Page 16 of A Waltz with Lord Death
An image of Michell’s lifeless body slammed into her mind, but she pushed it away in favor of the beautiful white scenery passing by.
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“I’ve met hundreds of kings and they’re all the same to me. In the end, everyone dies, and no one person is greater than another. Influence and station are the vain aspirations of mortal men.”
“You once had vain aspirations when you were mortal,” she reminded him. “Did you not want to become the chief of your people? How old are you, anyway?”
“Old.”
“Death…”
He shrugged and turned his head to meet her gaze. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile, and her heart responded in a flutter of butterfly wings. “I have been Death for just over five hundred years. Does that answer your question?”
She stared an incredulous hole through him as she churned his words in her mind. Five hundred years old? He was ancient. “And how old is—was—Barret?”
Immediately, his smile died on his face, and he turned his attention forward. She regretted asking, and only wished to take back her question to wipe the grief off his face. “Closer to a thousand years old.” His expression turned serious, and with it, raw, dark power shifted through his eyes. Although the darkness no longer frightened her, she still squirmed in her saddle. “You have been ignoring what happened only a few days ago. You were going to take on the role of Lady Life.”
“I know…” The intricate stitching in the saddle suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. She traced the rough bumps with the tip of her finger, if only to avoid looking him in the eye. “I’m just not sure anymore.”
Not after what she had seen him do to Michell. And especially not when she was to meet the king himself. It was something she had only dreamed about all her life, to be in good esteem with the king.
A low growl startled her, and she nearly fell out of her saddle when she spotted the shadow hounds stalking their master’s feet. Their snarls mimicked the hardness in Death’s eyes.
“Is this because of the king?” he accused. “What can he possibly give you that amounts to more than the glory Life has to offer?”
“I never asked to be Lady Life.” She cringed at the volume of her voice, and quickly lowered it. “I have worked hard to get where I am. No one, not even you, can take this away from me.”
Guilt filled her as she spoke the words. Earlier she had wanted to help Justine, but now she knew she couldn’t just throw all her hard work over the years out the window. Surely, there was someone else to take the job of Lady Life.
Although he remained silent, the hardness in his eyes prevailed. His jaw visibly clenched, his nostrils flaring. The shadows near his feet picked up like wind buffeting a mound of snow. One of the hounds pounced on a white rabbit darting for its burrow, and the creature died instantly. Her eyes widened at the creature lying in the snow, but Death didn’t seem to have noticed.
“And what are you expecting of me, Meira?” he asked, his voice even despite the blazing inferno in his eyes. “Will you have me take another as my lady?”
A surprising jolt of envy swirled within her stomach, churning until acid burned her throat. “You must. I am refusing your offer.”
A gust of wind bit her nose, and she pulled her hood tighter to shield her face from the bitter elements. Death continued with one foot in front of the other as though not affected by the chill.
“People are dying,” he said quietly. “A lot of them. You will refuse me knowing this?”
She sat straighter in her saddle and turned her head away from him. “It is not my problem. I am not the one killing them. You are.”
He shifted, and though she felt his gaze on her, she refused to look his way. “Do you think I’m evil?” he asked.
“You sow sickness and take lives.”
“True and true. But… Is the night evil?”
“No…”
“It gives the world rest. It creates resilience and growth. It makes you stop to ponder the light of day.”
The retort died on her tongue, and instead of replying, she stared straight ahead. How much longer until they reached the palace? She feared that by the time they arrived at their destination, she might have turned into an icicle.
Long stretches of silence passed between them, filled only by the snorts of horses and the snow crunching beneath their hooves. Death never left her side. Though he didn’t appear to be much happier than his growling hounds.
“You know when people will die, don’t you?” she asked quietly, despising the silence. He’d mentioned something to Michell about the subject. “Can you see when I will die?”
“Yes.”
