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Lady Death sits at the head of the table, elbows propped on the surface, watching us all intently. Like Blaze, she seems amused by Ransom’s ravenous appetite and occasionally reminds him to chew so he won’t choke. Not that it would matter much, in her domain. No one dies here without her conscious permission, and remaining dead isn’t even a certainty. Her hollow-eyed attendants are revenants, souls placed back in a body to serve at her pleasure. The ghosts trapped in the walls are actually the lucky ones. At least they aren’t playthings.
I suppose Lady Death is beautiful, in an austere way. Her hair is the color of spun starlight, not unlike the beast we faced on the bridge. It’s the only commonality they have, however. Her features are as fine as porcelain and her pallor is that of a day-old corpse. Grayish, without looking unhealthy. Like the opulence that she’s surrounded herself with, the shade just seems to fit. Her lips are a darker shade of charcoal, and look like they’ll leave smudges on your soul if she deigns to kiss you. Her lips quirk fiendishly every time she glances my way. She knows what we’re here for, what we’ll have to offer.
“You should eat more, your majesty,” she purrs, or as much as she can purr. Death’s voice isn’t suited for fine silken whispers or the throaty beckoning of a woman calling her mate to bed. It echoes weirdly, like a voice issuing from the bottom of a grave. Even in this inferior human form, my hackles raise, brushing along the inside of my neck uncomfortably.
“I don’t have much of an appetite,” I confess. “Nor do I have much patience for games. My people’s time grows short. I’m not sure how long we can resist Lycaon’s call, and this pretense of hospitality is growing tiresome. You didn’t have to arrange an audience for this.”
Her eyes sparkle, as silvery and enigmatic as the moon. I think she’s pleased by my defiance but it’s hard to tell. Her moods are as variable as the tides and just as unpredictable. Her mirth might turn to murderous rage if I so much as twitch incorrectly. If I were more tactful, I’d eat, just to appease her, to draw this out a little longer. But I won’t. It’s not in my nature to play those sorts of games, even with a power as mighty as she is.
At least one thing has gone right this night. Blaze has shrugged off her resentment against Ransom, hovering close to him the way a true mate should. She’s concerned for him, if not quite cordial. She even managed to smile at me once over her plate. I have to admit, I’m pleased by the idea she might remember me with something more than loathing. She seems to get along with Maddox well enough. The potential discord has been settled, which puts my mind at ease. They’ll need a united front where they’re going.
“Oh, I do love a man that’s direct,” Death says in that same resonant voice. “I thought to save the entertainment for last when everyone has eaten, but if you insist, we can do this now.”
“Do what now?” Blaze asks, staring quizzically at me. She doesn’t look suspicious, just concerned. That’s gratifying. It’s probably Ransom’s concern leaking into her, but I decide to interpret it as genuine. It’s a pretty lie.
Ransom and Maddox have gone rigid in their chairs, fingers curling into claws around the tablecloth. It’s woven gold, not dyed to a metallic sheen. A foul trickster forced girls to weave straw into the stuff in Fantasia. It shouldn’t surprise me that Lady Death has acquired one of the tapestries for herself. As to my men, my cousins, they know what’s coming, even if their companions don’t. We didn’t dare spill the secret, lest the well-meaning Chosen try to stop it. That can’t happen. This is the only way.
“Pay our dues,” I say quietly, rising from my seat. Lady Death tracks my progress, that chill smile still on her lips. “Lady Death is owed a tribute for our safe passage to Lycaon’s prison realm.”
“Indeed,” Lady Death agrees. “Come here, your majesty. If you’re so eager to pay, let us get it over with.”
Every instinct I have tells me to run out the doors and take my chances with the star beasts on the bridge. I ignore the impulse to shift and run, walking straight-backed and proud to the head of the table where Lady Death waits. She grasps my wrist in one of her hands, and the temperature makes me gasp. Human bodies, usually so frigid, feel feverish in comparison to her touch. She’s as cool and unforgiving as the space between worlds. Her touch is deceptively gentle when she pulls me into an embrace. Death is many things to many different cultures. To us, it’s the dousing of the flame and a return to oblivion. To someone suffering, Death’s touch is probably a tender alternative.
Lady Death cups my cheek. Goosebumps trail in the wake of her touch as she draws me down. Blaze sucks in a sharp breath, only seeming to understand when it’s already too late.
“I’ve always wanted a loyal guard dog,” she murmurs. “I suppose you’ll do.”
Then she kisses me, a gentle brush of lips that sucks all the air from my lungs. I grasp her shoulders convulsively, trying to push her off. It’s not a conscious choice, and it doesn’t last long. Strength seeps from my lips and I’m suddenly shrinking, sprouting fur, curling into a pile at the foot of her chair. A dead dog laid at Lady’s Death feet. A fitting end for the disgraced King Axion.
The last thing I hear before I fade into oblivion is Blaze’s outraged scream on my behalf.
###
MADDOX
Blaze lunges across the table toward Lady Death, knocking over a tureen of soup in her frenzy. It stains her shirt a sickly yellow, plastering the fabric to her lean body in a way that would be compelling if I hadn’t just watched my king collapse into a boneless heap at our host’s feet. My heart feels like an anvil in my chest, threatening to sink down to my toes. We knew this was coming, but it still hurts more than I can express to watch my friend and king die in such an ignoble fashion.
I seize Blaze by the ankle and drag her into my lap before she can upend any more platters on her way to Lady Death’s seat. Not only can’t we afford to lose her, but we also can’t afford to upset our host. As to that bitch of a host, Death looks like a well-fed cat, satisfied with the life she’s snuffed out and added to her macabre collection. If the Chosen upsets her too much, she could demand another life in exchange for crossing over, and we can’t take the chance it will belong to Blaze. I need her to complete this mission. Ransom needs his mate to live. Neither of us is willing to let her throw her life away. We’ve already lost Axion. We can’t lose anyone else.
Ransom nods gratefully in my direction when I wind my arms around Blaze’s waist and hold her fast. Blaze’s knobby fists are stronger than they look when they strike my arms, my chest, and my jaw in her attempt to get away from me. She even spits sparks in my face, which stings like all hell but isn’t enough to make me release her. My chair makes a strident sound on the crystal floor when I push away from the table, Blaze still clutched tightly to my chest.
“I think Blaze is tired,” I say, covering her mouth with one of my blunt-fingered human hands to keep her from screaming obscenities at Lady Death. Let her rage in private, where only phantoms are around to hear. None of them will report the treasonous words back to our host. They all hate Death more than we do. “I’ll take her back to my room for now.”
Draven and Carmine’s expressions are a mix of alarm and concern as I drag Blaze toward the door but they have the good sense not to try to stop me. They grasp what King Axion has done and aren’t going to spoil the sacrifice with misplaced outrage. Carmine clears her throat primly and announces her departure as well, claiming fatigue. Draven goes with her. Ransom follows after a moment.
Lady Death sighs and reaches down to run her spindly fingers through Axion’s fur. He stirs beneath the touch, sparks rippling over his fur in response. He’s too newly dead to open his eyes and serve her immediately, but it’s coming. I need to get Blaze out of her realm before she has time to watch the bitch puppet his majesty like a toy.
“That always clears the room,” she laments. “I should have waited until after dinner.”
She shouldn’t have done it at all, but I bite my tongue before I can say the words aloud. She is what she is. It’s her nature to take. One of us was going to die, and Axion volunteered. I won’t sully that by mouthing off. I turn my back on her and all but sprint out of the room, holding onto Blaze for dear life. She’s doing her best impression of a slippery fish as she tries to wriggle free and return to the hall, intent on reducing Lady Death to a pile of cinders.
I don’t release her until we’re back in my room. It’s decorated in sharp contrasts, with black and ivory inlays on all the furniture, grays on the walls, and a star-spangled ceiling that mirrors the one outside. It’s as stark as my mood, and Blaze stands out like a bloodstain against the surroundings. She’s red in the face and rains down more blows on my chest when I block the door.
“Let me go!” she screams. “Let me fry that bitch! She just killed Axion right in front of us! We can’t allow it! How—how did you allow it!”
I shake my head sadly. “I can’t let you do that. King Axion made Ransom and I promise that whatever happened, we’d see you safely to Cyllene. We have to free her. He knew his life would be forfeit and he willingly gave it. That’s how important this mission is to him, Blaze. He believed in you that much.”
Her rage falters, and a look of abject horror replaces it. Her eyes fill with tears, and my heart twists with guilt when the first drop falls, running in a line down her pale cheek before quivering on the point of her chin. I wipe it away before I can stop myself. I shouldn’t be touching her. She’s Ransom’s mate, not mine.
