Page 87 of Bride of the Corpse King

The shade form appears. Parallel to my body, he hovers above me so I may breathe his essence of pomegranates, of dark smoke, of Isle-incense.

"Ary...?" I whisper, seeking his eyes through the mysterious shade veil.

"What are you doing, Isla?"

"If it's the only way to get your attention..." I elude and slide my finger deep inside myself, resisting the urge to giggle.

"And you believedthiswas the best environment?"

I shrug with a tender laugh, excusing, "I didn't want Allysteir walking in like last time."

Kryach blows icy breath across my face. The fragrance of the Isles laced with the sound of death rattles, of decay. "What could you possibly want to discuss now, Tenth Bride of Talahn-Feyal?"

I rise onto my elbows, toss my waves onto my shoulder, and demand, "Am I pregnant?"

Ary's shade drifts back and forth, smoke expelling as if infinite sighs curl from his being. "That question is not your most desired. Ask again."

"Am I the Mallyach-Ender?"

At first, he gives no response until his shades transport my bridal gown to cover my body. "Dress yourself, Tenth Bride. To answer such a question, you'll need more than your skin clothing you."

I waste no time in scrambling back into the sheathe so Ary may navigate the boat into the deepest and darkest cavern of Nathyan Ghyeal where the spirits themselves don't dare to traverse.

This is why.

"Ary," I whimper as the boat nudges another dead refter bride floating along the surface of the water. The corpses are so preserved, it's impossible to tell which ones have been here the longest.

Utter silence from the God of Death out of the corner of my eye. When I turn, he disappears, veiled into thin air. But he doesn't leave me alone.

"Lovely blood under faces of white.

Ash and runes but not one bite. Not one bite. Not one bite..."

I stare at Betha. At her sorrowful hair mirroring the fallen brides, though hers is far longer and the eerie blue of a funereal shroud. Weighed down by woeful tears, her gray mist eyes barely regard me?too lost in her mission of collecting the corpses. I gasp when she plucks a bride from the mass and props them on a rocky ledge upon the cavern wall on my left.

Smothered somewhere on its exit, my gasp perishes, and I spin my head at what is no ordinary cavern. These are ancient ruins partly submerged.

"Light a candle, a thousand or two

A lonely grave for the lovers of Doom. Of Doom. Of Doom."

I whip my head from one side to the other while Betha's shrieks echo off the cavern walls, fading before they reach the other tunnels. Thousands of alcoves, little ledges, house the delicate corpses. Propped to sit, the brides seem ready to do some sort of court. These ruins were once an ancient assembly. Has Betha been here this whole time placing each bride in her designated place? These unfinished burial graves?

Fatigue numbs me to my core, heavier than nightmares. Now, the Nether-mark flares its fire in the wake of all the bodies, summoning me to action.

Betha wails and flits about the corpses, corpses I soon comprehend are not refters at all. Leaning over the boat so I may weave strong vines around one, I peer closer to find kohl ink upon lashes and lids smearing their fruitful cheeks. Not sunken like true refters. Someone has packed their mouths with pomegranate seeds.

"No," I moan, on the verge of wailing like Betha, thankful I did not eat before I came. They've been dressed this way as a mockery.

"After sun has fallen and dusk is nigh

Listen to his stolen lullaby...Stolen. Stolen," repeats Betha, and I pinch my eyes as she snatches another imitation bride, kisses her brow, and lays her inside another burial alcove.

It's the same lullaby, but not the same words.

"Allysteir would never do this." I shake my head, denying Betha.

For the first time, Betha turns her heart-shaped face to me, her eyes glassy and gray as an unseeing mirror. "Not Corpus King. Too busy. Too lost in love. He cannot see." She hovers in mid-air above me, her long gown more shredded than usual. Of course not Allysteir. This and the refter brides on the pomegranate isle can only be the work of Kanat. Or the lower gods. Or they're in league with one another.