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My voice was a reverent whisper: “King of Shadows. God of darkness and the Underworld.”

I pictured him, far beneath my feet, far beneath this palace, in the depths of the earth. A wicked,monstrousgod.Thatwas the one from whom I sought aid.

I had never claimed to be wise. When I wasn’t following the orders of another, I listened only to my heart. And it was a foolish, impetuous thing.

“I call upon you, most humbly and most desperately,” I continued. “I do not know if you will accept the prayer of a girl of common birth. From one who is favored by no god.” I licked my lips, feeling the strangest sort of stage fright. “I do not ask for your favor. It is only the truth that I seek. Please... please answer me.”

I touched the poem to the flame, which erupted, climbing up my arm and blazing into the air around me in a white blur. I yelled and staggered back, gasping as I desperately pried the coat off myself—but the fire was gone. The blue velvet boreno charring, not even the smell of ash. I stood there panting in shock, until I saw it.

The flame of the candle had gone black. It flicked back and forth, casting a sprawling, crooked silhouette upon the long table—like a man, stretched out and spiderlike. I covered my mouth. The creature bent its head, adorned with three thornlike spikes.

“What is your name?”

Its voice was like wind whistling through trees, like nails upon glass, like an ancient door slowly opening. My hand clutched my heart.

“I am Lope de la Rosa,” I said. “I—I am from no household; I have no title—”

The figure’s shoulders rose with a wheezing laugh. “Such things do not matter.”

There was no malice in his voice, no irony. But what he said shocked me. And he—he was agod. He knew better than anyone. Better than a king.

Titles meant nothing.

“Is—is it not so that the gods blessed certain families?” I asked.

“I hear little from the world above. But I know the gods. They choose their playthings on a whim, set them in motion, and are back to their own devices.”

Playthings of the gods.A chill ran through me. What else could he mean but humanity?

“Then,” I said, “King Léo, fourteenth of his name—was he not blessed by the gods?”

The flame shook back and forth as he let out a sharp, cold laugh. “No gift comes freely, and certainly not fromthem. Léo is indebted tome.”

My eyes widened. I leaned closer, gripping the table. “He entered a contract with you?”

“His tale intrigued me. Hisambitionsintrigued me.” The projection upon the table fluttered its long fingers, making the flame sway left and right. “I find humans and their desires so fascinating. Is that why you have called upon me? Is there somethingyoulong for, Lope de la Rosa?”

Images flickered in my head like turning the pages of a beautiful book. Ocean waves, a shore I did not know, a grove of trees blooming pink, a cabin by a peaceful lake, Ofelia’s lips parting in a radiant smile. The two of us, resting beneath the shade of a tree. A world without danger.

I shook my head, casting them away. “No, that is not why I have asked for your help. Your—your contract with the king. What were its terms?”

The creature took a deep, rattling breath. “He asked to live forever.”

Just like the stories had said—but not quite. It was no blessing from the gods above. The king had made a bargain with the god of Shadows to buy his immortality.

“What price did he pay?” I asked. I knew the gods; I knewthat they dealt in exchanges. I could not even pray to them without an offering. Léo must have given something,something, to the king of Shadows.

A fist rapped against the library doors, jolting me out of my thoughts. One door handle jiggled, then the next. I swept up the dagger and tucked it into the pocket of my coat.

“Lope!” Ofelia called—as if she had leapt right out of my daydreams. “Lope, you won’t believe what I just saw!”

With the ring of keys in hand, I staggered through the semidarkness to the library doors, hastily trying to and finally succeeding in unlocking them. Ofelia drew back the door, and bright light poured into the library, banishing my carefully cultivated darkness. I whirled back—but the candle had burned down to a lump of wax, and all that remained of the flame was a ribbon of smoke.

I swore under my breath and darted over to the table. I reached for my tinderbox with shaky hands and struck the flint again and again—

“Lope, what on earth are you doing?”

I dropped the tools and pointed to the candle. “I just spoke to the king of Shadows.”