Scythe’s arms slid from Dagger’s back to hang at her sides. She wanted to scream at herself that this was okay. She knew Dagger, and he knew her. More images of her father and that brute filled her mind, killing the fire Dagger had ignited.
“Dagger, wait.”
He had finally relinquished her lips and had begun kissing her neck.
It felt good and warm, but the passion was dead inside her.
“Stop,” she said more sternly.
He finally did but still held onto her arm. She didn’t know why. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. He was gripping the same spot on her upper arm as the brute did to take her away. Fear jumped to her throat.
“Why?” he asked, his eyes slightly glazed over. “You seemed to be enjoying it.”
His lips met hers again.
Scythe could only see the brute and her father.
She pushed Dagger’s chest. Catching him off guard, he stumbled back and nearly tripped on the captured woman’s foot.
He stared at her with clear eyes now. They were hurt and confused.
“Why?” he spat.
She darted from the room before he could finish the question.
“Scythe!” he called after her.
She practically ran, but the brute and her father followed her.
Once on the balcony, Scythe saw the moon was angled into a smile. The night was warm, and the stars danced in the sky. She couldn’t help comparing it to the night the man had come. The moon had been the same then, too, and although it was beautiful, it always reminded her of that night. She shoved those thoughts aside, refusing to let them ruin her again.
The door behind her creaked open. Turning, she saw Dagger, his hair still tussled.
“I would like to ask you something,” Dagger said seriously.
“Alright,” she said after a pause in her pacing.
“You won’t like answering it.”
“Just bloody ask!” she demanded, not appreciating the tension.
“Tell me how you died. Back in the graveyard you were nervous about sleeping next to me,” he said. “You said you weren’t raped, but something bad happened, and I can only imagine that the next option would be death.”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Scythe protested.
“It’s only fair. Marriages are built on trust. I trusted you, Scythe, and you dug into my past.”
“They’re built on business arrangements for men who want to sell off their daughters.”
“This one doesn’t have to be.” He paused. “Is that what happened? Were you sold?”
“Enough!” Scythe spun her weapon to full length and held it for comfort. “I am not sharing that.”
Dagger sighed frustrated. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone.” He turned and left the balcony.
Chapter 11
Dagger paced around the torture chamber. The woman’s raw arm glistened crimson and gold in the fire he’d stoked in the brazier. She gave a whimper every time Dagger got too close. He was very tempted to gag her, but that wouldn’t stop the small cries. The man watched Dagger pace. He would have seemed brave if not for the tremble in his hands.
Dagger cursed to himself again as he reviewed the events. They had practically been dancing in the passion. He could feel the anticipation radiating off of her like the sun where he touched her. She had flirted and played along before, but that was different.
He remembered her wrapping the string of flesh around his neck to pull him close. Growling now, he ripped it away and threw it against the wall of hanging tools. It caught on the jagged edge of a saw blade.
The woman screamed again as if she still felt the flesh hanging on the saw. Dagger’s fingers itched to stick a knife into her throat.
“Lady trouble?”
The knife flew but not at the woman’s neck. It buried itself into the man’s leg shortly after he’d spoken. His scream made the woman cry again.
Dagger chastised himself for coming down here. He didn’t need these creatures criticizing him. He wanted to slaughter them both. He wanted to feel their blood course through his fingers. Dagger wrenched the blade free from the man’s leg and walked to the door.
He paused just outside the archway, thinking. He’d come down here to relax, but that had failed miserably. He didn’t want to run into Scythe upstairs.
His captives were married; maybe they could actually help with something.
Dagger turned on his heel, plucked a stool from the corner, and sat in front of the man. He angled himself directly between the man and his wife.
The man sat up, his back pressed against the chair as if trying to phase through it. He stared wide-eyed at Dagger, and Dagger couldn’t help but smile now.
“No more witty remarks?” Dagger goaded him, keeping his voice calm.
The man shook his head, though it was hardly more than a twitch.
“You’re right, actually,” Dagger said. “What did you make of that situation?”
The man stammered, no doubt terrified at being addressed.
“Oh, come on, the knife hit your leg, not your tongue.”
“I-I’m not sure,” he stammered. “Maybe she gained a conscience?”
Dagger chuckled, and the man flinched again.
“Scythe’s bloodlust is the strongest I’ve seen. Peeling flesh off an arm doesn’t bother her. I’ve seen her rifle through a man’s intestines while he squirmed,” Dagger said.
“Something frightened her, something she thought of.”
The man’s mouth hadn’t moved.
Dagger turned, stunned that the woman had spoken coherent words. She was still trembling and couldn’t even look him in the eye, but he gave her credit for speaking.
“That’s nonsense,” Dagger replied. “She’s never afraid of anything.”
For a moment the woman couldn’t reply, now that he was looking at her. Finally, she said, “She changed her mind about something.”
That was true at least, Dagger realized. One moment she used the strip of skin to pull him close, the next she shoved him away. When he confronted her about it she had changed. She wasn’t confused or scared, but tense and defensive. Maybe the frightened woman had a point.
“What should I do?” Dagger found himself asking.
“Go to bed with your own hand for company,” the man growled.
Dagger flipped the knife in his fingers to point at the man. “Any more wit from you and your wife gets a new hole.”
The man shut up.
Dagger turned back to the woman, waiting for a legitimate answer.
She could only stammer, “I-I don’t know.”
“You must have some idea,” Dagger insisted. “What would you want, if a man came on to you too strongly?”
Her eyes flickered to her husband, then back to Dagger. She sobbed, saying, “I’d want to be left alone.”
It was a fair answer. Dagger stood, sheathing his blade. The woman cowered in her chair, but he left her alone as he left the chamber.
He’d leave Scythe be, as the woman suggested. It was along the same line of thoughts he’d had, but it felt good to have someone unknowingly agree.
His blood hadn’t completely cooled from its former boiling point, but it was cool enough. He even made it upstairs to his bed without running into Scythe, so that had helped. There was nothing more he could do tonight anyway.
Chapter 12
The night was cool as the moon rose on the next night. Scythe stood on the second-floor balcony watching the bats fly, a goblet of wine in her hand. She hadn’t spoken to Dagger since last night. She didn’t want to explain the conflict inside her, but she knew they had to smooth things over somehow. In all their time together, she had never pushed him away before. She had also never kissed him. Something new had bloomed in her dead heart when she shouted at him: guilt. She tried to stamp it out. She had nothing to feel guilty for. Yet Dagger had looked so downtrodden and angry when he left.
The scrape of broken glass underfoot ca
ught her attention. Turning quickly, she saw Dagger at the doorway.
He kept his expression neutral while he asked, “May I join you?”
“It’s your home,” Scythe shrugged, turning back to the bats. She scolded herself for the new guilt.
Dagger came up next to her and looked out over the forest. He stayed quiet, probably unsure what to say himself.
Scythe hated this. They’d never fought like that before. They had always known what the other was thinking when they worked together. This fucking marriage was ruining everything,
She asked Dagger, “So, what did you do last night after…?” She wasn’t sure how to end the question politely.
He looked at her, confused, raising an eyebrow. Scythe hoped Dagger sensed this was her way of smoothing things over.
“Talked with our guests in the cellar for a while,” he said. “Then just went to bed. What about you?”
His tone wasn’t sarcastic in any way. Maybe her non-apology was working.
“I stayed in the garden for a while,” Scythe admitted. “Then went to bed too.”
Dagger just nodded, running a hand through his hair.
“You called this place your home yesterday,” he said. “I was hoping you could see it as your own, eventually.”
“I do,” she answered honestly. She hated how small her voice sounded, but it was true.
“I’m glad.” His voice was soft.
Scythe stole a glance at him and caught him looking, too. There was a small smile on his lips. Scythe let in an easy breath for once; they were alright.
“Do you want to talk about last night?” Dagger asked tentatively.
“Nope.”
“Okay then.”
“There is one thing we should discuss, though,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“What are we going to do about Maniodes and Nyx?”
Dagger contemplated for a moment.
“We’ll have to stay quiet about it for now,” he said. “If they find out I listened in on them, he will kill us. Pitch too, probably. And I don’t know if he informed Nyx that he told us. She didn’t forbid him from telling us. We should just lay low.”
“So we play along?” she asked, disappointed.
“For now, yes,” he shrugged. He wasn’t happy about it either.
“I’m tired of him using us,” Scythe admitted. “Not just you and me, but all of the Ferrum. For him we’re just an easily replaceable tool to dish out mischief.”
“Be careful,” Dagger chuckled. “If he hears that, he’ll disband us. I don’t entirely think that’s true anyway. When he told me about Nyx’s new order, he seemed worried about us. He’s not the best leader, but he’s trying.”
“There’s no peace of mind for us,” she pressed. “I’m tired of being controlled.”
“What do you suggest we do, then?” he asked with no small hint of sarcasm. “Storm the castle?”
“Maybe not, but we could take him down.”
Dagger stayed quiet but watched her, trying to determine whether or not she was serious.
“We could be king and queen of Skiachora.”
“You’re serious?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m tired of his dictatorship.”
“I wouldn’t call him a dictator. He just doesn’t manage the place well.”
“But imagine if we did. The Ferrum would be safe. We know how they think. We could even give the sentries their own voices. Maniodes created them but refuses to let them talk. He probably wishes he gave us the same restrictions. He wants us to be lapdogs.”
Dagger leaned on the balcony railing and focused on the forest below. Scythe let him gather his thoughts.
“Why not go after Nyx?” he asked. “She’s the one who ordered our deaths. Maniodes actually stood up for us.”
“Only because of his pride,” Scythe countered. “Nyx has never had a problem with us before, but Maniodes is always mistreating us. You remember why he forced Halberd to go grey?”
“I remember,” he said, “but he was always a bit of an ass. The joke he said was in bad taste of Nyx anyway.”
“Yes, but that’s not a good enough reason to kill someone.”
“You and I use much smaller reasons,” he countered.
“Only against humans, and it’s our job. What if we could change her mind? Even get her on our side about deposing Maniodes?”
“I highly doubt she’ll be willing to depose her son,” he said.
“She could be if we convince her it’s the right choice,” she argued.
“How, Scythe?”
“I don’t fucking know yet; that’s the point of a plan. Obviously, you’re not interested.”
“I didn’t say that,” he said. His black eyes held warm mischief again. “I respect Nyx, and she might be misguided about us. Maniodes, on the other hand, is not a good leader for us.”
“And I like Nyx,” Scythe added. “Call it a petty reason, but she always seemed to respect us. I think we can change her mind about killing us. We also have easier access to Maniodes, in a way. We have no idea where Nyx even goes when she’s not collecting souls. Maniodes’s throne is an easier goal.”
“Relatively speaking, he is still a god,” Dagger said. After a few moments he added, “The first thing I would do is get rid of his giant desk.” A smile playing at his lips.
Scythe rolled her eyes. The desk was gaudy, but it wasn’t her priority.
“I’m in,” he said, surprising her. “I’m sick of how inconsistent he is. One moment he’s willing to kill us, the next he’s vying for us. Talking to him is like walking on eggshells.”
“King and Queen of Skiachora,” Scythe purred.
“Now, daydreaming is one thing,” Dagger said, still serious. “How do we go about taking down a god?”
Scythe had no idea, but she wondered if myths and history could provide hints. “I don’t know. Nyx just created them. I’ve never heard any story of one god destroying another,” she admitted.
“True, but there must be some way,” Dagger said as he paced, thinking.
“We could examine the stories more. Ask around, do some research,” Scythe suggested.
“Yes.” Dagger pointed at her, excited. “The library in Maniodes’s castle.”
Scythe had completely forgotten about that library. It held all knowledge of men and gods, and much more.
“That’s perfect,” Scythe agreed, “but how do we get in without being noticed?”
“We’re going to be noticed regardless. His sentries are everywhere, and he spends his free time in there. The point is to be discreet about what we’re looking for.”
“So we waltz in, telling Maniodes we want to spend the day with him? While trying to find out how to kill him?” Scythe asked, raising a dubious eyebrow.
“I don’t think we can kill him. I don’t think they can die.” Dagger started pacing again.
Scythe finished her wine, then stopped Dagger from pacing by catching his arm.
“Let’s not rush into the first half-baked idea we have. The first thing we should do today is make sure our guests are fed.”
“Shit, I forgot about them.”
“They were alive when I checked on them about an hour ago.”
Dagger breathed a sigh of relief and held her hand. “We’re really going to do this. You and me, King and Queen of the underworld.”
Chapter 13
After wrapping the woman’s arm in linens, they forced stew down their guests’ throats. Scythe decided to clean out their small library. Dagger hadn’t gone in there much but knew it was a mess. It was in the section of their castle that was missing a wall. Most of the books and scrolls had crumbled away or turned to mold long ago. Scythe had been determined to save what she could and wanted to convert one of the guest rooms into a new library. She was going to keep an eye out for any kind of old folktale books or scrolls documenting the creation of their world. Anything related to the gods and their myths that might help pinpoin
t a weak spot. Dagger didn’t think the chances were likely, and he let her know this, but she could search all she wanted.
Dagger always found that letting his mind rest while doing physical labor helped him think.
After fixing the wardrobe in his bedchamber, he still didn’t have any ideas. Leaving that project with a new foot on its base, he went to find Scythe. She was in the library, sorting through thin scrolls at the desk.
The library was larger than most of the rooms and once housed hundreds of texts. At one time it was probably one of the grandest chambers, with its vaulted ceiling and expensive carpets. The entire north wall was gone now, exposing the rest of the room. That wall had been covered with shelves housing books, just like the others. Dagger wasn’t one for reading idly, but even he felt a little sad knowing so much was lost in those texts. The books on the west and east walls close to the opening had nearly rotted away. Thankfully, the ones on the back wall were relatively fine. Most were covered in a film of mildew, but they could be saved. The only furniture left in the room was the desk and a couple of chairs that at one time had probably been comfortable.
Scythe stood at the desk with books open, glancing through the scrolls.
“Find anything useful?” Dagger asked, leaning on the surface next to her.
“No, this is just boring records of what it used to cost to run this place,” Scythe sighed.
Dagger glanced over the numbers but was more interested in how Scythe’s red hair fell around her neck and moved in the breeze as she read.
He controlled the impulse to brush her hair aside and kiss her neck. She had seemed fine since their attempts at passion before. He was worried about making the first move after their last encounter.
Something grazed past his head, catching his hair painfully. A bat trying to get their attention landed on the back of a ripped chair and screeched at them.
“There’s a parchment on its leg,” Dagger said, rubbing the back of his head.
“Another job already?” Scythe laid the parchment down, looking at the bat.
“I’ve never heard you disregard a job before,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
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