Page 104 of Jailer to the Death God
I compress my lips and wait.
When it happens, I feel it—a subtle unlatching of something deep inside me.
Arawn groans, and when I glance at him I see the black chains, invisible and intangible for so long, lifting away from his body. One by one they snap, whipping backward, recoiling from him. And then they dissipate, flaking away, their residue carried off by the cold wind.
“Free,” he breathes. “You cannot imagine how wonderful it feels.”
“I’m truly sorry.” I loop my arm through his, squeezing it repentantly. “So sorry I had to put you through that pain. But I had no choice.”
“I know. And without all of that—the ritual and Macha’s spell—I would never have known how good an incarnate body can feel.”
“But you can’t disappear and reappear like the other gods when you’re incarnate.”
“I’m happy to give that up in exchange for the other benefits—sensation, emotion.” He cups my cheek, his thumb stroking across my lips. “And now that I’m free, I have two gifts for you, little doe. Stand here, closer to the Pit, and shut your eyes.”
“I’m not sure I will like anything that comes out of the Pit,” I say doubtfully. “I did like the knife, but that was originally fromthisplane.”
“Hush.” He kisses my mouth lightly. “The first gift is one I’ve spent much time pondering. I’ve considered how I could best divide my time between my duties in Annwn and my place here in Cerato. And I decided I would rather be here. Which means I needed someone to assume the responsibility of governing Annwn in my absence. While you were traveling with me, you appointed a trio of replacements, each with their own strengths. So I decided to appoint six human souls to rule in my stead. Keep your eyes closed, my love.”
“You chose great rulers of the past, I assume,” I say. “It’s a wonderful idea, Arawn. I’ll admit I was worried you’d have to keep leaving me every few days to check on your realm. I heartily accept the gift of your time.”
“That isn’t the gift, darling.” His voice has shifted; it’s slightly farther away. “Only gods can rule Annwn. So I awarded these six souls with the status of lesser deities. They now have a place in the lower tier of the pantheon. They can even visit the mortal realm for short periods of time.”
“How nice for them,” I say faintly. I’ve grown to know my husband very well over the past year, and something in his tone makes my stomach soar into a heady, impossible, glittering cloud of hope.
“Open your eyes, Vale,” says Arawn.
But I don’t. I can’t, because if I’m wrong, if the six people he has appointed are not the ones I hope they are, I won’t be able to bear the disappointment.
Arawn comes to me, sliding his hand along my neck, bending to whisper in my ear. “Love of my existence, open your eyes.”
I do.
And I sob, short and harsh, cupping both hands over my mouth.
Because they’rehere. Standing on the brink of the Pit, more beautiful than they ever were in life, and yet just the same, perfectly themselves, perfectly recognizable.
Rose, standing side by side with my brother Aspen.
Leilani, whole and untouched by plague, holding hands with her wife, Thistle.
My father, tall and regal, wearing his familiar kind smile.
And my stepmother, elegant, poised, looking every inch the queen she has always been.
“How did you make this happen?” I whisper.
“With the worship of Cerato,” Arawn replies. “The adoration of your people filled my well of power to the brim. And I had special permission from the other gods. Beirgid and Aine spoke on my behalf, and the other gods finally listened, after months of persistence.”
I stare at the six tall, newly-minted deities. So familiar. So different.
“Can I—can I touch them? Talk to them?” My voice trembles.
“Fuck yes,” says Leilani, breaking free of the line and running forward. She catches me in a violent hug, and a second later Rose’s arms close around both of us. I’m sobbing, laughing, breaking apart.
Long minutes later, I’ve hugged them all, kissed them all, laughed with them all. I’ve gripped Rose’s hands and thanked her for her sacrifice. I’ve thanked my mother for the dagger she hid in her room. I’ve said things I barely remember, because it’s all a glorious, heart-pounding blur. Apparently Arawn has been keeping my family and friends apprised of all the goings-on in the mortal plane, ever since he first devised this plan. They understand everything that has passed on this side, and they congratulate me heartily on my marriage.
“We could not have left Cerato in better hands,” says my father.
