You'd think a honeymoon would be simple. Sun. Sand. Zero corpses.But no. I, Corvus Q. Featherbottom-raven, psychopomp, voice of reason-have been dragged to Jamaica so Death can prove to his new bride that he's capable of something other than endings.The bride in question is Hel, half-dead goddess of the frozen realms and skeptic of joy.Mortals, as it turns out, cannot be trusted to stay alive unsupervised.Death wants three peaceful days. Hel is learning that warmth isn't always an enemy. And I'm running soul triage beside the towel hut with a plate of stolen fries and the growing suspicion that I care more than I'll ever admit.A chaotic, heartfelt romantic fantasy told by a bird who deserves a raise.