Page 8 of Princess of Death

I took my time traveling inland, listening intently after every step, searching for the man whom I already considered an enemy. I did my best to keep the ship at my back, to know the way to the shore so I wouldn’t get lost in this strange place.

But he didn’t appear.

So I had to keep going, keep trekking farther into the center.

That was when the trees changed. They became bigger, mighty oaks that had died long ago. Strange wooden symbols hung from the trunks and dangled below, gently spinning when the wind blew through. Some were triangles and others were circles. I couldn’t identify most of the symbols—and I certainly couldn’t identify what they meant.

Then he was there.

A man in a kingly dark-blue uniform. Upon his chest was a skull trapped in weeds and bramble. His armor was black in most places, and so was the cape that hung behind him. He was tall, maybe half a foot taller than my father, his shoulders having the wingspan of a dragon. A behemoth of a man who looked so strong that the armor seemed unnecessary.

I showed fear to no one, and I did my best to uphold that now.

With short, dark hair and eyes the color of earth, he stared me down with an intensity I couldn’t even describe. I didn’t know whether it was hatred or disgust or…something else entirely. With no desire to blink, he continued that ruthless stare like it was sharper than the blade hooked across his back.

I wanted to reach for my blade, but I knew that would be pointless. I could best a man with the blade—but this was not a man.

He was otherworldly.

Seconds turned into minutes, and his stare continued to smolder—like a fire that burned without wood.

The interaction was so long I had the time to study his features, the hard bones in his face, his jawline that was so sharp, it had a shadow without the sun. Veins protruded up both sides of his neck. The bottom of his face had a sprinkling of dark hair that reminded me of my father’s when he chose not to shave. The longer I stared, the more details I noticed.

I was the first to speak. “How do you know my name?” I forced strength into my voice, strength that I didn’t feel. My courage had been beaten in the storm, and I knew this storm I faced was far worse.

“Because I’m the God of the Underworld—and I know everything.”

My father had warned me not to come here, told me an evil lurked on this island that should be avoided at all costs, and now I understood. Understood that my father’s travels as a pirate had been far more extensive than he’d led me to believe.

“Daughter of Talon Rothschild, King of Dragons and the Southern Isles, a man who doesn’t pay his debts.” He hadn’t blinked this entire time, giving me an unforgiving stare that felt like the tip of a dagger to my throat. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

I was too proud to show fear. I would rather die standing than groveling on my knees. But I felt the terror everyone must feel the moment before they died. I didn’t grieve for the life I didn’t get to live. I grieved for my mother and father, the two people who would mourn until their dying day. “My ship got caught in a storm?—”

“And was blown off course far to the west and into my domain.” The fierce stare continued. “Your father came here intentionally—and you mistakenly. But nonetheless, you’re here. And now you’re mine.”

“You’re the one who’s mistaken.” The temper that got me into trouble more times than I could count reared its ugly head, and I stepped forward, closer to the god. “Because I don’t belong to any man.”

His hard stare continued, but now, it narrowed almost imperceptibly. Instead of boiling into a rage at my defiance, he continued to simmer on low, a controlled burn. “You’re arrogant—just like your father.”

“I take that as a compliment,” I snapped back.

His eyes narrowed further on my face, his annoyance creeping to the surface. “If Talon Rothschild won’t honor the debt to my predecessor, then I will make him honor that debt—through you.”

“You won’t make me do a damn thing, asshole.” I turned around, turning my back on the God of the Underworld, and walked away.

He appeared before me, an apparition, a ghost.

I halted as I sucked in a breath.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Yeah, you already said that.” This time, I stepped forward to walk right through him since he clearly wasn’t real.

But I hit the plate of armor over his hard chest and bounced back.

His expression didn’t change, and he looked at me with the same fiery gaze.

I hadn’t expected him to be real. To be as physical as the trunk of a tree. To be a boulder that could crush me. “What debt does my father owe?”

---