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A name given; a body delivered. That was my true role. That of a harbinger. A lone assassin in a world of none. Death’s Maiden.
“Marry me, Princess Deyanira Sariah Hark, Death’s Maiden, heir to the throne of Perth. Tomorrow for the crowds and the kingdoms, but tonight, for us. They will never know, but we can take the choice away from them. We’ll marry on our terms and not theirs.”
“Some of us chose to be alone, Old Man.” “Yes. And some of us are plagued by it.”
“Because as long as I hate you, you cannot destroy me.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Deyanira. I’m going to choose you.” He turned back to look at me, a swell of emotion in his eyes I’d never seen before. “And I think I need to find a way to process that. I should choose the good of the world. I should be their hero. But I think when it comes down to it, I’d rather be yours, because you have no one.”
“It will always be a battle of wits with you, I see.” “No. It would take two competent parties to form a battle, and from where I’m standing, your side of the room is lacking the requirements.
“Gods, Deyanira. When are you going to stop fighting me?” I scoffed. “Two seconds after you stop fighting me.”
Do you see these wretches?” I studied my nails rather than give away the rapid beat of my heart. “No. I’ve gone blind overnight.”
“I’ve never been a good worker,” I said. “Ask the Maestro; he can confirm.”
“Hello, Little Dove.”
