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I regret this last comment the moment it leaves my mouth, but I’m too consumed with anger to immediately take them back.
Death lets out a low growl that rumbles through me, allowing me to actually feel the depth of his anger.
Well, good. Now we can both be upset.
I don’t appreciate the way he stares at me, as if he’s personally offended by my choices. It wasn’t like I had much choice in the life I was given, and still, I tried my best. Tried to be a good daughter, tried to bear Merelda’s cruelty if only it meant Father was happy. Tried to keep my mother’s dying wishes.
Gods, all I did was try to make everyone else happy.
Why should I be berated for that?
“You deserved better,” Death says coldly. “Youdeservebetter.”
I have to bite back a laugh at this.
“Perhaps, but it was not what fate had in store for me. I did what I thought best, and I do not see how you can sit there and judge me for it.”
“I am not judging you.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“I simply do not wish for you to throw away your life for this man.”
“He is my father, and it is my life to do with as I please. Our deal still stands, does it not?”
“It does, but—”
“Then my decision is final. I see no point in getting caught up in the details of my past. I am here now, and I will not have you try to change my mind.”
A strange mixture of emotions crashes through me, bringing tears of frustration to my eyes. I hate how easily he saw into the pain of my past, how easily he tore down the walls I’d spent my whole life building.
I hate that he recognized how bitter life had been for me, and how he doesn’t agree with the choice I’ve made.
But, worst of all, I hate how much I desperatelywanthim to convince me to change my mind.
“Hazel,” Death says, his voice soft.
I shake my head, leaping to my feet to storm out of the kitchen before he can say another word. Afraid that if he does, if I hear my name fall from his lips once more, that I will break for him.
Despite the recent years of misery, Father and I shared many happy years together, and I will do anything to make sure he has many more ahead. I cannot allow Death to change that.
Running through the palace halls, I find myself standing before my studio. Entering, I let the door slam heavily behind me before I let out a small sob.
Who does he think he is to sit there and judge my life? What does he have to offer me but death and heartbreak?
I turn to face the door as I consider lock it, but I decide against it. I doubt if he truly wanted to, it would keep him out anyway … and then, there’s still that small part of me hopes that he’ll come for me.
That he’ll convince me to change my mind. That he’ll offer me a life that I simply cannot refuse.
It sounds foolish, and I feel disgust at myself even thinking it. Sighing, I wipe the tears from my eyes as I move toward my easel, placing a new canvas on it.
There’s a soft knock on the door as I reach for a paintbrush.
I go still, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait for him to burst into the room. But he simply calls out to me.
I frown, trying my best to ignore him. It should matter very little to me what he has to say. Anything he says is just to convince me that I’m being a fool.
No, it would be far more foolish of me to think that man such as himself, a monster, could care about me.
