She grips the first lily at its base with the tweezers, snips the stem, and drops the bloom into the bowl. I can’t look away as she repeats the process twice more. When the final flower lands in the bowl, she hurries toward the far side of the greenhouse.
“Zora,” I call after her.
She stops and turns. “Yes, dear?”
“Do you have any marigolds? I just thought… I’d like one for me, and one for Azrael.”
She nods. “Come with me.”
I follow her into another room, my gaze snagging on the many oddities and bright trinkets along the way. We enter a small chamber with a freshly made bed—I can only assume it’s meant for me.
“Make yourself comfortable. I will return in a few minutes with the flowers,” she says, bowing before pulling the door closed behind her.
I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling defeated as I wait for her to come back.
She returns a few moments later carrying an old, worn top hat. Thrusting it in front of me, she mumbles, “Picture what you want and pull it out of the hat. It will appear in your hand.”
I gaze at her, bewildered by the explanation. Magic has always been all around us, and now that I finally can experience it, my life is being cut short. I think of the Fates’ reminder. Taking a steadying breath, I plunge my hand into the hat.
Images flash through my mind: golden marigolds and how they glow under the lights of the big top, the silver slivers of moonlight falling across them when I’d lay them on my pillow at night.
There’s a tingle in my fingers, and then I can feel myself holding something. When my hand emerges, two perfect yellow marigolds are clasped in my fist.
Tears fill my eyes, though I don’t allow them to flow over. Zora wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. “It’s not goodbye, Mercy. It’s only see you later. I will keep your mortal body safe, until you rise again.”
She kisses me softly on the forehead. “Safe journeys, my lady.” Gesturing toward the bowl of flowers on the bedside table, she adds, “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Her hands give mine one final squeeze before she backs away slowly, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, leaving me alone with death.
I glare at the flowers. I will never forgive this punishment. That something so cherished by me—and a symbol of Azrael’s love—should become the weapon of my death feels like the Fates’ cruelest mockery. My heart cracks, but I inhale, imagining it healed. I will not shed a tear.
“If this is what I must do to prove my love… “ My voice rises, shouting to no one, though I know they are listening. I direct my next words to the Fates themselves. “If this is what I must do to prove myself worthy of him, then I will do it in every lifetime, over and over again.” My body shakes, but I refuse to break. I draw a breath. “I will not shatter. Do you hear me? I will not break!”
The lump in my throat feels enormous, as though it might choke me, but I swallow it down. Eyeing the beautiful blossoms with their deep red pigment, I reach a trembling hand out. Even the barest touch can be poisonous. My finger hovers just above the first bloom. Closing my eyes, picturing Azrael, I pluck it from the bowl. In one motion, I bring it to my lips and swallow it whole.
Bitterness coats my tongue, my body warning me to reject it. My stomach heaves, but I force it back. I grab the second flowerand choke it down. This one burns as it goes, my tongue already numb, unable to taste its vile poison. I reach for the third and devour it. Fire races through my veins, every nerve aflame. The room spins. I cling to Azrael’s image, wanting his face to be the last thing I see—but Marblas’ visage fills my mind instead. I remember my instructions.
Marblas,I call through the bond, exactly as the Fates taught me.I’m so sorry. Come to me, please. Don’t tell Azrael.My hand tightens around the marigolds as I wait.
I’m on my way. You aren’t the only one with an important role to play,he replies, voice steady as though he has lived this a thousand times.
My vision hovers between blurry and clear as the poison spreads through my blood. Pain explodes in my muscles. It hurts, but I keep blocking Azrael out. I won’t hurt him—this isn’t his burden; it’s mine.
Marblas arrives seconds later, escorted by Zora. He steps in the room and is instantly by my side.My lady, can you climb onto my back so I can take you to your final resting place?he asks gently.
I stumble as I climb from the bed and slide over his back. The fur is soft. I tangle my fingers through it into his mane. I take a deep breath, even though it hurts.
“Goodbye, Zora,” I whisper as Marblas carries me past her and out of the boxcar.
He strolls down a worn path. The world flashes in and out of existence around me. It’s freezing outside. Another flash, and we’re next to a smaller tent. I can barely make out its stripes as my vision flashes in and out.
Marblas chuffs in frustration. I can tell I’m allowing my emotions to leak down our bond as I continue to hold the wall between myself and Azrael’s in place. My strength is fading, but unlike the last time I saw Marblas, he doesn’t restore my power as it begins to stutter out. I reach for it, and come back feeling empty. Looking at my hands, I check to see that the flowers are still there.
A warm light washes over me as the pain fades, dulling to a manageable annoyance. Inside the tent is a carved wooden slab with a small pillow and a white sheet draped over a section of it. Azrael inches toward it, stepping through the only opening between the hundreds of beautiful flowers surrounding it. He stops next to the slab, and when I reach out to run my fingers over the carvings, they glow beneath my touch.
Lay down and rest,Marblas whispers.
I follow his directions, laying my head on the soft pillow. The wood is hard and cold against my back.
