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“She’s caused so much moregood,” Essos says. “She is everything to me, and if you plan on denying us this for your petty reasons, then I don’t want to be king. I don’t want the Underworld—let Galen have it.”
My head snaps toward Essos. I stare at him, dumbfounded.
Essos has put his all into making a plan for the Underworld, one that he’s proud of and that he hopes will not only make his father proud but will also be good for the souls shepherded into it. Countless nights, I was woken up by him turning on a light to note an idea he had. He slaved over his strategy, and it doesn’t feel right for him to sacrifice it all for me.
“No,” I say, squeezing Essos’s hand. Octavia tilts her head in my direction as if curious to see what I will say. Her ponytail dips. “I won’t let you give this up. You have worked too hard, done everything that has been asked of you, and more. You can’t just give up your kingdom to Galen.”
“Youare everything that I need. I don’t need to be a king or treated like a prince. I just need you.” Essos cups my face before kissing me with his all-consuming power. I dissolve into stardust and ash in that kiss, my whole world beginning and ending with him.
Titus clears his throat, and it finally prompts us to separate.
As he looks at me, Essos’s gaze is soft, but when he turns to face his father, it hardens into something cold and desolate. Perhaps all of Titus’s chickens have come home to roost. You can’t spend your time alienating your child and expect them to always bend to your whims.
“If she wants to be a queen, she has to prove herself worthy. I think the Trials would be a lovely way to do it.”
“Father…”
“Stop.” I turn to Essos and take his hands in mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. Petals tickle along our fingers, and he relents, nodding and trusting me. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to them that we’re meant to be.”
I blinkmy eyes open to see Essos hovering over me. His expression wavers between concern and anger, but for the moment I am his focus.
“Are you all right, love?” he whispers, brushing tendrils of hair from my face.
I had forgotten my own Trials entirely. Was that why the idea came so easily to me the night of the Calling Ball?
“I’m fine.” Essos helps me sit up so I can better glare at Rafferty. “What was that?” I demand, standing on uneasy feet.
“Your memory. Thousands of years are enough for anyone to start losing bits and pieces—unsurprising for someone your age.”
Rafferty did more than just bring that one memory to the forefront. I’m better able to sift through other memories, namely of the Trials I went through. They were not only physical challenges but also ones that required me to show my wit and cunning. One trial involved my ability to properly set a table, only I wasn’t given all the correct silverware. Each trial was more humiliating than the last, but I completed them all until I stood before my future mother-in-law and father-in-law, victorious. I held my head high, ready for whatever bullshit they’d throw my way next.
Luminara comes to the other side of me to support me, and for once, I don’t push her away. I feel uneasy and shaky, like my blood sugar has bottomed out. And maybe it has. Maybe this can be easily remedied with a taco.
“I thought I was clear about the respect that was to be shown to mywife.” Essos practically bares his teeth as he advances on Rafferty.
Rafferty’s edges start to get a little fuzzy, and I worry that I might be on the verge of passing out again, but Luminara’s sharp intake of breath tells me she’s seeing what I am.
Slowly, Rafferty fades. First his legs and arms and then his torso. He looks like he’s choking, like his lungs have disappeared from his chest, and his head and face grow faint until all of Rafferty reappears suddenly. He’s gasping for air, falling to his knees before us. He holds his hand before his face, his eyes widening as he realizes he’s missing the two fingers he pressed to my forehead.
As the God of the Dead, Essos is gifted with the ability to unmake a soul, but he used it only once in the early days of our ruling as we struggled to find our footing. Essos said he would never use it again, having hated the feeling that came with it. He said it felt like he’d bathed in oil, like the Fates demanded balance. Never in a million years would I have thought this power could be used against another god.
“It was just a reminder of what she went through to marry you the first time.” Rafferty’s voice is choked.
As much as I want to see him suffer for being such a miserable god, we did call him here for a reason. “Enough. I don’t need any reminders. We called you here for help, not for theatrics.” I try to imbue my words with the strength that I feel failing me. We still need him, and I hope that Essos hasn’t scared him off. “I need you to give me my memories back—all the ones you blocked for Posey.”
Rafferty looks away, a faint stain on his cheeks. “I didn’t do that,” he mumbles.
“I’m sorry?” Essos demands, stepping close to the other god. “I don’t believe I heard you.”
“I didn’t do it.” Rafferty meets Essos’s eye with defiance.
“Explain.” I cross my arms.
“What are you two not understanding? Posey blocked your memories. I had nothing to do with it.”
“How were you able to show me the memory from my Trials?”
“I am the God of Memory.” He says it simply, like that should explain this incongruity.
