My woman cared little for dresses finer than those of any queen, the rich food I provided for her sustenance, or the diamond set into her collar. How refreshingly honest this midwife was compared to the titled stock of lords and ladies who painted their lips as though it would hide the lies they spoke. As Njala had…

But not my Ada.

No, my little one marked the bone, barraged through my corpses, tried to escape my kingdom, and snarled at me whenever her lips didn’t tremble with a moan. She pledged nothing but her hatred; she swore nothing but her escape. And now she even refused to make me promises she knew she wouldn’t keep?

That made a promise from her mouth valuable, indeed.

So trustworthy, I longed to kiss one from her lips. I wanted to taste her commitment to remain by my side. How blessed that bastard of a husband was to have a woman who, even in death, honored her vows. And what if I wanted her to make such a vow to me? Ought I to take her as my wife?

Mmm. Lots of temples between here and the Pale Court…

I stroked over her belly that would swell with my child soon enough. “Your flesh is perfectly imperfect.”

And I longed for it almost as passionately as I ached for the devotion and dutifulness she’d stood by all this time. For the wrong reasons, yes, but with admirable resolve, nonetheless. What did a husband do with a wife, anyway? So many customs in so many places, all equally confusing.

“People are staring.” Her neck shortened as she curled herself against me in a poor attempt at hiding her face. “Devil be damned, you had to ride in on a dead horse with white eyes and give me a damn feather dress, right?”

I willed my mare up an incline, avoiding the farmers and merchants who moved grains and goods along the road. Their mumbles followed us as long as their stares, sparking restlessness in my core.

“Hold on,” I said, once more spurring my mare into a canter, eager to return to the safety of the Pale Court, but there was the issue with my woman’s exhausted flesh.

We didn’t slow until the first bellows drifted on the wind, along with the bitter fumes of burnt oil. Each time metal clashed against metal, my little mortal retreated deeper into my arms.

I quite liked it.

Then the bellows turned to screams. Screams to deafening battle roars that manifested in nothing short of bloodlust, which swept through the lines of soldiers like a flood of rage. Axes hacked into flesh and crushed bones, pikes scratched along metal until they found their way into guts.

Wounded scattered the ground, screaming in pain, some dragging themselves over the dirt toward their severed limb. Oh, mortals and their frail bodies… fighting over creeks, riches, titles, only to end up as food for the crows.

Flames crackled where they’d lit the ground on fire, smoke rising in raven-black billows. On instinct, I steered away from it, but the stench of my charred flesh already crept into my nostrils.

“This is awful,” Ada mumbled when, far ahead of us, a soldier thrust a sword into another’s belly.

When I spotted Yarin, clad in leather armor with a sword in his hand, I rode up to him. “Blending in?”

“I don’t have corpses to come to my defense, should I need it.” The God of Whispers winked at my woman in that certainty he had around females, knowing their every thought. “I’m afraid you missed the part where they set the oil-soaked ground on fire and burned hundreds, brother. A coincidence… or immaculate planning?”

“Mortal needs slowed our travel. Mark the corpses you want raised.”

“You’ve only just arrived.” Yarin sheathed his sword. “Maybe a stroll along the nearby creek, Ada?”

“Your brother broke my legs.”

“Twisted,” I corrected, but Ada stiffened against me as he undoubtedly poisoned her mind with his whispers. “You won’t blend in anymore if I raise the dead and send them after you faster than you can shift into your realm.”

“I only said that I’m surprised you didn’t snap her neck yet.” At the pinching of my lips, Yarin’s curled into a smirk. “The dead never run from you, and you seem oh-so desperate to keep her.”

“Point out the four bodies.”

“Raise five more for me.” A growl formed at the back of my throat, but only until he added, “Do this for me, and I’ll make your woman love you.”

A shift beneath my ribs.

Love me.

Whatever that weasel saw on my face brought a self-satisfied smirk to his. “She’ll adore you, brother.”

My heart quickened.

Adore me.

“She’ll be tormented by such ardor that she would never leave your side,” he said. “Never.”

Never leave.

Always stay.

Everything inside me demanded that I comply, even more fervently when Ada cut my brother a poisonous glare. No matter how deep my power reached into her flesh and bone, answering the desperate call of her neglected body, her rebelling soul sat behind a barrier not even I could breech. How long had it been since I roused her lust?

Longer than she would accept.

Let alone confess to herself…

Should that bother me?

No, but it did with such alarming intensity, I was tempted to agree. To have my mortal reach for me at her own choosing, pledging herself to me like only my enamored woman would.

Or my wife.

“Mark the bodies,” I bit out.

“Suit yourself.” Yarin gazed over the field. “Let me see… mmm, which ones to keep?”

“Are you jesting? You haven’t even bound them yet?”

“Weighty choices shouldn’t be rushed.” Yarin tapped his lips and shrugged, glancing over the stone block walls surrounding Airensty. “One must choose the men and women he surrounds himself with wisely. Ah! This one will make for fine entertainment.”

I let my mare follow him toward a dead soldier, pressing my mouth against Ada’s ear. “Listen to him and he’ll drive you mad. It is his nature.”

Ada nodded. “Is he doing it to you as well?”

Driving me mad, for certain. “None of us have power over the other. We don’t sense each other’s presence, which makes Yarin, in particular, quite a nuisance.”

Ada watched with rapt attention when Yarin reached his hand over the dead body, binding the man’s soul to its flesh. “What happens if he doesn’t chain it?”

“Souls detach from their mortal bodies after a while, slower if death came suddenly, and you cling to it longer. Once it leaves, it becomes part of his realm, a loud place between the gruesome thoughts of mankind.”

When Yarin arched a brow at me, I focused on the corpse, commanding it to rise. Leather armor groaned as the man first twitched, then stood, glancing around disoriented.

The soldier pressed a hand to the gaping wound on his belly, fingers shaky when he pulled a dagger from his guts under whimpers. “Wh-what happened?”

“He feels pain?” Ada asked.

“Or so he believes,” I clarified. “Raised corpses with their souls bound don’t understand what they are… at least, not at first.”

“So, he thinks he’s still alive.”

“Ah, Enosh…” Yarin swatted toward the wound. “Please do fix this. Otherwise, he’ll just bleed on my rugs, not to mention how ghastly it looks.”

All it took was a thought, and the wound closed beneath the leather while the corpse grew frantic. Such was their plight as their minds were too simple to grasp what lay beyond their mortal realms.

Whatever Yarin whispered into his mind calmed him, and my brother strolled over to a woman who wept over the body of a man—presumably, her husband.

He stroked his fingers through her matted brown hair, then grinned up at me. “Under all that filth, I daresay she’s beautiful.”

“Also, alive.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Ada’s heart beat faster, stumbling over its irregularity as Yarin pulled a knife from its sheath. “He can’t just kill her.”

“He won’t.” Not in her sense. Eilam loved to preach about how there needed to be a balance between the three of us, throwing a fit whenever one of us ended a life. “Close your eyes, little one.”