Chapter 6
Cat
“This is bullshit!” I blurted, discomfort crawling over my shoulders and up my neck, tightening my skin over my bones. “I won’t do it.”
“Cat,” Ender sighed. Not in exasperation this time, instead in something like fondness. “You have to. You have to repair the domain. Nevermind that you belong there.”
“With people I don’t know?” I demanded, shrill and panic-sharp. “No, I’m fine. I’ll just stay here.”
Because if I left, Ender said I’d forget him.
I’d retain everything he’d taught me, but forget where I’d learned it, forget who helped me navigate this awful path from death to death god.
There was no doubt now what I was. I lost count of how many days passed here, how many lessons.
How many failures, struggles, and successes.
I would still be curled on the floor where I was reborn if it weren’t for Ender.
“You know them,” Ender said in a soft, patient voice that made me want to punch his shoulder. “You just have to remember them. Give me that paper,” he huffed, thrusting his hand out.
With a sigh, I handed it over, and then read the addendum he added at the bottom. Trust your bonds.
“What bonds?” I complained, surly and afraid. I didn’t want to go somewhere new, alone. This was all I knew—Exile and fog and Ender.
“I met them too, you know,” he said wryly, watching me scowl at the thinner veil of fog that would lead me to the domain of Death. “All your bonded ones. Your husbands, I believe you call them.”
“I’m married?”
“In all the ways that count. Although, I don’t think you have a ring, so when you meet them again, make sure you get a shiny diamond out of it.”
I shook my head. Now I was the one who was exasperated while he joked, our roles reversed. “I really have husbands?”
“Plenty of them,” he agreed.
I couldn’t help the curiosity. “What are they like?”
Ender pointed at the sheer veil. “Go find out.”
“But I’ll forget you.”
He shrugged. “I’ll live. Everyone else who’s been through has forgotten me. But Death might remember the last time he was here.”
“I’ll remember,” I insisted. “I swear it.”
His smile was indulgent. And sad. So unfairly sad. It gnawed at me like an ache, the injustice of him being imprisoned here for centuries, all because he fell in love and unsettled the balance instead of repairing it. Who decided that? Who had the right?
“Right, time to leave,” he insisted, giving me a light shove towards the veil.
I resisted. “But what if the fog attacks again? What if it carries you under?”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t make me push you into the domain.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Now you’re just whining.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you Judgement or Cowardice?”
“I’ll be Punch to the Throat in a minute,” I muttered, scowling even deeper when he grinned.
“Go,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”
“But you’ll be alone.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it. Got your list?”
I lifted my hand, the paper clutched in my fist.
“Good,” he said, and pushed me through the veil.