River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1)

I would advise against it, Raila says, pouring water over my head again while I sputter. But she’s not allowed to step foot inside Shadow’s End. They have an agreement. In exchange for letting her live, she’s not allowed to leave the Star Swamp. She has her lover there in her own castle, but she can’t see Death or her children or interfere with the politics of the worlds at all. She had to give up her crown of crimson.

“And so far she’s done that?” I ask warily. If she’s part demon and part witch, I don’t see her giving up all her power and prestige so easily.

So far, Raila says, scooping up another bucket of water. I pinch my eyes shut and hold my breath as it cascades down again. There. Nearly done.

I look down. The tub is a gruesome sight, the red conditioner turning the water a wicked shade of red, like I’m bathing in blood. It makes me think of Louhi’s crimson crown.

“Was it an actual crimson crown?” I ask, moving my hands under the water so that I create waves of blood. “Does she still have it?”

As I said, she gave it up. It’s in the crypt. Waiting for the next Goddess, I suppose.

I think back to the prophecy. Death seems to think that whomever he’s allowed to touch without killing them will end up becoming the new Goddess of Death. Is that where the alliance is formed? Between him and his future wife? Or is the alliance between other worlds or other gods?

Okay, stand up, Raila says to me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I stand up in the bathtub, trying not to slip, fighting the urge to cover my breasts and nether region. There’s no point, she’s seen it all.

She’s grabbing yet another tin jar and shaking what looks like brown sugar into her gloved palms. Time for a scrub, she says. Lovia taught me to do this as well. She said the mortals use it for exfoliating these days. Not that I have much skin to scrub.

I try not to make a disgusted face. I feel like Raila’s happy-go-lucky attitude could turn murderous without warning, and having no hair and not much skin might be a sore spot for her. Literally.

Especially as she’s applying the scrub to my body and rubbing vigorously. This time I decide to just grin and bear it, even though I feel like she may be trying to remove my skin in the end, perhaps to wear it herself.

I shake those thoughts out of the way as she finishes and starts pouring more water over my body, then slides a wet washcloth over every inch of skin. Finally she brings out a towel and starts drying me off.

There, she says triumphantly. Squeaky clean. Now to get the powder. She looks around her. Oh where did it go?

“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.”

“That’s true,” she says, pulling out a red dress now and comparing it to the yellow. “But it’s not every day a non-dead mortal girl comes waltzing into Tuonela, especially one who can fight nearly as good as I can. It was like you were trained by Vipunen yourself. But of course you weren’t…” she squints at me, “were you?”

“I don’t even know who this Vipunen is,” I explain.

“Didn’t think so. It’s an honor to be trained by him. But play your cards right, and soon you will be. No queen can live here being untrained, especially with all the rumors about an uprising. You have to be ready when the Old Gods resurface to take the throne.”

She thrusts the red dress out and holds it against me, studying me like a fine arts student scrutinizing a painting. “This was mine once, but I never wore it. You’re a bit thicker than I am, nothing to take personally, I know you mortal women take offense to body stuff, but I think you’ll look good in it.”