River of Shadows (Underworld Gods 1)

“Powder?” I ask when suddenly there’s a knock at the door. Before I can yell that I’m naked, the door swings open. To my surprise it’s not Death, but a striking woman with long pale blonde hair, dressed in a light gold gown that trails behind her. Even with her deer skull gone, it’s obvious who this is.

Lovia.

Oh shit.

“Are you looking for this?” Lovia asks Raila as she struts into the room, her heels clicking, holding out a big black powder puff. Least I hope it’s a powder puff, and not some fluffy yet deadly creature.

I was, thank you, Raila says, taking the thing from Lovia. She then comes over to me and starts patting the powder over my skin.

I have no choice but to just commit to being totally naked in front of strangers again. By the time this day is over, I think I could handle a nudist camp.

“Well, well, well,” Lovia says, standing in front of the tub, her slender arms crossed. “We meet again, Hanna.”

I give her a faint smile. “I think perhaps we got off on the wrong foot.”

I mean, she’s going to kill me, isn’t she?

A wicked grin spreads across her pretty face. “I think you got off on the right foot,” she says. “I was very impressed you were able to do that. Pissed, but impressed. And to take my sword too.”

I shrug as Raila finishes powdering me, my body now slightly gold and sparkly and smelling of honey. “You can do amazing things in self-defense,” I admit. “I really do apologize though. And I’m not an animal killer. I didn’t want to kill the swans, it just sort of happened.”

“Phhff,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, gold bracelets made of bone jangling on her wrist. “The Swan of Tuonela has been killed many times. It always comes back. You know the relics. Or maybe you don’t. The swan was the original gatekeeper before I came along. The relics don’t like to let go of their roles, even when not needed. I’ve been butting heads with it for a long time.”

I nod, unsure where this is going. It seems like she’s not pissed anymore but I can’t trust anyone in this castle, especially anyone in Death’s immediate family.

“Anyway, normally I’d probably kill you for doing what you did,” she says with a big smile, her teeth perfect and blindingly white. “I do have a reputation to uphold as the Daughter of Death. But usually it’s some stupid shaman, like the one you were with, that tries to outsmart me. It’s never been a woman before, let alone a mortal woman. So I’ve decided I don’t want to kill you. I think I’d rather be your friend.” She leans forward and extends her hand.

I hesitate, then shake it. Her grip is warm and firm and I try to match it.

“Now,” she says, letting go and clapping her hands together, “time to get you dressed for tonight. This is so exciting!”

I concur, Raila says as she wraps a fluffy black towel around me, another item that must have been smuggled from the Upper World. I mean, the normal world. My world. Fuck, am I already starting to talk like them?

“What’s so special about tonight?” I ask as Raila helps me step out of the tub. “It’s just dinner, right?”

Lovia flounces over to the wardrobe and opens it. Unlike the slow deliberate way that Death found the perfect nightgown for me, Lovia erratically flips through the dresses hanging in it. “Tonight you’re our special guest, and it’s been so long since we’ve had a guest here.” She pauses as she pulls out a black gown and peers at it. “Although, I suppose your father was a guest. But he was never invited for dinner.” She puts the dress back and continues her haphazard rifling. “I take it as a very, very good sign.”

“A good sign of what?” I ask, hugging the towel close and coming over to her, the floor cold against my soles.

“That he likes you,” she says, flashing me a bright smile before rummaging again.

I laugh. “Likes me? I’m his prisoner. He’s literally promised to ruin and destroy me for eternity.”

“Ah, he says a lot of things,” she says. “His bark is worse than his bite. I mean, most of the time. Sure, sometimes he’ll randomly give someone,” she lowers her voice dramatically and wiggles her fingers, “the hand,” then she smiles “but who doesn’t lose their temper every now and then? Besides, you’re gorgeous and you’re mortal and you’re the daughter of a shaman. All the things that fascinate him.” She pauses, bringing out a yellow dress now, and frowns. “Actually, he hates all mortals. And all shamans. But still. If you play your cards right, you’ll marry him.”

I blink at her. “You actually want me to marry your father? You don’t even know me.”