Without a doubt, everything is magic. Everything exerts energy, thus everything contributes to the magic around us. It’s a very simple rule. One that mortals have forgotten throughout the centuries. For millennia, they have feared and wanted magic, yet they have erased its rules from their history. They have chosen to ignore even the most basic one.

Consequences can occur without the proper knowledge. Any considered normal mortal can perform fits of magic and frighten those around them. Sometimes, it can lead to them becoming outcasts. This is especially painful for children who do not understand why they are being judged. Why the adults fear them and wish not to speak to them. Why the same adults that are meant to protect them let others harm them. Why other children are not allowed to be their friends.

As far as he’s aware, these are rare occurrences. He has seen them occur at least once every century. Adults rarely have to deal with the repercussions of being able to perform fits of magic. It’s always the children. It’s always they who suffer the consequences of an unforgiving realm. Of a realm they assumed they understood. Of one they assumed was safe.

Why wouldn’t they assume the world around them is safe? The adults around them work diligently to make it so. To shelter them from the incredibly harsh environment. They do this, then push them away the moment their differences come to light. Mistreat them. Neglect them. Throw them to the snakes without looking back. Leave them to the snakes and never return.

Lord Death contemplates this for perhaps the thousandth time, wishing his young daughter does not have to learn this. That he does not have to dedicate nightly lessons to teaching her the consequences of forgetting the rules of magic. That he never had to explain that the world was a dangerous place for little girls like her. For a half deity with stronger magic than most. For her especially as the daughter of a ruler of the dead.

But of course he does. Of course he will take the time to do so. He would love to shelter her. To make the world around her bright. Make the danger disappear for good, but he can’t. Better prepare her for the worse. The inevitable.

What would sheltering her accomplish? What would keeping the truth from her accomplish? What would keeping her ignorant of the truth accomplish? What happens when she eventually learns what the world is like? Harsh. Destructive. Unforgiving to differences. To little girls like her.

He sighs, looking around his dimly lit study. With the exception of a credenza, there’s nothing here with a personal touch from the lord of death. Blank glass walls. A plain desk with four drawers that can fit an unlimited amount of things. The blue curtains on the high windows have been replaced several times by his staff. He only notices when a visitor to his court points it out to him, usually because it’s a different color since the last time they were there.

He’ll see his daughter tonight. Engage in another lesson as he has done routinely since she was three. She’s eight now, asking more questions and no longer wondering why Papa can’t visit her during the day or spend more time with her with the exception of the last three months of the year. No longer upset over why Papa can’t take her to an event she’s curious about. No longer angry that Papa can’t show her where he lives. No longer wondering if her magic will ever not frighten people.

He wondered once if it was a good idea to remain in her life. Many deities leave their children with their parents. Some do it not to put them in any danger. It tends not to have the best results, but they believe it’s for the best. Others don’t want the responsibility. They simply engage in dalliances, not considering the consequences. Either way, these children die young, whether the parents are mortal or not.

He knew he wanted to care for her in one way or another. He considered not meeting her, using his shadows instead to keep an eye on her and make certain she would be in no danger. They’re aware of his enemies and the way the mortal world treats its inhabitants with magic. The only issue was that she wouldn’t learn to use or understand her magic.

For seven months, he considered his options. Perhaps her life would be better. Staying away, however, also meant losing the woman he loved. He knew this even before she confirmed it.

“You’re acting strange,” Ezra said. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed and explained. She listened patiently. He kept his eyes down, shame reddening his cheeks. What was he doing?

“I feel…”

He trailed off, his eyes finally coming to her face. Her anger was rare, but, today, it punched him in the stomach. He froze, taking in the rage on her face.

“I will respect your decision,” she said, her voice soft and cold, “and you will respect mine. You don’t know what you want? That’s fine, but I already know what I’ll do whatever you decide.”

He was silent, uncertain what to say. He didn’t mean to upset her, but he should have realized it would have.

“If you decide not to be a part of her life,” she said, “don’t expect to be a part of mine. She deserves better.” She glared. “Get out. Until you figure out what you want, I don’t want to see you.”

“I apologize,” he said. “I…”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Get out.” She turned away. “I guess I’ll find out exactly who you are based on the decision you make.”

She was five months pregnant during this argument. Although he wasn’t there, he made sure she was well. The healer gave him daily reports. For two months, he didn’t see her.

The day before his daughter’s birth, he decided to be a part of her life. To give her a chance to meet him and let her decide from there. To prepare her as best as he can for the time when her magic grew out of her own control. If she ever chooses she doesn’t want him to be a part of her life, he’ll respect it. He won’t be completely gone and she knows it.

He directed his shadows to Ezra’s familiar bedroom. The framed picture of her and her sister by the window witnessed him approach her bed. He laid a gentle hand on her cheek. Her skin was hot to the touch.

The fevers began the third month of her pregnancy, but they were not so bad then. The healer reported an increase in them, a good sign that the child was healthy. A sign that her magic was strong.

He pushed healing magic toward her. He was about to give up more energy to ensure none would be taken from her when he sensed her. The child pushed energy toward Ezra, providing enough for an equal exchange. He accepted with a nod.

Ezra woke halfway as he got rid of her fever. She mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” he said, sitting on the bed beside her.

She lifted her head, laying it in his lap. He moved her hair from her face. Sweat coded her skin. He created a soft wind, guiding it over her body.

“Water,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

A cup appeared in his hand. He pressed it to her lips. She drank slowly, wincing every time she swallowed. He pressed his free hand to her throat, removing the pain. Before she could speak, she had more water.

“So,” she said, “that’s what it’s like to get at least eight hours of sleep.”

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“Soup. It’s what I’ve been able to eat for the last two days.” She paused. “Oh. Crackers, too.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“No. Too early. It’ll upset my stomach.”

“What can I do?”

“Didn’t you just take away my fever?”

“That’s not enough. I was selfish two months ago. I apologize for my behavior. There is no excuse for it.”

She nodded, sitting up. He wrapped an arm around her and she pushed him to lay down. He acquiesced and she lay beside him.

“So,” she said, “you decided.”

“I did,” he said. “I’ll be here. Obviously, I may not be as present as I want to be, but I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

For three years, his visits were simply about seeing her. About spending time together. When she turned three, he arrived to darkness surrounding her. She was panicking, tears streaming down her frightened face. He extinguished it, picking her up from the hard floor. She sobbed into his shoulder, body trembling. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

He rocked her until she calmed. Until she was able to listen to him. Her arms slowly loosened their grip around his neck.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said. “Did I hurt you?”

He smiled at her, stroking her cheek.

“No, my love,” he said. “I’m alright.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Do you remember I told you about magic one day?”

“You told me I had magic.”

“That’s what happened. Did something frighten you tonight?”

She shook her head, eyes searching his face. Her curious expression made him smile. Curious like her mother. Like him.

“I will teach you to control your magic starting tomorrow,” he said. “You must understand it so that this does not occur again.”

She nodded, proceeding to fall asleep in his arms. She rarely did this, but he knew the magic must have exhausted her, especially at her age.

Her lessons began the next day. About a year or so later, the questions and quickly disappearing anger began, too. He knew this would come up. He wasn’t prepared, but he knew. He explained as best as he could, but that didn’t stop her mixed emotions. He gave her the time to understand, never stopping his nightly visits.

Now, she understands. Now, she tells him how she feels, but she doesn’t get angry. She asks about Isos, but she doesn’t push to visit.

Alone in his study, he can admit to himself that he misses the questions. The strong emotions that no longer appear. He misses the reasons to consider saying yes. The reasons not to deny her requests.

In the silence of his study, he can admit he has always wanted to acquiesce. To give her that joy, even if it may be temporary. He’s always wanted to give her a tour of his palace. Show her his favorite places. Spend time together as father and daughter.

A scream pierces his thoughts. It’s not a scream that would have been heard by all. It can only be heard by him. It pulls at the bond with his daughter insistently.

Her scream shakes him to the core. Ice freezes his veins. She’s not having a nightmare.

He kicks the chair away from his desk. It topples to the floor as his shadows gather around him. Danger. His daughter is in danger.

Only at 03:00 can he and the dead travel between realms throughout most of the year. Fuck the rules. His daughter comes first.

He falls into his shadows, letting the bond guide him to her. If they hurt his daughter, their punishment in life will pale in comparison to what he will do to them in death.

He arrives in her room. The pictures she’s drawn over the years cover the pink walls. A small bed is in one side and the chair he usually sits in is beside it, occupied by Duke Osav. In his lap sits his frightened daughter, staring up at him with an expression of pain on her face. The duke’s hand grips her arm.

“Good evening, Lord Death,” the duke says.

He senses Ezra. Her death approaches, but he cannot worry about that now. He will see her in Isos. He hates that he must choose, but holding death back isn’t something to take lightly. Like resurrection, it must be done knowing the risks. Death charges with interest.

In Isos, Ezra will come to him. He’ll see her again. Their daughter comes first. They both agreed a long time ago.

Lord Death recognizes the duke as ruler of the area. When his daughter was born, he persuaded Ezra to move here for its safety. He placed wards around the house. He’s provided all they needed for the last eight years. Ezra works because it makes her happy. He likes seeing her smile.

In the time they’ve been here, there have been two rulers, including the duke. The previous duke never approached this house. Why is Duke Osav here now?

His gaze lands on the duke’s guards behind him. His rage burns as he extends his shadows toward his frightened daughter. The duke pulls her tighter against him. She fights to get to Lord Death, scratching at Duke Osav’s wrists.

“Not so fast, daughter of death,” Duke Osav says, raising his hand. “Do not even…”

Before his hand lands, Lord Death’s shadows rip his daughter from the duke’s grip. She floats to him, her hands searching for something to hold on to. When she’s close enough, Lord Death takes her in his arms, pulling her to his chest. She trembles, clinging tightly to him. He gently touches her cheek, laying her head on his shoulder.

“How dare…”

The duke tries to stand, but some of Lord Death’s shadows hold him down. The rest surround him and his daughter, preventing her from seeing or hearing anything.

Trembling, the duke’s guards bow their heads. A savage smile spreads across Lord Death’s face. Good. They’re afraid. They should be. Death is generally kind, but he would not be tonight.

“Who,” he says, voice ice cold. The temperature in the room lowers to fit his tone. Ice codes his wrists. The walls. The floor. The chair the duke occupies. His daughter shivers. He surrounds her in warmth, but lets the room continue to freeze. Lets his rage be visible, “took part in this?”

His daughter’s arms wrap around his neck. She buries her face deeper in his shoulder.

“There is a danger to my domain,” Duke Osav says. “I came to get rid of it. Last I remember, Lord Death, you’re not to be involved in human affairs.”

The duke is right. Sort of. The rules are quite different, allowing deities to get involved in mortal affairs if it involves their children. Even if the rules were not like this, Lord Death would have still gotten involved.

“A child is a danger to your domain,” he says. “That may be your belief, but that is not what I asked. Who took part in this?”

His daughter’s tears only enrage him further, coding the room in layers of ice. With a trembling finger, one of the guards points at the duke.

“We were asked to come as his escort, My Lord,” he says. “We didn’t know about the child.”

“You were still complicit,” Lord Death says, “and I am not forgiving.”

Lord Death’s eyes find every guard. He doesn’t give them a second thought as they turn to dust. He’ll see them in Isos.

“It’s you and I now,” he says.

“I am in my right to…”

“You touched those who are mine. Your rights mean nothing to me. I will rip you to shreds. In the world of the dead, I’ll have eternity to do with your soul what I wish.”

A gasp escapes the duke as his body begins to rip itself apart. He screams, blood spilling on the ice coded floor. Lord Death watches, eyes frozen in rage. He watches as the duke’s body parts disintegrate.

“I will see you soon,” he says, “and I will take my time delivering my vengeance.”

He leaves the room with his daughter in his arms when nothing remains of the duke.

“Papa?”

Her voice is a terrified whisper. She may not have heard or seen his interaction with the duke, but she must have sensed his rage. This is the first time she’s sensed it. He’s been careful not to let her. Not so much tonight.

There was no time to be careful. He warned his daughter once that emotions can affect magic.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“If you’re very angry,” he said, “your magic will react. Remember, magic is a living being. It’s a part of you. It will assume something bad is happening.”

“What happens if you’re very happy?”

“I’m not certain. I’ve never seen it. I assume it will be calm.”

She sensed that lack of control tonight. He had some composure, but very little.

He presses a kiss to her cheek, taking a deep breath and forcing a reassuring smile.

Why does Papa look like his face is frozen? That smile is not real. He’s not good at pretending. She knows things are bad. Why is he pretending?

Papa told her that people would be afraid of her. That they wouldn’t understand. Why pretend now? She knows this.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “What happened?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says. “I didn’t use my magic. I promise, Papa. I didn’t.”

She begins shaking again. She rarely uses her magic. She tries not to. When she does, she tries to be discreet. No one has found out before. Did they this time?

She didn’t use it tonight. She doesn’t want to get Mama hurt. She doesn’t want to upset Papa.

“I know, Vivian,” he says. He likely would have sensed it as she’s a child and, depending on her range of emotions, it may be a substantial amount of magic, enough to make the ground shake. “Tell me…”

“Mama,” she says. “He hurt Mama.”

“I know. We will…”

He blinks at the blood in the living room floor and the dark haired woman sprawled across it. Her throat is slit. Her wrists and feet bound. Her vibrant green eyes open and looking right at him. She smiles.

“You got here in time,” she says. “Good. She will be safe with you.”

“Tell me later,” he whispers to Vivian. “I need to see to your mother, but I promise you are safe now.”

He places her on the nearest chair and kneels in the pool of blood beside Ezra. He takes her hand, feeling death…

Oh. Death is here, but quiet. Simply watching. He suppresses his sigh of relief. He doesn’t want to see her in Isos yet.

“You will be safe, too,” he whispers. “It’s not your time. Don’t close your eyes.”

He places his hand on her shoulder.

“We’re not safe here, are we?” she says blinking, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“No,” he says. “Other arrangements will have to be made.” He kisses her. “Don’t close your eyes. I know it’s hard. You’re tired, but do your best for me.”

Her eyes are always closed, but he knows what it looks like when she fights sleep. She blinks and yawns a lot. Her eyes start watering after a while.

“Of course I can open my eyes,” she said when he asked about it. “I unconsciously close them. I have no need to open them. I can’t see anyway.”

He smiled, accepting the answer. He had so many questions then. Some stupid like the one about her eyes, but others were about her life. She answered most of them with a smile. Others she answered with sadness, irritation, or anger.

At a look from him, her bindings burn away and his healing magic travels across her body in waves. Her minor injuries heal quickly. The slash across her throat takes more time, but it also heals. He feels his energy weakening, but he ignores it.

“Papa,” Vivian says, “will Mama be okay?”

Ezra sits up, swaying slightly. Lord Death catches her. He guides her to the chair beside Vivian and she sits. He takes Vivian in his arms and sits, settling her into his lap.

Ezra is tired as well. Healing takes energy from both. It’s an equal exchange, both healer and person supplying energy to each other, but also taking. Both provide a balance, allowing the magic not to stray from the purpose of the user.

“Yes, Viv,” Ezra says. “I’ll be fine.”

“Will you be, Papa?” she asks.

Lord Death nods, blinking away exhaustion. He notices the duke’s finger marks on Vivian’s arm. He will pay for that first.

He pushes his healing magic toward his daughter. Only minor injuries. Good.

He hasn’t taught her how to sense someone, but it seems he should have. It doesn’t matter. She’s starting to sense without his teaching. He’ll explain it later.

“Sleep, my love,” he says.

Vivian looks up, eyes searching his. He sees the fear. He forces a reassuring smile.

Vivian suppresses an irritated sigh. Another fake smile.

“You are safe,” he says, gently laying her head on his shoulder. “No matter what happens, you will be safe.”

“Mama?” she says.

Ezra blinks several times.

“Yes,” she says. “I’ll be fine. Go to sleep, baby.”

Vivian shifts as close as she can to Papa and closes her eyes. He might be lying about safety, but he’ll keep her safe. He always does.

Lord Death’s arms wrap tightly around her. He waits for her to fall asleep before turning to Ezra.

“You should sleep, too,” he says.

Ezra shakes her head.

“I want to talk to you about next steps,” she says.

“Alright,” he says.

“I have thought about this. I considered moving out of this area. Vivian doesn’t seem happy here. I’m not happy here. After this…”

He nods.

“I would not want you to be here after this,” he says. “We do not know who else can come.”

“There are places where she can be safe,” she says. “I know a few, but you might need to find out more information for me. I don’t have that network.”

“Fair. In the meantime, however, I believe it…”

“Papa?”

They look toward Vivian.

“I see something,” she says.

“What is it?” Lord Death asks.

“It’s a room. Glass. Blue curtains.”

Ezra and Lord Death look at each other. Ezra smiles slightly, remembering the description he gave her once. She misses his descriptions. Descriptions he tailored for her. To make her smile.

“What else can you see?” Ezra asks.

“Everything is colorless,” she replies. “It looks pretty, but there’s no color besides the curtains.”

“Can you see more?”

“No. What is it?”

“My study,” Lord Death says. “It’s my study in Isos.”

She smiles.

“Can I decorate it?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says. “You can decorate it.”

Vivian smiles. Papa always says no to her visiting Isos. Why say yes now? She’s been asking for years.

She falls asleep again. It doesn’t matter now. She’ll ask tomorrow.

“Has she seen other places?” Lord Death asks.

“I thought she told you about it,” Ezra replies. “She told me she would.”

“How long has she been seeing places?”

“The last month. All the places she’s seen have to do with you or your court. I remember the descriptions you gave me.” She smiles. “You showed them to me eventually.”

“What about places I’ve visited?”

“That, too.”

He considers a moment.

“I suppose,” he says, “this is a sign.”

“You were saying something before she woke up,” Ezra says.

“I was saying that, while arrangements are made, it may be best to go to Isos for now. We’ll be safe and can rest without having to worry.”

Ezra considers for a moment, still maintaining eye contact.

“I think,” she says, “it may also be time for her to spend more time with you. Not just in nightly lessons. She misses you even if she won’t tell you.”

Ezra leaves out how much she misses him, too. As her friend. As her lover. Only in the last three months of the year can they spend time together. Living in court is not something she’s willing to do yet. She cannot imagine dealing with the politics. Not again. She always knew being with the lord of death would be complicated. She knew it would be a long distance relationship. He’s offered to make her lady before, but she’s declined, not ready to go back to a court.

Lord Death holds his daughter tighter, kissing the top of her head.

“I miss her, too,” he whispers. “I miss her so much. I want to keep her safe. I failed tonight.”

Ezra stares at him in astonishment.

“No you didn’t,” she says. “You came the moment she called you. I assume that’s what happened.”

She assumes, but there would have been no other way he would have known, unless he connected to their bonds. If Vivian calls for anything, he’ll always come. If Ezra calls, he’ll come. He always has. He always will.

Ezra didn’t call. She didn’t scream. Things happened so fast. One moment, she was sitting on her couch, catching up on her latest show. Vivian was asleep, waiting for him to wake her up for a lesson. Earlier, Ezra read her a story, one she requested a week earlier.

She had almost fallen asleep. He would have woken her. He always greeted her, gently touching his lips to hers. Pushing her hair from her face. A quick hug before he left to see Vivian.

She was woken, but not by him. Not by his kiss. She was woken by a too tight grip on her arm.

“Where is the girl?” he asked.

She was half asleep, but woke immediately at the question. The voice didn’t register. She didn’t hear the door open.

“Who are you?” she asked. “How did you…”

“Where,” the man said, “is the girl?”

“I don’t know who you’re asking about.”

Somehow, she was composed. Her voice was calm. She stood from the couch, looking directly at them. She pulled her arm away.

“I live here alone,” she continued. “I’m very confused. You broke into my home. I…”

She can’t remember what happens after that. She remembers sensing Lord Death’s magic. She woke up to it. She smiled. Vivian would be alright.

“I heard her screaming,” he says. “I wasn’t going to ignore it.” His lip quivers. “Her scream was the worse thing I’ve ever heard.”

This isn’t the time to comfort him, yet he always tries to do it for her no matter the situation. Maybe she can try.

“Of course you wouldn’t have ignored her,” she says softly. “You’re a great father. She loves you. She misses you. You can’t deny her anymore.”

I love you. I miss you. I want more time with you.

Ezra pushes the thoughts away. That doesn’t matter now.

Lord Death knows this. Ezra is right. Of course she is.

“There’s no time for preparations,” she says.

He takes a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he says. “I know you’re right. I hate that she will see my court under these circumstances.”

“I do, too,” she says, “but I’m glad she’ll see it at last. She may not be asking you questions, but she’s definitely asking me about it. I can’t remember everything about it, so I do my best to tell her what I can.” She smiles. “I think she’s been working up the courage to ask you if she can spend summer with you. It’s coming up and you know the tradition.”

“You take her on a vacation, even if it’s short. What makes you think she’s working up the courage to ask about that?”

“She’s been asking about the summer there. I’ve never seen it, so she’s been trying to look into it. Hasn’t she asked you for new books?”

“Yes. She claims she wishes to learn more about the court and magic theory.”

“It’s not a complete lie. She does want to learn, but I think her motive is to ask you about that.”

Lord Death smiles.

“What a clever daughter I have,” he says.

Ezra smiles.

“Let’s talk about everything later,” he says. “We need to go.”

“Alright,” she says with a yawn. “Let me grab some stuff.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll return and pack whatever you need. Give me a list when we get there.”

They stand. Lord Death shifts Vivian to one hip and wraps an arm around Ezra, directing his shadows to his palace quarters. Through their bond, he shows Ezra where they’re going.

“This room has so many memories,” Ezra says smiling.

Lord Death remembers. He remembers bringing her here that very first night as his lover. The passionate lovemaking that followed. The sounds of pleasure that came from her. How happy and satisfied she was when she fell asleep in his arms.

He was happy that night. It was a long weekend for Ezra. She reached out through the bond. He was in a meeting with a visiting lord.

Can I come over this weekend? she asked. It’s a holiday.

Yes, he replied. I’ll come get you tonight. I look forward to spending the weekend with you.

I do, too. I’ll see you later.

I’ll see you soon, my love.

He wrapped her in shadows that night. In his arms, she left the mortal realm and crossed directly to his quarters. For travel, he only needs to touch her hand, but he loves holding her any chance he gets. She seems to enjoy it as well.

They hadn’t seen each other in some time, both busy with work. Ezra has always been more flexible with her time since she works remotely. He can never be certain.

He didn’t expect the night to go the way it did. He believed at least the first night would be a quiet one. Perhaps watch one of the interrealm programs she’s always enjoyed.

When she fell asleep, he smiled. Truly smiled after so many centuries. He brushed a kiss to her temple.

“I love you,” he whispered.

It was the first time he said those words. He’s said them every day since. Her face lit up the first time she heard them.

There were many nights like that. Many unhurried nights where there was nothing to be concerned about. Where it was just them and long conversations. Them and the love and pleasure they found in each other, but things changed when his enemies realized he had a mortal lover. When they realized they could possibly use her against him. When he realized they would go further than blackmail him.

One of his enemies mortally wounded Ezra when they were enjoying lunch under the trees in his private garden. He was able to heal her, but the conversation that followed left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“We have to take precautions,” he said. “Things will only escalate.”

“I wish I could say this is my first time dealing with something like that,” she said.

“You’ve never mentioned that.”

“The story is long, but I know you’re right.”

They were more careful then. His enemies rarely got too close, but things continued changing when they had Vivian. Her birth was felt, her power shaking the realms. He used a spell to lock her magic then, but it only worked for so long. He hoped she would be 16 when her magic made an appearance to keep his enemies away from her. The spell gave no guarantees, but he still hoped.

He looks around the room now. The curtains were a bright green when she came the first time. Looking into Ezra’s eyes has always been like looking into a safe place. Like seeing possibility. His favorite color became her eyes. That hasn’t changed.

He was late to a meeting one day when his staff manager came to his room.

“They’re waiting for you,” she said in an irritated voice. “If they complain one more time, I will personally ask the shadow dragons to remove them from the palace.”

“I apologize, Mira,” he said. “I did not intend to be late and have them give you such a hard time.”

“I accept your apology, My Lord, but I will not accept them taking liberties where they cannot.”

“Of course not. I have a request.”

“Yes?”

“My curtains. I’d like them replaced.”

She stared at him in surprise.

“That’s the first time,” she said, “you ever asked. Is there any specific color you would like?”

“Bright green,” he said.

“Very well. I will see what I can do.”

They were replaced some time ago. They’re blood red now, swaying in the night’s gentle breeze. They were damaged, but he can’t remember how. Perhaps he’ll replace them again, but he hasn’t had the time.

There used to be a couch across his four-poster bed. It’s mostly empty space now. He moved the couch to the sitting room and it was replaced last year. There’s a table with three drawers now. Beside the bed is an armchair. A nightstand is also nearby.

“I know,” Lord Death says smiling. He places Vivian in his bed, wrapping the blanket around her. “You should rest for a few hours. Tell me what you need from the mortal realm.”

She quickly gives Lord Death a list, climbing into his bed.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll get everything.”

“Shouldn’t you rest, too?” she says.

“I will, but I must do a few things first. I’ll be alright.”

She yawns, closing her eyes. He quietly leaves his quarters, taking a passage to exit the west wing. He finds Mira. She smiles, her gold eyes twinkling.

“Good evening, My Lord,” she says.

“Good evening,” he says. “I’m surprised you’re not resting.”

“I had extra work. Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m sure you know that people have arrived with me.”

She nods.

“My daughter and her mother are currently in the west wing,” he says. “Make certain they have whatever they require. I will return in about an hour.”

“Of course,” she says. “I will make certain of that.”

“Thank you.”

Without Vivian and Ezra, the house feels empty. The death that occurred permeates the air. It glides off him as he quickly packs up everything Ezra asked for. He’s about to leave, but something stops him. He goes to Vivian’s room, cleaning up the blood and removing the ice.

He looks around the familiar room, his eyes finding the pictures on the walls. He gasps as each picture cleaves a piece of his heart. He knows them by heart. Every time she drew one, Vivian would show him.

“It’s beautiful, my darling,” he said every time. “Can you tell me more about it?”

He listened as she told him about the pictures. Some were school assignments. She gifted him a few on special occasions like Father’s Day in the mortal realm. He treasured every one of her gifts. All of them sit in a drawer in his desk specifically for her.

Some of the pictures depict Vivian and him in her room. She’s in his lap or sitting beside him. She’s smiling and so is he. Some of them look like they’re sharing a secret. Ezra is not in those pictures, but she is in others. Others where they’re together in Isos. Where they’re a family.

Slowly, Lord Death retrieves a folder from his coat pocket. Carefully, he removes the pictures from the walls and arranges them in an empty compartment. He puts the folder away and searches her drawers. He finds her notebooks and the books she asked for to research.

He reads through Vivian’s notebooks. Most of them are notes, but one is a recent journal. He doesn’t usually look through his daughter’s things, but instinct tells him to read the journal. So far, instinct has yet to fail him. He follows his gut, opening the journal to the first page.

It’s not the journal he expects. Some pages are drawings of Isos, places she’s never seen. Most of the time, she writes something under the illustration. He smiles at what she writes under a picture of his throne room.

Pretty banners. It’s a skull and bones, but it’s interesting. The room itself should still be decorated. Maybe lights. Something pretty. Something to welcome Papa’s subjects when he holds court.

Another smile at the picture of the west wing.

How many rooms are in here? I didn’t draw the entire thing, but it’s three floors. What can someone do with so much space? I really like my room. It seems easier to handle than that place. It’s still pretty, though. It’s like a house inside a palace. Are all palaces like Papa’s?

In that regard, Vivian is right. The west wing is three floors with many rooms each. Perhaps he’ll give her a tour of it at some point. Maybe in the next few days.

The north, south, and east wing are not portrayed in the journal. He assumes she hasn’t seen them.

Some pages contain her thoughts on lessons and the time she spends with him. She writes about her conflicting emotions.

I enjoy our lessons, but I want more, too. I want him to take me to school and pick me up. I want to spend more time with him. I only see him fully the last three months of the year. Throughout the year, I see him for one hour every night, but it’s not enough. I want more, especially because most of those nights are lessons. He talks to me. Of course he does, but I have to bring up conversations.

I stopped asking questions because I know what the answer will be. I’ve kept my thoughts about this, but I hate that I can’t spend more time with him. I know why. That doesn’t change anything. It’s not fair!

As he flips through the pages, Lord Death wonders how he has not noticed this. It seems he didn’t just teach her to control her magic, but also her emotions. He understands the need for this. The world is not safe to fully express emotions, but around him…

Vivian doesn’t trust him. Not with sharing her emotions. Not anymore. He has done this to her. He did not give her the confidence he thought he did. An utter failure on his part.

When Vivian was born, Ezra could barely stay awake. The birth took most of her energy.

“Rest,” Lord Death said. “I will care for her.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Doesn’t she need…”

“Chestfeeding is not necessary for her. If you wish, you can feed her, but you must rest first. I’ll make certain she eats.”

“Okay.”

Ezra fell asleep in less than two minutes. Vivian looked up at him, her curious eyes searching his face. His dark blue eyes. Her dark hair was up to her neck. It’s up to her shoulders now.

“It’s supposed to be longer,” Vivian said once, “but I don’t like it.”

He and Ezra agreed to give her the freedom to do with her hair what she wanted. As long as it’s appropriate, she can choose her own clothes, too.

She was so innocent. Her face was so peaceful. His first thought was to protect her. To shelter her.

Vivian reached up and lightly touched his cheek. She roughly pushed his hair out of the way. She laughed at his startled expression. She did it again and, at his lack of reaction, she frowned in confusion. She looked at him, her hand still on his cheek.

She pulled on his hair. He smiled.

“No pulling Papa’s hair, yes?” he said.

She laughed at his soft chastisement, pulling at his hair again. He took her hands in his, holding them gently.

“Papa?” she said.

His heart leapt. Her voice was soft, hesitant, and curious.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m Papa.”

“I’m Vivian,” she said.

“I know.”

“I remember you. You talked to me all the time, but you never said who you were.”

“I remember that as well. I should have said something.”

Her eyes found Ezra.

“Mama is pretty,” she said.

“She definitely is,” he said.

“I’m hungry.”

He realized then she was speaking in shadow tongue. It was such a familiar language that he wasn’t paying attention.

Magical beings are born speaking. Lord Death knows this, but witnessing it was very different. Her speech was clear. Her words leaving nothing to interpretation.

A bowl of grapes appeared on the table in front of them. He fed her. She already had teeth.

“Can I have more, please?” she asked.

He obliged her a few more times.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course,” he said.

She fell asleep minutes later. He watched her, ignoring the time. It was almost 04:00. He can travel across the realms as he chooses, but it’s much easier to travel at 03:00 most nights.

Watching her, he realized he couldn’t shelter her. The world wouldn’t let her be safe, no matter what he did. Best to prepare her for the worse. The inevitable.

But it seems he may have pushed too hard. He hasn’t given her all she needs. Sheltering her would have done nothing for her. He expected to protect her. He didn’t expect to fail.

She chronicles the research she’s done. He smiles. Such a clever, meticulous daughter.

I really want to visit Isos. Not counting the insane politics that seem to go on, it seems like a great place. I just don’t know how to ask Papa about it. He’s said no before, so I don’t think the answer is going to change.

It’s the last entry that concerns him the most.

Someone is coming. I don’t know when, who, or why, but someone’s coming. They’ll hurt Mama. Papa will come, too, but there are shadows around him and me. They’re not scary, but I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared.

Numbly, he closes the journal, putting it in his coat pocket. He feels nothing. Just her fear. The guilt of not realizing it. Of barely making it in time.

Wait. Where is…

Shit! No! He has not thought of her. Vivian’s sentinel. Where is she?

He rushes out of the house, his magic searching for her. Something happened.

After she was mortally wounded, Lord Death asked Ezra if a sentinel could keep an eye on her.

“No,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

She highly enjoyed living alone. She welcomed very few people into her home. He was lucky to be allowed in. To have a place in her heart.

It’s not easy to love as a deity. Too many games. Too many people wanting power.

“This is the path you chose,” First Lady Death said once. “Things are only going to become more difficult when it comes to love. I’m sorry, my son.”

Mortals are an unpredictable species, though. He remembers that well. His soul is no longer mortal, but his memories are much clearer, a lot of them crystallizing once he became a deity.

He had no wife or children in his mortal life. He cared for his parents until they past away in their sleep. He was an only child and the little they had past to him. He cared for his cousins and their children when necessary.

He lived until 97 and, in his long life, love never found him. He died alone in a peaceful sleep.

“Hello, my love,” First Lady Death said. “It’s time to come with me.”

He took her extended hand. Shadows surrounded them and they left his room. He looked back at his mortal body. It lay on its back on the bed, a wool blanket covering it. He saw it for what it was. A vessel and nothing more.

Isos came into view when the shadows disappeared. A place full of stars. A gentle and cool breeze stirred the tree leaves. Others stood in a line. He took his place at the back instinctively.

“I will see you soon, my love,” First Lady Death said.

He didn’t know how much time it took before he stood in front of her. Her dark blue hair swayed in the breeze. Her crystal green eyes searched his face.

“Hmm,” she said. “Interesting. You’ve been rather kind throughout your life. I meet very few who were.”

He was silent while she deliberated.

“You will choose your path now,” she said.

Surprise spread across his face. She smiled.

“I can release your soul into the fire of life for you to reincarnate,” she said, “or you can live a second life here as my subject.”

“I choose to stay,” he said.

“Very well.”

With a wave of her hand, she formed a body in his likeness. He looked as though he was in his early twenties. He smiled.

“Thank you,” he said.

It was a century later when First Lady Death summoned him to her palace.

“I need your help,” she said. “I believe you know what I’ve been doing.”

He nodded. For the last few days, she’d been selecting subjects and offering them a bit of her power.

“I have selected you for one of these positions,” she said. “That is, of course, if you agree.”

“Are you certain, My Lady?” he said.

“Yes. I would like for you to rule an area of Isos. You know what is required.”

“I do.”

“Do you accept?”

“Yes, My Lady. I accept.”

She placed a hand on his. Magic flowed through him. When she removed her hand, pain tore through his body. It disintegrated. Seconds later, he stood in his new body. He looked the same. Dark blue eyes. Brown hair. He still appeared to be in his twenties. Power flowed through his veins and shadows surrounded him.

“I will teach you to use your magic,” she said. “Most of it will be instinctual.”

He learned very quickly in his position how many enemies he truly had in Ero, the area of Isos he now rules. They didn’t appreciate him being chosen over them.

He’s been ruling for centuries. He’s had lovers. Some were subjects. Others were deities. All short term.

It took him centuries to find Ezra. He never wanted her to get hurt. It was his fault she was mortally wounded. She went through enough that day, so he acquiesced when she refused the sentinel. He didn’t want to upset her. To push her away. He wanted to be as close as he could to her.

“If I am careful,” he said, “can I visit more often?”

“Sure,” she said smiling. “I’d like that.”

Happy with the compromise, he visited her as often as he could. One of his most loyal sentinels was always on standby in case she was needed.

When Vivian was on the way, she reached out through their shared bond.

I need to ask you something, she said. It’s important.

Concerned, he went to her house that very night. He had not planned to visit her. He planned to make certain no one knew his comings and goings. She rarely reached out like this, though. He sent some of his shadows away with orders.

She waited for him on her living room couch. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. He held her to his chest, a hand on her cheek. His magic pushed toward her, searching for injuries.

“I’m not hurt,” she said.

“It seemed like something was wrong,” he said.

She smiled, lightly kissing his cheek.

“I’m pregnant,” she said. “I found out today.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. He had been sensing something different in her for the last few days, but wasn’t sure.

“If you choose to continue with the pregnancy,” he said, “the birth might be difficult. No mortal physician will be able to help you. The child will be half deity. We do not know how strong the magic is, not to mention the time until birth.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“It’s a seven month term.”

She nodded.

“I want to keep the baby,” she said. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you like.”

“I think having a sentinel will be a good idea. I usually don’t have to worry about myself as much, but I don’t know how things will change with the baby.”

“Alright. The sentinel will be here tomorrow night along with a healer. She will be here until the birth and a little bit after to make certain all goes well.”

She smiled, shifting closer. She closed her eyes. He kissed her forehead.

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll be here for a while.”

She fell asleep with a soft smile on her face. He stayed with her until, unfortunately, he had to leave.

He found the sentinel outside the west wing when he returned.

“Come with me,” he said.

She nodded and followed him to his study. He explained what he required.

“I will guard them with my life,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said. “You will come with me on my next visit.”

Ezra and the sentinel got along immediately. Lord Death smiled at this, promising Ezra he’d return soon.

Ezra hugged him.

“Okay,” she said.

The sentinel is one of his most loyal. She would not allow harm to come to his daughter or Ezra. Whatever happened must have prevented her duties.

He tracks her through their shared bond. She’s unconscious, arms and legs bound. Broken nails and shredded skin. A bleeding stab wound on her chest. Strands of her chin-length pink hair litter the floor around her.

He quickly burns through the bindings. At a touch from his magic, her yellow eyes blink up at him. He heals the stab wound and the rest of her injuries.

“I apologize,” she says.

“You are one of my most loyal sentinels,” he says. “I assume there is an explanation. I do not hold you at fault.”

She stands.

“I have a lot to explain, but…”

A woman approaches and bows to Lord Death.

“Good evening, My Lord,” she says.

The sentinel is at his side less than a second later. His eyes search the woman’s face. Sharpen at the familiar features. Her vibrant green eyes. An oval face and square jaw. Her flat nose. Her dark hair.

“Who are you?” he asks.

He’s sure he knows who she is. He’s never met her, but they look too much alike. On this woman, though, the features are less noticeable. Her face and eyes are covered in heavy makeup. Her hair cropped short, only flakes of it left on her head.

“Elleanor Fiore,” she says.

He imperceptibly relaxes at the confirmation. Ezra’s sister.

The sentinel notices his ease, but does not step away.

“I came to check on Ezra,” she says, “but I was too late to stop whatever happened here.” She pauses, examining him. “How is she?”

“She’s safe,” he says.

He will divulge no details. He never met her. Never fostered a friendship with her. Ezra trusts her, but she’s careful with everything she says.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said in irritation when he asked questions about her past.

“Alright,” he said with a nod and confused look. “I apologize. I did not mean…”

“Promise me you won’t ask me questions about my past again.”

“I promise.”

She nodded, her face softening. He readily agreed, not wanting to upset her, but he also knew he kept secrets.

Throughout their years together, Ezra has told him little of her past and he has respected her decision not to speak of it. The things she has volunteered she has only if she felt it would put them and Vivian in danger. From what he knows, Ezra is not her birth name. She created a new identity for herself, no longer using her family name.

“If anyone ever recognizes me,” she said, “they’ll refer to me by my old family name. Fiore. That’s who they’ll ask you for.”

“Why would they look for you?” he asked. “I do not require a reason. Simply a…”

He trailed off, unsure what to say.

“I snapped,” she said. “I left.”

She has yet to tell him her birth name. She mentions her sister rarely, referring to her as Elle. He knew they kept in contact, but he wasn’t sure to what extent Elleanor was informed.

“Lady Fiore,” he says, “it’s very nice to meet you. I do hate that it has to be under these circumstances.”

“You can call me Elle,” she says smiling. “You’re my sister’s boyfriend, aren’t you? Or are you her husband already? She doesn’t talk about her relationship, but she did describe you to me.”

He nods, suppressing a smile.

“I’m uncertain how much she told you,” he says, “but I promise she’s safe.”

“Is she in Isos then?” she asks.

So she knows about that. He makes a quick decision.

“Yes,” he says, “and so is Vivian.”

A sigh of relief escapes her lips.

“Good,” she says. “From what she tells me, she will be safe with you.” She pauses. “If I may, I have a favor I’d like to ask.”

“Of course,” he says. “If I am able to grant it, I will.”

“I’d like to know of my sister’s condition. I don’t imagine she escaped unharmed.”

“She did not. How do I contact you?”

“She knows how to contact me.”

“I will ask her then.”

She nods, taking her leave.

“You have things to tell me,” he says, “but we must go.”

The sentinel nods and they’re gone an instant later. They appear outside his study. He opens the door, gesturing her inside. He follows her, walking to the credenza.

“Would you like something?” he asks.

“If you have anything that isn’t alcohol,” she says.

“Just water.”

She nods and he takes two glasses. He pours her water and hands it to her.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course,” he says.

He fills his glass to the brim with red wine and takes his seat across from her. Her water is halfway done. She looks exhausted and he hates to keep her awake this long, but…

“What happened tonight?” he asks.

“Most of it was uneventful,” she says. “I sensed someone approaching and went to investigate. However, before I was able to find out who was there, I was frozen.”

“Someone froze you? But that does not make sense. There hasn’t been a mortal capable of doing something like this for centuries.”

“It does. There’s a lot I’ve found out in the last eight years in the mortal realm. There are many things happening that the other realms are not aware of.”

He sits up straighter.

“What?” he says.

“We know that all mortals have some magic,” she says, “but, as the generations have passed, it seems it’s been getting stronger. Some have developed certain magical abilities. However, they do not know how to use them.”

“Of course not.”

“The problem is what occurs to those mortals, especially the children. Most places use them as weapons. They’re bought and sold in markets specifically for that.”

“What? Are you certain?”

“Yes. Your daughter was in more danger than we originally assumed. Things are so much worse.”

He stares at his sentinel, his eyes wide.

“Is there any shelter for those children?” he asks.

“The Gifted Alliance attempts to help them to varying results,” she says. “They cannot help everyone. A lot of those children die quite early.”

He nods, taking a few sips of his wine. The amount of children dying has risen in the last century, but First Lady Death takes care of them, refusing to allow the others to do so. He knows of adults mistreated in the mortal realm as children, but his examinations have not revealed that they were taken. Then again, it’s possible for them to hide that from him.

“I noticed the person that froze me in place was a child,” she says. “She was frightened and uncertain. I wonder where she is now. I ripped myself apart attempting to get out of the bind, but you found me in another.”

He nods.

“Perhaps,” he says, “the child was found.”

“There’s no hope of that,” she says. “It’s likelier her handler took her away.”

“How did you find this information?”

“I met a friend and he has spoken of it with me. The area where Lady Vivian and her mother were living was relatively safe until tonight. From my understanding, there has never been an issue until the duke came to rule. The previous ruler was against it.”

At least Vivian was safe for most of her life.

“I can’t recall,” he says. “How long did his rule last?”

“Six months,” she says.

“So long enough to somehow find out about her.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm.” He considers, finishing his glass of wine. “How?”

“I’m not certain.”

He nods.

“Your friend,” he says. “Who are they?”

“He is the prince of Caldera,” she says. “Caldera is part of the Gifted Alliance. However, he works outside his kingdom and has specific contacts.”

“Why work outside his kingdom?”

“He did not tell me his reasons. I believe they’re personal.”

“Alright.” He rubs his eyes. “You should rest. If I have any other questions, I’ll let you know.”

She finishes her water and stands.

“Shall I ask a sentinel to guard the west wing?” she asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m sure Mira has already taken care of it.”

“Very well. Good night, My Lord.”

“Good night.”

She leaves the study and, a minute later, he does, too. He takes a passage that leads him directly to his room. Ezra and Vivian sleep soundly in his bed. He’s too tired to change. He removes his shoes and coat, placing them carefully in the closet along with his bag. He climbs in beside Vivian and Ezra, closing his eyes.

There are secrets that are perhaps not always worth telling, but there are those that simply need the right time. Perhaps it’s time for Ezra to reveal hers, but he will not wake her for this now. He will ask her of tonight’s events. What she believes of what he’s learned. If any of it has to do with her past.

Tonight is not the night for questions, though. Tonight, they rest. They’re safe. No reason not to take the opportunity. Too much occurred not to.

Lord Death soon joins Ezra and Vivian in sleep. He only wakes when he senses Vivian shifting closer. He wraps an arm around her. He strokes her cheek, hoping to ease any nightmares she may be having.

At some point during the night, Lord Death ends up between Vivian and Ezra, holding them tightly. His fingers are spread across their cheeks, pressing their faces to his chest. It’s been some time since he’s held them like this. Since they’ve been together in one place. He supposes they never have been. Vivian’s anger comes back to him. She was correct to rage. They should have always spent more time like this. More time without the constant concern of danger. Perhaps more can be done.

Lord Death wakes early in the morning. Vivian is already awake. They smile at each other.

“Good morning, my love,” he says.

“Good morning, Papa,” she says. “Where are we?”

“Isos, darling.”

He can tell she’s about to squeal with joy. He kisses her cheek.

“Come,” he says. “Let’s let Ezra sleep. I will give you a tour.”

She nods, sitting up. Carefully, he leaves Ezra’s arms and he and Vivian climb off the bed.

“Give me a moment,” he says. “Let me call someone to help you.”

“I can do it,” she says.

He picks her up, kissing her cheek.

“I know,” he says, “but allow me to…”

She wraps her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest. He’s not surprised when her tears come. He moves to his sitting room, holding her tightly.

“I knew you would come, Papa,” she says, “but I was really scared. He hurt Mama and said…”

She trails off, tightening her hold. He holds his daughter as close as he can. She’s safe in his arms. He could have lost her hours ago.

She trusted he would come. In that he didn’t fail. He wasn’t there in the ways he should have been, but she put her faith in him. He’s grateful for that. He can’t fix past mistakes, but he’ll do better.

She saw him coming. By some miracle, his daughter might be a seer. When he became a deity of death, he took the time to look into his mortal bloodline. There was only one seer. The possibility of another was high at first, but it dwindled with each generation. It seems another has been born.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll always be there for you. I’ll always come when you call.” He kisses her forehead. “What did he tell you?”

“He said you wouldn’t come,” she says. “That I was too much of a risk. That I was too dangerous, even to be a weapon.”

A weapon? His heart races. He was almost too late. One minute more and she…

He blinks, horror freezing his veins. He truly could have lost her. His little girl.

The duke will pay for that, too. He frightened her. No one frightens her.

“What did that mean, Papa?” she asks.

“There’s no need for you to worry about it,” he says. “Whatever he meant does not matter. He will not harm you. I swear.”

Of course it matters, but Papa won’t tell her that. He told her things were dangerous, but how much did he keep from her?

He dries her tears, keeping his arms around her. He strokes her cheek. When her tears stop, she smiles at him. She’s about to say something when the door opens. Mira stands in the doorway.

“I apologize, My Lord,” she says. “I did not mean to interrupt.”

He nods for her to continue.

“You have correspondence,” she says. “They seem to be invitations.”

“Give them to my secretary, please,” he says. “I will give him instructions later.”

She nods, smiling at Vivian.

“Good morning, My Lady,” she says.

Vivian tentatively smiles. She looks at him and he nods.

“Hi,” she says.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Mira says. “I’m Mira.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Mira is about to leave, but she turns back at the last minute.

“One last thing, My Lord,” she says. “Your shadow pets seem rattled.” She sighs in irritation. “One in particular.”

Before he became a deity of death, shadow dragons were kept in a menagerie in the palace grounds. It was a closed space, keeping them locked in for viewing and entertainment. When he took over, he redesigned the menagerie, making it bigger and more open. Most of the dragons were afraid of him and others were curious, keeping their distance.

He allowed them to move freely in the palace grounds and in the palace itself. The court was upset with this decision, but he always enjoyed pushing things. Why not do so here? Kindness or no, not everyone can be pleased.

He befriended the dragons, slowly gaining their trust. He banned the fights the dragons were forced into. He heavily punished his subjects if the dragons were harmed. The attacks on them haven’t stopped, but it’s known that they’re protected by Lord Death.

Mira has only worked for Lord Death for a century. She hates shadow dragons moving around her very well organized palace. Disrupting her hard work to keep everything running smoothly. She becomes quickly irritated, constantly complaining to him. She has asked for them to leave the palace, but he has declined.

Mira has learned to work with the dragons. Most of the time, there’s an unspoken agreement between them. The dragons don’t always disrupt her work by entering the palace at certain times and she doesn’t push for them not to be there. It seems today is different.

“Very well,” he says. “I’ll check in soon.”

“Very well,” she says.

She smiles and leaves the sitting room.

“Lady?” Vivian says.

“It’s your formal title as my daughter,” he says.

She hasn’t gotten that far in her books. She understands the politics, but the titles confuse her.

“You have pets, Papa?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says. “Would you like to meet them?”

“Okay.”

Why hasn’t Papa talked about pets? Of course she wants to see them.

Half an hour later, Lord Death and Vivian walk around the palace. He introduces her to curious courtiers with a look of warning. They imperceptibly shrink, but give Vivian a seemingly genuine smile.

“It’s so pretty,” she says. “Can I see your study, Papa?”

He nods and takes her there. She looks around the room, curious eyes finding the credenza.

“Besides water,” he says, “none of this is for your consumption if you’re here.” He smiles. “I’ll add other things for you.”

She nods, jumping up onto his desk. Startled, he teleports in front of her.

“Be careful, my love,” he says.

“Look!” she says, pointing at the window.

He turns in that direction. Surprise lights his face. A shadow dragon flies toward the window, wings glittering in the morning sun.

“She’s one of my pet dragons,” he says.

“What’s her name?” she asks.

“She has not chosen to tell me. Magical creatures only give their names to those they trust or hold in a high opinion of. I’m uncertain what she thinks of me, but I respect her choice.”

“She speaks?”

“In shadow tongue. I’m uncertain if she speaks the common tongue.”

The dragon lands on the windowsill. He waves a hand and the window opens as he lifts Vivian from the desk. The dragon flies directly toward her, landing on her shoulder.

“Hi,” Vivian says smiling.

The dragon screeches in excitement. Vivian frowns in concentration. Lord Death watches her attempt to translate the dragon’s words. She’s fluent, but does not practice.

“Your name is Siri?” she asks.

He smiles proudly at her.

“Yes,” the dragon says. “My name is Siri. What’s your name?”

“Vivian,” she says.

“Well, Vivian, can we be friends?”

“Yes. We’re friends.”

Siri embraces Vivian.

“Papa,” Vivian says, “can I go play?”

“Yes, my love,” he says. “You can go play.” He meets Siri’s gaze and switches to the shadow tongue. “Can you keep her safe for me?”

“Of course, My Lord,” Siri says. “You doubt me?”

“Not at all.”

He smiles as Vivian runs off with Siri. Her smile is bright and her eyes blaze with excitement. So much is happening. So many secrets. Something good happened, though. That’s enough for now.