“Just come with me to give her peace,” Nyx said.
“But we’re not allowed to let the living see us, let alone see our families,” he said.
Dagger wasn’t sure why he was protesting. It felt like he was stalling, but he didn’t want to prolong the situation. Several thoughts kept buzzing in his head, and he couldn’t grasp any of them.
“I know the rules,” Nyx said softly. “If I wait long enough, eventually your mother will join me, with or without seeing you. She’s in pain however, and this will help her let go.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll come,” he said before he could stall again. “Can Scythe come as well?”
“Yes,” Nyx allowed. “I’ll strengthen the spell that keeps Ferrum hidden to the living. Scythe, I would stay out of her line of sight. It might raise questions and needlessly frighten her.”
“What if I broke the shadow trick for his sister though?” Scythe asked surprisingly meek for the moment. “What if she’s there?”
“When did that happen?” Nyx demanded.
“In Kaliasma at the wedding,” Dagger defended. “She was there, but I stayed hidden from her. I had asked the same from Scythe but… well…”
“Curiosity got the better of me,” Scythe shrugged, “after Dagger asked me to leave her alone.”
Nyx went to speak, confused, then sighed. “Stay behind me when we’re there. I’ll have to strengthen the spell more for you”
“I’ll stay in the shadows,” Scythe promised.
Nyx approached them. It felt like his feet were glued to the floor. Nyx held a small hand out to them.
Dagger kept hold of Scythe and reached for Nyx’s with his free hand. The warmth of Nyx’s hand surprised him. He had expected it to be cold, but the goddess of death was a warm.
The color from the parlor drained away suddenly. Fear seized him, but he could still see Scythe and Nyx in the blackness around them. Scythe appeared just as frightened but held steady.
The color came back just as quickly as it had gone. They stood in his mother’s bedchamber. Nothing had changed since his death. The curtains were still a vibrant yellow, and the furniture was perfectly clean.
He noticed one change. The pale-yellow rug at the foot of the bed was gone. He felt the ghost of the knife his mother had buried in his chest. He had fallen on that rug. He remembered the softness of it while he watched his own blood spread. The servants probably couldn’t get the stains out.
Two other figures were in the room. His sister, Karteria, sat on the bed in a simple black gown. His mother, Tryphania, lay on the bed, sleeping.
Her room hadn’t changed in the ten years since his death, but she had. Her condition had sapped all her strength, leaving her thin and pale. She was in her fifties, but she looked well into her seventies.
Nyx let go of his hand and gestured to the bed. She stood aside and waited then, letting them take their time.
Dagger turned to Scythe. She squeezed his hand and smiled. The smile didn’t touch her eyes, though. She looked uncomfortable.
“Dagger,” Nyx’s voice was soft. Their quiet moment was over.
Dagger let go of Scythe’s waist. It felt like wading through mud, but he approached his mother’s side and sat next to her. His sister sat on the other side and didn’t take notice.
Karteria had to be thirty now. Hair just as dark as his was, tied back in a bun. Her eyes watched her mother’s hand in her own as she stroked it. She looked so tired.
Dagger wanted to give some indication that he was here. To prove she wasn’t alone, but Nyx stood too close, and he had promised not to.
He forced himself to swallow against the dry throat. Taking his mother’s other hand, he waited for her to react.
Tryphania moaned and opened her eyes. She looked straight at him and smiled. Her dark hair was thin, and her skin was pale, though her eyes were sunken.
“There’s my little man,” she sighed. “Though I should probably stop calling you that.”
“Hey, Ma, I really don’t mind that nickname.”
In truth, he had hated it in his younger years, but that didn’t matter now.
“Ma?” His sister spoke up. She even sounded tired.
“Your brother came home, sweetie. I hope you made those fine cherry tarts for us.”
“I do miss those,” he admitted.
His sister wasn’t the best at cooking, but she was great at baking sweets. The cherry tarts had been his favorite.
His sister couldn’t hear him. She even glanced over his side of the bed but didn’t see him. Normally, the spell would have been broken then, but whatever Nyx had done kept him hidden.
Right now, he was just another one of his mother’s hallucinations that his sister couldn’t see. His heart seized at the thought, choking him again.
“How have your studies been going?” his mother asked him.
He had no idea what his sister had been telling her to explain his absence. His mother refused to believe he was dead, so his sister probably had to make up stories about the life he’d never have.
“They’re fine,” he said, keeping it vague. “A little tough sometimes, but worth it.”
“That’s good, dear. The best experiences are the hard ones,” she smiled lovingly at him.
“Ma?” his sister whispered.
Mother looked to her, still smiling. “Keep an eye on your brother now. You know how rowdy he gets sometimes.”
She was lucid. She wasn’t completely sane, but she knew what was happening to her.
“I will, Ma,” His sister was crying now.
Dagger wanted to console her but stayed frozen.
“And protect your sister,” his mother said to him. “Watch over each other.”
“We will, Mother,” Dagger said.
His mother’s eyes wandered for a moment. Eventually, they focused on a point off the bed beside him.
“Who’s—?” she couldn’t finish the question.
Nyx stood beside him, waiting patiently with her bone.
“She’s a friend, Mother, you can trust her,” Dagger explained.
“Hello,” Nyx said softly.
Tryphania didn’t respond. He wondered if she was so drained she couldn’t express herself anymore.
Nyx held the bone close to the hand Dagger held so she wouldn’t have to reach far.
Dagger let her frail fingers slip from his. She gripped the bone, still smiling. He watched as her dazed gaze faded into a distance he couldn’t see.
Karteria started to cry harder. She didn’t shudder with heavy sobs, but quiet tears fell as she held her mother’s hand.
Dagger’s eyes burned. No tears fell, but they burned. He reached over and touched Karteria’s shoulder heedless of Nyx beside him.
The spell broke. Karteria jumped at the sudden contact and stared at him. Confused fear quickly rose.
“It’s okay,” he said removing his hand and hoping she wouldn’t scream. “Don’t panic.”
“What? How?” Her eyes darted from him to their mother. “How are you here?”
“I can’t say. I can’t stay, either. I’m sorry.”
Hope replaced the fear, regardless of what he had said. This was a bad idea. He had to leave her alone as well as confused. He wanted to comfort her, but this would just confuse her more.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, breathless.
“Don’t apologize. This is amazing,” she said. “Can anyone else see you?”
“No.”
The light in Karteria’s eyes changed at some realization. She looked to her mother then back to him.
“Are you really here?” she asked, on the verge of tears again.
“Yes. You’re not hallucinating.”
“Dagger.”
He looked to Nyx. She was furious.
“I have to go,” Dagger told Karteria
“No, wait,” she pleaded. She couldn’t see Nyx.
“I’ll take care of Ma,” he promised.
He stood and t
ook Scythe’s hand, hoping Karteria couldn’t see her. Without warning Nyx gripped his wrist and the color faded again.
The parlor of their estate reappeared around them seconds later. Nyx stepped away from them and crossed her arms. The silence demanded to be filled.
Dagger quickly knelt before the goddess, keeping his head low.
“I’m not sorry,” he admitted. His throat was still very dry.
Nyx’s eyebrows rose at the confession.
“She was scared and alone,” he said nervous but firm.
He could feel Scythe’s tension beside him.
“I gave you a second chance at Marella’s death, and I let you join me for a moment to help your mother,” Nyx said. “Then you disobey the order to stay hidden right in front of me.”
Dagger said nothing.
“Can Karteria be trusted?” Nyx asked.
Dagger looked up, shocked that Nyx knew her name. He didn’t think it had been spoken when he was there. Nyx probably knew the names of every living person, now that he thought about it.
“I trust her with my life, including this dead one. Given our mother’s condition, she might still think I was a hallucination anyway.”
Nyx stayed quiet, thinking.
“May I ask you something, Your Grace?” He had to tread lightly.
Nyx eyed him, then said, “Yes.”
“Why bring me along?” he asked. “You said yourself she would have joined you either way in the end.”
“She would have. I felt the pain she was hiding from you. Normally, when they ask to see a dead loved one, I can’t do anything about it. This time I could.”
“Thank you, then,” Dagger said, still on his knees. “Thank you for letting me say good-bye to them.”
Nyx sighed, letting her arms fall. She swung her bone like a baton, watching Dagger. He kept his eyes glued to Nyx’s feet.
“I will let this pass.”
Dagger was able to breathe again.
“Partially because you invited me to the festival.”
Her honesty caught him off guard. It sounded so human.
Nyx saw his surprise and actually looked away shyly. “The mortals invented this festival in my honor. Providing sacrifices and praising my name all throughout Ichorisis. Phaos and Maniodes have joined the festivities now and then, but I’ve never been specifically invited to one. Call it a petty reason, but—” she shrugged.
“It’s not petty,” Dagger reassured her. “People like to be thought of personally. I don’t imagine you get out for many social occasions.”
“No, I don’t,” she admitted. “You can stand, Dagger. I don’t like making people feel like supplicants.”
He stood, letting his admiration for the goddess grow. She was nothing like her son.
“Then I look forward to the festival,” he said. “Where we can be equals, even if it’s just for one night.”
Dawn almost crested over the forest hills. Nyx had left them hours ago. Dagger hadn’t spoken much since then. Scythe left him alone to mourn. Unease and awkwardness still holding her back. She was glad Nyx had let her join them for Dagger’s sake, but she didn’t know how to react properly.
Her own mother had never showed her that kind of love. She’d never had little pet names.
She saw Dagger’s pain in his eyes, but she couldn’t sympathize with it. When Nyx had left, neither of them had known what to do next. She asked if he wanted to talk. It felt right, though she didn’t know what kind of condolences he needed. He had declined, saying he just needed to be alone for a while. So she let him go.
Scythe spent the rest of the night in the garden. She kept an eye on the dead tree, hoping Chip would appear with a report. When the sky began to lighten, she gave up waiting for Chip and went to check on Dagger.
He stood on the private balcony in his room, hands propped on the rail, shoulders hunched together. Scythe paused by the bed, picking at a fingernail and watching him. He had said he wanted to be alone, but that was some time ago. She didn’t know if she should leave him be or approach him. If he still wanted to be alone, she didn’t want to interrupt, but she didn’t want to seem insensitive and just go to bed without saying something to him.
She sighed at her own frustration and opened the balcony door. Dagger didn’t look up.
Scythe stopped next to him. He knew she was there, though he didn’t react. He kept staring at the trees below them. Interrupting might have been the wrong choice. Still, she followed through because of her own worry for him.
“You want to get some sleep?” she asked.
She hated the awkwardness, but wanted to help.
He looked to her then and gave a tiny half-smile. It died quickly, hardly more than a twitch in his lips.
“In a moment,” he said softly.
He wasn’t angry at her interrupting. She was glad for that, but he still needed time.
“Alright.” Scythe squeezed his shoulder and left him be.
Scythe changed into a nightgown and crawled into her own bed. She hoped he would be alright come the next dusk. Her ears were tuned to any small noise. She probably wasn’t going to get much sleep today. She kept hearing Dagger’s mother call him “little man.” The realization that Dagger called Pitch that nickname didn’t escape her.
Her door creaked open. Light poured in for a second, but Dagger shut it out. She felt the bed shift as he sat down. She stayed quiet, not sure what to do. He’d never come to her chamber before.
“Scythe?” His voice was so quiet she could have imagined it. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” She twisted her back to half-turn toward him.
After a long pause he asked, “Can I sleep here?”
“Of course.”
She shifted closer to him while he lay down, still fully dressed. His arm snaked across her waist and he held her back to his front. He buried his face in her hair at the crook of her neck. Scythe took his hand in front of her now and curled her fingers through his. She held it closer to her face, cuddling with it.
Dagger let out a long sigh and relaxed into her.
Chapter 38
The parlor was immaculate. Garlands of dried red-and-orange leaves flowed from every corner. Tucked neatly into the leaves was the occasional human heart. The silver chandelier in the center was finely polished, and the candlelight danced off it like dew on a spider web. Human intestines of the recently deceased sprouted from the chandelier and hung like ribbons down the walls. All of the furniture was stitched with skin and bones. The centerpieces, similar to the garlands, were set on every table in the main hall and corridors leading to the balcony and dining room.
Scythe was beautiful as ever in a close-fitting black silk dress that billowed slightly from her waist. Silver thread depicted a spider web starting at her left shoulder and spread down her form. Dagger was a little uncomfortable in the outfit she’d made him, but it fit perfectly. The black doublet embroidered with silver fit the occasion comfortably enough, but he was paranoid about spilling anything on it. She even fashioned a small bone from a cat into a brooch for him.
The other Ferrum did what they could by means of formal clothing. Axe and Lace were dressed flawlessly, but Maime probably had a harder time finding a clean tunic without a stain on it. He had managed though, just like the rest of them. Maime stood off to the side, mostly with Hammer. The men must have been blacksmiths in life because their arms were muscled like slabs of meat. Rather than choose a weapon, Maime preferred to tear his victims apart. Hammer looked similar to Maime, but he chose to fight with a giant war hammer. Dagger wasn’t sure if they could have been related. Maniodes had never picked a pair like that before, but they had similar features.
They arrived in groups of two or three. Scythe greeted them in the main hall and directed them to the parlor, where Dagger waited. They were all impressed that Dagger and Scythe had put everything together by themselves, especially the decor. Dagger admitted the sentries had helped.
“I had no idea they w
ere sentient,” Lace whispered to Dagger, watching the skeletons play their instruments.
Scythe had come up with the idea of the sentries performing. Hiring a regular bard would have terrified the living person. What better way to include the voiceless sentries than to let them play. A surprising number of them volunteered too. They no doubt wanted to break away from their monotonous guard duty. They even incorporated the rattling of their bones into the music to provide a fascinating, chilly effect.
Dagger and Scythe had arranged the parlor furniture to have space in the center for dancing, and a section for the skeletons to compose. They were good too; Dagger loved their calming music of drums and string instruments that filled the air.
“How did you find out?” Lace asked. Her blond hair was braised and tied back. Tiny black gems glittered through the strands.
“They reacted when I talked to them while I was being held in the chains,” Dagger explained. “And you don’t have to whisper. They’re not angry that we didn’t know. I think they’re just happy to be included now.”
“They’re fascinating,” she said. She left Dagger to watch them play more closely. Strips of black lace hung from her wrists and swirled around as she walked. Dagger had thought choosing lace was an odd weapon, but she must like the challenge of strangling her victims with it.
He saw Axe enter but stop in the archway. Axe examined the chandelier and the intestines with wide eyes. This time he carried his namesake. It wasn’t uncommon for the Ferrum to carry their weapons, of course. Scythe had hers incorporated into her dress; Dagger had his signature knife hanging at his belt. Dagger had never seen Axe’s. When they had been in his chambers, it had been hidden somewhere.
Now the double-headed war axe hung on his back. Dagger was surprised by how massive and barbaric it appeared on kind, sophisticated Axe in his navy blue formal attire.
Dagger approached Axe, being sure to catch his line of sight.
“Glad you made it,” Dagger greeted.
Axe held his tongue for a moment, unsure how to reply, it seemed. He looked up again and said. “Interesting design choice. I knew entrails were long, but I didn’t know they could stretch that far.”
Dagger and Scythe Page 24
