Page 2 of A War of Embers

Right. The sole reason this family was massacred is because she wants someone else living here. How tragic of a story for their loved ones to tell others. Not that anyone would dare say anything for fear of bringing the mighty wrath of Lady Gwenyth to their door. Or more likely me.

“I’ll send Justin in,” she murmurs before flouncing away, loudly opening what I assume is the front door.

Several sets of feet shuffle inside closer to where I am. Most of the indentured servants in yellow plastic hazmat gear can’t speak to me as a rule of our lovely goddess. But the man waltzing inside with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans can.

His shirt is a bland black, the typical attire of one of the Royal Guards for the gods in their individual territories here in Tellus. His shirt has a red ribbon design for the Cinnabar District, marking Lady Gwenyth as his goddess to serve. His bronze skin shimmers under the recess lighting, wild gold eyes watching me carefully as his mouth stretches into a smirk. “Well now, fancy seeing you here.” His voice is deep and sultry, but my distrust of him makes it hard to fall for his charm the way most women do.

Ignoring him, I turn towards the closest person in yellow and say, “Clean the sword but return it to my private residence.”

Whoever it is only bows their head in acknowledgment before grabbing the sword still laying by my feet and scurrying off.

“Why did she send you?”

Justin grins. “Because of my proposal.”

He’s made so many of them over the years it’s hard to keep track of which he’s referring to. Even though I know whatever it is I’ll turn down just like always. Deciding it’s best to ignore him, I turn to watch the hazmat people begin the process of placing the body parts in a large black container to cart off later to the Blood Sea. An offering of flesh to grant access for their souls to settle at the Cliff of Embers.

“You’re not even going to hear me out?” he teases.

“I don’t have time for this. I want to supervise and ensure everything is fine then shower off this blood.” And scrub my skin off, but I keep that comment to myself.

“We would be a great choice to marry.”

My nose wrinkles instinctively. One of Lady Gwenyth’s newest laws within the past fifteen years is that she must bless a couple into marriage before they can actually marry. Anyone who is together in secret will face judgment. “Not interested.”

“I would take on your debt.”

He’s a fool if he truly believes my debt can be cast off onto another. There’s a reason Lady Gwenyth doesn’t entertain anyone who tries to make any connection to me. “You want to be made immortal, you don’t want me for a wife,” I counter with little heat in my voice. Everyone thinks being immortal is a gift bestowed upon those given immortal souls; very few are aware of just how costly becoming one truly is, and even then they don’t realize the trap they’re in until it’s far too late.

Justin doesn’t bother denying it. “You cannot die. It’s not a curse.”

“From the lips of a man who has the choice to die.”

“Keres,” Justin placates as he moves to stand in front of me. “Why won’t you consider it? If I take on your debt, you get your soul back. Isn’t that what you want?”

It must be a shame to not realize the game Lady Gwenyth plays with her subjects. To be so clouded with the idea of immortality that one would easily trade their life for it. Many people would jump at the chance to trade debts. Many people also don’t know how foolish what they’re asking for truly is. “I won’t take someone’s choice from them.” Not when they have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.

“It will be my choice to trade.”

Is it though? “She won’t allow it. If she wanted you that badly to be immortal she would have stolen your soul long ago or already agreed to this sham of a marriage proposal you’ve gone to her with before.” He’s not the first person to go to Lady Gwenyth wanting to take on my debt, he’s just the only consistent one who doesn’t seem to understand the word no. Perhaps Lady Gwenyth enjoys toying with him, dangling it as a possibility for him to one day be given my place even though I know better than to believe a word she says.

Justin doesn’t have the decency to hide his scorn.

“She turns you down every time,” I point out. “Why don’t you think about the reason that might be.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

Gods don’t tend to. “Look,” I sigh. “If I was selfish and actually believed she would let us trade places, I’d let you. But she won’t. And I’m not a selfish person.” At least not when I have control over my body and mind. The one thing I hold onto dearly is my ability to understand I want this curse of immortality to end with me. It’s the one value I keep tucked deeply hidden in my heart.

Justin switches tactics, but it’s a conversation we’ve had so many times it’s easy to propel the carousel for another round. “You should stand up for yourself.”

I’m fairly certain that’s how I ended up in this predicament, though I don’t entirely remember how. “I’m standing up to you.”

Justin glares. “I don’t understand you. No one wants to die.”

If he knew the things I’ve done, the things I will continue to do in my endless loop of a life, then he would seek death too if it ever became an option. But the kicker here is it will never be an option, regardless of his thoughts. “She isn’t going to agree to this idea of yours, so just stop bringing it up.”

“She might if you ask.”

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