Page 23

“I want to see my own.” I snapped the book shut, tossing it onto the nearest pile.

Grim winced as though I’d just hurled a priceless artifact into a fire pit. His expression soured, nose wrinkling.

“My fate,” I clarified, as if that wasn’t obvious.

Feodora glanced toward the window with dismay, wrapping her arms around herself, her body swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. Then she said, softly, “No.”

Just that. No.

“No?” I stammered, my mouth falling agape.

She swayed aimlessly, her mannerisms reminding me that I might very well be wasting my awe on another of Death’s tricks. “No,” she repeated, her movements pausing to lock eyes with me.

That glimmer of movement behind her irises from earlier seemed to swallow them whole now, leaving only pits of tar that seemed to tear at my tender flesh with the one look alone.

It frightened me, and the sharpened anger fell away, leaving only an acute awareness that I was in the presence of something— someone —that defied comprehension.

I was an eternal being, yet compared to her vastness, my endless existence was only a breath in the dark.

“I’m sorry, Astoria. I cannot. One must not tread into the threads of the written.

I do not wish you harm.” Her gaze softened again, her earlier dance halting.

Her eyes, once so kind, now gleamed with a sorrow that seemed to transcend mere mortal understanding.

Her attention drifted to Grim, silent as ever, and the air thickened with a tension so palpable it could be cut with a knife.

She could not show me my future, but what about my past? What ifs plagued me almost as much as Death. Could this all have been avoided? Was there a life where I could’ve kept my daughter? Where my husband wouldn’t have to pay the price?

“What of my past? Could you show me that?”

Feodora shook her head, her chin lowering as a look of pity crossed her face.

I hated pity.

“I see…” The words left my lips, but I wasn’t sure if they were for her, for me, or just the empty room that seemed to swallow them.

I couldn’t decide if they refused me simply because they could, or if something greater was at play here—something that depended on their answers. Either way, I was nothing to Fate and Death. Hardly a speck in the grand tapestry. Mostly a nuisance.

A knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. A head peeked inside, spilling the raucous sounds of the party beyond into the room.

“I see I’ve been missing out on the real party,” a voice rang out, and a man with striking silver eyes strode into the room, his gaze locking onto mine and pinning me in place.

“Death, you bastard! You’ve been holding out on me,” he teased with a strange accent, his grin almost too mischievous. “I’m Day. Nice to meet you, Storybook.”

I glanced at Grim, who let out an exasperated groan, rolling his eyes.

Day followed my gaze, his grin widening. “Pay him no mind. He’s just jealous we’re about to become the very best of friends.”

“Lay off, Day,” Grim muttered, but Day was already turning his full attention to me.

With an easy confidence, he took my hand and left a light kiss to the back of it. I hesitated, studying him, trying to place the feeling of familiarity that seemed to hang in the air. There was something comforting about his presence. Unnerving, but comforting.

His blonde hair curled at the nape of his neck; his eyes shone the color of storm clouds, piercing and intense.

But his skin glowed with an almost otherworldly golden hue, a stark contrast to the simple white shirt he wore, tucked into well-worn jeans.

Barefoot, he looked as if he’d been part of the mansion for as long as it had stood.

“Uh, hi?” I finally managed to say, still trying to wrap my head around him.

He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m Day.

Well, Time. But I’ve decided to go by Day.

I mean, you gave Death a name, so I thought I deserved one too.

” He barely paused before continuing, “I picked Day because, you know, there’s twenty-four hours in a day and I’m in charge of your days…

” His eyes widened, a dramatic pause as he leaned in closer. “Get it? Days…”

There was something immediately, impossibly likable about him. In the same way Death was unreadable, Day was the opposite. Open. Effortless. As if the truth of him sat plainly on the surface, waiting to be noticed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Time-slash-Day,” I said, offering my hand with a raised brow.

Day didn’t shake it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, lifted me off my feet, and spun me around the room in circles.

Grim, standing off to the side, reached out as if to stop us, until Feodora’s voice sliced through the air.

“Death has something he needs to discuss with you, Day. Why don’t you two find somewhere more private to talk? I’d like to speak with Astoria.”

Grim rose from his seat, gliding past me with barely a sound, his fingers brushing my shoulders in the softest of touches.

There was something in the way he paused by the door—just a brief moment, but I got the feeling he wasn’t quite ready to leave.

Day shifted beside me, eyes flicking between Grim and Feodora, sensing the stillness in the air.

Feodora broke the silence, her voice sharp. "For all the stars, she will be perfectly fine in my care. Now take the panting puppy and go."

With a snap of her fingers, the doors to the revelry beyond flung open, the chaos of the party once more pouring into the room.

Bodies roamed in a haze of smoke, lights strobing and flashing to the erratic beat of the music.

Drunken voices wailed along to the songs, laughter echoed in bursts, sharp and carefree.

Day hesitated one last moment before following Grim out. Before the door clicked shut behind them, Grim paused, turning back with a look that bore more than his snide remarks and mean jabs. His eyes were dark, and serious…

“Be good, Tempest.” His voice filled my mind as the words lingered, echoing their promise. “I’ll be back for you.”

My heart skipped. My palms turned clammy and I watched him leave, unwilling to move until he was out of sight.

Feodora turned toward me, a sly smile on her lips. “Alright, my dear. Time to break this nasty curse.”