I can’t help but laugh. She actually has a point. “Fair enough,” I tell her.
“And really,” she goes on, “why are you getting territorial over someone you pretend not to care for?”
My eyes go wide and I nearly drop my food. “What? I don’t care for him. I fucking hate him, Bell. I’m his prisoner. And before you bring up the fact that you are too, just know that in my world, prison is a bad thing, power dynamics are real, and grudges are held for life.”
Her frown deepens, creating a line between her brows. “Okay,” she says carefully, her tone icy. “So then who cares if I’ve been with him? He’s had a wife too, you know. There have been other mermaids, other Goddesses. He’s not a God of Virtue and Abstinence. He’s the God of Death. Death has the most power in all the realms. He does what he wants, takes what he can. Sometimes it’s me…sometimes it’s you.”
I shrug. “That’s fine. I really don’t care. I just think it’s weird to be talking about having sex with the same guy, that’s all.”
“Guy?” she laughs, pronouncing the word like it’s foreign. “He’s a God, Hanna. Not a guy, not a man, but a God. You should be receiving him with wide legs and an open heart.”
I shake my head vehemently while giving Bell the last slice of bacon. “No. That’s not how we do it back home. A God doesn’t capture people and use them for his own amusement.”
“His own amusement? I heard plenty of your amusement last night.” She grabs hold of the bacon and wolfs it down. “And in your world, Tuoni doesn’t exist,” she says through a mouthful. “I don’t exist. Tuonela doesn’t exist. But now you know that it all does. That your world is only one of many worlds, all linked by this one. Maybe the Creator is untouchable, unknowable, but the Gods? They’re just as fallible as all of us. The only difference is that they can’t die.”
“Well, they can, if Death gets a hold of them,” I point out. “Which asks the question…what kills Death?”
Bell stares at me for a moment, as if the question takes her by surprise. “I don’t know if anything can kill Death,” she muses. Then a darkness comes over her eyes, turning them the color of rough seas. “Maybe love.”
“Love kills Death?” I scoff. “That doesn’t sound like the prophecy.”
“Maybe losing love,” she clarifies. “Maybe loss of love is what actually kills him.”
I shake my head, walking across the room to my coffee. “You hate to admit it, but you’re an incurable romantic at heart, Bell. If loss of love killed Death, don’t you think he would have died when Louhi left him for that mariner, or whatever his name is?”
“Arranged marriage,” Bell says. “He never loved her. I am sure he tried, but I know he didn’t. He never even wanted to be with her to begin with.”
“Yes, yes, I know. I heard. It was arranged because her father was some demon who used to rule Tuonela.”
“You’ve never met Louhi,” Bell says adamantly. “She’s awful. Death was forced into that marriage because of politics, and in the end, she’s the one who cast him aside. That’s got to bruise the ego.”
“Honestly, maybe Death’s ego can stand a little more bruising,” I say.
“Well, if you want out of this twisted world, Hanna, then your job is to stroke Death’s ego,” she points out with a sigh. “Judging from last night, you’re already off to a great start.”
It sounds bad, but I want to drill her about that. I want to ask her what she thought of what happened, if it sounded normal, or if I really rocked Death’s world. I want my little ego stroked, so I know to keep going. But I manage to keep that to myself.
Instead, I give her the rest of my food and a sip of coffee and get ready for the day. I put on a white empire-waisted gown and bring my hair up high above my head, while Bell reminds me that the full moon is three nights from now. Now that I can leave the room and I know where the Stargaze Tower is, I’m pretty sure her escape plan will go off without a hitch.
Mine, however? That’s still a work in progress.
Raila comes by later for my little tour. I don’t know how crafty she really is, but I don’t underestimate her either. Who knows how long she’s been around, who her alliances are really with, and what she really thinks of me? Because of all the unknowns, I have to tread lightly.
So, where would you like to go? Raila asks as we step outside of my room, black satin hands clasped at her waist.
“How about the Library of the Veils,” I suggest.