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Not Allysteir. Not the Corpse King.
Kryach’s shade form leans in, growing frost within my veins. I tremble. Next, I descend beneath the water?another act of rebellion. After what has passed between us, these little tastes of spite, of refusing to acknowledge him, much less answer are my personal pomegranate seeds. A double-edged sword of tempting the God of Death and never yielding my soul’s sovereignty to him who reaps all.
Beneath the water, I linger, lungs swelling, burning. Ever since the library, I’ve formed a thousand excuses for crying his name. Allysteir was gone. Narcyssa would not have helped a second time. I wasn’t strong enough to handle Kanat alone, though I’d considered choking him with my thorny roses and shedding his blood.
But I’d screamed “Ary”. From the moment his shade overpowered the elder and rendered him unconscious, I knew I would pay a price for such protection. Everything in my subconscious, in my soul had begged for his presence, wishing he was no mere ghost mark upon my flesh. After all, I deserved more, didn’t I?
“Aye, my little wonder,” he’d pronounced, leading me beyond the library and across the tower bridge, his vaporous hand weaving his shadow power around my body. “You deserve far more. But nothing comes without a cost.”
Upon the bridge, I’d rubbed one apprehensive hand along my opposite arm and gazed at the specter hovering above me. “Name your price, Ary,” I’d demanded and turned to face the Sea of Bones, welcoming the raw wind chilling my skin.
Ary’s shade numbed me more as he coasted his fingers into my hair, sweeping it to one side of my neck to tumble upon my chest. A dark kiss of Death to roam my jawline. I’d shivered but refused to quake. I did nothing more than press my lips together and grip the blackwood of the bridge till my knuckles turned white as hawthorn.
“Access, sweet wonder,” he’d whispered, murmuring kisses to the back of my neck until my scalp prickled. Thorns and thistles grew from my flesh while Kryach revealed more. “The key to you. I will come to you whenever I desire?your dreams, your most intimate private moments. You wish for more than a ghost mark upon your flesh? I will be the one who haunts you, body and mind. And it shall be our littlesecret.”
It wasn’t a bargain. It was his choice. Unlimited access to anything and everything. But he’d never specified I needed to reciprocate.
So, when I surface, I beam from sweet victory.
Now, he chuckles?a deep rolling wave of laughter to wash over me when I rise from the bath with the shriveled flowers clinging to my skin and hair. Speechless, I step out of the bath and offer a soft nod when the God shade drapes a black velvet bathrobe around my shoulders. My barest acknowledgments drive him madder. I stiffen when his hand strays into my hair to shift the soaked strands from trickling water down my flesh to the back of the robe. It’s not an unwelcome sensation, but it’s still strange and wild and...wondrous.
Like hushed wings. Snowdrifts and skeletons. Nether-silk and secrets. The secret binding us. A betrayal to Allysteir.
“How much do you delight in playing with the God of Death, little wonder?” Ary inquires, trailing my steps, stalking me as he’d vowed while I forsake the lower bathing room and ascend to my suite. Utter silence behind me when I ignore him.
Hmm...that won’t do at all.
Smug, a smirk teases one corner of my lips, and I pause on the staircase, open my mouth as if to respond.
Out of the corner of my eye, the God shade freezes with a sharp intake of bated breath.
Oh, he gave himself away, and he knows it. Gloating and grinning from my bait, I tap my finger to my lips before curling a solitary vine from my finger to ripen a sweet bud of a corpus rose. Too tight to offer inner skull petals?as caged as my speech to him. Laughing, I fling the symbolic bud to the God and race up the stairs, reveling in his low growl.
My lips are sealed, Ary,I almost taunt but don’t give him the benefit of my words.
Oh, how Ary has worked to catch me alone these two weeks! No simple feat when Allysteir and I spend so much time from sharing midday meals to his Death business to supper each night with the royals to tours of the vast Citadel and its grounds. The Corpse King hasn’t offered me a reprieve. My family monopolizes the rest of my time, though I don’t join them on tours. I have all eternity to tour.
Will Allysteir come for our mid-morning meal today?I wonder. After all, tonight is our wedding ceremony followed by a grand feast. And dancing! I’d lost track of how many gowns I’d donned. I’ve finally selected the perfect one. When Franzy’s eyes lit up, I knew it was perfect.
One last gown to wear this morn. The runner-up and what I’d always imagined I’d wear for mine and Franzy’s wedding.
Before the stand-up mirror, I drop my robe to the floor in an inky pool of crushed velvet. Kryach’s shade form appears in the reflection behind me. I wink, hand gliding to my hip. All Ith cherish human flesh, our mortal fabric. But Ary treasures my body more than Allysteir. His tormented breath betrays him along with his shadows’ chronic trespass upon my figure, curling frost buds onto my skin.
A fluttery feeling in my belly, I incline my chin to my shoulder to eye his shade hand hovering above my Nether-mark. Unlike Allysteir, who quiets it to hum beneath my flesh, Death nullifies it. But I’ll never tell him how glorious it is. How soothing and peaceful.
“How long will you maintain this charade, Isla?” he demands, a dark snarl budding.
I can’t help but face the mirror. Pride expands my chest.
Kryach has no true form, and yet, he may touch me and cast his deathly aroma onto my skin. He does every night as I drift off to sleep. The aroma is different every time. Sometimes, a winter twilight. Or lifeless leaves prepared to crumble. Or deadwood and gray rain.
At the moment, it’s blood and decay. Shoulders back, I stand on my tiptoes and pull in a deep breath. His skull eyes blaze in anticipation. I’m on the verge of a riptide of laughter.
What a dangerous rush to test the God of Death!
I beam at how his eyes, black as hell pits, explore my exposed skin. When I not-so-subtly touch myself, his sharp intake of breath thrills me. Here in the Underworld, my muscles have softened from my lack of farm labor. A hint of additional plumpness enriches my thighs attributed to all the pomegranate seeds and shortbread I’ve eaten. And the hearty meats and wine at the royal suppers. Allysteir feasting on my blood and flesh has increased my appetite. Hopefully, after the wedding, I may persuade him to enjoy otherexertingactivities. If I last that long...
I balance on a tightrope of tempting and taunting the God of Death. One wrong move and my soul is doomed.
