Chapter 17 I sit on the fountain's edge, staring into the rippling water. Shillings lie motionless in their watery grave-another version of me had promised to distribute them to those in the slums. I try not to think about Kai meeting the same fate. He insisted on accompanying my bride-to-be on her journey to Izram, and due to the aggravatingly sensible concerns he voiced, I was forced to watch him drift away on the Reckoning. I lift my gaze to the sprawling gardens encircling me. They look dull in the setting sunlight, petals leeched of their vibrance. Weeks have passed since I last walked the spiraling paths through the grounds. Becoming king has hardly allowed me to enjoy myself as of late. A sharp pang in my chest makes me flinch. My fingers curl into fists; eyes squeeze shut. "You are worse than you were after dying." I blow out a breath before meeting Death's gaze. She stands a few feet to my left, her hands tucked into the deep pockets of her cloak. The gaping hood swallows her auburn hair, shades the placid features beneath. "The Plague hasn't been kind to me," I admit distantly. "That's because it wasn't meant for you." I can hardly find the strength to chuckle. "Should I even bother asking you to elaborate? Or is Death required to be this cryptic?" "You will find out soon enough," Mara answers evenly. "But you have already learned more about the afterlife than most." "I'm not sure I have." I stand with a sigh. "It's been days since I... died, and I'm not entirely sure what even happened." Death's gaze dips for a single moment. "Walk with me? I will answer your questions about the Mors." Mara's offer and the hesitancy that accompanies it makes me pause. "Yes, of course." I stride toward her. "That sounds like a fair deal." Her cloak drags along the stone path, swallowing stray petals and muffling the sound of each step. We embrace the silence that wedges its way between us. I haven't felt comfortable being anything but a king as of late, so I relish in the simplicity of this moment. Who knew a stroll with Death could bring such peace. "I haven't seen you in a few days," I finally say, brushing my fingers along a row of reaching flowers. Mara answers quickly. "Have you been looking for me?" "Well, I didn't think it was a good sign, me seeing you." I say this with a touch of humor, but if Death ever does smile, that certainly doesn't coax one from her lips. "Of course," she agrees softly. "My presence is never wanted." There is no evidence of hurt in her voice, and still, I feel a twinge of guilt in my gut. I'm not sure why I wish to lift Death's spirits-I'm not entirely sure she even has them. "Truth be told, I might have been looking for you," I say, and it might just be the truth. "Like I said at the ball, it's nice, having someone to talk to about... everything." She finally looks at me then, brown eyes on the verge of portraying an emotion. "I know what it feels like to be alone. That is why I wanted to meet you." I nod at the pink sky hanging low over us. "And it is only me you can talk to?" "My connection with your dying soul allows me to physically interact with you while remaining unnoticed to others. Think of it like a veil." Mara slips her hand from a pocket to lift a drooping flower. It's an odd sight from Death. "I can only step onto this plane through the sliver of opening you've offered me. But to everyone else, I remain a shadow." "So"-our shoulders brush as we follow the curving path-"where do you go when you're not with me?" "I have other souls to take care of." It almost sounds like she's teasing me. "The dead await their afterlife." I cough into a fist, ignoring Mara's scrutiny. She's more watchful than the Healers. "The Mors seemed... horribly lonely. The afterlife is hardly anything to look forward to." "You didn't enjoy it," she observes. I glance over at her. "Why would I?" "I just thought I understood you better." She holds my gaze. "You have a darkness within you. One I figured would be drawn to the Mors." "There is no darkness within me." The words tear off my tongue, bitter and biting. I blink in surprise at my sudden irritation. "Sorry," I murmur earnestly. "I'm not sure what came over me." "Hmm." That soft sound of fascination is all she offers in response. I look away. Draw in a deep breath. Hmm, indeed. Sunlight flees from the sky as we tread between rows of tangled foliage. Mara looks as completely unreadable as always, irritatingly elusive. Everything about Death is uncertain, down to the very moment she snatches your soul. I clear my throat. "So, I never found my mother." "I'm sorry." The words are genuine. What a strange sentence coming from Death's mouth. "It's frustrating, but my temporary death wasn't in vain." I steer us back toward the towering fountain. "I found my father." "Edric Azer," Mara reminisces. "An angry soul." "Even more so after what I told him." The look on Father's face, the color draining from it, is a fond memory I frequently relive. Mere weeks ago, I would have never dreamed of speaking to him like that. He was everything to me, and I was determined to be something to him. But I was a boy then. Now I am a king. Mara's gaze pierces me from beneath her yawning hood. "And what did you say?" "The truth." I clear my tightening throat with a cough. "I am going to be so much greater than him. He was too weak to do what needs to be done-not me." Agitation returns to my voice. "And he will spend the rest of his afterlife thinking about that. Thinking about the disappointing son who will bury his legacy." "I'm sure he will," she says simply. Mara doesn't seem disturbed by my blatant desire for vengeance. "Souls like his don't usually find peace." We slow to a stop before the fountain. "Find peace?" "Those who accept that there is no way out of the Mors are the ones who escape it." Death says this like one would when solving an obvious riddle. "They move on. Dwell within the very fabric of the Mors. Each soul may decide how they spend their afterlife-forever searching for a way to escape it or greeting Fate and finding peace." I stare at her in disbelief. "So, the afterlife is all just one big mind game?" "It's not fire or paradise." She almost shrugs. "It's what you make of it. But Death is consistently lonely." I vaguely wonder if she is speaking about herself when a ripple of realization has me murmuring, "My father... He was convinced Iris was whispering to him from inside a tree." "She likely was." The words actually sound sane when Mara says them so dully. "The trees are quite talkative." "So, there is no way to reach my mother?" I can't help but feel disappointed, despite how selfish. "Because she found peace?" "Her soul is resting." The sadness in Mara's voice is startling. No emotion has ever been so evident. "That is all anyone can hope for." "Is that what you hope for?" I ask boldly. "I am not allowed to hope. Not since before." There is that pinch of sadness again. "And I hardly remember that lifetime." I utter the same set of words I had when the sun still lit the sky. "Should I even bother asking you to elaborate?" She says nothing. "How long have you been Death?" A tedious, still moment passes. I think this, too, is a futile use of my breath until- Her gaze grows distant. "Long enough to forget how to live." This answer only brings on another onslaught of questions that I'm forced to swallow. Who is-was-Mara? The more I know about her, the less I understand. Human. She was a living, breathing being at some point. Death is ageless. Mara is not. So how did she end up dragging souls to the Mors? I look down at my reflection in the fountain's crisp pool. My confusion is reflected there, rippling beneath me to deepen the creases in my brow. The only thing I'm certain of is Death's longing to live, and my impending doom. Sighing, I look up at the mystery that is Mara. "I'm dying, aren't I? Like truly, undeniably not going to survive this Plague?" A shadow of sympathy crosses her face. "Your body wasn't meant to handle such power. I'm not sure how much time you have...." "Right." I nod, again and again. As if that is all it takes for me to accept the consequences of what I've done for power. "Tell you what," I start with a sigh. "I'll remind you how to live if you teach me how to die." At first, Mara says nothing. Then, she offers a soft "Hmm." I shake my head. "You're either in or you're out, Death. And neither of us really have anything to lose." "Fine," she says, and by the sound of it, against her better judgment. "I'm in." I stretch my power toward the pool of water below. Since becoming king, my Dual ability is hardly needed within the confines of my study. In fact, over the past few weeks, I've done little more than light the occasional candle or drench a parched plant. But when I order the fountain's water to lift and nuzzle my hand, it hesitates. My power feels somehow distant, unfamiliar in my veins. I frown, concentrating in a way I haven't had to since I was a boy. The Plague. Water rushes toward me suddenly, propelling a dull coin to the surface. I smile slightly, relieved by my responding power. Mara watches closely as the stream of water places a shilling into my palm. It's still dripping as I hold it between us. "All right, let's flip a coin for who has the first lesson." Death dips her chin in agreement. "Heads, you teach me how to die first," I explain. "Tails, we start with living." Silver glints in the dim light as I flip the shilling. When it returns to my palm, Mara leans in to see the verdict. "Tails." I smile. "Time to remind you how to live." After a moment of concentration, I send a wave of water crashing into Death. It's perhaps not the wisest choice. And, terrifyingly, she doesn't even flinch. Her wet hood droops around the blank expression she still wears. Beads of water drip from her cloak, down her nose, as she utters, "What... was that?" If it weren't for the faintest hint of amusement on her face, I fear I might have dropped dead. "This is your first lesson on living-surprises." "Hmm." I don't have time to react before water is thoroughly drenching me. Looking up through dripping lashes, I sputter at Mara. Shockingly, her lips curl ever so slightly at the corners. I feel a bit honored to be bestowed with such muted expression. "Surprise," she says evenly. "I can do that too." I blink at her. Then I laugh. For the first time in weeks, I laugh. "To living with you, Mara." I lift the coin between us. She drips before me, gaze unwavering. "To accompanying you in death, Kitt." In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...