scoured the shelves, flitting from spine to spine mirroring a hummingbird.
“He’s asked us not to.”She said it simply, as if the name thing didn’t matter half as much as Day made it out to.
I took another sip.
“I don’t mean it that way,” she called over her shoulder, stirring a clump of sugar into her teacup with the flick of a finger.
Why couldn’t I have been cursed with magic? Even a petty hex or floating spoon trick would’ve satisfied me. I stared at the spoon stirring itself. “What waydoyou mean it?”
She paused and gripped the ladder, her worn hands straining against the wood. “No one’s ever considered giving us names. Us,Absolutes.We’re myth and metaphor. Fairytales. Death the Reaper. Time the Keeper. Fate the Seer. Fortune the Believer... and so on.” Her voice dropped as she added, “It meant a greatdeal to him—what you did.” She climbed higher, returning to her search.
“My grandmother was cursed to forget hers,” I said quietly, eyes on the tea leaves. “I suppose at the time, I thought no one should be without a name.”
“Our words carry weight, Astoria.” Feodora didn’t look at me, but her voice turned gentler. “You gave a cosmic entity an identity outside his duty. It meant a good deal to him, and so Death prefers his name be reserved—for you.”
My hand trembled, and the teacup clattered against the saucer. Hot liquid spilled over the edge, burning my fingers. I stared at them, stunned, but not from the pain.
Reserved...for me?Was I really so important he wanted tokeepit? Tosavorit? Was that what this was? If it was a gift, it was one I’d given thoughtlessly.
“The greatest gift,” Feodora went on, as if reading the swirl of thoughts I hadn’t dared speak aloud.
“Do you all read people’s minds?”
She shrugged, beginning to descend the ladder with a groan of wood and bone. “You get used to it.”
I set my teacup down and stepped to her side. “Do you need help?”
