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Killing Lady Cirilla, while enjoyable, is the best practical measure to take to approach my bargain with Lord Rowan. Mortals and immortals cannot kill Lords or Ladies. However, by merely attempting to, is considered a death sentence. At least in Tellus it is.

The only reason I never bothered trying with Lady Gwenyth, even though I desperately wanted to, is because she wouldn’t have granted me death. She would have found another punishment to ensure I toe the line the next time the idea of freedom came to mind. The mere fact she can activate a soul and wipe my memory during the embodiment is testament to the fact my punishment would not be death.

But here in a realm with Lords and Ladies with no apparent access to activate those murderous souls inside of me? It’s a surefire way to show how desperate I’ve become in my quest for eternal rest.

Lord Rowan wants me to show him how badly I want to die, I’ll ensure it’s the grandest fight I’ve ever partaken in.

Alyvia’s footsteps outside of the guest room pause again for the tenth time in a span of forty-two minutes. I can tell she wants to knock, offer me company, but is hesitant to do so.

Word quickly spread after I got back about my rather unusual choice of words for a Lord so beloved in his own home. Probably by none other than the shit-stirrer himself, Zeke, who conveniently is avoiding me once again.

I cross my ankles, staring a hole into the paint on the wall as I try to conjure up a way to use Lady Cirilla to my advantage. Not only do I need to find a way to be around her, but also a way to inflict enough damage to be taken seriously.

Attempting to behead her would get the fastest response.

Perhaps dousing her in gasoline and lighting her on fire would work.

My nose wrinkles in disgust at the horrendous smell burning flesh causes. Not to mention the insufferable screaming that would ensue. It may not kill her, but it will take several days to heal.

Flicking my eyes towards the sword leaning against the wall, it seems as though my best bet is to use it.

Poison isn’t fast enough to get my point across. Plus it’s not a stealthy kill I’m after, but a grandiose show.

The only downside at the moment is being able to lug around my sword inconspicuously. Every time I’ve tried to leave with it, someone stops me with a gentle reminder to leave it behind. It’s becoming downright ridiculous.

I’m a soldier. A warrior. Trained in combat in too many forms to count. Yet a woman carting around a sword seems to be an issue on this side of the sea. I almost want to laugh at the audacity.

A moment slips by, my heart rate slowing and my mind shifting. I’m feeling too many emotions and it’s interrupting my typical methodical logic. A flash of the harsh planes of Lord Rowan’s face comes to mind. Cheekbones prominent and his square jaw set into a stern line even while his lips twist in a cruel smirk. I try to close my eyes to make the image disappear, but it remains even in the darkness.

Lifting my hands, I stare at the back of them. The white lines of the bargain staining my skin. The veins lay hidden beneath the ink. Glancing across the room to the mirror, I note the only prominent veins glowing are the ones running through my arteries. My face, feet, and hands are usually concealed for some unknown reason. It’s not until I unveil my limbs do people stumble back in shock at the unearthly blue glow. Across the sea people know of it. They view the neon blue as gold running through my veins. A powerful statement of magic bound to me through my Lady of Cinnabar. Those people are blind to the chains the magic instills in my body.

It seems the numbness I thought was bound to me forever is only bound in Tellus.

Is this what Lord Rowan meant? Because my emotional outbursts are at odds to how I viewed myself prior to crossing the Blood Sea? Regardless of the emotional range now slamming into me with highs and lows, it doesn’t take away the fact I simply want to be done with everything. To stop being a pawn in someone else’s game. This is not the life I want to live where there is no hope and no family to embrace.

“Keres?” Alyvia calls out my name tentatively.

Slipping off the bed, I unhurriedly make my way to the door, opening it up and leaning against the frame. “Yes?”

“Do you wish to talk about your encounter with Lord Rowan? You seemed rather tense yesterday when you exited his main library.”

His library? It makes sense thinking back to the books and scrolls littering the place. Though it seems odd for a man so old, no matter how young he looks, to need to record everything.

When I don’t respond, Alyvia glances down at my hand displaying the new shimmering ink. She repeats what she said yesterday, “You made a bargain with him.”

“I did.”

She swallows roughly, growing pale the longer she stares at my hand. “He does not often make bargains, Keres. And he never makes bargains he won’t come out the victor in. Whatever he promised you, it won’t come to life.”

My eyes narrow at her cryptic words. “It won’t come to life?”

“Whoever you want brought back. Whatever you promised him to get him to say he would do that.”

Several seconds trickle by as I take in her meaning. Lord Rowan can bring someone back to life. Nothing I can conjure up makes any sense as to him possessing such a powerful gift. Even though the Cliff of Embers are somewhere here in Aïdes, I didn’t realize a Lord or Lady could pluck a soul back out and reanimate them. Shaking away the preposterous idea, I say, “He’s not able to do anything other than escort embers to their final resting place.”

Alyvia looks up at me, the corners of her mouth tugging down in a frown. “This is Aïdes, Lord Rowan can step into the Cliff of Embers. Did they not tell you this? That is how immortals were made here during the Province Wars.”

Shock fills me. Not only is Lord Rowan the only chance I have of finding peace, he can also take it away? Is anyone in this forsaken world ever truly dead? Is there anything such as peace? I want to punch something, scream and yell until my lungs burn. I can feel the vile taste of ash filling my mouth once again, but I try to breathe through the magic threatening to rip into the veil once more.