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Authors: Rhiannon Paille
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expanse of his cloak. “You can face my master if you wish, but be warned, he is not kind.”
Aria dug her toe into the ground, entirely determined to see his face, even if it was nothing but bone. “Then we’ve come to a stalemate. I cannot pay you lest you come ashore, and you cannot leave without being paid.”
The Ferryman huffed and pulled his skeletal hands into the ragged folds of his dark cloak. Aria fixed her gaze on him no matter how strong the urge to burst into a shower of flames was. After a long time he nodded and braced himself on the bow as he stepped out of the boat. The transformation was instantaneous. The moment his foot touched the grass the land sizzled, the cloak cocooning him in its tight folds as he changed. Shin-high boots covered his feet, while flesh covered his limbs as though he were dipped in bronze. Golden brown hands emerged from the sleeves of the cloak, while the rest of the transformation remained trapped underneath the heavy folds of fabric. Tattered shreds became polished edges fitted with embroidery. A golden clasp in the shape of a snake held the cloak together, showing off a beige tunic and black breeches below it. Aria stumbled backwards, almost falling over herself as he pushed the wide hood onto his shoulders. The Ferryman had long brown hair, straight as a line, deep black eyebrows, and mismatched eyes framed by long lashes. Aria couldn’t take her eyes off him, the smooth jaw line, golden brown skin, puckered lips. Her eyes gravitated to his, one hazel and one a bright golden yellow. He abashedly averted his gaze when he caught her amethyst enflamed eyes and stalked towards the break in the trees.
“Come, we mustn’t waste time,” he said. Aria’s heart trilled at the cadence of his voice, like water over smooth rocks. She tried to find her footing but the land tilted, and she may as well have been upside down she was so disoriented. She staggered towards him, trying to keep her balance, trying not to crash into him. He took the lead through the path wide enough for one and she followed; all the giddiness in her rising in a steady, disenchanting crescendo.
“Do you have a name, Ferryman?” Aria wasn’t used to being bold, but she had to do something to distract her from the many moans in the trees, and the steady thumping in her heart. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was a stampede.
He glanced back at her, his gold eye glowing in the dim moonlit night. “It’s very long, and hard to pronounce.”
“Oh. Is there a name you like to be called?” Her fascination with names hadn’t waned since the momentary outbursts with Cassareece and Tor. She was a death bringing songbird girl, and a Flame. All things she had trouble understanding, and yet if she didn’t think about it, she embodied it perfectly. Life was peculiar like that, being who she was, was easier than understanding what she was. She didn’t like the way Tor treated the other Flames, but she didn’t feel like he wanted to hurt them. The battle and the people were important to him. Whatever Cassareece and the rest of them were, she didn’t want them to exist much longer either.
She realized the Ferryman hadn’t answered her question. Because the idea of touching him sent waves of nausea through her, she tried to step in line with him, even though the path was cramped and her feet moved through flowers. She hoped he didn’t notice, the way her feet sunk into the land, and she hoped he wouldn’t call her an unnatural thing. It hurt knowing she’d killed Afton by poisoning her with pretty flowers. “You can recite the full name if you wish.”
Tension seemed to coil his shoulders. “You wouldn’t remember my name if I told it to you.”
“Why?” Aria spoke the question aloud but only because another part of her was working so hard on memorizing every detail of him, from the lines of his face, down to the way the corner of his mouth tightened whenever she opened her mouth. If it
Aria dug her toe into the ground, entirely determined to see his face, even if it was nothing but bone. “Then we’ve come to a stalemate. I cannot pay you lest you come ashore, and you cannot leave without being paid.”
The Ferryman huffed and pulled his skeletal hands into the ragged folds of his dark cloak. Aria fixed her gaze on him no matter how strong the urge to burst into a shower of flames was. After a long time he nodded and braced himself on the bow as he stepped out of the boat. The transformation was instantaneous. The moment his foot touched the grass the land sizzled, the cloak cocooning him in its tight folds as he changed. Shin-high boots covered his feet, while flesh covered his limbs as though he were dipped in bronze. Golden brown hands emerged from the sleeves of the cloak, while the rest of the transformation remained trapped underneath the heavy folds of fabric. Tattered shreds became polished edges fitted with embroidery. A golden clasp in the shape of a snake held the cloak together, showing off a beige tunic and black breeches below it. Aria stumbled backwards, almost falling over herself as he pushed the wide hood onto his shoulders. The Ferryman had long brown hair, straight as a line, deep black eyebrows, and mismatched eyes framed by long lashes. Aria couldn’t take her eyes off him, the smooth jaw line, golden brown skin, puckered lips. Her eyes gravitated to his, one hazel and one a bright golden yellow. He abashedly averted his gaze when he caught her amethyst enflamed eyes and stalked towards the break in the trees.
“Come, we mustn’t waste time,” he said. Aria’s heart trilled at the cadence of his voice, like water over smooth rocks. She tried to find her footing but the land tilted, and she may as well have been upside down she was so disoriented. She staggered towards him, trying to keep her balance, trying not to crash into him. He took the lead through the path wide enough for one and she followed; all the giddiness in her rising in a steady, disenchanting crescendo.
“Do you have a name, Ferryman?” Aria wasn’t used to being bold, but she had to do something to distract her from the many moans in the trees, and the steady thumping in her heart. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was a stampede.
He glanced back at her, his gold eye glowing in the dim moonlit night. “It’s very long, and hard to pronounce.”
“Oh. Is there a name you like to be called?” Her fascination with names hadn’t waned since the momentary outbursts with Cassareece and Tor. She was a death bringing songbird girl, and a Flame. All things she had trouble understanding, and yet if she didn’t think about it, she embodied it perfectly. Life was peculiar like that, being who she was, was easier than understanding what she was. She didn’t like the way Tor treated the other Flames, but she didn’t feel like he wanted to hurt them. The battle and the people were important to him. Whatever Cassareece and the rest of them were, she didn’t want them to exist much longer either.
She realized the Ferryman hadn’t answered her question. Because the idea of touching him sent waves of nausea through her, she tried to step in line with him, even though the path was cramped and her feet moved through flowers. She hoped he didn’t notice, the way her feet sunk into the land, and she hoped he wouldn’t call her an unnatural thing. It hurt knowing she’d killed Afton by poisoning her with pretty flowers. “You can recite the full name if you wish.”
Tension seemed to coil his shoulders. “You wouldn’t remember my name if I told it to you.”
“Why?” Aria spoke the question aloud but only because another part of her was working so hard on memorizing every detail of him, from the lines of his face, down to the way the corner of his mouth tightened whenever she opened her mouth. If it
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