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Not when her entire attention is focused on me, her head tilted to the side as if trying to piece together what I am not explicitly telling her.
Eventually, she asks, “Are you not living then?”
I contemplate how to answer for a long moment.
Part of me wants to explain everything to her. There is a strange desire buried deep within me for her to understand what I am, but I am not sure if I can indulge that part of me.
There are still limits to what I am allowed to share with a mortal. Even one marked for death, such as herself.
“It is different,” I finally say. “I am neither living nor dead. I simply … am.”
She frowns at this before asking, “What is life then if there is no death awaiting you at the end of it?”
I am quiet for so long that, before I can think of way to answer, a small laugh escapes her.
She shakes her head; her seriousness disappearing with a soft breeze.
Her eyes still burn bright with curiosity, as though she intends to figure me out eventually. I am not sure why the thought of her doing just that does not terrify me as I know it should.
“What an odd conundrum you are, then. Your state of being, that is. If you are not alive but also not dead, are you mortal as well as immortal, too?”
“I suppose it is odd,” I say with a nod, and she shakes her head at me once more.
Her gaze returns to Knax, and I can’t help but sigh in relief that the conversation seems to be ended. My urge to tell her everything is strange. I’m not sure if it’s something I should give into, but each passing day it gets harder and harder to keep myself from her. I have not a single idea what that means, nor am I overly eager to gain an explanation for this pull I feel toward her.
“Will you walk with me?” she asks, standing and brushing crumbs from her skirts.
I’m unable to say no, I find in that moment. With a nod, I rise and offer her my arm. I’m granted another smile as she slips her arm through mine. Her warmth washes over me, and for the first time, I don’t shrink away from it. It doesn’t burn as it once did. Instead, it fills me and chases away the doubts that were filling my mind.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. We walk leisurely through the fields, her running her hands through the tall grass and stopping to pick wildflowers. She makes a crown of them, twisting them together before setting it atop her head. I find myself smiling as my eyes catch on it. She looks every bit the princess in that moment as she spins before moving to run a hand over Knax. As the hours slip away, my horse seems to grow more and more friendly toward her.
When I see her trying to hide a smile, I realize that it’s time to head back. She makes little complaint when I suggest we return to the palace. Her steps are slower, though, as we move back the way we came. Knax trails behind us, giving soft neighs as if to beg for just another moment of being near his new friend. She has a sleepy look on her face as she tilts her head up to glance at me.
“Can we return here?” Hazel asks.
I glance down at her, my heart panging in a strange way. It’s easy to agree, to assure her that we can come to her as frequently as she wants. But then I’m reminded that her time with me is short. Before I know it, I’ll be escorting her soul into the afterlife. In that moment, I vow that I will do my best to ensure her last days are filled with happiness and joy. She will not feel a single shred of sadness or regret as she nears the end of her days.
“Yes,” I finally tell her. “We can come as often as you’d like.”
Her smile at this fills me while also breaking me apart. Her happiness is intoxicating. Even as it serves as a reminder of just how temporary she is in my life.
26
Hazel
After our day in the Valley of Death, I find my days filled with Death. He seeks me out in the mornings, joining me as I break my fast and sipping on tea. His silence becomes a welcome companion as I shake sleep from myself. Once I finish eating, he asks what I would like to do that day. No matter what my answer, no matter how impossible I think it is, he finds a way to make sure my days are spent doing as I please.
All I need do is mention something I might enjoy, and the next thing I know, he’s made it a reality. From turning his ballroom into a skating rink to filling his massive bathtub with enough warm water that I can float happily for hours. It’s hard to miss the care he takes in ensuring that I’m happy. At first, I think I’m imagining things. That he’s simply doing his part as host to entertain me.
But his presence becomes harder to explain. He’s always there, watching with those piercing eyes that seem to be shifting further and further from the dark onyx they were when I first arrived. I imagine him smiling more under his mask. More than that, it becomes hard to ignore the way he touches me. His gloved fingers will brush against mine, and he won’t flinch away. One day, when I request to learn to ballroom dance, he takes me in his arms. Pressed closed against his hard chest, my cheeks warm. I couldn’t think of a better place to find myself than there. The next day, he offers me his hand after I request another afternoon spent in the Valley of Death.
I try to not dwell on my thoughts of him. To push away the way my heart grows to long for him. The way I warm whenever he is around. Or the way that when I return to my room every night, it’s thoughts of him that guide me into sleep.
It matters little that I know he’s being polite. That he’s simply doing what he believes he must for the mortal living within his palace. Still, that does little to keep me from feeling as though I’m falling for him. My heart pounds whenever I think of him, my skin warming in the places his gloved fingers touch. I’m a fool. I’m aware that I shouldn’t allow myself to fall for Death. And yet, I’m unable to stop myself.
I know just how ridiculous it is. I’ve yet to even see his face, and for all I know, he may not even have a mortal face. Yet my heart knows what it desires the most. Him. My every thought is soon consumed by him. He has overtaken me so completely without even meaning to. I fall asleep every night with thoughts of him and wake with a smile, knowing I have another day filled with him to look forward to. Each day that slips past seals my fate even more. I yearn for him, his presence at my side as I pass my days.
But as my heart grows fonder of Death each day, I start to feel a strange tug. As though I can see echoes of a future that was meant to be. A life that I will never lead. One where I am free to grow old at Death’s side. In these small moments, I see myself in five or ten years, curled up at his side, content and full of life. Other glimpses offer me a peek of a life living in a small cottage, happy as I pass my days. Yet another shows me in a large palace of blackness, surrounded by love and various people who dote upon me. Futures that will never come to be. Lives that I will never get to live.
