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It only takes Rafferty attempting one step toward me for Essos to grab me and bring me home.
CHAPTER26
Essos wakes to find me sitting at my vanity, sliding on a pair of dark earrings. For a second, I soak in the sleep-bleary man watching me from our bed. The sun has barely risen this morning.
“Why are you awake?” he asks, his voice rough and low. The sound makes me want to crawl back into bed with him, but I can’t. Today, I am a woman on a mission.
“Go back to sleep,” I urge him, even though I want him on this journey with me. It’s something we should do together, but I’d rather he be well-rested for what comes next.
“Not fucking likely. What are you up to, Daphne?” He sits up completely and rubs his hands over his face.
“I want to go to the Underworld.” I spin on my vanity chair so I’m no longer speaking to him through the mirror. So he can see the desperation in my face.
He’s silent, I hope contemplating my words, before he climbs out of bed in all his naked glory.
“Give me twenty minutes to wake up,” he says, gripping my shoulders gently before pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I’m so startled, I lean back so I can look him in the eye. “No fight?”
“No fight. I’m too exhausted to fight with you, especially when you’re right.” Essos slides a hand along my cheek before planting a sweet kiss on my lips. “I’m man enough to admit it. We need to be seen by our people. We need to know what exactly we’re asking Rafferty to fix. I’m going to shower, and you are going to eat a very hearty breakfast.”
Essos walks into our bathroom, and I hear the shower turn on. In the time it takes him to wash, I summon a breakfast, but I’m only half paying attention to the food because I’m agonizing over something stupid—what to wear.
In my mind, I know that I it doesn’treallymatter, but I hate the idea of going to the Underworld dressed as a queen. It feels too on par with Marie Antoinette being tone-deaf to her people’s plight.
That’s why Essos finds me standing in my closet, a piece of toast in my hand as I survey my clothes.
“I don’t recommend wearing nothing to the Underworld. I’m not sure even Dave can protect you from the masses then.” He slides up behind me, his hands cradling my bump and pressing a kiss to my neck.
“Leggings and jeans feel too casual in the face of all their suffering, but going in a dress feels tone-deaf.”
“How about we both wear jeans and a nice shirt, and we go prepared to get our hands dirty? The Underworld has been missing its queen for too long. The souls could probably benefit from space to grieve, even after Rafferty has done his fix.”
I lean back against him. “Will the souls even remember me?”
“I don’t know, but let’s go and find out.”
* * *
I settleon jeans and a tunic, and Essos makes me a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich in the kitchen before we go. The food turns in my stomach, and I wish I hadn’t let him talk me into eating so much.
All three dogs come with us. When we arrive, it feels too quiet, and I have to wonder if something else went wrong. But no, it’s just early for the souls in Paradise. Essos slides his hand into mine as we walk the streets between the homes the souls have established.
It was our goal that the Underworld would provide a perfect Afterlife for each of these souls. They would be near friends and family and have the ability to see others. Each time a new soul arrived, they would have a space designated just for them that would grow to accommodate their needs.
Paradise is usually so green and lush, fueled by the joy of the souls. No joy means the space feels bleak. I let my power unfurl, blanketing the walkway with rich green grass and expanding to fill empty flowerbeds with lush life.
I’m so focused on trying to infuse this world with light that I don’t notice the souls that have stepped from their homes to greet us.
“Majesty,” an older woman says, walking toward us. Her hair is silvered with age, the way she wants it. Margarita Reyes, passed in her sleep in her home in Madrid last year. I can tell all of this just by looking at her. It’s a power I still had before being crowned again, and it’s the reason I can understand her even though she’s speaking Spanish. She holds out her hand to me, and I feel Essos tense, but I take it, trusting that she means no harm.
“Margarita,” I greet, taking her hand.
“I killed my grandson,” she tells me before she starts to weep. “I sank my teeth into his throat until he stopped screaming. Why did I do that? I want to forget. I want to forget. I want to forget.”
I embrace her, and when her body isn’t strong enough to hold her up any longer, I guide her so we’re sitting on the ground together. Around us, I hear similar laments. Their neighbors, their friends, their families, strangers, the elderly, children. There was no limit to who was affected and how.
Tears are in my own eyes as I hold this woman, wishing I could hold them all. Essos places a hand on her shoulder, a calming wave relaxing her long enough for her to call to her grandson, the same one whose life she took, to come collect her.
