Page 25 of Fearful (Powerless Trilogy #3.5)

The blades of grass look sharp beneath the streaming moonlight.

Death sits beside me in the field beyond the gardens, and it’s oddly comforting, her closeness. I know I shouldn’t feel at ease beside the woman who will soon drag me to the Mors, but it feels quiet in her presence. Like my weary soul is sighing.

The vile tonics Eli forces down my throat each day are doing precisely as much as Mara predicted they would—nothing. My head pounds incessantly, and I find most everyone to be intolerable. In other words, the Plague is slowly killing me from the inside out.

But with Death, I feel most alive. Every ache is dulled in her presence. In fact, I could almost forget about my imminent demise.

“Do you know why you are dying?”

Within a puddle of moonlight, Mara’s stoic features look as though they are cut from marble. I sigh at the question and tell her what she likely wishes to hear. “Because of my greed?”

“Of course. But not entirely.” She unfurls her legs atop the soft grass, displaying the fitted pants hugging them. The cloak that usually smothers her figure has mysteriously gone missing. “Greedier men have lived long and prosperous lives.”

I look up at the inky sky. “So, why is it I’m dying, Mara?”

“Because you, and everyone else in this kingdom, are ignorant to power,” she states.

My lips pull into a frown. “I know my power.”

“You know how to wield what you were given.” Death leans on the pair of palms she places behind her back. It’s a casual movement that equally does and doesn’t suit her. “But you do not know the power.”

I consider this. “And you do?”

“Quite personally.”

“Is that why you died?” I ask before thinking better of it. “Power?”

She stares at me with the deep knowingness of someone who was forced to discover everything on their own. I’m not sure I like that look. Death may know me entirely, but I could not even wager a bet as to what she is thinking at any given moment.

Then, slowly enough to quicken my heartbeat, she says, “I am all that was, and all that will soon come to pass. But before that, I was in love.”

I swallow, relieved to be right about one thing.

Mara was not always Death.

“Is love not a power of its own?” I murmur.

“For those lucky enough.” Her voice is even. It always is. “But for most, it means certain death.”

I can’t help but stare at her. Death’s profile is somehow soft and striking beneath the starry sky. The most terrifying thing about her is the way in which she speaks, with poise and conviction. And every time she opens her mouth, I find myself agreeing with the words that fall from it.

Love, too, has brought me certain death.

All of this, all that I am, is because I loved a man who didn’t even understand the meaning of such a word.

Now I am a monster, a king, a bit of both.

Now I no longer trust love, my heart. Not with anyone but my brother.

Crickets chirp all around, filling the silence with their songs. The night air is crisp. She really should be wearing that cloak. If Death were just a girl, and I were just a boy, I might have offered her my jacket.

“So”—I clear my throat—“you promised to tell me about the souls.”

It is pointless to ask Mara any more about her death—or rather, her speculated life. Anything she wanted to say, she would have told me already. And I have no interest in testing Death’s patience.

“Yes.” She seems deep in thought. Really, she always seems that way, and consequently, it always feels as though I am disrupting her. “I can shift my perspective to the spiritual plane. Seeing one’s soul helps me better understand the type of person they are.”

I cross my ankles and mirror Mara’s deceivingly relaxed position. The grass is damp beneath my palms. “When you say you can see souls, that means what, exactly?”

“It’s like a mass of energy,” she supplies. “Every human is unique. There are different colors and shapes and even movements.”

I cough into a fist and try to ignore Death literally looking over my shoulder. “So,” I finally manage, “what does mine look like?”

“Blue,” she answers softly. “Muted. Like a puddle reflecting a dimming sky.”

“And the shape?”

“An oval.”

I frown slightly. “That doesn’t seem very interesting.”

“It’s not, really,” Mara states in that blatant matter. Then she shrugs stiffly, like a person who’s forgotten how to execute the gesture. “I’ve seen a lot of souls.”

I chuckle, and she almost returns the sound with a slight smile. “Good to know I’m average, thank you.”

Death holds me in her gaze for a long moment. “And there is little movement,” she says finally. “Your soul is fading.”

I draw a deep breath, but most importantly, I do not dwell. “Right, well, what does my soul say about me?”

“Typically,” she starts evenly, “the darker the color, the more troubled the person—their past, their virtue, their mind. This isn’t always the case, though. For you…” Mara hesitates for the first time. It’s strangely human of her. “Your soul seeks companionship. There is a sadness within you.”

There is no point in denial, so I let my silence speak for itself.

I have always known of this darkness within me.

It was felt for the first time at the age of four when discovering that it was I who killed my mother.

And I might have unleashed that something within me if it weren’t for the fact that Kai was deemed the calculated, cold brother, and I the caring and kind one.

So I buried that kernel of sadness somewhere deep within me.

And when Father died, uprooting that part of myself, it looked a bit madder than I remembered.

“Kitt?”

My gaze snaps to Mara’s. It’s strange, hearing Death utter your name. “Sorry,” I murmur. “Just thinking.”

“Stay with your thoughts.” She dips her head. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

I almost refuse her offer for the sake of being polite. Then a smile tempts my lips.

No one, living or dead, has ever offered to wait outside my thoughts for me. So I shut my eyes and ponder beside her.

After the passing of several peaceful minutes, I ask, hesitantly, “Do you still need time with your thoughts?”

“I’m always with my thoughts,” Mara returns. “But I can free myself of them for now.”

I look up at the smattering of stars. “What does Death think about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Mostly the living.” She lifts her gaze to rest it beside mine. “But tonight, I’m thinking about why you are marrying a woman you hate.”

“I don’t hate Paedyn,” I say sharply. My head is beginning to pound once again.

“In fact, I had dinner with her this evening.” I recall vaguely how distracted she seemed.

“And before everything, we were even… close. Now she is my peace offering to the other kingdoms so they will open their borders for trade.”

Mara looks unimpressed. “And you will then infect the cities with this Plague you know nothing about?”

“I’ve already started,” I say quickly.

This manages to crack her stony facade. “Izram.”

I nod. “The crate of roses Paedyn left as a gift are sprinkled with a diluted dose of the Plague. Once one person falls ill—”

“The rest will follow,” Death states. “Mirroring what happened a century ago.”

“Exactly.” My words swell with surety. “And the kingdoms will soon thank me for the power I have given them.”

“Hmm.” Mara gives no indication of her thoughts on this matter. “That still doesn’t explain your dislike for Paedyn Gray.”

I shut my eyes against a wave of irritability. “It’s not her, necessarily. It’s Kai. I only want Kai, but he wants her. He…” My chest tightens painfully. It’s difficult to breathe, but I spit out the words furiously. “He can’t love her more. This is all for us. I… I need him to choose me.”

“Your Majesty!”

My head throbs in time to my racing heart. I whip around, finding an Imperial racing toward me. Still, Mara watches me with those sharp eyes, a wave of questions likely sitting on the tip of her tongue.

“Your Majesty,” the Imperial pants as he nears our patch of grass. I straighten instinctively. My eyes flick to where Death sits beside me. It is strange, being the only one bearing witness to her presence.

The young man skids to a stop in the dewy grass.

“There’s a fire in the castle, Your Majesty.”