Page 103 of Jailer to the Death God
“It’s the other way around,” I tell him. “The Queen has blessed me.”
The manager smiles broadly, bowing. “Just so, Lord Consort. Just so.”
As we move toward the balcony doors, a pair of servants opens them. The sound of the crowd waiting in the courtyard grows louder.
Vale leans toward me. “I read the letter you sent out.”
“Did you?”
“It was very good. I might have made a few small changes, but on the whole—well done.”
“Thank you, my Queen.” I lift her knuckles to my lips, relishing the blush that tints her cheeks.
We step onto the balcony, approaching the balustrade.
Vale lifts her hand and mine together. Her voice rings out, strong and true. “People of Cerato, may I present to you your God and King, my beloved Royal Consort, savior of our kingdom and Ruler of Annwn, the Lord Arawn.”
41
It has been a year since I summoned the death god.
A year since I wept over the bodies of my friends.
Arawn has truly been our savior, setting his tethermarks on our healers and his sign on the victims of the plague throughout the entire kingdom. There have been no new cases of the sickness for almost eleven months. Arawn isn’t sure whether that’s entirely due to his influence, or whether Beirgid regretted what she had done and took measures to halt the spread of the plague herself.
Arawn’s life-light hastened the maturation of the crops in the greenhouses, and when spring came he spread life-light over the fields as well. We’ve had two bountiful harvests this year, enough to stave off starvation and replenish the storehouses. The crops surrounding Allenaye have been the best and most flavorful Cerato has ever seen. Another small sign of the goddess’s regret, perhaps.
We will never forgive her, Arawn and I. But she is his family, and we must learn to coexist.
My people have adapted to Arawn’s presence surprisingly well. Perhaps, after living with death every day for so long, they learned to manage their fear of it. And who wouldn’t, when its embodiment is as beautiful and glorious as Arawn? Thanks to their worship, he grows more powerful every day. Shrines to his name have sprung up across Cerato, and some of the northern towns have banded together to build a temple for him. He claims he doesn’t want it, but I see the flicker of pleasure in his eyes whenever it’s mentioned.
Trade has resumed, but when foreigners are around, my people are silent on the topic of Arawn. As we’ve requested, they faithfully guard his true identity from outsiders. And if a rumor of his real nature should slip out, few of the visitors to our shores would believe it, since Arawn generally maintains his human guise when appearing in public.
On this day, the first anniversary of our meeting, he insists on flying me outside the city to his Pit in the forest.
He’s bursting with nervous energy—I can feel it thrumming through his bare skin with every surge of his powerful wings.
Since his wings are out, I’m holding his new coat—one I had made for him as a gift on this day. He has a new crown too, but we left that behind, since he wanted to fly in his god-form. Crowns don’t pair well with horns or antlers.
A family is traveling the road outside the city. As we soar overhead, toward the forest, the parents wave to us, and the children scream with delight, jumping up and down.
Tiny flakes of snow imprint wetly against my skin as we fly. When we reach the clearing where Arawn’s Pit lies, he sets me down and dispels his wings.
“I like a scene of corruption and death as much as the next girl.” I hand over his coat, and he shrugs it on. “But I confess I pictured something a little grander and more romantic to celebrate the breaking of our contract. Unless you plan to leave me immediately once our bond dissolves.”
“Little doe.” He grips my shoulders with those big hands of his. I tip my head back to look up at him—so tall, so divinely beautiful, crowned with antlers. His green eyes, wild and fervent and ageless, seem to pierce my very soul. “Beloved wife. I will never leave you, unless you request it.”
I release a long breath. “In what world would I ever want you to leave me?”
He smiles. Grips my hand, and turns both of us to face the Pit.
“Arawn, my friends died in this place,” I say quietly. “Why are we here?”
‘Trust me.” He inhales, closing his eyes. “Here it comes. The moment of release.”
“Sounds naughty,” I whisper. “I like it.”
“Hush, O insatiable one.”
