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Finally, Allysteir’s shoulders sink. He flexes those gloves and raises one to his mouth beneath the mask. I exhale long and deep when he sinks his teeth into the glove to rip them off finger by finger to reveal skeletal, protruding phalange bones.
I gust breath as Allysteir approaches, bone fingers curling toward my body. But they do not settle upon my waist. Instead, they wander along my cheek, trace my face from chin to brow. My eyelashes tremble in a rapid flutter. My pulse thunders as goosebumps rise on my arms and the back of my neck. My first crack of surrender, threadbare and worn, but a crack all the same. Enough for his bone fingers to descend to my neck, to his rightful bite mark.
The Corpse King presses upon the mark. It aches from the memory of pain or the longing for the power I’d felt in those moments. He trembles, and I hear his rapid intake of breath, how much he struggles with the lone touch of my flesh, how much he suffers. I may be his Queen, but I amnota cruel mistress.
So, I sweep my hair from my chest, cast it to the other side of my neck, and bare my upper chest to him in a token of an offering. With a sigh, I widen the crack, rolling my neck, brow wrinkling because I’m still uncertain when his chilled breath drifts across my face.
Will he remember?His shadows traverse along my upper chest, predictive.
Allysteir curves those bone fingers to my chin to still its trembling. And when he tilts his head, when he asks?”Will you accept my bite tonight, my Lady Queen? May I feed from you?”?I nearly lurch in utter relief because he’s passed my test. A seemingly small test but as significant as stepping onto this course of forgiveness.
I arch my neck, tip my head back, and whisper my acceptance, “You may.”
Months since the last time he fed. When Allysteir sinks his teeth above my left breast, the sound of the galloping spirit horses almost swallows my screams.
One Month Later
I breakfree from Isla and surrender her to the healers because I’d needed to consume more blood and flesh. Thus, she requires healing beyond meager bone powder.
They lead her from the dining hall where I’ve fed from her and to the accompanying garderobe to heal her in private while I shake out my robes. I ignore the intrigued glimpses of Mathyr, Aiden, and Franzy, and retire to our suite. Starved of the passion we once shared, my feedings are a means to an end.
Kryach’s essence cloys me thanks to the piquant aftertaste of my bride’s blood lingering upon my tongue, the minute bits of flesh tucked between my teeth. Later, I will pick them out with my tongue and savor the tiny morsels. He. Says. Nothing. Far too silent for the God of Death. I tense, spine prickling with the suspicion gnawing upon my thoughts.
Most liken the High God to a grave, to a quiet corpse, but I know better. Death speaks volumes. It smothers everything else. Apart from love, Death defeatseverything, including time. For infinite reasons, Aryahn Kryach isneverquiet. For centuries, he has taunted me, mocked me, tormented me. My brides, most. Finleigh chose to ignore him, and he reaped her soul in rage.
I clench my teeth, cracking one, reflecting upon my former bride. Hissing wind through my teeth, I remember her fair hair of golden rippled curls, Finny’s sweetheart-shaped lips. The depth of her blue eyes drew me to expose my face. Those pale hands had ripped the mask from my face on our wedding night because she couldn’t bear any secrets between us. How she commanded me to her eyes. The tender authenticity in her fingers when they caressed my scarified mouth. And my cheekbone jutting through my shrunken flesh, the hollow of my eye.Herhaunting lullabies sang me to sleep and suffocated Kryach’s voice. She accepted me, received me,lovedme before all others. Other than Isla, Finleigh lasted the longest. Yes, Isla would have received me, would have shared flesh with me, but she did not love me yet. Not the true me.
She loves the forbidden, the thrill of the strange and the challenge. Isla loves the Corpse. Finleigh loved the King. No, Finleigh loved the man.
Other than Isla and despite my affection and emotional attachment to all my brides, Finleigh was the bride I unconditionally and unequivocally loved. I wince from the memories. So bittersweet, her heaven I sampled. Perhaps because she united with me in ignoring Kryach, defied him in open rebellion. Oh, how he tortured me for it! I harden my jaw, remembering how he rotted my flesh more and afflicted me with so much pain. Finleigh’s tears became my healing balm.
Perhaps Isla will redeem me, the one who will withstand Kryach: my eternal true love. And when our souls pass into the Forever Havens, I must believe she will welcome Finleigh’s soul to unite with mine as her Franzy unites with her.
Ever since the wedding night, mine and Isla’s hollow honeymoon, Death hasnottormented me. Unless...chills spiderweb into my chest as I wonder if this is a new torture. The calm before the storm. Such a calm as has never been dealt before, but it occurs to me how much it makes sense.
Does it now, Allysteir?Kryach finally interjects into my musings.Would you care to know how your precious Finleigh’s soul is doing? Or how I may return her at any time if I thus desire?
Stop,I growl in the alcove I’ve snuck into, but I can’t control his shadows. They constrict my throat, penetrating its channels, restricting my air.You’ve taken everything from me! You won’t take Isla, too!
Five hundred years, Allysteir.The God of Death growls.I’ve inhabited you longer than any other because as much as your self-degradation cloys at times, at least you respect my work, my sacred soul work. Yes, I took my bridal pounds of soul flesh as it were, for they grant me the strength to continue reaping the souls of humankind as the laws of the Highest Gods have dictated. A far better solution than the gods’ previous methods of bringing open war. Or do you disagree?
When his shadows roar, when they hem me in, when they drive me to my knees to crack my meager kneecaps, I seethe, bow my head, undone by the omnipotent God’s power. He is the darkest and deepest part of my psyche. I do respect his Death business. Moreover, I love it. I love nurturing the dying souls, singing to them, and granting them strength for their final journeys. It is an infinite blessing Isla shares in this love. With everything in my being, I believe she is strong enough to withstand Kryach. He will reap a fraction of her soul’s energy to sate him, so he may continue acting as the God of Death as time has dictated.
Yes, I mayhatethis fate with every bone in my damned body. But I understand it. Perhaps it is why I’ve lasted longer than any other Corpse King. I pray and hope Isla will last longer than any past Brides of the Corpse Kings.
Once I embark into our chamber suite where she has already donned one of my robes?her preferred sleep attire?, Isla smiles at me. Her smile summons my strength, my chest expands. Though I sense Kryach’s essence darkening it with his ice, I approach my bride and gaze at the flesh of her upper chest and throat. The healers did well. Only my bite mark and Kryach’s skull remain.
“Isla,” I address her and clear my throat. She glances up after tugging the ends of the robe, more comfortable since she doesn’t feel the need to tie the sashes. Closing the distance between us, I remember my place and ask, “May I touch your shoulder?”
“Yes, Allysteir. From now on, you may touch my shoulder, my waist, my hand, my cheek, and any other non-intimate locations on my body without asking. It’s getting insufferable for you to ask every single time!” she huffs, and I can’t help but adore her adorable exasperation.
“Hmm...” I test, sliding my hand along her waist to cup it and tap her spine. “Only non-intimate, my Lady Queen?”
She sniffs, rolling her eyes and spreading warmth through my chest. “Don’t press your luck.”
Raising myself, I simper beneath my corpse mask and declare, “Luck has nothing to do with it. I won’t need luck whatsoever tomorrow.”
“Oh?” She taps her mouth, those blushing berry lips I long to devour.
