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“Daphne. DAPHNE!” Essos’s voice is pleading.
My eyes open, and I realize I’ve been flailing. I wasn’t being dragged into the Underworld by the dead.
Essos is practically on top of me, his hands gripping my shoulders gently but firmly. There is a wild look in his eyes as he tries to see if I’m awake. Even in my dreamy haze, I can feel his panic; it’s evident in the way his hands tremble.
“Oh gods,” I moan, leaning into his arms so I can sob. The terror from being buried alive still has my heart racing. I hold on to him like he’s my lifeboat in the storm.
“You’re all right, my love, you’re all right,” he whispers into my hair.
Once I’ve stopped crying, I’m able to get a feel for the room. The sun is just rising outside our window, and all around me is evidence that this is where everyone has been congregating. There are mugs and plates piled on surfaces, with remnants of various meals. For gods, they’re all so messy.
Essos lets his body relax onto the mattress beside me. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice quiet now that I’m not shouting.
“A bath,” is the first thing to come out of my mouth. My memory is coming back gradually—the ceremony, the blood, the feeling of being bathed in it. Essos’s words about not being sure how to tell me. I don’t know what he has to tell me, but my hands fly to my stomach, and I look at him with bewildered panic.
“She’s safe,” he swears to me. He grips my face, brooking no room for uncertainty. Essos wants me to see the candid truth in his features.
“She?” I ask, feeling my eyes well with tears.
“Fuck,” he swears with a laugh. “Callie accidentally spilled the beans when she was checking you over after the ritual. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I’ve been thinking about how fucked I am, having you and a little girl. I won’t know a moment’s peace for the rest of my eternal life.”
He scoops me up, looking buoyant with the news, and I can’t help but smile back. I hold on to that good mood and don’t ask all my burning questions, because I want to preserve this moment of terrific news and peace.
The tub is already full of lukewarm water. As he carries me toward it, I register that I’m in nothing but a camisole and shorts, decidedly not what I wore to the ritual.
“How long was I out?”
Essos sets me on my feet and teases the camisole up and off my body.
“These are new,” he remarks, confused, turning my arms so the insides of my forearms are face up. Inked over the scars are the tattoos I dreamt of, only, intermingled with the pink watercolor flowers are black ones ringed with shadows and stars. At the wrist of my left arm is the same skull that tops Essos’s scepter. His fingers gently touch the skin, and I flinch at how sensitive the tattoos are. Quickly, he pushes up his own sleeves to show matching ones that hide his own jagged red scars. The ones on my arms were precise slashes, but I hesitated and went too deep on him.
His tattoos are both unique. On his left arm, he has a miniature replica of his scepter. Where the red ruby eyes are on the real thing, there is instead a peony in the left eye. The right eye still has a ruby that burns and gleams in the terrifying skull topper, and wrapped around the shaft are the same flowers that decorate my arms. Essos’s left arm features the dagger we used to slice into our skin, lying on a bed of flowers.
“Complimentary tattoos,” is all I can say. It’s not clever or funny, but it’s all I can think of to say as I shimmy out of my shorts and slip into the water. Essos is close behind me, unwilling to be far from me at any given moment.
“It’s certainly better than the scars I’ve been sporting for the last few days.”
I nestle between Essos’s legs as his arms wrapped around my shoulders. He presses a kiss to the bare skin along my neck.
“I was out that long?”
“Three days. I was out of my mind. I refused to leave the bedroom in case you woke. Callie’s been here most of the time too, monitoring you and the baby. Everyone has popped in at one time or another. I refused to let you be alone when you woke up.”
I contemplate what it means for my poor husband to be spread so thin. I hate that I keep doing this to him. At every turn since I’ve come back, I’ve caused him so much anxiety.
“Did it work?” My heart pounds in my chest. Surely, if it didn’t work, he wouldn’t be as calm as he is.
“Yes. I called back all souls trapped in their decaying bodies, and your father, Phil, has used this to explain to the President and other world leaders that we have no ill intent. They’re holding off launching any missiles for now. We’ve readjusted the tithes to their original amounts. Now the only souls in the Inbetween are those contesting their placement. And before you ask, I already had your parents reinstalled in their appropriate Afterlife. I had Sybil see to it personally.”
Essos kisses my neck again before pushing me forward gently. I slide along the bottom of the tub so I can wet my hair. My body is fully submerged, the very tips of my knees peeking out as I lie there. When my lungs can’t take it anymore, I emerge and take a deep breath of air.
I slip to the other side of the tub so I can lounge against it and study Essos.
“What don’t you know how to tell me?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice from wavering.
He brings up a wet hand and runs it over his face. His other hand comes up, and he rubs his eyes before looking at me.
“While you were out, we made a move.”
