The worst thing is that Marius did not know how long the ritual would have lasted without the intervention of the stranger and her horse. Searching for a soul is a matter of luck. And now at all. Should I wait quietly, or should I urgently remember what my mentor told me about uninvited guests from beyond the Border and ways to escape from them? Or not to be saved, but to be pacified, or even put into service? It all depends on who exactly shows up.

The longer the night dragged on, the more Marius wanted, if not his mentor, then at least someone to come back. If only the exhausting uncertainty would end!

Perhaps it was worth remembering that too desperate desires tend to come true down to the last letter? Exactly to the letter, and then it’s too late to go back and convince the Great Power that this is not what I wanted at all. But, honestly, Marius was not ready to see how the dead bay opens his eyes filled with otherworldly light. Yes, demons take it all, calling souls is the exact opposite of raising wights! This simply shouldn't happen!

It doesn't happen like that!

“So it happens,” he retorted doomedly to his own panicky thoughts.

Before concluding an agreement with the Highest,

find out the size of the penalty!

All the troubles of Virita degli Bornio were due to her gentle and refined beauty and too quiet and gentle character. It would seem – what’s bad? A girl should be soft, modest, obedient, so that her wife turns out to be gentle and docile, and beauty is a very pleasant addition to other advantages. But, as they say, too good is also not good. The appearance of an exquisite porcelain doll, childishly plump pink lips, deep pools of eyes shaded by long eyelashes, as if reflecting either the bright blue of the sky or storm clouds… Virita hated mirrors. Girls of the same age and their mothers and aunts could not stand the heiress of Vitor del Bornio, the recognized first bride of the kingdom. Young people drooled, some at her appearance, some at her dowry, tried to arouse interest, but they themselves were not at all interested in what lay behind the doll’s face and in the depths of her heavenly eyes. Flowery compliments, followed by self-interest and lust, which Virita felt even without being an empath. And the line is getting closer and closer, beyond which the father will get tired of hearing “Daddy, I don’t like him,” and he will have to become the wife of the one who is pointed at.

If only she were a little braver! So that she has the audacity to flirt with those who are interested in her, and the self-control to refuse communication with unpleasant gentlemen. But in the bright bustle of balls and receptions, Virita seemed to be in a stupor; all she could do was answer at random and smile timidly. And, as luck would have it, the most interesting young people, those who might have liked her herself, and not her dowry, pedigree, her father’s connections, found her unbearably boring.

If only my mother were alive! She would tell you how to let a young man know that you like him and win his attention back. I would teach you. One day Virita dared to ask her father for advice – and received a disastrous rebuke. “You are a worthy girl from a noble family, beautiful, rich and well-educated. Your attention is an honor and happiness for any young man. How did it even occur to you to be interested in the tricks of walking girls?!”

"Honor and Happiness"? Yes if only! No, Virita had no doubt that they would willingly take her as a wife. For wealth, pedigree, maybe even for beauty. But will they love?