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“You should never let your dreams go,” I tell her adamantly. She has a point, as much as I hate to think of Lovia and I not being friends. As she called me the other day, I am technically her stepmom. I don’t think I’m meant to be her friend. I married into her family and even though it doesn’t feel like it right now, at some point Death and I should be ruling together. That’s what I want, after all.
And in that ascension, I will probably lose her friendship. Look at Death. Look at how being a king has caused him to be isolated from everyone else, including his own family. It’s lonely at the top. Even though I lied yesterday when Death asked me about Bell, and I told him I’d never seen a mermaid in the fish tank, in hindsight I wish I hadn’t helped to yeet her into the sea. She might have been my only friend in the end.
There’s always your husband, I remind myself. One day, maybe eons from now, Death might end up being both your lover and a friend.
My heart warms at the thought, a few butterflies in my belly. That’s what I really want. It’s just too scary to ask for it, let alone admit it to myself. I’m just a little too proud at times.
We ride for a while until we eventually come to where the craggy mountains rise from the earth. There, in the dark rock, is a deep cavern—a slash that runs at least fifty feet high.
Lovia dismounts first and tethers her horse to a stone hook outside the entrance to the cave, then does the same to my horse. I get off and give Frosty an appreciative pat before following Lovia inside.
Though the entrance to the cave is incredibly wide, I can see that the ceiling slopes dramatically as it disappears into near darkness. It should be pitch-black but I think I see a tinge of green glowing light at the end of the cave, though it could just be my eyes.
“Don’t mind the bats,” Lovia says, walking over to the cavern wall just as hundreds of bats suddenly drop from the ceiling, taking flight in a flurry of wingbeats and squeaks.
I yelp, covering my head. I’m an animal lover through and through but I’ve never been a fan of bats, especially ones that are basically little flying skeletons with fangs.
“They’ll settle down,” she assures me. “They’re basically to scare stupid people away.”
“I thought this place would have a lot more defenses,” I say, still trying to avoid the bats, though they seem to be going back to their places on the darkened ceiling.
“Vipunen can protect himself when it counts,” she says. “Here. Choose your weapon, then choose your mask.”
I look over to see her gesturing to a row of swords and axes hanging from grooves in the rock wall. Above the weapons is a stone shelf of elaborate masks in various metals, decorated with jewels, all the eyes covered so you can’t see out.
I glance at her, not sure where to start. “How about you pick?”
She gives her head a firm shake. “No. You must pick what is calling to you. While your weapon may change, your mask will be yours for all time.”
I go for the easiest pick first. There are a few wooden swords among the silver and iron ones, each done up with a carving or skull insignia of some kind, some with red or citrine jewels. But even though I’m reaching for a wooden one, my hand is going to another sword. It’s long and thin, the blade shining brightly as if it’s being lit by the sun, gold toned silver.
I pick it up, my hand closing over the hilt, which is adorned with red stones that would match my crown.
“Interesting choice,” Lovia remarks in a low voice.
I look at her in alarm. “Why? The wrong choice?”
“There is no wrong choice,” she assures me. “But it’s interesting all the same. I thought you would have gone for a wooden stick. After all, whatever you choose, Vipunen will fight you with the same.”
“You could have told me that before!” I cry out, wanting to put the sword back but it won’t leave my hand.
“It’s better to let your mind be open, not fearful,” Lovia says, then nods to the shelf above. “Now pick your mask.”
My eyes graze over each one, beautiful and unique in their own different ways. “Please tell me there’s one that I should stay away from…”
She laughs but doesn’t say anything.
I sigh, adjusting my grip around the sword. Fuck, it feels good in my hand. Too good, just like the selenite knife did. With my other hand I reach up and touch the masks. They’re all surprisingly light, all beautiful, but only one is really calling to me. I have always had a deep need inside me to have everything in my life be matchy-matchy, and so I go for the one that most compliments my sword.
