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How long did Allysteir’sfirstbride last?
“Corpus King?” I pause after calling for him once he’s sidled next to me, mask facing me. Dismissing the cold, grieving hollow between my thighs, I snuggle closer, and with one hand beneath my pillow and the other brushing his mask-cheek’s indent, I dare to ask, “Who was your first bride?”
* * *
I suppose I should not have been surprised he’d refused to open up to me. Instead, he’d wrapped me deeper into the sheets and wool throws of our bed and then sung me to sleep with his lullaby.
As so many times before, I’ve dressed in a new bridal gown. This time, it’s a transparent scarlet red?a cascade of blood. My test, a reminder to Allysteir of what I desire from him. At this point, we’ve been married for over half a year. For weeks, we’ve shared a bed according to my boundaries. Boundaries he’s honored while respecting my identity. A contrast to our wedding night.
Apart from his envy, Aryahn Kryach has been respectful but quiet. Too quiet. Nor have I minded his jealousy, his invasion, provided Allysteir is the last one standing. No...Iam the last one standing.
Down the same barge, we depart. Propelled by the river spirits. This time, Betha emerges from their breadth, and I marvel at her revelation when she shares her ability to dream walk. Throughout centuries, she acted as the prime agent of the Goddess of Doom who haunted the nightscapes of the lands beyond Talahn-Feyal where the names of the gods are different from ours.
As so many times, I grow my power to bestow roses upon the sick and near-death. By early afternoon, Allysteir’s Death business within the Hollows is finished.
Now, he directs the bone canoe through another watery tunnel branching off from the Hollows. It leads us deeper into the heart of Nathyan Ghyeal—away from the main hub of river traffic as found near the Citadel and its city and tourist locales. When ice rakes my spine to prickle my flesh from how the tunnel walls enclose us with no pinprick of candlelight from the Hollows’ entrance behind us, I scoot closer to Allysteir. After all these months of marriage, my Nether-mark rears its magic. Allysteir’s presence does not soothe it, and I excuse it as some immunity. After all, we’ve slept in the same bed, I’ve given him flesh, he’s given me pleasure.
The mark numbs its unsettling ice, and I flatten my palms on each side of the platform seat while Allysteir’s robe skirts the back of my gown. A black king to a red queen. For a moment, I angle my neck to peer up at him. As if he’s always alert for my slightest gesture, the King shifts his mask, so his skull cavity eye meets my full ones. I turn away because it’s pointless to ask where he’s taking me.
It’s strange. I huddle my arms around my chest, wishing I could stem the tide of uncomfortable emotion. Normally, I appreciate surprises. If only I could wave my hand in dismissal, chalk it up to typical human nerves as we embark into unknown parts of the White Ladies. But it makes no sense for two reasons.
One: While no sunlight dons its face in this Underworld, the wispy spirit lights roaming the waters provide more than enough glow.
Two: I leap at the chance for adventure...and a challenge. A little thing such as darkness or the unknown inspires my exhilaration and not fear.
So, why does apprehension gnaw on me when the King directs the boat around the curving waterways, past other outlets, and into the convoluted web of tunnels? I’d assumed he would take me to the refter bride glen. I’d believed one of the macabre but beauteous brides I’d floral-adorned must be his significant first bride. The one who owed his deepest emotions. His unbridled hatred was palpable from the mask nearly falling due to all his hardened muscles like iron-coated bones. I’d mourned at his lonely pain when his shoulders shuddered and posture stooped.
Whomever this bride was, she must haunt him far more than Kryach ever has.
I dockthe boat on the rocky shore of the enclosed cavern I alone know of. Save for the damned oppressor within my spirit. The height of irony he is privy to my greatest secrets, all my thoughts—how he lives vicariously through my flesh and bones and blood: an achievement the gods had always sought and desired for eons before the Curse. And yet, the God of Death never affords me a glimpse of his territory. Nor could I ever conceive of what has become of my former bride souls.
I clench my jaw, remembering how he has tormented me with their names, mocking me with hints regarding their psyche states, questioning me if I’d like to know more. Dangling his forbidden fruit always out of reach.
No name more than Finleigh.
Isla accepts my hand once I’ve offered to help her out of the boat. At first, she leans her head against my shoulder, sighing, breathing the scent of my robe. Why, I can’t imagine. It must smell of nothing but bone powder. I register what she’s doing when her fingers seek my chest, palm bedding on my rib cage.
So sweet,I muse and smirk behind my mask before laying my phalanges atop her silken skin. “The bone has reset, my bride. Do not concern yourself.” I tuck my finger bones under her chin, raise her face, tempted to kiss her.
“Where are we?” wonders Isla, brimming with curiosity, so much, floral bud goosebumps bloom along her flesh as she scrutinizes the hollowed-out cavern with its three passages.
Leading her to the left passage, a dampness crystallizing the otherwise dull rocks to shimmer, I relay my history with Finleigh, a history I have never shared with any bride.
“It was my first Feast of Flesh as Corpse King...”
* * *
Somehow, I’d managed to escape Aydon and Mathyr’s countless attempts at shoving maidyans my way. My dance card was bursting despite how they knew I’d never danced since the night I’d accepted Kryach. Court and commoners, the whole affair had grown insufferable.
After an hour of listening to Kryach’s frequent snorts at maidyans or mild curiosity followed by a huff because he would never be satisfied—even if she were the most gracious and kindhearted soul who bore every bit of strength to match the Scarlet Skathyk—, I left the Great Hall.
Death was never satisfied. Death would never stop feasting.
Concealed behind the great tapestries sheltering my wrecked body, I gritted my teeth, observing more maidyans presenting themselves, stopping before the royal table. Nearby, the Cryth River and all its spirits guarded the dais leading to my throne. Some girls quivered in excitement, others in fear.
Perhaps if I could bond with one outside these political revelries or Kryach’s omnipotent notice...
After all, the High God had invaded my body, my thoughts, my damned soul. I’d be more damned if he’d dictate my heart. It was the last night to take a bride before the Void released a war of refters upon the land Still, I believed love was the only force in the world that could defy death and fate.
