Page 63 of Love and Death
Their time will come.
But, for now … I must have patience. They would not be able to deny me their end of the bargain if there was not some truth to their words. If they need Death’s body destroyed to grant me my power, my throne, then so be it.
“Consider it done,” I saw, jaw still tight.
“We will,” Lachesis says, her soft voice grating its way down my spine, “once it is done.”
An unexpected gasp, more like a hollow groan, draws our attention to Clotho. Her mouth is open wide—empty and gaping—as she points down at the loom.
I step forward and watch as a single shining thread loops once around another.
“What do you see?” I ask.
“The girl.”
“The mortal bane of our existence,” Atropos sneers.
“She has found Death’s tether,” Lachesis says weakly.
“Then I will get it from her and finish what I have started.”
“See that you do,” the pale one says, before all three finish in unison, “or we shall have no choice but to take fate into our own hands.”
My lip curls up at this, and I gift them a mocking bow of understanding in response. I start to turn on my heel to leave when Lachesis calls out one more time.
“If the mortal will not be broken, you must end her. You might do well to call on Cerberus’ loyalty, when the time comes.”
“He cannot be trusted with her.”
“You are right,” Atropos says, “the dog cannot be trusted with her. However, we have decided …”
“To give you a gift,” Clotho finishes.
“How so?” I scoff, knowing full well that the Fates do notgivegifts; they force them down your throat and expect payment later.
“You will find a new bond forged,” Lachesis answers, “between your dog and the girl.”
“A fate bond,” the eldest sneers before they all cackle as one.
“And what of his bond to me?”
“Do not fret, my king,” Atropos jeers, a wry smile spreading too wide across her face, “that deal remains intact. The girl has no desire for your dog; the bond will only destroy her. No, go and use this gift wisely.”
I do not respond, only nod my head in feigned obedience.
I take my leave, climbing the stairs and forcing myway back through the gash that opens up, gladly putting their repulsive lair behind me.
The moment the stone wall seals behind me, I let my mask of obliging obedience drop. A snarl tears from my throat—deep, guttural, inhuman.
How dare they speak to me like I cannot hold my own, let alone fate bond the girl to my dog. They should have bound her to me!
No matter, I will break this bond between them, and I will do with the girl as I please, when I please. She will be broken, but not to appease the hags of fate.
The thread-weaving crones have grown too used to their perceived power.
Once Death’s power is finally mine, I willrulefate.
And when I do, I will return—not as a god who serves them … but as the hand that silences the loom, and preferably, them with it.
