Sybil scowls. “Yes. I was about to describe the different levels of the Afterlife—you know, the realm you’re trying to convince Essos to let you rule with him?”
“Right, the Afterlife, the Garden of Evil, and the Deep. Got it.” I click my pen and scribble it down.
“What?” Cat says, leaning toward me. “How did you know that?”
My brow wrinkles as I look at her. “What do you mean? It’s right…” I gesture at the board that Sybil has just tapped, making the words appear.
“Looks like someone has been poking about the library,” Sybil says, giving me a convenient explanation. Only it’s not true. I haven’t been to the library. Maybe I overheard Essos, because the explanation would be otherwise too strange.
“Yes…?” I say uncertainly. Zara glares at me over her shoulder, but I have no idea what I’ve done to her this time.
“What about reincarnation?” Cat asks.
“Mortal souls do not reincarnate, but you’re getting ahead of yourselves. Most souls end up in the Afterlife. Those who have committed a middle-tier crime, such as theft or not signaling when making a turn, wind up in the Garden of Evil. Souls that have committed truly heinous crimes—murder, acts against children, rape, and worse—all wind up in the Deep, named such because it is akin to being locked in a box and dropped into the bottom of the sea, forever conscious, drowning over and over again, left to go insane. The consort came up with that punishment. Those of you who make it far enough in the Calling will receive a tour of the Afterlife and the Garden of Evil just before the ball.”
All the information about the layers of the Afterlife eddies out of my brain, but Cat is quicker to the punch. “Consort? Who is that, and why is this the first we’re hearing of them?”
Sybil opens their mouth, only no sound comes out. Looking unnerved, they press their lips together before trying again. With a shaking hand, they write on the board behind them with a marker,CAN’T.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Zara demands.
A soul-splitting glare is the only response that Zara gets. When it becomes clear that Sybil physically cannot go on, we’re all dismissed.
* * *
By the halfway point, only ten of us remain in this twisted competition. During breakfast, Essos stands at the head of the table, waiting for everyone to take their places. Once we’re seated, he begins.
“We are down to ten. The remainder of you are unlikely to leave unless you ask to be excused, so please settle in, knowing that. The arrival of my brother has prompted me to send invitations to the ball, and it is unlikely that he will be the only person interested in these happenings.
“You will now be placed into two groups. Tomorrow, I have proceedings that I need to oversee, first in the morning, and again at night. One group will join me during each set of proceedings to get a better idea of what it is that I do and what will be asked of you.
“On a final note, please ignore my brother and any attempts he may make to influence the outcome of the Calling. He isn’t supposed to be here, and he knows it. Please don’t encourage him by feeding the caged animal.”
Galen snaps his teeth at his brother, a broad grin on his face.
“If he’s not supposed to be here, then why is he?” Zara questions.
“He’s not supposed to stay, but he’s allowed. Technically, any god or goddess is allowed to drop in and see how the Calling is going and meet the participants. Fortunately, most prefer not to trifle with the King of the Underworld.” It’s the first time he’s used his title as sort of a threat. My curiosity is piqued, and I wonder what he’s truly like as a ruler.
“Big brother, you make me out to be some Big Bad, but I’m just here to make sure that all the rules are followed.” Galen tosses a grape into his mouth, eyeing Essos. I’m going to have to get Galen alone at some point to tell me about the cause of their rift. That might be the key to learning more about the memories he’s shown me.
“You know you have no actual requirement to do so. Sybil is here to ensure that the rules are followed and that the Calling proceeds correctly. Be grateful that I allow you to stay at all.” Essos turns to us. “The rest of the day you have to yourselves. I know that Sybil has been stuffing information into your heads as if there is no end to it, so take some time to digest what they have taught you.” Essos gives a little bow before walking out, not staying for breakfast this time.
Galen tries to catch my eye, but I won’t look at him.
With the time that Essos has gifted us, I grab my copy ofThe Iliadto read, as Sybil asked us all to do a week ago for no reason other than it is one of Essos’s favorites. I thought that one perk of dying would be no more homework, but here I am, with a difficult reading assignment.
In an effort to steer away from people, I head to the vast library that Sybil mentioned in passing during a tour of the house. It’s located on the ground floor of the wing that has our bedrooms, and I’m convinced it’s in some sort of pocket dimension like the Sistine Chapel. It’s my first time exploring the space, and I’m instantly mad at myself for waiting so long. The library is a wide-open room with two stories of books shelved on its walls, each spine glittering, waiting to be opened and read. At the far end of the room, I see a maid on a ladder, dusting shelves.
I slowly walk through the room, happy to find myself alone with my thoughts. I decide this is to be my hideout, somewhere I can get lost in myself without any pressure from Galen to remember who I was or to be the person that Essos wants in a wife.
I take my time walking around, running my fingers over the spines of the books until I come to a small collection of thick short books with their spines cracked. I pull one out and laugh out loud at the cover. Glancing up, I make sure I haven’t disturbed the maid, who doesn’t seem to notice or care.
On the cover of the book is a woman in a billowing petal pink dress. Her back is pressed against a hulking tan man who is naturally shirtless. He’s gripping her upper arms, their mouths about to meet in what is sure to be a passionate kiss. On the other side of the woman is a man on his knees before her, holding her hand tightly in a nearly crushing grip with a crown askew on his head. The title of the book is written in a pretty script,The Princess and Her Guard. Succinct and to the point, but something about it nags at me. I flip through it, the pages opening to a well-worn crease in the book. My eyes widen at the vivid description of Lorelei getting her face fucked, and I can’t help the bolt of desire that pulses through me. Gods, they’re just like us. Face flushed, I slide the book back onto the shelf, full of a renewed curiosity about the citizens of Solarem.
There is a nook by the window overlooking the gardens calling my name. It’s been weeks since I asked Essos to show me the gardens himself, and it keeps getting put off for one reason or another. When I asked Sybil if I could go by myself, they told me no. I settle into my seat, curling into a ball with my book in my hands. One glance out the window at the various flowers and walkways, and I consider relocating outside, but decide that the spot I’m in now is too perfect. I let myself get absorbed byThe Iliadeven when I’m tempted to go back to that well-worn romance.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been there when I’m startled by someone plopping into the seat across from me.