Page 220 of Starside

And now more than ever, I see a path to the end of it. Breaking up the portaling by going smaller distances might be what’s best for my energy, but I don’t care. I don’t want to waste another moment. My mind is full of my purpose as I dig my sword into the dirt. Power pulls me down, as if something is being drained not only from my metal but from my very bones. “House Rodin,” I whisper.

Raker’s hand grips my elbow—and then we’re gone.

If Raker is surprised by our destination, he doesn’t show it. If anything, he seems pleased we’re skipping all the Houses but one. In any case, I don’t give a shit.

Not when he’s been so unpleasant, even after everything. Does he think I want to beg these men for their oaths? Does he think it pleases me to make promises I almost certainly can’t keep?

The black iron gates we landed in front of begin to part by themselves, emitting a high-pitched howl.

And it’s immediately clear that this house is meant to honor the God of Death, at least in appearances.

House Rodin is crafted of pure dark obsidian. The walkway is lined in towering statues. All with the same subject. A man with every muscle imaginable, wielding a menacing sword.

Fear inches through my blood. This is the god that wants my head. The same one who is collecting stolen brides.

Is that really what he looks like? Or is it a generous rendering?

The moment we reach the palace doors, they open, just like the gates. An attendant is waiting for us.

The immortal’s posture is stiff. She looks like she exists in a perpetual state of terror.

“Welcome to House Rodin,” she says, bowing low. “It’s been—it’s been so long since we’ve had guests.”

I smile tightly, unease already sliding through me.

“Are you hungry? There will be a feast, of course, but—”

“Feast?” I ask.

She nods. “As is custom for Great Houses. All guests are welcomed with the best we have to offer. Feasts. Gifts. Our most ancient wines.”

It’s still the early hours. I shake my head. “Just a place to rest would be good,” I say. Raker is silent beside me.

“Of course. I—I will show you to the guest quarters.”

The attendant hurries up a set of onyx stairs, looking back at the door as if waiting for the lord of the house to suddenly appear. He doesn’t, and she rushes to show us to our rooms, which are right next to each other. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The moment she can, she scurries away again.

I turn to Raker, only to find him already striding down the hall, instead of going inside his room.

“Where are you going?” I snap. He doesn’t respond.

My eyes narrow on his back as I follow. “Are we back to this? You ignoring me?” Apparently, yes, because he doesn’t answer.

I sigh, following him. This castle is bathed in shadows. I find myself not rushing to be alone in my quarters. I watch as Raker tries door after door, peering inside, until he finally finds a room that holds his interest.

It’s a library. For how desolate and dark this house is, the library is full of art. Shelves of ancient books fill the generous space. Tapestries line the walls. They all feature the same subject—the God of Death. Unlike the statues, these have color.

The God of Death is silver-haired, tall, and facing a swarm of monstrous creatures. His sword glows just as much as his hair does. Every tapestry is the same. The great God of Death on top of a pile of bodies, or surrounded by severed heads, or sitting on a throne of bones. A statue of him sits in the corner, towering and intimidating. Is it life-sized? I study it carefully, turning my head. My lips purse.

“You know … he’s kind of hot,” I say.

Raker shoots me a scathing look.

I lift a shoulder. “What? He is.”

His hood is still down and I watch his eyes narrow. “Diamonds and death. That’s what gets you going. What a remarkable pairing.” He clearly finds me ridiculous.

I give him a sympathetic look. “Don’t be intimidated by a statue, Raker. It’s unbecoming.”