Chapter 47
Elysia stood alone in the throne room. Her bare feet were quiet on the burgundy runner that led to the naked thrones.
Placing her talisman on what was now her seat, she stepped back.
Her long silk dress swirled gently against her ankles.
Foreign power nestled inside her, some hers, some unbelonging and burdensome.
Slipping her hands into her pockets, she studied the iron crown.
Aidan had cleaned it for her. The dark grayish silver now shone brightly and the small skulls adorning its base stared back at her with blank, empty eyes.
It was fitting. Much like the thrones, her crown was not a thing of beauty, but a reminder of the role and responsibility that was now hers.
Her gaze drifted to Aidan’s helm. She had yet to see him wear it, but the design covered all his face apart from his eyes and lips.
She imagined the burn of his eyes would be a sight when he wore that iron monstrosity.
She’d been prepared to wait out her days in the strange in-between Maya had dragged her soul into.
What she hadn’t been prepared for was the god of the dead bursting into her limbo with all the fury of death in his wake, demanding she tell him where the talisman was while also petrified she hadn’t been able to secure its location.
She was still proud of him for trusting her.
Allowing her to walk into that warehouse and execute her plan without knowing all of it, only that there was more she couldn’t say.
She hadn’t asked him the odds, but she knew they hadn’t been good.
None of the odds had been good before, but now everything was a blank slate.
The fates no longer held all the cards and while it would likely be a bloody, terrible end—both mortals and gods once again stood a chance.
Her fingers traced the sharp geometric edges of her crown.
If she hadn’t known its location, she would already be mad.
Her mind and mortal body broken from ripping ancient power she wasn’t designed to hold.
The apotheosis had healed the physical injuries of ripping their power and wielding the scissors—after all, she was a god now, but she still wasn’t a fate, and their power sat inside her, threatening her with the descent of madness.
It was inevitable.
She hadn’t even mastered the basics of transmutation. She could search and she could rip, but thus far, she still relied on the death realm’s rivers to transmute even the most basic of human emotions. Fat lot of good that would do her.
Bending her fingers, she examined her nails.
Soil still lined a few of them, which wasn’t surprising given Aidan had half-buried her amongst her own wildflower plantings.
Her memory of her soul being returned to her physical form was thankfully blurred, but she did remember ever-present citrus and bergamot, and the sweet relief of Deathlands dirt surrounding her and easing her death and transition into godhood.
Three full days in the dirt with the rivers cutting through the land to wash over her feet and hands, and then she’d woken. No longer shimmering or with iridescent eyes, she’d sat up with soil in her hands and flowers in her hair as the goddess of the death realm.
She smiled faintly, still unsure how to process all that had occurred over the last few days.
One of the throne room doors creaked open.
“Wife?”
She glared at the god of the dead, the man who had done the unthinkable only days before and saved her from an excruciating end. “You have to stop calling me that.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s not true!” She huffed, walking closer to the door.
His brow creased and he held up his arm, exposing his golden strand covered wrist and forearm in rebuttal. “I’m starting to be concerned about your comprehension skills.”
Exasperated, she stared up at him with her hands on her hips. Unbeknownst to her, her oath and the resulting binding on their skin was the equivalent to marriage amongst the gods, and Aidan had decided to proceed as if such was true. It was not true. “I agreed to nothing.”
Now he stared down at her, smirking. “Whatever you say, wife. Are you ready to meet with Grim?”
A sharp pain shot through her temple, and she flinched, but hurried to smile. “Yes, all ready.”
Aidan’s mouth flattened, his hand running over her hair, tugging lightly until she met his eyes. “You promised.”
Flitting out from beneath his touch, she sashayed under his shoulder and to the living room where they were meeting Grim. “I’m aware.” But she didn’t say it. How the little bolts of fated power were like lightning in her brain, or how her thoughts sometimes twisted strangely.
Elysia curled up in one of the big leather chairs. Last time they’d had a meeting, Maya had sat in this chair. Gods knew where the woman was now or what she was up to. The reapers hadn’t seen hide nor tail of her.
Grim stalked into the living room. He looked to Aidan in question, but Aidan simply kicked back, stretching his legs out as he lifted his hands as if whatever the question was it was up to Grim.
Grim rubbed his neck, his jaw tight before walking directly in front of Elysia and dropping to one knee. His brown eyes were intent on hers. “I did something.”
Startled, she stared at him in open confusion. Why was he kneeling? “Okay?”
“Something I should have asked your permission for.”
Elysia made a face. “You’ve been running the realm with Aidan for years. You don’t need my permission for things.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement, but gently pushed back against what she’d said. “You’re correct, but this time, I should have asked.”
Grim’s out of character behavior was making her nervous. “What did you do?” she finally asked.
His face was soft now, his round brown eyes guilty. “I thought you might need…a friend. Motivation even, and I overstepped.”
“Grim, what are you talking about?”
“You should go back to the throne room.”
Standing, she threw Aidan an exasperated look, but he shook his head, following on her heels. Shoving the throne room door back open, a strangled cry escaped her.
Wings as wide as she was tall, Beatriz Parker stood on the dais. She pointed at the helm. “Does he wear that when you f—?”
Elysia plowed into her sister, arms tight around her middle, tears flowing. “I don’t understand. I waited. I waited every day at the arrivals, and you never came. Aidan said you weren’t ours.”
Grim’s cheeks deepened in color. “I didn’t want you to be upset if it didn’t work out, so I didn’t tell him, and like Maya said, he never looks at who I choose for the volt even when he calls them into undead life.
I reaped her myself and brought her straight to the village to offer her the job.
If she declined, I would have made sure you at least got to see her before her soul chose its path. ”
Elysia was still clinging to her sister. Gripping her reaper uniform, Elysia’s lungs took their first full breath since Beatriz’s death. “You’re going to work for him?”
A familiar glint overtook Beatriz’s eyes. “You could say we came to an arrangement.”
That sounded like trouble, but Elysia didn’t care.
Kava continued to decay with Garrison laying waste to the mortal world. The fates slumbered somewhere, healing and readying to seek their vengeance. And Maya wouldn’t stay down for long.
Arms around her sister, she beamed at Aidan and Grim even as a soft, slithering voice wound around her neck and into her ear. You could keep it just like this. Write the ending you deserve.
Elysia’s teeth ground together even as her smile grew wider, a zing of pain shooting through her as she forced the voice from her mind. She was strong enough to stave off the madness. Aidan’s gaze caught hers and her heart tripped as Crusher raced in to see what was happening.
For the first time in her entire life, she had something to lose beyond life itself—love and a strange, budding family of gods, mortals, reapers, and creatures.
She would be damned before she lost it all.