Page 5 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Even though it was the gods that created our world.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal sensed the presence before she saw it, lingering like a shadow at the gates of the wyverian castle. With purposeful strides she approached the great entrance, only to halt at the sight of Thanatos. The very sight of him raked at old wounds, stirring questions she could no longer silence. She longed to strike him for every lie, for every truth withheld from the beginning. Yet instead she reined in her fury, drawing close until scarcely an inch separated them.
A thought pricked her mind: was Ash, even now, standing at one of the glassless windows above, watching them unseen?
‘He is not,’ Thanatos murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You swore never to read my mind.’
‘I did not,’ he said softly. ‘But I have watched your expressions for more than a thousand years, Melinoe. They are not so easily forgotten.’
Thanatos looked unchanged, as if time itself bent around him. In his dark raimenthis skin seemed bleached of all warmth, pallid as moonlight. His eyes were twin abysses, black as the endless night, and his curling hair shone with such whiteness that even snow would pale beside it. It was agony to look upon him and not be snared once more by that terrible, unearthly beauty.
‘Is this your true face?’ she asked.
Thanatos’ lips curved into a faint smile. ‘Not quite. This form is fashioned in likeness to mortal flesh. My true visage… tends to terrify those on the brink of death. It is not a sight the dying bear easily.’
‘And what does it look like?’
‘You have seen it before.’ His sigh was soft, almost wistful. ‘You simply do not remember.’
‘Then show me.’
A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. ‘No, Melinoe. I cannot.’
‘Why not?’
He leaned close enough for their breaths to mingle, his voice brushing against her like a caress. ‘Because I only ever revealed that form when we lay unclothed, and you could truly savour it.’
Mal recoiled a step, heat flashing across her cheeks. ‘Do not provoke me.’
Thanatos lifted his shoulders in a languid shrug. ‘I do try not to.’
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded, turning as though to retreat into the castle. Yet his footsteps followed, and she froze, uncertain whether it was wise to permit Death itself across her threshold.
‘You must leave,’ he said.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Take the Fire King with you. Hide, for a while, somewhere they cannot reach.’
Mal frowned. ‘And why would I do that?’
‘Because they are coming for you.’
‘Who?’
‘My sister Eris, the one who once wore the witch Vera’s skin.’ He dragged a hand along the sharp line of his jaw. ‘She conspires with Persephone. They crave vengeance.’
‘They cannot kill me.’
‘No. That much is true.’ His gaze caught hers then, and in the fathomless dark of his eyes she glimpsed something rare, something raw, something that looked perilously close to fear. ‘But believe me, Melinoe… they can do something far worse.’
‘And what is that?’
‘They can take from you those you love.’
