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There’s a knock at my door.
Speak of the devil.
I know it’s Hanna before I even hear her. I smell her, I feel her, like sunshine.
Shit.
“Come in,” I say, keeping my eyes on the snowbird. It opens its mouth, displaying a row of tiny needle-like teeth, then takes flight, gliding over my head and right over to Hanna.
I twist around, trying to catch it to no avail, and Hanna’s eyes widen as the bird approaches, beak open, wings out. She’s silently screaming as the bird lands on her shoulder and then has the nerve to give me the stink eye. It squawks now, then starts running its beak through Hanna’s hair, as if asserting it’s property.
“So I take it you let it out of its cage,” Hanna says uneasily, eyes glued to the flying lizard thing.
“A big mistake in hindsight,” I admit, coming over to her. “But I think it likes you.”
“I hope so,” she says. “Because there’s a literal flying dinosaur on my shoulder. I read Jurassic Park. I know the little ones cause the most trouble.”
Seeing that she’s still uncomfortable, even though the bird dinosaur absolutely loves her and is trying to build a nest in her hair, I make a move for it. The bird opens its razor beak and hisses at me viciously, snapping at my gloves.
“Foolish little thing,” I tell it, grabbing it by its long neck.
“Oh, don’t kill it,” Hanna pleads, pressing her hands together in prayer.
“Is that how you see me?” I say, giving her a disappointed look as I bring the snowbird over to the cage, careful not to choke it.
“You are the God of Death,” she points out.
“I am discerning,” I mutter, placing the snowbird back in and quickly slamming the door shut before it can escape. It cries out, pecking at the bars. I grab the animal pelt and throw it over the cage to end the incessant squawking. It doesn’t work.
I glance at Hanna properly for the first time. She’s wearing a long red velvet and satin dress, making her waist small and putting her breasts on display. Red jewels adorn her neck, perfect for the crown she’ll be wearing later. Her hair is curled and loose around her shoulders, though some of it is tangled because of the snowbird.
She takes my breath away, a kind of pain that only she brings me.
“How do I look?” she asks, holding out the sides of her dress in show.
“Like a queen,” I tell her.
“Good enough for your people?”
“Good enough to fucking eat,” I say with a curl of my lip. “And they’re your people too, my dear.”
She gives me a nervous grin, her fingers twitching.
“You need wine and food,” I tell her, walking over to her. I grab her hand and hold it in mine. “Perhaps a good fuck.”
“No,” she says sharply, then laughs. “You are not messing up any of this. Do you know how long it took for Raila to get me this pretty?”
“She didn’t even need a minute,” I tell her, slipping my arm around the small of her waist and pulling her up against me. I push myself against her hips, hard as iron.
“No,” she says again and swats my grip away. “I need to prepare for tonight instead of you making me forget my name.”
“It’s Hanna,” I murmur, pulling her back to me and kissing her on the neck. She tastes so sweet, like honey and sunshine. “Also known as little bird and fairy girl. Goddess, wife and queen.”
“I’ll be a disheveled blubbering mess with cum in my hair when you’re done with me.” She presses her hands against my chest and it makes me even harder, this whole predator and prey thing, but in the end I let her loose because she’s got a point.
Tonight I’m having a feast. We often have one here right before a Bone Match, an excuse to celebrate with family and friends. The matches sometimes last hours—it can take time for the opponents to die, the second death coming much harder—which means we get hungry, and other than the booze we bring into Inmost for the occasion, you do not want to have the food down there.
Because Tuonen is the referee for the match, he is here at Shadow’s End tonight, along with Sarvi, Kalma, Tapio, Mielikki, Tellervo, and Tapio’s righthand man, Vaki. Lovia would be, but someone has to ferry the dead.
“Is Tuonen here yet?” Hanna asks, retreating out of the office. I guess I should get changed, too. I think I spent far too long trying to get the bird back in the cage.
“He should be,” I tell her. “He doesn’t miss a meal. He often eats and leaves, saving his energy for the match, but he’ll be here.”
She nods and I take her arm as we go down the stairs to our floor, her dress gathered in her hands. “Too bad Lovia has to work.”
