The Starless King (Into the Nether Court Book 1) by Lucy Tempest

Author:Lucy Tempest [Tempest, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781949554199
Publisher: Starkindler Ink
Published: 2022-08-24T16:00:00+00:00

II

BRIDE OF DEATH

If I must die,

I will encounter darkness as a bride,

And hug it in mine arms.

William Shakespeare, Measure For Measure

22

Behind the Curtain

An hour away from debuting as the Bride of Death, I wasn’t complete.

I had yet to choose what to wear for my meeting with the gods.

A week ago, that statement would have made me roll on the ground with laughter. Today, it was my reality. Death was looming over my shoulder, waiting patiently for me to finish so he’d take me to Anactoron, to present me to the Council of Gods as his bride.

I wasn’t ready. Neither in an emotional nor practical sense.

But I couldn’t afford to succumb to anxiety, had to focus on what I could so something about. Hence, my ongoing quest for the gown to suit the momentous occasion.

If I couldn’t find one in his vault of miraculous apparel it would be my fault. He’d given me free rein to choose whatever I wanted for my role. But the souls who’d made them, spurred on by their new lack of limitations, had indulged their imaginations too much. The garments were more art-pieces than gowns. But I was determined to enjoy this for what it was, starting with my disguise. Right after I found the perfect gown.

Polyope had chosen what I was wearing now, a flowing satin dress in blacks and greys. But that would suit one of her priestesses. Today I was here as the future Goddess of the Underworld. That, and the shapeless thing did me no favors.

Grimacing at my reflection, I told him that. At once, he said he’d choose something, and his reflection behind me receded.

My gaze clung to his image, one hand in his black pants pocket, the other holding the etched glass fracturing the nightwine’s glow. His inky hair had been parted over his left eye, sharpening his angular profile. His preferred attire of modern, three-piece formalwear, what always ended up with the coat discarded, had been traded for a long spider-silk coat with embroidered shoulders. All in purples, of course.

The styling made him appear colder somehow, the approachable touches of messy curls cascading past his shoulders, and rolled-up sleeves gone. And it only made him hotter.

Groaning, I tore my gaze away and turned to inspect my new reflection once more.

Even with the minor alterations, I looked unrecognizable. My hair had been darkened from the sun-streaked blonde of an aging goldenrod to the cool, lustrous brown of brewed coffee. It also now fell past my waist in loose waves, having been unfurled from the usual frizzing curls. The other small yet impactful change were my eyes, now mirroring the blue-amber of the charm Polyope had given me to lock the illusion.

I tapped at the choker that held it, too unused to jewelry of any kind, let alone a large gem against my throat. “Is it too late to ask for horns?”

“What creature are you supposed to be again?” Adamantus answered, his voice not raised like mine, but felt as if it had poured into my ear.

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