Page 86 of Princess of Death

I couldn’t have her now—but I still wanted her to win.

I appeared in her cell, seeing her sitting on the floor against the wall, a mixture of irritation and hopelessness in her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess from the sea wind, and she looked fatigued, but she was somehow still the most breathtaking woman I’d ever seen. “You should have listened to me.”

Her eyes flicked to me with the speed of a fired arrow. “I don’t usually take a demon at their word.” She rubbed her templewith her fingertips like she had a headache, but she didn’t once complain about it.

“I’m not a demon. I’m Wrath, God of the Underworld, King of the Dead—and you will address me as such.”

“Or what?” she challenged with her signature fire I’d already become acquainted with. “My luck can’t get much worse.”

I looked out the bars and listened to the voices up above that she couldn’t hear. I hated seeing the bars, knowing she was trapped behind them. Didn’t like seeing her sitting on the floor when she deserved to sit on a throne. “But it can get better.”

“I won’t sell my soul for freedom. I’d rather die.”

I turned to her when I heard what she said, when I heard her contradict what all my victims had done. What I had done. She was smarter than the rest of us, possessing a moral integrity with an ironclad attachment to her principles. “What he wants to do to you is much worse than death.”

Her eyes immediately flicked away to reject the notion, to pretend the idea had never entered her head—even though it was probably already there. “The answer is still no.”

I’d wanted to take her soul when I first saw her, but now she had the last soul I would ever take. Even if she offered to pay her father’s debt with an eternity in the underworld, my answer would still be no. Because she was too good for that. Because she deserved better. “There’s a small sailboat attached to the rear of their ship. Can you sail it alone?”

Her eyes stayed on the bars for a second before she looked at me again, not understanding the nature of the question. “What?”She seemed bewildered by the situation—that I was going to help her get out of there.

“Can you sail it alone?” I repeated.

“I can sail anything,” I said. “But what does that matter?—”

“Just be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

I broke my oath and intervened with the living—and would pay the consequences later.

I raised a kraken from the seafloor, a pile of bones deep in the abyss, and it rose to the surface and wrapped its tentacles around the ship before it jostled it, sending men flying overboard into the waves.

I ordered him not to sink the ship, not when Lily was still beneath that deck.

Once all but one of the men were dead, I sent the lone survivor below deck to unlock the door, knowing it would be the last thing he did.

Lily looked at me in horror, like she finally understood who she was dealing with. Understood the power I had over this world and the next. She remained against the wall like she would be my next victim, when I’d defied my orders and purpose to save her.

“Go.”

“What is happening?—”

“Go. You don’t have much time.” The other ships would come back eventually to check on the crew. The gold they had stored underneath was too important to be abandoned. It was more important than their lives.

Lily finally got to her feet and darted out of the cell. She stepped over the dead on deck and headed to the rear of the ship where the small sailboat was hoisted. She knew how to use the ropes and the rungs to get it into the water, and she climbed down and sat in the boat, still wearing her armor.

It was dark, but she managed to get the sail up and use the compass to steer the ship in the right direction. She was but a leaf on the surface of the water, a pin drop compared to the other ships, and she should be able to sail by without being detected.

She breathed hard, like the adrenaline was too much for her, but she commandeered the ship like it was second nature. When others would sob at what they had escaped and the enormous task before them, she sailed straight into it without fear, like she knew she was strong enough to survive it.

I appeared across from her on the only other bench in the boat, seeing the drops of water that splashed onto her face, her long hair that was stuck to the side of her neck.

She stared at me as she continued to grip the rudder. She showed no fear now, but something far deeper. The climactic moment had united us in an unspoken bond, and I knew she felt it too.

“It’s a four-day journey from here—assuming all goes well.” She wouldn’t be able to sleep. There were no supplies on the boat, no food or water, so she’d have to survive that long without or hopefor rain. Most men would die, but I believed she would make it. “You can do this.”

Then she said something I would never forget, uttered words that no one else would have the nerve to say. Her words formed a permanent echo in my mind, a loop that continued indefinitely. They were beautiful in their confidence, even more beautiful in her vulnerability. “I know I can.”

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