Chapter 37
Elysia stood on the shores of the river as the Ferryman guided the boats in.
She’d been in the Deathlands for over a month, and every day she came here.
Winter had broken, and yet it still misted and rained, cold and miserable against her skin.
But it didn’t matter, she barely noticed the precipitation slide down her face as she waited for the new arrivals and offered to ease their entrance into their new life.
From sunup to sundown, she worked until exhaustion overcame her, and only then would she finally stagger back to the estate, disappointed and ready to collapse.
No Beatriz and no indication of any progress learning to rip and transmute despite Maya finally coaching her.
After she’d left Topp, she’d traveled to Bellia, back to the Bone Temple where she’d been welcomed as promised by the priestesses.
She’d needed somewhere to rinse her sister’s death from her surface, somewhere to sit in her grief until it hardened enough that she could disappear into strategy and manipulation.
Emotionless, she’d sat in the dark amongst the bones, staring at the skeleton throne.
She’d seen Grim and Aidan in passing since returning, but after weeks of unsuccessful attempts to approach her, they’d backed off and surveyed her from a distance.
Maya was the only person she spoke to, and she only allowed that because Maya was content to speak strictly of practice.
There wasn’t any time to waste lazing around or avoiding how abysmal she was turning out to be at progressing past her current skill level.
She’d master her magic even if it killed her.
Most days she would see the faint outline of Aidan down the riverbank as she relieved newcomers of their burdens and fed the death realm the raw power.
Other days there would be the strong, powerful flap of Grim soaring overhead.
Silently, they watched, waiting for her to come to them.
Food and drinks were delivered as she worked, but she had no appetite and barely any thirst. Crusher napped near her feet, periodically opening an eye and then closing it again until it was time to go home.
Today, the Ferryman gave a sharp whistle with his fingers, announcing his arrival, and sent the first resident over to the bench where Elysia always sat.
She gave the woman a frayed smile. She wasn’t her sister, and neither was the next person, or the one after that.
But she would come here and work until it was her sister who walked up with her silver hair swinging, overconfident even in death.
It was late, the sun already set on the soot-tinged evening, when he finally dared to wait for her to be done for the day.
His posture was familiar to her now. Hands behind his back, long wool coat gently waving in the wind, and face drawn.
It was getting harder to look at his face, knowing what she did.
Day to day, the scales tipped from left to right.
Topp’s advice hung like a stone around her neck as she peered silently up at Aidan, cataloging every beautiful line of his face.
The slow-burning fire in his eyes, the chilled flush against his high pale cheeks, even the ever-moving smudges of ink that traveled from his hands to elsewhere when he lost track of himself in his work.
She stopped on the wet riverbank beside him, waiting for him to say or do something.
He was the one who’d sought her out after all, but Aidan didn’t speak.
He simply crooked his elbow, offering her his arm.
She took it hesitantly, wary gaze on his, but again, he said nothing, allowing the strength of his presence to wash over her and ground her.
Leisurely, he guided them back, except instead of turning to the estate, he veered onto a path that cut deeper into the woods.
Her feet came to a stop. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to sit under a hot stream of water before sinking into her bed.
Aidan pressed a hand to her lower back, his voice dropping into the soothing, melodic sound she usually loved. “It will only take a minute. I’ll travel you home if you don’t like it.”
A rasping breath sounded in her chest, but she nodded, eyes half-glazed as she slipped back into the numb state she’d been coming in and out of. Silent once again, they walked on, and Elysia realized where he was taking them. The only thing in this direction was her greenhouse.
Glancing at him, she couldn’t even muster up the energy to push back aloud, but she had zero interest in flowers or visiting her greenhouse right now.
Her brain conjured the image of her pressed flowers in the transom glass where Beatriz met clients.
She named her market after my favorite flower.
Opening the greenhouse’s iron-wrapped door, Aidan gestured for her to walk inside.
The warmth swallowed her as she lifted her tangled hair off her neck and unbuttoned the top of her coat.
The first workbench was piled with new seed pouches. Aidan walked over to them, holding up the first pouch. “I sourced some new seeds for you from one of my siblings.”
Tired, she leaned against a table, exhaustion pulling her face down. He’d dragged her out here for new seeds?
“They’re all native to Kava, but now likely extinct unless magic returning revives them one day.
I thought you might like to plant them in your sister’s honor.
You can plant them inside the house for all I care, rip out the hardwood and create a wildflower field.
Just please, when you’re ready, talk to me.
” Worry creased his face, his hands gripping the seeds a little too tightly as he waited for her to respond.
Elysia’s eyes grew wet and her skin hot beneath her coat.
She pressed her mouth shut as her eyelids pinched against the sting of brimming tears.
Clenching her hands, she fought the unbearable emotion building in her chest. She didn’t want him to see this.
She didn’t want him to be so kind or thoughtful when every night she went back to her bed and forced herself to envision how she would complete the fates’ bidding.
Eyes shut, she didn’t see him come closer, but the amber and bergamot scent of him hitched her breath as she pulled it in, her lungs shuddering against unreleased sobs. His fingers cradled both sides of her face, sliding into her hair. She opened her eyes to find a grief that mirrored her own.
“I’m so sorry, Thorn, I am so fucking sorry.”
Just like that, the dam broke, and she was sobbing, face buried in his chest, his scarred hands gripping her so tight it was like he thought she might disappear.
Over and over, he smoothed one hand down her back as he murmured gentle nothings to her.
When at last her tears had run dry, she panted against him, barely able to breathe.
Without a word, he scooped her up, traveling straight into her bedroom.
Setting her on her feet, he methodically stripped her down, disappearing for only a split second to steal one of his own large undershirts to tug on over her head.
Drowning in soft cotton and the scent of him, her body slowed as Aidan pulled back the bedding and patted the mattress for her to climb in.
With her safe in her own bed, he sat at the edge of it, fingers brushing back her hair. “Do you want any tea? A sleeping tonic?”
She shook her head, her swollen eyes glued to his face. The bed dipped as he made to stand, and before she could think better of it, her hand snaked out, taking hold of his wrist. “Stay.”
It was the first word she’d spoken to him since Beatriz had died, and in her heart, she knew it was more.
Because she wasn’t simply asking him to stay tonight—she wanted him to stay for good.
She’d envisioned every potential path. Tried to find the Elysia who had turned in innocent Kavians and put her own life above all else.
Again and again, she lay down in this bed, forcing herself to imagine plunging the fates’ scissors into the heart that had revived her own, but every time she failed.
The scissors held high but never stealing down and snipping him away.
She had no desire to be the goddess of the dead on her own.
She wanted him squirreled away in his office, fussing over details she never would have thought of, organizing the arrival schedule of all the new souls, and doing everything in his power to ease the transition for his people from mortal to embodied soul, and beyond.
Aidan was an excellent ruler who had made a terrible mistake that the fates had fanned into uncontrollable flames.
But he had worked himself to the bone trying to restore both his land and the mortal realm.
In the face of a terrible future, a future that promised him nothing but misery and death, he got up every day and fought for a new ending while knowing the odds were against him.
Much like him, Elysia didn’t believe in accepting the fate handed to you.
She’d escaped death and fallen through realms to find him—to find a different fate.
Slipping her hand into his, she spoke quietly, drawing on the thin connection between her and the Deathlands.
The same connection that had allowed her to open the prison gates and partner with the rivers to transmute raw magic.
“You made a deal with me, sending me to seek your talisman and free your power. You made an oath and wager, promising me freedom if I succeed. But this is my oath to you—I have never loved freely or easily. I’ve hidden and failed to find the words you deserve.
But if you give me time, then I will learn.
I will learn to love and protect with the same ferocity that I learned to survive. I will be your queen.”
Voice catching on gravel, he questioned her. “Do you know what you’re doing? Tell me before I accept your oath and damn the consequences.”
All she knew was that there was no future in which she ruled over the Deathlands without Aidan by her side, and even if it meant the world catapulted past redemption, there hadn’t ever been a chance she could harm him to save them all.
There would be more than enough time to sort the idea of them so long as they both managed to stay alive.
Her gaze never left his. “Stay,” she said again. “Stay for always and I will too. I can make no promises beyond that.” I evaded fate once and I will do it again. A burning anger entered her words, furious that the fates had tried to rob them of this, and at her rage there was pride in his face.
“Yes, Thorn, I accept your oath,” he murmured, a softness shining through the harsh hollows of his face. Dark hair trickled onto his forehead, and his lips pressed to her temple.
Golden strands dashed out into the air, glimmering against the barely there light of the oil lamp.
The strands danced over their hands and forearms, and Aidan inhaled sharply at the sight, the cobalt flames in his eyes shooting high.
The sparkling strands of gold wrapped and plunged into their skin, binding them irrevocably.
Her fates-created death voyage would continue as her time dwindled to naught, but the connection between them and the death realm itself had already told the truth.
The god of the dead twisted, his gold-branded hand grasping her chin. His gaze burned brighter in the dark, his low voice sweeping through her. “Your trust won’t be wasted, Thorn. I promise we’ll find a way.”