Fearful (The Powerless Trilogy #3.5)

by Lauren Roberts

death is a kindness you earn.

Moss drips from each branch to slither over Death’s shoulders and skim across her brow like a slippery veil. Like a runaway bride returned.

They do love to gossip—the trees, that is. Or rather, the souls planted within them.

I think thats like adena that is burried under the trees.

Death allows herself a moment to pity this soul. “I am not who you want answering your prayers.”

“Humans have high expectations for death. For as much as everyone dreads it, they spend most of their life pondering the end of it, and just how terrible it will be.”

Death herself does not choose who to knock from their tightrope, only who to catch first once they have fallen.

A man flashes in Death’s mind. His golden hair is disheveled above a pair of wild, green eyes. He is arguing, agitated, though his words are muffled.

It is the familiarity of his features, like a distant memory, that has her stilling.

He lifts a vial to his lips and swallows.

Death gasps. Something in her hollow chest burns.

This man willingly tasted death, forfeited his future.

Death swore she would die before setting foot back in Ilya.

You see, Death takes it upon herself to appreciate the things humans fail to, and breathing is certainly a thankless phenomenon.

Because in all of Death’s years, she has never known an Azer to so willingly part with their power.

Her tie to this human runs deep, as though their veins are knotted together, hearts humming the same tune.

Death considers cracking a smile at such captivating entertainment. She does not, of course. Those are saved for special occasions.

I bet one will be w kitt

She is not heartless, Death. Not quite. The broken organ just no longer beats.

Favian Azer

Whos that?

But I am not my father. I nod and lift the vial to my lips. I will be so much greater.

Surely nothing can be this magnificent. Yet, there she stands, brown eyes pinning me to the spot. This is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and all I can manage is a blurted “What are you doing in here?”

“In truth, it’s nice to speak with someone. My thoughts are shared only with the letters I write. It’s…” I rub at the back of my neck. “It’s how I clear my head.”

“I think your motives weren’t entirely selfless,” she counters evenly. “Fine.” I swallow my pride before spitting out the words. “My father always thought I was weak. He would tell me every day. Maybe part of me wanted another dose so I would become so much stronger than he ever was.” I hold her unwavering stare. “Just like I want to be so much greater.”

“How you meet your fate will be a mystery. Even to me.”

“You are quite morbid, aren’t you?”

“You have no...

“What is your...

“Mara.”

about their conversation since, nor the way his green gaze crinkles with sincerity—but Mara would never admit such nonsense.

She wishes to witness his final breath and every one between. Regrettably, her intrigue for the young man has only grown.

“I know being an Imperial means nothing to you, but it is everything to me.” Vulnerability seeps into each word, and that alone takes strength. “And if you run away, it will only prove what everyone already thinks of me—that I’m just another weak Hyper.”

Lenny

Death might have forgotten her own name if the king had asked for it a moment later. Such intimacy has grown foreign to her. No soul—this side of the eternity she serves—has ever cared to call her anything but an atrocity. A monster.

Death must admit, with a practiced flippancy, that this man is hardly terrible to look at. In fact, she beheld a variant of this face many times before. The shadow of familiarity there, the memory of another who shared his countenance, is precisely

what drew her back to Ilya at all.

Kitt smiles. The action suits him.

“Do you not know who you are, Mara?”

“Not anymore,”

“Is it not the darkest parts of ourselves that ultimately make us who we are?”

The king can’t help but smile.

“Mara?”

Yes, she quite likes hearing her name. And it has nothing to do with the young king saying it, of course.

“May I join you in your search?”

“You are looking for yourself?”

Kitt’s long strides carry him swiftly...

Fitting, this depiction of his fate. “No,” the king admits. “I’m hoping to fin...

A shock of disappointment coursed through me when none of the passing faces belonged to Mara. This was alarming. I was engaged when meeting the intriguing woman, and that unfortunate fact still remained.

Kai is off being the Enforcer while my bride-to-be is blatantly defying orders.

Kitt Azer needs to die. A tender heart has no place in history. It must cease beating if I wish to be great.

Why does he sat that abt him

In the Plague I swallowed, the betrothal to a woman my brother wants, the pain I must cause before gifting power—there is nothing I won’t do for those I love. And I only know how to love Kai.

I am a monster. I am a king. Perhaps one cannot exist without the other.

Their connection is one she has never experienced, for Death feels his fading soul as if it were her own.