“We had to stitch some together,” Dagger said.
“I thought you two couldn’t kill needlessly anymore. How did you get the materials?”
“There’s a graveyard nearby. We just dug up the freshly dead to get the materials. But don’t worry; we didn’t kill anyone for the décor.” Dagger patted Axe’s shoulder. “Help yourself to some food. There’s wine in the punch bowl.”
Axe nodded but didn’t meet Dagger’s eye.
“Beauty in the grotesque,” Axe muttered as a quiet compliment.
Axe left to join Lace by the sentries. The room was full of people now. Even Pitch was included in the adults’ conversations.
Dagger went to Scythe, slipping a hand to the small of her back.
“Was Axe the last to arrive?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s all of the Ferrum,” she said. “Nyx and Maniodes aren’t here yet.” She looked worried.
“I don’t know about Maniodes, but I hope Nyx comes,” Dagger said.
“What if he doesn’t? What if neither of them do?” Scythe asked.
A knock at the door interrupted Scythe before he could reply.
Dagger stayed close as Scythe opened the door.
Nyx stood on the threshold. Her childlike form was clothed in a regal purple gown with a corset of black ribbons. Having only seen her in a black robe, Dagger didn’t know she owned anything different.
Scythe noticed the dress too. “You look ravishing, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” Nyx’s hands were clasped in front of her, looking rather nervous.
Dagger wondered where she stored the thigh bone she usually carried.
“Come in, come in,” Scythe said excitedly.
They stepped aside, letting Nyx in. She may have looked uncomfortable in the dress, but she moved fluidly in it.
“It feels strange to actually use a door,” Nyx admitted, then cleared her throat. “I thought just appearing would be rude.”
“We wouldn’t have begrudged you that. It’s what you’re used to,” Dagger said. “I hope you can have fun tonight.”
“I’m sure I will,” Nyx smiled. It was sweet and innocent.
The three of them entered the parlor together. The conversation died immediately as everyone saw Nyx. They turned to their goddess and knelt, including the sentries who had stopped playing for a moment. Dagger and Scythe knelt beside Nyx as well.
“Rise, everyone, please,” Nyx said hurriedly. “Let’s celebrate the festival as equals tonight.”
Everyone stood, but unease still flowed through the air.
“Shorty!” Dagger called. “Play something fun.”
Shorty sat among the other musicians lounging on a couch of bone and human leather. Yellow ribbons were tied to her arms. She plucked her fingers through the lute in her lap and started a festive tune. The other skeletons quickly joined in.
The unease dispersed. Nyx even appeared to relax as the conversations started up again around them.
“I’ll get us some drinks,” Dagger said to Scythe and Nyx.
“Your Grace, may I ask you something?” Scythe asked as Dagger left for the punch bowl.
“Yes, and don’t worry about that ‘grace’ business. You can use my name,” Nyx said.
Scythe had never addressed the goddess by her name before, at least to her face. It felt odd, but Scythe was glad she had been given that honor.
“Nyx, I’m just curious about where you’re storing the bone in your dress. I’ve never seen you without it.”
“It’s here,” Nyx plucked it from a hidden pocket in the sleeve. It was the size of a small animal’s bone. “It has the same power as your weapon.”
Scythe hadn’t known other weapons like hers. Maniodes granted the weapon with that power as a reward after fifty years of service. Other Ferrum who had worked that long usually got a similar reward, though most only last a couple of decades. She wondered if her scythe’s power was inspired by Nyx’s bone.
Dagger reappeared, balancing three goblets in his fingers. He handed one to Scythe and Nyx, keeping the last for himself.
“Maniodes hasn’t come yet?” Nyx asked him after tasting it.
“Not yet,” Dagger replied rather stiffly.
Scythe wanted to elbow him into being more discreet.
“Let’s not worry too much about him tonight,” Scythe suggested. “If he doesn’t come, there’s really no harm done.”
Nyx nodded, though she looked perturbed.
“Let’s have fun tonight either way,” Dagger encouraged.
The night felt different after Dagger said those words. For years, Scythe had attended events like this, but she had never truly been a part of it. She was always the hunter stalking its prey in the crowd. That hunting did provide its own thrill that this festival lacked, but here was a different kind of enjoyment. Scythe could mingle with friends and join conversations she actually cared about. She was surprised by how much she was actually enjoying herself. True, the ball was to strengthen Nyx’s opinion of them, but she was actually able to enjoy the night as a regular partygoer.
Later in the night the musicians played a slower ballad. Scythe stood by the fireplace with Lace and Cross. The others cleared the center of the floor, waiting for the hosts to start the waltz. Her heart seized then.
She knew about the custom, she had seen it many times, and she knew how to dance. In her early years as a Ferrum she had been clumsy, but she learned quickly. She had only ever used it as a tool, though, just like flirting with her victims.
Scythe might fit perfectly into the regal life, regardless of her upbringing in the slums, but she had never started a dance before.
Dagger caught her eye when the music slowed. He excused himself from a conversation with Axe, Maime, and another Ferrum, names Hatchet. He strode over to her.
He bowed and extended a hand to her. “My lady?”
Scythe forced herself to calm down. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, so she focused on Dagger’s warm black eyes.
Setting her goblet on the mantel, she curtsied to him as deeply as the dress would allow.
“My lord,” she said, taking his hand.
His warm eyes lit on fire. He led the way to the center of the floor. Dagger slipped a hand to the small of her back, while Scythe laid hers on his shoulder. Their other hands clasped together, extended. Focusing on Dagger helped calm her as they started to slide with the ballad.
Others joined them after they completed the first turn around the floor. Axe danced with Cross, who wore a beaded green gown to match her hair. Hatchet joined with one of the newest Ferrum. Lace joined the dance as well, but by herself. Lace weaved through the other dancers, gracefully enjoying the music.
Dagger pulled Scythe in closer, breaking the rule of a few inches between partners. Their bodies met.
Scythe let it happen, and she wrapped her entire arm around his neck. It brought his lips closer to hers, as well as his body. She stole a quick kiss before the ballad ended.
The musicians changed the feeling in the air from slow and romantic to quick and festive again. Mostly, everyone stayed on the floor as the steps became livelier. Dagger and Scythe left it and stood by the fireplace again.
Dagger wouldn’t let go of Scythe’s waist. She didn’t want him to anyway.
Two loud knocks cut off the music. Everyone froze and glanced toward the main hall, where the noise had come from. The final guest had arrived.
Dagger glanced at Scythe, a knowing look in his eye. Scythe let the mischievous smile spread, hoping it looked like normal excitement.
The two of them left the parlor after Dagger asked Shorty to begin the song again. She did, but the feel wasn’t right anymore.
Scythe let Dagger open the main doors. Maniodes stood on the step at the modest height of six and a half feet tall. His dark-blue hair was combed and tied behind his neck in a small tail. The navy frock suited him.
“My lord, so good of you to finally make it,” Dagger s
aid.
Dagger sounded pleasant enough, but he didn’t kneel. Scythe followed his lead.
“Come in,” Scythe said, sounding equally kind. “The waltz was already done, but you didn’t miss much.”
Maniodes stepped inside, then said, “Quite a home you’ve managed here.”
“Thank you,” Dagger said.
His gaze paused on Scythe for a moment too long. He had taken note that she hadn’t addressed him as her lord yet.
Scythe kept her grin in place.
“The parlor then?” Maniodes said.
“Yes, come,” was all she said.
Scythe took Dagger’s arm and led both of them back into the parlor.
The Ferrum had fallen silent as Maniodes approached, but the music kept going. Nobody knelt to him the way they did to Nyx. The conversations slowly rose again as Nyx strode over to join them, breaking the tension.
“You’re late,” Nyx said matter-of-factly.
“I was finishing up some business. Besides, at least I came, unlike Phaos,” Maniodes countered.
“You know he always goes to the festival in Stymphalia. That one is special to him,” Nyx countered. “No matter. Come see how much food they’ve prepared. It tastes amazing.”
Nyx took Maniodes’s hand and led him off to the finger-food table.
Scythe let go of the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. The mood had returned to normal somewhat, and Nyx was actually having fun.
As the night continued, Scythe kept an eye on the gods. The Ferrum relaxed somewhat and tried to include Maniodes into the festivities. It was rather awkward, but at the moment he was talking pleasantly enough to Cross, Hatchet, Chip, and Pitch.
When Maniodes first joined the party, he had been confused about why the sentries were there. Scythe listened as Nyx, thankfully, explained they were alive. Scythe knew Maniodes wouldn’t have taken the knowledge of his negligence lightly from the Incruentus Ferrum. He didn’t protest their presence once Nyx had talked to him. If anything, he looked guilty when talking to Chip and the other skeletons now and then. Apparently, Scythe learned later, he had known they were conscious individual beings, but the fact had slipped his mind after so long.
The skeletons were having a great time. Dagger had provided stacks of small parchment with quills on each table for them to write. They couldn’t eat or drink anything, so Scythe had invested in hundreds of different-colored ribbons. The skeletons picked their favorites and tied them to their bones. A couple of them had even woven the longer strips through their ribcages.
As the music slowed again, Dagger and Scythe didn’t have to start the waltz, but they joined anyway.
Maniodes even asked Nyx to dance. Scythe thought the sight would be bizarre, a nearly seven-foot-tall man swirling around with what looked like a ten-year-old girl. Nyx surprised them all. She agreed to the dance with her son, but they didn’t join immediately. Nyx took a moment to change her form. Her childlike features aged, and she grew taller. The purple gown grew with her as she took the guise of a woman in her forties, matching Maniodes in height.
The gods joined the waltz, trying to ignore the stunned looks from the Ferrum. Nyx actually looked a little embarrassed, but they danced with the others, enjoying the night.
The skeletons didn’t join the Ferrum on the waltz. They seemed to enjoy the faster music, letting their bones click along with the notes. The colorful spectrum of ribbons tied around them was a beautiful spectacle as they danced. Pitch joined in with the sentries as well. He had been watching the slow dances but when the livelier music filled the air he would weave through the skeletons. He even tied some of their ribbons onto himself.
After a couple of hours that felt like minutes, Dagger turned to Scythe in a discreet corner by the punch bowl and broken windows.
“I think we should carry on with the sacrifices,” he said. “We should draw the others to the dining room.”
“But the night will end then,” Scythe protested.
“It has to eventually,” he chuckled, “and not immediately.”
He touched her waist again and guided her closer to him. When their lips met Scythe couldn’t hear the music or the conversations around her. Her world only included Dagger at the moment.
Dagger pulled away but kept hold of Scythe’s hand. He strode to the archway, where everyone had a clear view of them. As the music lulled to a close Dagger raised an arm to catch their attention.
“Everyone!” he called. “The night of Nukternios draws to a close, though I wish it wouldn’t. If you would please follow us to the dining room, we’ll commence with the night’s sacrifices. Though by no means will the night be over after them. I’m sure Shorty would like to compose something else for us.”
Shorty raised a fist in the air in agreement, a new red strip of fabric tied to her wrist.
Dagger turned with Scythe and led them through the main hall down the corridors. They passed centerpieces of leaves and hearts on every surface.
The dining hall was just as disturbingly immaculate as the parlor. Dried leaves in colors of maroon, orange, and brown littered the floor. The tall, broken windows let in the full moon’s light and glistened on the pumpkins in the windowsills. Each pumpkin was carved with angular faces of joy, terror, and despair. The candles inside them provided the most light.
The Incruentus Ferrum, skeletons, and gods poured into the dining room. The long table with spines waited with a dozen high-backed chairs made of ribcages. The center of the table held a tall cage covered in a black cloth. From inside they could hear the occasional skitter of the animal it housed. A tall, dusty bottle of old wine stood next to the covered cage. The bottle had lost its label long ago.
As Dagger approached the cage, Scythe picked up the old wine. When mortals celebrated something important they poured their oldest wine into the earth. It was thought to be absorbed as a libation to the gods. It was pure nonsense; so much good wine was wasted that way. Their libation would be tasted by the goddess herself. Dagger waited by the cage while Scythe refilled everyone’s goblet.
Once Scythe finished by filling their own goblets on the table, Dagger removed the cloth from the cage. Inside was a beautiful snowy owl. It sat calmly on the perch watching Dagger. He wondered briefly what happened to the animal’s soul if Nyx took care of the human ones.
The owl was well trained when he bought it. Dagger opened the cage and it clung to his arm. He didn’t have a leather glove, so the talons pierced into his flesh. It hurt but he didn’t mind.
He guided it to the thick cloth Scythe had set on the table previously. It hopped down, peering at the audience with giant glistening eyes. It didn’t cause a single fuss at being around so many people. A small coo escaped now and then as if it was politely asking who they all were. Dagger stroked the fine white feathers on its back. He removed a small blade from his belt.
“Dagger, wait.”
He stopped with the blade an inch from the owl’s breast. Nyx had stepped forward as she spoke, back in her small form.
“There’s no need to kill the poor creature,” she said. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t know why humans felt so inclined to kill these beautiful birds for me. I would rather see it set free.”
She still looked shy regardless of her regal stature. Almost as if she were worried about insulting him, but the concern for the owl was stronger.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Dagger set down the blade immediately, glad he didn’t have to soil the white feathers.
He had the owl hop back onto his arm. Approaching the nearest window with the largest hole in the glass he guided the owl outside. Feeling the cool night air, the owl flew away instantly.
“Thank you,” Nyx said.
“It was my pleasure,” Dagger said rolling down his sleeve, “and we can still have our libation with nothing wasted.”
He picked up his goblet and held it high, his other hand wrapping around Scythe’s waist naturally. She held hers aloft toward Nyx as well.
>
“To you, Your Grace,” Scythe said.
“And for Nukternios,” Dagger added.
The rest of the audience followed suit, raising their goblets in a toast.
Nyx appeared nervous but happy at the same time. She gave a small curtsy and drank with them.
After the libation, they found themselves back in the parlor with Shorty playing a sweet melody as the night drew to a close.
“That went perfectly,” Scythe said to Dagger as they settled by the fire.
“It was better than perfect,” he agreed. “This has to be the best night Nyx has ever had.”
“Excuse me?”
Dagger turned abruptly, seeing Nyx herself waiting close by. He felt Scythe slip her hand into his. He hoped Nyx hadn’t heard them lest she suspect their motivations.
“Yes, Your Grace?” he asked.
“I said you don’t have to keep calling me that,” Nyx playfully chastised.
“My apologies,” Dagger bowed his head. “What is it you need?”
“I wish to confess something, actually, and apologize for it.”
He didn’t have a chance to hide his confusion. He wished he had but decided to use it. “What do you mean?”
Nyx sighed. “I need to apologize because I had wanted Maniodes to disband all of the Incruentus Ferrum.”
“I’m sorry?” Scythe squeezed Dagger’s hand as she spoke, playing to the surprise.
Her confusion and worry was believable. Dagger followed her lead to keep the false surprise as well.
“I thought you had all become callus and power-hungry because your bloodlust was so strong,” Nyx explained. “I was wrong. I hope you can forgive me for assuming that.”
Dagger could hardly believe their luck. Nyx actually felt guilty for issuing their deaths.
“It was an easy assumption to make,” he said. “There is nothing to forgive, but may I ask you something about Pitch while you’re here?”
“You may.” Her smile faltered.
“He’s been acting odd lately. He’s always asking about our jobs, and how it feels afterward. It’s as if he’s grown restless.”
Nyx watched him carefully. If his heart could beat it would be fluttering like the owl should have been. He had to step lightly here. The last thing he wanted was to get Pitch in trouble.
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