“You have courage, Princess,” the God of Death says, taking a moment to look me over.
As he does a streak of blue flies past him into the darkness of the terrace and I take a deep breath, reaching for Anton’s fur as he dashes to my side, twining my fingers in his blue light even as I don’t look down, keeping my eyes precisely where they are. Relief floods me to have him close – my friend, my Goddess-sent protector.
I mean, he’s still incorporeal and I don’t know what he could do against a God. But it’s nice to have him near.
The God of Death flicks his eyes down over Anton and frowns deeply, clearly not liking his presence. But then he returns his gaze to my face, letting both of us know that my handmaid is not worthy of comment or further attention. Or, at least, that’s what he wants
