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I push them from my mind as soon as they appear. It’s silly and absurd to bother myself with such fantasies. I made the right decision in giving my life in exchange for Father’s. There is no true regret buried deep within me. At least, I don’t believe there is.
Some evenings, alone in bed, as I stare at the ceiling, I remind myself that I do not regret this life I’ve chosen. It’s strange that I must remind myself such a thing. I know it’s the right thing to do. That Father still has much life before him and that he will do his best to bring joy and happiness to as many people as possible. Whereas I would not. I am not fool enough to think that I would have made the same stunning artwork as Father.
Besides, much as it pains me, I know that the only reason I’ve been allowed to get to know Death as I have is because of our deal. Had I not set out to strike a deal with him, then I would not be here. No, I would instead be the plaything of Lord Payne or Amadeus. The thought of that future sends a chill racing down my spine. I would have done anything to have saved myself from that life, even if it meant still giving my life to do so.
The next day, though, as I sit next to Death in the warm meadow that we have come to frequent, I struggle to push away the thoughts. I’m drowning in a terrible future I am thankful will never come to be true. Even if my mind plays a cruel joke in reminding me how close I came to that. I have the ghost touch of Amadeus’s hand on my arm. It’s enough to cause a shiver to break free.
“Hazel?”
Blinking, I’m pulled from the terrible memory. Death watches me, concern clear in his eyes. I have to force a smile to my face as I realize that I was so lost in thoughts of what could have been. Instead, I should be focusing on what is. I am here, for now, with Death. For that, I am thankful.
“Are you well?” Death asks.
I give him a bright smile as I assure him, “Yes, I am well.”
His eyes don’t leave my face, and I do my best to convince myself it is the truth. I’m unsure of what to make of his focus being entirely on me. My cheeks flame slightly. It would be too easy to convince myself that he has softened toward me. That he loves me as dearly as I’m starting to love him.
Tilting my head as I stare up at him, I decide there is no harm in pretending. He never needs to know that I’ve decided to pretend that he’s in love with me. It doesn’t take much these days to act as though we are truly together. Lost in one another and the happiness we find within one another.
I don’t care that it’s nothing more than a silly daydream. If nothing else, it will be a lovely way to spend the last of my days here. Death’s gaze shifts away, but his hand remains on my knee. I stare at his gloved hand, wondering how easily I could fit my own palm into his. A smile pulls at me as I realize how easy my make-believe will be.
27
Hazel
Stepping back from my easel, I smile at the painting.
It’s taken me the better part of three days to bring to life. Three days that have been strangely without Death. I grew too used to his constant presence that when he slipped away, I found myself longing for his quick return. Unable to pass the time before he returned quick enough, I found myself before my canvas. At least here, in my little studio, I can get lost in the paints as I cover a new canvas.
I observe my latest painting with a deep smile. It is exactly as I wanted it to be, a perfect moment captured by my brushes of the Valley of Death. One that I hope to hang in my room. A reminder of the happier times. Smiling, I grab the painting and head for the door. There’s a crinkle from under my foot, and when I glance down, I see a thick black envelope with gold lettering. Crouching, I pick it up and gently open it.
Hazel, please join me for dinner.
There’s a dress in your room, made just for you.
-D
Smiling, I hurry from my studio. The shadows are long in the hallway, telling me that I have little time to get ready before Death will be waiting for me. I don’t want to leave him waiting, not after not seeing him for so many days. In my room, I place the painting on the dresser before taking in the dress on my bed. It’s stunning, made of the same strange fabric as the last one Death gifted me. But this one is a ballgown with a full skirt and fitted bodice.
I’m quick to rinse and pull on the dress, amazed at how perfectly it fits me. I glance in the mirror, my breath slipping away as I take in how the dark dress seems to be lighted from within. It shines from some unseen source, giving me an ethereal look. I’m unable to tear my eyes away for a moment before realizing that I need to hurry. Braiding my hair and pinning it, I smile as I leave my bedroom.
Eagerness fills me as I make my way through the palace. I find Death waiting for me, dressed in a fine-fitting dark suit. My steps falter as I take in how handsome he looks, his bone mask replaced with a simple black one that fits to his face as well as his suit fits his body. His eyes find mine, and I have to remind myself to breath.
“Hazel,” he says, his voice low and deep.
He offers me his hand, which I’m quick to slip my own into. His fingers close around mine, and I smile up at him, perfectly content in that moment. He leads me to the dining room, where the large table is laden with food. I stare at it for a long moment, realizing that he’s somehow managed to gather all of my favorite foods. From the plum pudding Mother used to make to the stuffed duck I had once during my travels with Father, it is all here. Sitting on elegant golden platters, begging me to sample.
A smile tugs at my lips as I turn to Death. My thanks dies on my lips as I see the sorrow in his deep black eyes. It hits me then what is happening. What this meal, this time spent together, truly means. I realize in that moment what is to happen.
Today is my last day.
My smile slips for a moment before I can catch it. I have to shake myself for a moment, regretting the sadness that has plummeted to the core of me. It takes a moment for me to return my cheeriness to my smile. I will not allow the weighed darkness that now seems to fill the room, pressing against me, to drown me. No, I will enjoy this last meal with Death at my side. Then I will meet my fate with a smile.
I will not allow Death to see me fall apart. Not here and not now. It is too late for that, anyways, I tell myself as he leads me to my seat. There is no point in letting my tears spill. This is the deal that I made. I knew this day was coming. I will not let Father, or Death, down by losing my bravery now.
Despite the dark thoughts that begin to circle, I force laughter from me as Death joins me. Together, we dine on my favorites. We share happy stories as we eat. I tell him of life before Father Merelda. He seems to hang on my stories of the cities I saw and the people I met. The food is delicious, and he is wonderful company, ensuring that my cup is full and I get to sample everything before me.
When the meal is done, he stands and offers me his hand. Wordlessly, I once more slide my hand into his. We say nothing as we leave the dining room behind. Together, we make our way through the now familiar halls of the palace. I find myself taking it all in for one last time. Sadness threatens to overtake me as I realize I will miss this place. Almost as much as I will miss Death himself.
