Page 12 of Bride of Death (Netherworld Fae #1)

Sera

The moment I walk into Death’s Den, I know Maliki’s warning was real.

Because everyone is staring at me.

It’s like the first day I stepped behind the bar, only this is worse because the den is packed full of fae.

I average maybe thirty to forty patrons a shift. And that’s on a busy night.

But this? Right now? Yeah, there have to be at least a hundred fae in here.

And none of them are speaking. Just gawking.

Thorns.

At least there’s music playing. Otherwise, it would be eerily quiet in here.

Gritting my teeth, I head toward the bar and startle when Gnarls’s red head pops up from behind it. His green eyes go wide as he takes me in. “Sera,” he mouths, his gaze darting behind me and then all around to take in the gawkers at my back.

“Gnarls,” I greet, forcing a smile. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.”

“I should be saying that to you,” he replies. “Er, Your Majesty?”

I frown. “What?”

“My lady?” he tries again. “Or, or… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how to refer to the God of Death’s chosen mate.” His eyes round. “Oh, cherries, I’m fudging this up, aren’t I?”

I blink at him, his words choices… strange. “Uh, well, no. You’re fine. And I’m not his chosen mate. There’s been a mistake.”

Gnarls’s red lashes flutter along his pale cheekbones. “Er, no, I’ve seen the invitation.” He scrambles around while I join him behind the bar, seemingly oblivious to our audience as he searches for something.

When a parchment edged in fire appears, I take a step back, but he thrusts it in my direction, which causes a flurry of golden leaves to sprout—literally, sprout —up from the page. I gape at the magic, then start to read the writing beneath the growing stem of leaves.

Or is it a flower? I wonder as glittering petals bloom at the end of the stalk. Wow, that’s pretty. I almost reach out to touch it, but my gaze snags on my name written in black ink.

You’re Cordially Invited to the Nuptial Day Event

between

Hades C. Netherworld

and

Serapina P. Everheart

My brow furrows. “I don’t have a middle name.” But I can guess what the P stands for. “And this is all just a big misunderstanding. I’m not mating Hades.”

Gasps answer my proclamation, reminding me of our audience.

“Sera,” Gnarls whispers, his voice underlined in warning. “If you say his name, he’ll appear.”

“Oh?” I ask, feigning intrigue. “Well then, Hades. Hades. Hades !” I glance around, waiting for someone to either appear or step forward.

The problem is, even if the God of Death revealed himself, I wouldn’t recognize him.

Because we have never even met!

I nearly scream those words aloud but instead allow them to echo loudly in my head before stealing a deep breath and facing Gnarls.

“Well, he’s not here. So let me set the record straight—I’m not engaged.

The invitations were sent in error. I’m just a human girl trying to survive in the Netherworld Kingdom, okay? ”

His expression is underlined in incredulity, making it clear that he doesn’t believe me.

I sigh. “Look, just let me work my shift tonight, okay? Then I’ll go… sort this out.”

A snort from my left has me glancing at Maliki just as he settles at the bar.

Gnarls visibly pales and says, “I was just about to tell our queen that we appreciate all she’s done to get to know us, but we obviously don’t expect her to work anymore.”

I steal a deep breath, my nerves suddenly frayed. “Gnarls, please don’t?—”

“She likes fixing drinks and talking to fae,” Maliki interjects. “Should I tell Hades you’re taking away her enjoyment, Gnarls?”

My manager’s eyes widens. “No, I?—”

“And further, I think Hades owns this place, yeah?” He glances back at the entrance. “I mean, there’s not a sign outside, I guess, but it is called Death’s Den , is it not?”

“It is. It’s his. I know th?—”

“So if his fiancée wants to work here,” Maliki interrupts again, “then I think it might be wise to let her, yeah?”

Gnarls is whiter than Pip’s bony face now, his green eyes even less vibrant than before. “Of course,” he says, sounding ill. “I would never tell her not to do something, especially if she enjoys it.”

Maliki nods, then focuses on me. “Are you in the mood to fix me a spider ale tonight, or should I do it myself?”

I grit my teeth, irritated by him inserting himself into this discussion.

Yeah, okay, he helped.

But I could have handled this without his involvement. “You can get your own drink,” I tell him.

His lips quirk. “Sure, trouble.”

He disappears, and I don’t bother to look behind me because I already know he’s standing right there.

I feel his warm breath on my neck as he adds, “I’ll be hanging out in the shadows tonight, like I usually do. So try not to flirt with your patrons, trouble. Unless you want a bloody wedding, of course.”

I spin as I feel his lips ghost over my pulse.

But he’s several feet back and already pouring himself a drink, making me wonder if I imagined the caress.

When he winks at me, I narrow my gaze.

And he vanishes.

Only, unlike last night, he doesn’t shadow back to his stool. Instead, he remains hidden. Yet I can almost feel him looking at me.

Or maybe it’s everyone else in the den.

Because yeah, they’re all still staring.

“I’m not marrying Hades!” I shout at all of them, but the words are especially dedicated to Maliki. “This is all a giant misunderstanding,” I go on. “But if you would like a drink, come place your order. I’ll be working at the bar.”

Several fae exchange glances, then advance on me as a group, causing me to take a step backward in alarm.

Orders start coming in rapid fire, causing my eyes to widen in alarm while I try to keep up.

It’s as though everyone accepted my invitation and they haven’t had a drink in years.

“Need help?” Gnarls inquires, his voice holding a touch of uncertainty.

“Yes,” I tell him, surprised he even had to ask. “You handle that side”—I gesture to the right—“and I’ll take the left.”

“Of course, Your Ladyship,” he replies with a slight bow.

“No, don’t do that,” I snap. “I’m just Sera. Not your queen or whatever else you want to call me. Sera. Got it?”

“Y-yes, my, um, er, Sera.”

I roll my eyes. “Just help me with these drinks, Gnarls.”

He nods eagerly and gets to work.

I’m not sure when I became the boss and he became the subordinate, but I’ll evaluate that later. When I’m done taking all these drink orders…

Which is apparently never going to end.

Just as one group finishes, another pops up.

And I swear there are more than a hundred patrons now in the den. It’s like the entire village has arrived and all of them are thirsty.

I glance at the bone clock, shocked to see two hours have passed in what feels like minutes. Though, my feet and hands are certainly feeling the ache of time.

That ache only worsens with each order, to the point that my fingers begin to cramp from pouring so many types of ales and shots.

“Uh, we’ll take three spider ales?” a fae with dreadlocks tells me, his request sounding like a question more than an order.

“Are you sure?” I ask in return.

“Er, no. Five. We want… we want five?”

I stare at him. “Didn’t you just have a dozen web shots?”

His eyebrows lift. “Should we order more of those instead?”

I blink. “I don’t…” My brow furrows. “Do you even want drinks?”

“Probably not,” Maliki drawls as he appears beside me, making me jump from his sudden presence. “But you told them all to order drinks, so they’re ordering drinks.”

My frown deepens as I look at him. However, he’s not paying me any mind—he’s just refilling his drink again. I’ve not bumped into him at all, but I suspect this isn’t the first time he’s refilled his cup tonight.

“I didn’t tell them to do anything,” I say to Maliki.

“Not true, trouble,” he murmurs, swirling his glass to hold all the smoky substance inside of it. “You told them to come place their orders. Thus…” He gestures to the fae swarm at the bar.

I stare at him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, I agree, but I’m not the one who issued the command.”

“I didn’t command anyone.”

His features crinkle as he replies, “Yeah, you did. And as the Bride of Death, they all jumped to obey you.”

My eyes widen. “They didn’t.”

His eyebrow arches, then he cocks his head toward the crowd while giving me a look that says, But didn’t they?

“Oh, thorns,” I breathe, realizing that he’s right. “They’re drinking themselves into a stupor!”

“That they are,” he drawls, his lips quirking up at the sides. “Good thing they’re all immortal and can handle it.”

With that profound statement, he disappears again.

I growl.

It’s a guttural sound, one that has a few fae nearby taking a step backward. And for once, I just do not care.

Because this has gotten out of control.

“Gnarls,” I hiss.

He instantly stops what he’s doing and is at my side in a blink. “Yes, my, er.” He clears his throat. “How can I help you, Sera?”

I bite my cheek, my patience nonexistent. But I can tell he’s trying.

Because he thinks I’m engaged to a God.

And not just any God, but his God.

How is this my life? I marvel, the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose overwhelming my thoughts.

Yet somehow I maintain a calm I don’t feel and politely say, “I would like the rest of the evening off.”

“Oh, of course, Sera. You’ve worked very hard tonight.”

I actually have worked pretty hard tonight, so I decide to just accept his words and not question if he means them or if he’s just saying them to appease me.

“Thank you,” I tell him before looking at the crowd.

“Please enjoy your evening and do whatever you, um, like to do.” It’s the dumbest statement I’ve probably ever made.

However, the relief in the bar is palpable.

Because they no longer feel compelled to order drinks.

Stars, this is insane. Utter madness. I just…

I can’t even finish the thought. I simply need to leave.

And I know just where I want to go, too.

Later, though.

After the village is asleep…