Page 98 of Seaborn and the Seven Seas

“Who are you?”

“The keeper of the dead. Now stop asking questions and come along. You have much work to do.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then stopped. My feet moved. Not by my will. One step, then another, pulled forward like a current had taken hold of my legs beneath the fog.

The keeper was dragging me.

I dug my heels in. It made no difference. The stone in my pocket flared warm, almost hot, humming loud enough now that I could feel it in my teeth.

Stand your ground. The Priestess’s voice boomed, somewhere in the back of my mind. No matter what.

“Stop.” I grabbed the nearest bone-white tree trunk, cold as ice beneath my fingers. “I said stop.”

The invisible pull hesitated.

“I said stop!” I yanked the dagger from its sheath and held it out in front of me.

The pull released. Whether it was the dagger or my demanding voice that worked, I was grateful for the reprieve.

I staggered back against the tree, chest heaving, fingers still locked around the trunk. The keeper’s head tilted at that same unreadable angle.

“You have more fight in you than most who wander here.” The voice carried no anger. No surprise. Almost something like interest. “Who are you, girl?”

I straightened, the dagger at the ready. “My name is Star.”

The keeper was quiet for a moment.

“That is what they call you,” it said. “I asked who you are?”

“I will not answer you, Keeper. I have no dealings with you. Just take me to my friends. That is all I ask of you.”

“You do not know.” He tsked. “What a shame.” The phantom wind stilled. “You have been here before. And you left something behind.”

“What?” I said, though I didn’t believe him. I was more curious about his answer.

“Memories.”

I’d play his game. “So you do remember me.”

“Of course.” The faceless head tilted. “The dead never forget. The Seelie queen knows you’re here. She has eyes even in the land of the dead. I was told to stop you before you reach the gods.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why does the queen want me stopped?”

“You must be very important,” the keeper said simply, “for her to send word even here. Now. Give me your stone.”

“Over my dead body.” I gritted the words through my teeth, dagger still raised. “Why do you work for the queen?”

“She feeds me the dead.” The voice was matter of fact. “She has fed me many of your kind, Seaborn.”

The word hit me somewhere deep. Seaborn. My people.

“How many?” My jaw tightened until it ached. “How many Seaborn has she sent you?”

He tilted his head. “Oh, I cannot give you the number. Too many. More than thousands. More than I can count.”

My breath left me, my heart hollowing. “She will answer for that.” I said it through gritted teeth. “Every single one of them.”

The phantom wind picked up again. “But the queen has not met her quota as of late. So perhaps you and I can strike a deal instead.” The keeper’s head tilted toward my pocket. “I will give you one memory, but in exchange I’d like to watch.”