Gom placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “We must find another place for you to sleep tonight.”

The prince tilted his head.

“It’s not safe here tonight,” Gom answered. He had come to the same conclusion as Walter. “Bad men are after you.”

The prince threw a punch in the air. “Beat ‘em up!”

“No, prince. They’re too dangerous to beat up.”

“Beat up!” the prince urged.

Gom sighed and picked the boy up in his arms. “Come on. We have a safe room in the center of the palace.”

“No windows?” Walter asked.

Gom shook his head. “None. One entrance, one exit. You can keep an eye on the door.”

Walter nodded, but something nagged at him. He recalled the speed at which the assassin had thrown the dagger. There had been no notice of the blade until it entered.

“Wait,” Walter said.

Gom stopped, turning with a raised eyebrow.

“I might be able to see the assassins, but I don’t think I’m as fast as they are,” the god answered.

“It’s the best option we have,” Gom said.

“Is it?” Walter asked, looking around the room.

His eyes stopped on the large bed. Pillows of all shapes and sizes lay on the covers like islands on an ocean. It seemed the prince might be a fitful sleeper.

“Could we use the pillows as decoys?” Walter mused.

Gom paused. “What are you getting at?”

Walter was recalling some advice he’d heard during his time as a human. Try to see things from the other person’s point of view.

The god of Death recalled the attack on him earlier. The assassins had hidden in a location rarely watched, meaning they were prudent despite their powers. They’d also struck before Walter could react, meaning they were dreadfully skilled. If Walter had that kind of skill, he likely wouldn’t be worried about where the prince was placed or how many guards were posted.

“I don’t think we can catch them before they strike,” Walter said as he thought. “They hit me before you noticed.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Gom said defensively.

“Still,” Walter said. “Do you want to take that chance?”

“Of course not,” Gom hissed. He gestured to the pillows. “Are you saying we disguise a pillow as a person and hide the prince somewhere else?”

“Possibly,” Walter said.

He continued to think. “Our best option would be to catch the assassins off guard.”

Gom opened his mouth to speak but Walter stopped him. “Hold on a moment. I’m just thinking out loud.”

The god strode to the bed. “When would an assassin be most off guard?” Walter ran his hands along the bedsheets.

“After he strikes,” Gom said.

Walter looked over to the guard. “Can we make that happen? Could we make them strike the wrong target?”

“They would notice if it isn’t a real body,” Gom said.

“And they would likely notice if the prince left the room,” Walter said.

The god looked at the lumpy bedsheets filled with pillows. The toy of a stuffed doll stuck out from the end of the bed, triggering something in Walter.

Death had many stories, many involving royalty of some kind. Walter’s godlike powers showed tale after tale of kings and princes who tried to cheat death. It also showed how few of them succeeded. And those that did always fell victim later.

However, Walter wasn’t trying to find a story on immortality. He just needed something that might trick a specter of Death. Because wasn’t an assassin similar to Death in some ways?

The godly side of him eventually recalled a tale told across Europe on Earth. A tale of Death’s godson, or a boy granted a boon by Death, granted magical herbs—or booze, or some other trinket—that granted healing powers.

Death made a deal with the boy. When the dying lay in bed, if Death stood at the foot, the boy could use their granted magic to save them. However, if Death stood at the head, the boy could not save them. The tale then continued one day when the boy, now a young man, was called to save a king.

Death stood at the head of the dying king’s bed. However, the doctor still wished to save the king. So he had the servants turn the bed. That way Death now stood at the foot and the king was cured.

The tale had of course ended with the doctor dying, but Walter doubted that would happen if the god of Death made the decision.

Walter turned to Gom. “Okay, I think I have a plan…”

The emperor’s palace was abuzz with activity. Gom’s declaration had put everyone on edge, and every single guard was out in force to capture the assassins.

The assassins in question were currently watching things play out from the windows.

“All clear on this side,” the Hand of Fire said.

“Same here,” the Hand of Wind echoed.

“The fools,” the Hand of Earth chuckled. “They think they can trick us by taking a fake prince out of the room?”

The other assassins all laughed as they watched a pair of guardsman take a cleverly wrapped pillow out of the prince’s room. It might have fooled a lesser person, but the six Hands were extensions of the Divine Pantheon itself. They were not lesser beings.

The six converged, watching as the two remaining guardsmen in the room lay the prince in bed.

“Move out,” the Hand of Water whispered.