Chapter 43

Unfortunately, despite our very ambitious drunken conversation regarding all the mysteries that we’re going to solve and the things we’ll accomplish, the Underworld has other plans.

Because in the morning, when I wake, there’s an envelope waiting for me on the edge of the daybed.

“Anton,” I whisper, rubbing my eye and sitting up, staring at it.

To my surprise, he wakes immediately, which he’s never done before. I glance at him for a moment, curious about that. But he just wolfishly shakes himself awake and turns to look in the direction of my gaze, at the envelope.

“Oh hell,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy hair. “Well, I don’t have hands, June,” he sighs. “This one is all you.”

I lean forward and grab the envelope, quickly unsealing it and unfolding the letter inside. “If they knew where to put the letter,” I murmur. “Do you think that means they’re watching us?”

“Maybe,” Anton murmurs. But both of us put the thought aside as we lean forward to read.

The note is short.

The Second Elimination will Occur Tonight at Six. Please arrive Dressed for the Occasion.

“So, should I wear my shroud?” I murmur, dry, folding the note back up and tossing it aside as I lean back against the pillows, feeling quite deflated.

“Nah, wear something fantastic,” Anton murmurs, leaning back next to me. “If they’re going to kill you, make them feel sorry to be depriving this ugly-ass world of such fantastic beauty.”

I grin as I turn my head to him, unable to help it. “You think I’m a fantastic beauty?”

He screws up his face and looks me over like he’s thinking about it.

I laugh and swat at him as I start to stand up. “Oh, you jerk. I could die and you can’t give me a compliment on my death bed?”

“I give you compliments all day long!” he calls after me, laughing.

“I need more!” I shout back, grinning despite my fear as I wander into the bathroom, intent on a long soak in the tub. Because Anton’s right – if today is the day we’re finally judged for the beauty trial? I want to look damn good tonight.

When Nic shows up just before six, I’m waiting, standing anxiously in the black floor-length dress that he vetoed before on my date night with Orion.

“Will it do this time?” I ask, gesturing at the dress along with my rose-gold crown, which is more ornate this time, and my dark makeup, and the serious starlight wolf standing at my side.

“Yes, Princess,” Nic says, gentler than he usually is as he offers his hand. “You’re stunning tonight. Come, let us go.”

I sigh and slip my hand into his, my heart pounding as he vanishes us away.

When we arrive I glance immediately down for Anton, wanting to assure myself that he’s still there. But he is – of course he is – already looking up at me, steady assurance in his eyes. We had a long chat before Nic arrived, when he said all sorts of nice things about holding my chin high and being steady and sure in who I am.

And I had nodded, and steeled myself, and promised him that I would be.

But now, about to go in there, where Orion will eliminate one of his Contestants in this horrible Game? And she’ll die for failing to please him?

My stomach twists, and my wolf howls, as I go over every stupid and defiant thing I did this week. God, why couldn’t I have just been born even-tempered like Ariel? Or relentlessly cheerful, like Mark? Or powerful, like Rafe, who would have probably just knocked Orion’s head off by now and been done with it?

Anton growls, seeing the shifting emotions that cross my face. He steps closer, doing his very best to bolster me. I twist my fingers in his insubstantial fur, wishing I could touch him like Orion does. Or at least that Anton would channel his poltergeist powers and give me a hearty shove into courage.

“Highness?” Nic says, seeing my pause and my hesitation. He looks anxiously towards the door. “It begins soon.”

“Do you think I’m going to die tonight, Nic?” I ask, my voice tight.

He sighs and looks down at me, shaking his head. “I have no way of knowing, Princess,” he murmurs, even. I sigh and turn my head towards the door. “But,” he says, nearly a whisper.

I turn back to him, surprised.

He raises his head and for the first time I almost, almost see his eyes. “I certainly hope that you survive.”

A little smile bursts onto my lips. “Am I growing on you, Nic?”

“Like a very small, persistent fungus, Princess,” he murmurs, dipping into a low bow. “But yes, you are.”

I laugh a little and Anton huffs wolfishly, shaking out his fur and sticking close by my side. And then, still tracing my fingers through his fur, wanting the tingle of Anton’s presence, the three of us move through the door.

Nic falls away very soon after we enter, taking his place with the other Heralds by the door. But I’m quite glad for Anton next to me as I cross the marble floor towards the pit in the center, where nearly everyone else is already arranged in a wide semicircle. What must it be like for each of them, crossing this floor and arriving alone?

Quite suddenly, as I step into the light and look around at the nineteen beautiful young women around me, I feel quite sorry that they, too, don’t have a Goddess grandmother who was kind enough to send them a gift like Anton. Someone entirely on their side, to make them laugh and stick with them through every point.

“Thank you, boy,” I murmur, looking down at him quite seriously.

Anton flashes his teeth at me playfully and lets his tongue loll, trying to make me smile and succeeding. I grin at him and stroke a hand over his head before returning my eyes to the circle.

I find Laila immediately, of course, a few Contestants down. She smiles at me and gives me a little wave. I do the same, my eyes sweeping over her gorgeous blue and green gown that fades to white at the edges, like an ocean wave crashing on the shore. Heavens, but she has beautiful taste.

Still, I glance down at my own dress and consider that I feel much more at home in black. Little bat that I am, deep in my soul.

The gong sounds, making me jump, and my breath catches in my throat as my head whips up.

My eyes focus on that horrible door at the bottom of the pit, which is so much worse now that I know what is behind it.

Slowly, it creeks open, and a man ducks through. The God of Death, followed by his handsome son. My lips turn down as I observe Orion, who looks quite serious and grim. Still, as he and his father come to stand before us I find myself…frustrated by him. Confused.

Because who is he, really? The interesting, challenging man I’ve gotten to know who told me he’s tried every path he can to circumvent the deaths of nineteen women?

Or the spoiled Prince, who doesn’t really care as long as he gets his bride?

I shift uncomfortably in my heeled shoes, not liking that I don’t know. Anton presses himself closer, sensing my unease.

“Welcome, ladies,” the God of Death says, spreading his hands wide. “We will be doing things a little differently tonight.”

We all flinch slightly, looking around at each other, not knowing what that means. Differently…how?

“My son,” Death says, taking a step aside and gesturing towards Orion, “has had time this past week to consider each of your unique beauties. Not only did we have a fascinating Trial on which a variety of beauties were on display –“

I don’t miss, at all, that he moves his eyes deliberately to me here and does not smile.

“ – but further, Orion took the opportunity to meet with several Contestants individually in order to…privately assess their charms.”

There are several little gasps throughout the room and I quickly lift my eyes, scanning my competition, easily discerning who received a date like Laila and I did – or, at least, knew about them – as opposed to those who are completely surprised.

It gives me no great shock at all to see that Alexandrica looks smugly in-the-know. Mahina and Cadence, however, look quite shocked. I turn my head with interest to see that Beatrice, of all people, has absolutely no reaction at all, simply keeping her hands neatly folded in front of her and focusing on the God of Death as he continues to speak.

“These experiences,” Death says, starting to smirk now in his wicked way, “have given Prince Orion the opportunity to…sort you all. For a lack of a better term.”

The smirk turns into a full, devilish smile.

“Into two categories. Top and Bottom.”

Orion seems to sigh, hanging his head a little as cold fear rushes through me.

“You will now be sorted according to your rank,” the God of Death says, gleeful. “Pay close attention, though, for there will be…consequences for those who do not land in the Top.”

Orion sighs again and lifts his head, taking a single step forward as eighteen circles appear before him – nine golden.

And nine black.