Page 80 of Between Ghosts and Gods

Arun jumped. “Nothing. I just wonder… What do you think will happen to us now?”

“We’ll be rewarded, of course!” said Ruo. “Showered with gold and silks and eyeballs!”

“And then what?”

Ruo shrugged. “We go back to the under-realm?”

Kasu planned on asking General Shusa to let her reincarnate. There was no better time or opportunity than now. Honestly, she thought that Arun should ask for the same thing.

But if they did that, then they would not be together any more. Once you walked through the wheel, your memories were erased and you were reborn into a new life. Though the gods could decide where and what you would be in your next life, there was a measure of randomness to it. Even if they both reincarnated, it was unlikely they would be born anywhere near one another. And even if they were, they wouldn’t remember each other, wouldn’t remember this.

Everyone leaves.

Beneath the table, Kasu reached for Arun’s hand. Their fingers laced together. Kasu wondered if Arun also dreaded the end of their adventure. If it felt as unbearable to him as it did to her.

“I—” she began, but was interrupted by a maid’s screech. Kasu looked up just in time to see Ruo slip through the dining room doors on their way to eat General Shusa’s fish.

Chapter Forty Kasu

In the END, Kasu was able to spare the carp from a grisly fate. Out of fear that Ruo would slip away again and actually succeed in eating everything in the courtyard pond, the maids sent someone down to the kitchens and brought meat for the hungry curse. There were no eyeballs, but Ruo seemed content to gnaw at the bones of a roast duck.

Once breakfast was over, they toured the palace under the watchful eye of several scribes – Ruo bored, Kasu charmed, and Arun seemingly incapable of taking in any of the intricate architecture without comparing it to his father’s palace.

The heavens was its own kind of city, though instead of districts each of the major gods owned their own estate inhabited by minor gods and human servants. General Shusa’s estate was large enough to be its own village, complete with stables, military barracks and its very own peach orchard.

As the day progressed, Kasu was surprised to realize that it was getting darker. Unlike the perpetual darkness of the under-realm, there was a proper day–night cycle in the heavens. The sun was going down and Lady Moon was climbing her way up the sky. When Kasu had imagined leaving the under-realm, she’d often thought of the sun – how good its warmth would feel against her skin – but she had not seen the moon for many years either. She hoped she could stay up and stargaze.

The maids ushered them back into the dining hall for dinner, and then to their sleeping chambers – a lavish room richly furnished with deep mahogany bookcases filled to bursting with ancient texts, and wide beds covered in silk sheets and pillows of brocaded satin.

When Kasu sat on the edge of one of the beds, she almost tumbled back. It was so soft she feared she would sink into the mattress, never to be seen again.

“Not as soft as my old bed,” Arun said, only to annoy her.

Ruo jumped up and gave the sheets a disdainful sniff before curling up on the floor at the foot of Kasu’s bed. The maids knocked on their door once to inform them that spare clothes and separate baths had been drawn for them.

Kasu and Arun were ushered to opposite ends of the palace. A pair of maids led Kasu to a large, circular room with a tiled seafoam-green floor and walls of cream stone. There had been public baths in the under-realm, but they were few and far between. A lot of demons did not particularly care for personal hygiene, and ghosts were often too busy for more than a weekly wash. Kasu was somewhat mortified to realize that it had been a while since her last bath too. She made sure to scrub thoroughly, working the bar of plum-scented soap into all the hard-to-reach places, before washing off the suds and soaking in the warm water.

When she and Ruo returned to their room, Arun was already there, dressed for bed in silks so fine they looked like they might slip off his body. He turned to look at her, his smile faltering for a moment as he took in the sight of her dress.

The gown the maids had given her was the colour of autumn leaves. It hung from her shoulders, a bright, vibrant gold slowly turning to red at the bottom. It was made of the same silk as whatever Arun was wearing and probably looked just as fancy. Kasu was sure it did not suit her.

“Are you not going to say the silks of your father’s palace were sleeker?” She wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Arun quickly turned around so that he was not facing her. “Too tired,” he muttered. “Are you going to sleep right now? I’ll snuff out the lanterns, if you are.”

Kasu was still too excited by everything she had seen to be exhausted, but she did not want to keep Arun up if he needed his rest. She murmured her assent and headed to bed.

Arun waited for her to slide beneath her sheets before he moved to the lamps placed around the room, blowing out each flame.

Kasu tried to get some rest, but the bed was too soft and her mind would not calm down. Every time she felt slumber tug at her, she would remember where she was and what had happened to bring her here, and then she would be too full of thoughts to sleep. Eventually, she gave up. Careful not to step on Ruo’s tails, she slipped out of bed.

First, she wandered to the bookcases. There were various texts – from poetry to historical accounts and instructional manuals on how to meditate. Kasu flipped through a few, but it was too dark to read and she did not dare light a candle or a lamp for fear of waking the others. Eventually, she drifted to the window and folded back the wooden shutters, allowing the soft starlight to fall into the room. She sat on one end of the long cushioned bench beneath the window and propped her elbow on the sill where she could gaze up at the moon.

“Can’t sleep?”

Kasu turned to find Arun out of bed, standing in front of her. The moonlight tangled in his hair, illuminating his face. Her gaze travelled from his temple down the firm line of his nose, across the sweep of his dark eyes, to the sharp cut of his cheekbones. She could not remember what her initial impression of him had been: if she had found him as handsome as she did now; if she had ever taken note of how soft his smile could be.

The distance between them felt as fragile as a house of cards. All it would take was the slightest twitch to collapse. Kasu turned back to face the moon.