Chapter 3

Thick fingers gripped the sides of my face as Death hovered above me, cunning, dark eyes inches from mine as his hot breath melted down my cheeks. "You are so beautiful, my Deyanira."

Fighting the urge to cringe in my dream, mere weeks after Thomas's murder, I turned my face away, and he vanished, appearing even closer than he was before. He reached for my forearm, his grip like talons as he studied my palm, nearly salivating.

The first time he'd seared my skin with a name, I'd screamed, and a wretched smile unfurled across his beautiful face, stopping my heart. He relished in misery and fear, and it ruined something within me that had hoped he truly was the savior our history had made him out to be. I'd never made a sound again. Never spoken a word.

"What do you dream of when you are not here?" he asked, knowing I wouldn't answer. "Is it the final scream of your victims? Do they wet themselves in your dreams, Deyanira, or do you leave that part out?"

Toying with me, he waited until I looked at him. When I was seventeen, I'd refused, and he'd held me in sleep for three days, his eternal patience everlasting. I broke then, and it remained a challenge for him each time. A game I had no desire to play. So, I succumbed.

I hated how beautiful his smile was when he approved, seconds before burning the name of the next victim into my palm, skin sizzling as the smell of my burning flesh filled my nostrils. White-hot pain raced up my arm. Every part of me wanted to buckle, but I remained steady, unflinching as he stared at me, hunting for my breaking point.

"I will see you in a few days, my beauty. I have a good feeling about this one."

He'd spoken those words to me every single time. As if he hoped this kill would deliver him a worthwhile soul. Each name given was a charge, an invisible line of magic binding them to me for the rest of their short lives, but only I was aware of the string.

Death's court, also accurately known as hell, was permanently lit by two moons in eternal night, a realm unlike mine. To stand before his haunted castle, the silhouette of colossal black spires stretching across the hazy ground was not intimidating. But the hellhounds that sat before the gates that seemed to reach the heavens, ruby eyes stone cold and unmoving, certainly were.

The soul of every person I'd ever killed lived in this realm. Those who reached their one-hundredth year without the touch of a harbinger were said to be saved by the old gods and rested for an eternity in peace or reincarnated to repeat their miserable life cycle. But there was only one of us in every generation. One dead, another born. My mother was trapped here simply because she'd seen a Life Maiden after marrying my father, and that simple visit increased her fertility. A mistake I would never have the chance to make if she could not be found. Curing those with debilitating injuries and disease while inspiring fertility, the Life Maiden was always welcomed with gifts and smiles, the stories said. Perhaps I'd never know.

Brazen curiosity burned as stoutly as my palm, though I did not peek at the name, choosing to close my eyes instead until I woke. Death's low chuckle and his cold kiss on my cheek were my fading goodbye as I woke in my bedroom.

Bram Ellis.

The second I read the name, Death's magic pulsed. Pushed. Urged me out of bed as my toxic world spun with recognition. I moved my fingers over the burnt edges of the name, convinced it could not be real. What was Death playing at? I loathed being given the name of someone I recognized. That was rare. But not as rare as this.

I stepped into black full-body leathers, buckling the straps across my thighs, and slipped a mask across my face. With a full head of black hair, I didn't need a hood, but there was comfort in shadows. I used to wear a cape, as well, but it took one strong man to grip the edges and yank before I sliced it off, freeing myself. Never again. I'd need every advantage I could get for this hunt. And every weapon, should things go wrong.

I'd never asked my father for a single piece of lace or string of pearls. Not one frilly dress or stallion. Instead, I'd arranged a secret room to be built on my own. The Death Maidens that came before me killed for Death and themselves, instilling a fear that resided in so many hearts that people rarely told me no. With three walls of weapons, I studied my options pointedly, feeding the magic that begged me to use them all. I'd never go without Chaos, but I'd already strapped her onto my thigh. Throwing knives would definitely be needed. I skipped a whip but snagged an iron-tooth chain. Dainty enough to wear and dangerous enough to sever an arm, she'd saved me on several occasions. With poison, a change of clothes, and perfume for good measure, I couldn't have been more prepared without hauling the entire arsenal.

My position was revered by many. Terrified glances and wide berths greeted me in royal halls and among busy streets. But those that lurked within the damp alleys typically carried vendettas, and though they could not kill me, they could easily incapacitate me for the rest of my life. And I was partial to my arms and legs. If I could not kill for Death, I'd fall to madness, the magic poisoning my mind.

Many hours later, I'd left Perth behind, using rooftops to cross to the border of Silbath. Only the Hallowed River separated the realm of two cities. Our long and sordid history, that of a single kingdom split in two, always flashed across my mind when I passed the opposing guards. But even they would not stop me. I was Death's tool. His promise to our people that should we sink so low again, and reach a boiling point of hatred, he would remove the mortality restriction and let us burn this world to the ground. Though hated, the Death Maiden was still respected on both sides of that pointless border.

The talk was cheap amongst the guards, who stood vigilant as they faced off, weapons drawn. The numbers here had tripled in size over the past couple of months, and though I knew the people would be the ones who would suffer a war, there was nothing anyone could do to make peace. Hatred was bred along kingdom borders and within the minds of aggressive soldiers and sniveling councilmen with far too much time on their hands and no true vision of the people who suffered below their massive boots. The tension had grown so strong you could taste it in the misty air.

Riddled with slums, buildings with iron bars, and rodent infestations, our kingdoms were nearly identical. Silbath was larger, but Perth was slightly richer, and something within those negligible differences held a waning border. The only thing that flourished in this world was misery. And the godsdamned crows.

Traveling the Silk Road, I avoided the hustle of the market, winding myself through damp alleys past the Dancing Ghost, thanking the old gods for yet another overcast sky until my target appeared in the southern distance. Some would say the Silk Road was safe, but anyone with eyes could see the disease-riddled market for what it was: a haven for thieves and the Maestro's lackeys, who fed on the unfortunate.

Magic kept me focused, concentrating on light and movements and sounds and smells as I developed a viable plan of action before I reached Silbath's great stone castle. Confidence would only carry me so far. Bram Ellis held a position of rank, and that fact alone would mean evading guards. My favorite fucking pastime.

It was not a day for murder. As long as I could fight the magic, I would, buying my prey as much time as possible. The weapons were only a safeguard. A failsafe should this go horribly wrong. Today, I only needed to be near enough to appease the pressure. Stalking and learning while my veins throbbed but acquiesced.

I'd killed a mark here three summers ago and knew exactly how to get into the castle. As there would be no foot traffic within the bailey, a fact well-known, I had to watch the king's guard on the parapet while changing into something waterproof. Then I'd wait for the opening to cross the stockade and leap into the putrid moat.

The murky water, green and mossy, was nearly impossible to swim through. Still, I managed, taking careful breaths as needed to keep an eye on the guard patrolling the wall. This castle, once a stronghold for all of Silbath, had become nothing more than a symbol of hierarchy and wealth among riffraff.

The shallow water of the half-empty moat circled the castle, allowing me to enter through a grate and climb into a great stone room that once housed boats, but now only held decayed wood tied to a sunken dock.

I quickly changed, discarding the noxious clothing I'd have to slip back on to leave, scaring the rats away before dotting perfume on my neck. It'd take hours for the smell of that cesspool to leave me if I didn't change, and if I meant to hide within the walls, I had no intention of raising a single warning bell in Silbath's castle today.

Pushing the door open no more than an inch, I listened first and stepped out only when I knew no one was nearby. I made it halfway to the hidden door I'd found last time before I was spotted.

"Death Maiden?" a young girl said with a gasp, blue eyes already watering.

Rounding on her, I drew my blade and pinned her with a glare. "If you treasure your life, you'll leave me and speak of this to no one. One peep out of you, and I'll hunt you for sport. Understand?"

"Is… is it my father?" she managed, trembling hands disappearing into her skirts.

"Would you really want to know if it was?"

Dark lashes cast down toward the floor, but she kept her chin raised. "Yes."

"Then make sure he knows how much you love him, just in case," I said from behind the mask. "And pray to whatever gods you believe in."

Her eyes flashed to my hands, but black gloves blocked her view. I took one step toward her, inciting enough fear to send her darting away with a sob. Perhaps she'd tell, but it changed nothing. By the end of this week, Bram Ellis would be dead, or I would. There was no stopping Death's coercion over fate.

Following a familiar path, I managed to sneak into the hidden passages of the castle, where light was scarce and people more so. The spiders didn't bother me as long as I left them alone. Though an occasional high guard would pass through, I'd mastered vanishing into the shadows by the time I was seven. Back when training was fun and only one death haunted me.

"The king is ready for war, and I say more power to him. Why should we fear Perth?" A court member's shrill voice carried through the thin walls.

My heart stopped my feet for only a moment as my father's fears were confirmed.

"Aren't you afraid?" another answered.

"Why should I fear war when it is my husband that will fight? Perhaps I'll be a widow by year's end," the woman said excitedly.

"If not a thrall, Agria. Imagine being forced into the Scarlet District."

"The men are ready. The people are ready. We're double their numbers, last I checked. It'll be nothing at all to conquer that entire wretched kingdom."

I continued on, letting the voices fade away. My father would have planted me there to spy for hours had he known I could navigate these passages. I'd considered it once, knowing it might be the only thing I could ever do for him. But Silbath's king hated Perth's king, and the people in the middle would suffer the same, regardless. A war between our kingdoms felt imminent, no matter what. And the people would not die. They would be mutilated and left to suffer or forced into servitude until their hundredth year.

Eventually, I made it to the walls skirting the king's council room, and while I expected to find a guard or servant eavesdropping, the area was clear. Crouching, I drew a long rectangle in the dirt on the floor and placed each voice to a seat until I'd narrowed down who might sit within the room. The king's aged words carried through as he spoke of visits to Lady Visha's and the last cunt he'd tasted. The valuable information was looser on the tongues of the court.

"Do make sure our seats are cleaned before we get to the theater," the king was saying. "I don't like attention before the show."

I straightened, listening in order to decipher the plans as their voices quieted. It would be far easier to kill Bram Ellis if he was not behind castle walls. But the second the magic followed my train of thought, I had to fight the urge to storm into the room and claim my victim prematurely. Compulsion riled within me. I could end it now without the hunt. I could take out the guards at the door with throwing knives before they could think of defending the room's occupants. And none of the men at that table were a threat to me.

The click of a door down the passageway was my only warning before a royal guard stepped beyond the threshold. I jumped backward, hoping he hadn't seen me with my ear to the wall, but his hurried footsteps were his own damnation. I lunged before he could make a sound, landing on his back with an arm around his neck. Clad in black armor, I thanked the old gods he hadn't worn a helmet before I smashed Chaos's hilt into his skull.

The brute could take a hit, though, stumbling around for several seconds as I rode on his back. He smashed my spine into a wall, trying to free himself, but one more well-placed bash and that was it.

With adrenaline coursing through my veins, confident I hadn't killed him, I threw my own body below his to quiet the ungraceful fall, twisting my ankle. Shoving him until he rolled, I managed to wiggle free.

It was always the fucking guards in this palace. Last time, I had to tie two in the dungeons. And only the old gods knew how long it'd taken for them to free themselves. Still, if I left this one here like this, he'd squeal as soon as his vision was clear enough to get out of the passage. And then everyone would be locked down and on high alert, and that wasn't a problem I wanted.

Stripping away every piece of armor that made him heavier, I admired his chiseled body for only seconds as I drafted a plan. I gripped his ankles and tugged the king's guard inch by inch down the passage, praying even to Death himself that no one else would come. I'd have to start killing at that point, just to make it out.