Between the Moon and Her Night (Between Life and Death #3)

Chapter 19

Aurelia

I ran my fingertips over the cool, obsidian walls, my bare feet padding down the length of black rug, embossed with intricate swirls of silver. It stretched out before me, spanning the entire corridor from end to end. Dozens of banners made from a heavy, luxurious-looking cloth hung on either side of the hall, twinning one another in placement. A matching emblem—a raven standing on top of a skull—was stitched into each banner. Black metal torches, forged to look like skeleton hands, lit the hallway. A purple flame burned in them, tinting the dark walls a glowing amethyst.

Wandering castle hallways was something I had grown rather used to over the years. Following my creation, when I was lovesick for Aurelius, I used to do it in hopes that I would be able to catch a glimpse of him during his back-to-back meetings or constant travels. Knowing that he was working hard for the good of the realms, I never pried about his whereabouts or insisted that he spend more time with me. Instead, I roamed the halls like a ghost, silently longing for him, keeping my loneliness to myself so that he could be a good king.

I was doing my duty.

Or so I blindly believed.

But now, I realized how stupid I had been.

Aurelius had never loved me; he loved the idea of me. I fed his ego. Nothing more. Nothing less.

When I reached the end of the hall, I was granted a few options—I could either go to the left or the right, or I could take the coil of tightly winding stairs straight ahead of me.

Something tugged— the bond tugged—begging me to forget the other options and return to him .

Although the bond’s pull was strong, my anger was stronger.

“Stairs it is,” I said to the ghosts of this place.

I cursed the bond and Von the whole way down.

The sound of bubbling, sputtering pots, light conversation, and the rhythmic tapping of knives against cutting boards gathered my attention. The slight acidic aroma of fermenting dough and savory, stewing meats followed shortly after.

My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled.

That was one more thing I had in common with the mortals—I hungered frequently, unlike my immortal counterparts who could go months without eating. Not me. A day or two without food not only made me ready to gnaw my arm off, but it also left me in a sour mood.

Following the allure of the delicious smells, I quickly tracked ahead.

Stepping into the huge kitchen, I was greeted by a waft of heat and delicious spices, and the upturn of a few heads. Some offered me a warm smile or a nod before they went back to what they were doing—chopping, mixing, or kneading, while chatting with their neighbors. Rows of tables sat beside each other, providing the large kitchen with ample preparation space. Stools lined the tables, about a quarter of them occupied by the kitchen staff.

The hearth, large enough to fit a small carriage in, was placed in the center of the far wall. Two people stood in front of it, one of them stirring a bubbling pot, while the other preheated a cast-iron griddle.

“Excuse me, lass,” wheezed an elderly male from behind me—his tone heavily accented in a string of soft vowels and hardened consonants.

I glanced over my shoulder, finding four tiers of crates, a pair of skinny legs, and a set of weary eyes peeking around them.

“Sorry,” I apologized, quickly stepping out of his way.

“Dinna worry,” he said, his shaky legs carrying him ahead. Reaching the end of the table, he dropped the crates on top, a loud thunk sounding in the process. I guessed him to be somewhere in his seventies, but considering he was down here, who knew how old he truly was.

A sturdy-looking woman, who had been drizzling chocolate on some type of puffy, golden pastry, stopped what she was doing and hurried over. “Is that all the apples ye were able to get?” she huffed at the man, her hands dissolving in the wealth of her hips. She possessed the same accent as him, which made me wonder if they had been born in the same lands in the Living Realm before their souls were brought here to live out their afterlife.

“Creator’s sake, lass, what do ye mean is that all ? I nearly blew my back out carryin’ those blasted crates in,” he declared, his hand reaching behind him, massaging away.

“Well,” she sighed, “I reckon they’ll have to do.”

“Aye, I sure hope so,” he said as he sat down on one of the stools.

“It’ll be your hide if they are no’ enough, not mine,” she teased him. “Maria, Rosa, can ye two lasses work on peeling these?” she spoke to two girls who were seated at a table, dicing vegetables—the scars on their cutting boards telling of the many, many meals prepared on them.

“Yes,” one replied.

At the same time the other one said, “Of course.”

“Very good. Ye can pull Rosalia from cellar stockin’ duties if ye need an extra hand,” the woman said.

“Okay,” one of the girls responded pleasantly as she reached for the top crate. With some difficulty, she carried it, waddling her way over to the table like a woman who was nine months pregnant. The other girl grabbed the next one. She didn’t fare much better.

The woman watched them for a moment, before she turned back to the man and asked, “Have ye eaten yet today?”

“Nay.” He shook his head.

She patted his hand. “I’ll get ye a bite then.” Kind blue eyes swung up to meet mine, time-stitched crow’s feet webbed at the sides. “D’ye want somethin’ to eat as well, dear? Ye have the look of hunger in your eyes. ”

I nodded, my voice a bit croaky as I said, “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

She gestured to the seat across from the man. “Please have a seat, then. I’ll be a few moments as the stew isna done yet. I can assure ye’ll be in good company with Early here.”

Early gave me a wink and motioned for me to come sit.

And so, I did.

“I dinna reckon I’ve seen your face before,” Early said as I slid onto the stool across from him while the kind woman headed off to fetch us some food. “Face like yours—” he nodded, “—I’d be sure to remember it.” His eyes grew wide. “Ah, sorry, lass. I dinna mean for that to come across any type of way. It’s just that ye are very bonny.”

“Thank you,” I said, shrugging softly. “A compliment is always nice to hear.”

He smiled at that. “Do ye have a name, miss?”

I opened my mouth to tell him, but then I paused. I paused because my name didn’t really feel like my name anymore. Aurelius had given it to me on the day I was made, but like the heart beating in my chest, it was of him, not of me.

And so, I looked at Early and said, “You know, I’m not entirely sure I do anymore.”

He gave me a knowing look. “Aye, I understand. Sometimes we outgrow the names that were given to us. My parents didna call me Early, but the folks around these parts know me as such. Never on time, but always Early.” He gave me another wink.

A soft laugh fell from my lips. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Early.” I extended my hand over the table.

He took it and I had to do everything within my power not to jerk out of his soft grasp. Because his hand was not made of flesh, but cold, cold bone. Although it took me by surprise, it was not jarring. Because I had felt another hand like that once before—it belonged to the captain of the floating boat that transported people to this castle.

He gave my hand a gentle shake. “As it’s a pleasure to meet ye as well, Snow.”

“Snow?” I asked warmly as I retracted my arm, the feel of his bony fingers lingering on my skin.

He tapped the small remnants of hair that clung to the sides of his head. “Reminds me of the color of the snow in the Livin’ Realm, unlike the black stuff that falls here.” A reminiscent smile tugged at his lips.

“Ah, I see,” I replied, thinking for a moment. “Do you miss it?”

He shot me a confused look.

“The Living Realm.”

He shook his head. “Not the Livin’ Realm itself, nay. The people though, I do. Although so many years have passed, I doubt they are even there anymore.” He nodded to the kind woman who had offered me food. She was standing at the hearth, unloading a cutting board full of vegetables into a bubbling pot. “Davina, over there, is one of the only people I know from the Livin’ Realm. We grew up together.”

That explained the matching accents.

“She seems very kind.”

“Aye, she is.”

“So, then—” I flicked my eyes to Davina, “—are you two together?”

“Goodness, nay. We’re just friends.” He paused for a moment, the light in his eyes fading. “My wife passed before me, but when I showed up here, I couldna find her. She’s in a different tier in the Spirit Realm.”

Ah yes, I had heard of the different tiers that people were sorted into, based on how they acted in the Living Realm.

“Why don’t you request to be placed in her tier? So that you two can be reunited?”

“Och, I have tried. Every Monday for the last thirty years, I have stood outside the throne room, hopin’ to see the king or one of his advisors so that I can put in my request. But every time, I’m turned away.”

“The God of Death won’t approve your request?”

“That’s not the problem. Nay, it’s that there are so many people waitin’ to put their own request in that they end up closin’ the doors before I can get to the front of the line.” Early’s voice became hoarse. “What I wouldna do to be reunited with her. She was the love of my life. Still is.”

“I might be able to help you,” I said, watching as a young girl came over to us with a tray in her hands. On it sat a few cups, a glass teapot, cream, and sugar.

“Would either of you like a cup of tea?” she asked, her voice sweet and bubbly.

“Please,” I answered.

Early nodded. “Tea would be wonderful. Thank ye, lass.”

The girl placed the tray on the table, metal sounding against stone.

As she dished the cups out to us, Early looked at me. “I appreciate the offer, truly, I do. I dinna mean to sound ungrateful or rude, but I’ve done everythin’ I can to get back to her without any luck so how are ye goin’ to help me?”

The girl began to pour the tea into my cup. As it filled, I looked up to Early and said, “I’m going to get you a private audience with the God of Death.”

The only downside about my promise? It meant I had to talk to the bastard.