Page 52 of Bride of Death

“Yeah. They…” He trails off and palms the back of his neck. “Have you seen what Reaper can do with his shadows?”

“Not personally, no, but I’ve heard he makes weapons. You do, too?”

He shakes his head again. “No. But my shadows function similarly in that I have a unique power tied to them, too. They basically operate as an extension of my mind and can manipulate things around me. They can also influence sensations, like calming effects… or pain.”

My eyebrows lift. “That’s quite a spectrum.”

He shrugs, the last of his inky strands disappearing into his arm. “It’s who I am, mystery. I’ve not lied to you. I’m an assassin. But I’m currentlyyourassassin. Which makes you the safest human in all the realms. Now, are we going to talk about what’s in the bag?” He holds it up for me to see and gives it a little rattle.

“Seeds,” I reply. “For roses.”

He arches a brow. “Like the flower with the thorns?”

“Yes.”

“And where are we planting them?” he asks.

I scowl. “We”—I take the bag from him—“are not planting anything.” I stalk off toward the kitchen, which is unfortunately only a few feet away, and bend to grab the pot Pip left for me. He’s nowhere to be seen again, naturally.

Setting the pot and bag on the counter, I go to find a fork, then return to carefully draw it through the soil. Pip handled this, which means it’s likely hazardous.

However, as I dig through the pot, all I find is fresh dirt. It’s even a little moist, and the scent coming from it suggests it’s been recently fertilized, too.

Smiling, I grab the bag from the swap store fae and start going through the seed options. When I find seeds for Autumn Damask roses, I smile. “I used to maintain some of these in our village gardens,” I say, aware that Maliki is still here. “I think they were sent to the Elite City to be used in various perfumes. Or perhaps as decorations.”

I don’t actually know, as I never visited the Elite City. I grew up in Nightingale Village, left on a train for Monsters Night, and then ended up in a dream.

Or a greenhouse, I suppose.

“The Elite City is like Chicago, right?” Maliki asks.

I shrug. “It’s not a city name I’m familiar with, but that’s what Alina’s mates told her, yes.” I don’t look at Maliki while I talk, my focus on the small pot and counting the appropriate number of seeds. “I’m going to need a much bigger plot once this starts growing.”

“Death’s Palace has miles of gardens for you to play within,” he tells me.

I snort at that. “I won’t be living there again.” I already stayed in Orcus’s wing for a year and barely saw ten percent of the massive residence. “I’m not mating Hades.”

“So you’ve said,” a deep voice replies, one that sends a chill down my spine.

Because it doesn’t belong to Maliki.

It belongs to the man from my dreams.

Dreams that have haunted me for my entire existence.

Dreams that could never be a reality.

Yet, I just heard him…

And Maliki is still here, standing on the opposite side of the counter, his gaze on something behind me.

No, not something.

Someone.

I spin around, my eyes widening at the tall figment of my imagination.

His intensely dark irises burn into mine, his dominant aura surrounding me in an all-too-familiar embrace.