I don’t want to think about what’s next.
Because that can’t be it, can it?
Did Death just want a taste of me? Was I enough for his liking? Or is he still planning on yeeting me into Oblivion?
You’re looking particularly well this morning, Raila says to me as I sit up. From the knowing tone of her voice, I have no doubt her face matches beneath that veil. Are you coming around to Shadow’s End?
I’ve been coming alright, I think but I manage to hide my smirk.
“I must have gotten a good night’s sleep,” I explain.
I bet you did, Raila says, and there’s more meaning in her words than normal. I wonder if the others in the castle know what happened last night. Then again, the brighter weather must be a sign, and there’s no secret that I’m Death’s prisoner. The writing might be on the wall.
I left your coffee and breakfast on the table, she says to me as she glides away in her dark robes. Let me know if I can offer you anything else for the time being.
“Actually,” I say, straightening up. “You can help me.”
She stops, turning her faceless head toward me. Yes? She sounds excited. Usually I just dismiss her quickly.
“You know that Death has given me freedom to roam the castle?”
She nods. Oh yes. The Master told us at the morning meeting the other day that you’ve been freed to go where you like. I would consider it a great honor.
“Yeah, it’s something,” I admit slowly. I flash her a smile. “And since there’s so much of Shadow’s End that I haven’t seen and won’t understand, I was wondering if you could give me a tour.”
Me? She clasps her satin gloves together. Well, of course I would be happy to. It is my one duty to serve you. And the Master, of course.
“Of course,” I tell her with a placating smile. “Well, let me have my breakfast and get ready for the day. Can you come back here in an hour?”
It would be my pleasure, she says with a bow, and then glides out of the room, the door closing behind her.
I exhale loudly the moment she’s gone. As much as I’ve grown to appreciate having Raila around, she still gives me the creeps.
There’s a phhhwomp sound from the side of the room and I look over to see one of my towels on the ground and Bell hoisting herself half-out of the fish tank, looking at me with annoyance.
“Hanna,” Bell says sharply. “Did you forget I was even here?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, getting out of bed. “That was the plan.”
I walk a step and then groan. My muscles ache…everywhere. Death wore me out last night with his exuberance. I suppress a smile at that, feeling guilty for even enjoying that thought and then delighting in it, like a novelty.
“Well, in case you didn’t notice,” she says, “putting a towel over my fish tank doesn’t block out the noise. I heard every single thing that happened last night.”
My cheeks flush. I’ve had sex in a public washroom before, I’ve had sex at a party when I knew people were outside the door listening. It doesn’t bother me; if anything, it gets me off. But I’ll be an old, cranky woman before I get used to the idea of a little mermaid overhearing every lustful groan and ragged breath.
“Thankfully, I forgot you were there,” I tell her, going over to my breakfast. As usual, there are honeycakes, as well as some slices of grouse bacon fried in lavender syrup and the eggs of a silverloon, the yolks a bright blue, sprinkled with poppy flakes and moonstone salt. I keep the honeycakes and bacon for myself but bring the eggs to Bell. They’re her favorite.
I let her grab the eggs off the plate, her tiny arms sinking into the yolks, and she sucks them down in seconds flat.
“Jesus, do you know how to savor your food?” I tell her.
“Savoring belongs to Gods and wealthy mortals. Everyone else eats as much as they can, when they can, never knowing when it will be their last.”
Damn. I almost feel guilty.
She wipes her dainty mouth. “I know you enjoyed last night.”
I roll my eyes and bite into a piece of bacon.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hanna,” she adds. “Death knows what he’s doing.”
“Okay, don’t you find it weird that we’ve both, you know, slept with him?”
“Why is that weird?”
“Because…I don’t know. Generally you don’t hang around women that have been with the guys you’ve been with.”
“Why not?” Her bright blue eyes are wide with innocence, and I know she’s being truthful. But of course, I can’t really figure out how to explain it.
“I don’t know. It’s a territorial thing. I guess.”
Her brows furrow. “Did you know that mermaids are very territorial when it comes to hunting grounds? I can understand that. There’s only so much fish to go around. But dick? I mean, where’s the deficit?”