With a great force of will, Ursula dared to raise her eyes, though not high enough to meet the goddess’s shining gaze. She stared instead at Emerazel’s lips, cracked into a cinder-flecked smile. She knows something about me. If Ursula had had any control over her own body, she’d have asked what it was.

“Do you remember when she carved herself?” Kester pressed.

“I remember the day, though I didn’t know who she was then. So many souls came to me that day. It was glorious.” An ashy smile played about the goddess’s lips. “That’s all you need to know. I have an assignment for my sniveling little subject.”

Ursula fought against the urge to scream. Her skin was on fire, and she was in the center of a volcano. Pain ripped her mind apart. Why didn’t Kester mind the heat? How could he stand this?

Emerazel’s smile widened. “The target is a particularly delectable soul. He allied himself with me a few months ago. You might have heard of him—Hugo Modes. You’re to collect his soul for me. Do not disappoint me. Kester, give her a ledger. One thousand pages. One page for each task, until the book is full.”

Ursula’s body trembled. Did she say a thousand pages?

Kester nodded. “She’s had no training, so I will go with her on her first assignment.”

“No,” Emerazel bellowed. “I want to see what she can do on her own. And, Kester, when you train her, make sure she remains submissive. Do not go gentle on her. I want this one to obey.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone flat.

“If she needs to die,” Emerazel mused. “Be sure you bring her to me first. I will dispose of her myself. In fact, I rather look forward to it.” Emerazel’s lips began to crumble, and her body collapsed into a pile of ash.

Ursula gasped as cool air filled the room, and the icy winter day returned through the windows. Shaking, she hunched over on her hands and knees, fighting the urge to vomit. Her body twitched uncontrollably. A strong taste of creosote filled her mouth, and sandpaper seemed to line her eyelids. Coughing and gagging, she blinked, trying to force some moisture from her tear ducts.

“That was awful. You didn’t tell me it would be that awful.” She hated the way her voice broke. She didn’t want Kester to see her weakened like this. He already had far too much control over her life.

“Gods below,” said Kester, his voice low. “Your first lesson is never to look directly at her.”

He held out a hand, lifting her up. “Are you all right?”

Too tired to care about her pride, she leaned into him. “I won’t make that mistake again,” she managed. She needed a cool bath, and a long sleep.