An hour or so past dawn the following morning, I walked across the vine- smothered remains of one of the buildings situated among the pines that crowded Cauldra Manor. A gust of chilled wind swept through the decaying pillars, ruffling the pure white fur of the wolven prowling the length of the crumbling wall of the structure.
Delano had followed when I left the manor, staying only a few feet behind me as he continuously scanned the ruins that had either been destroyed by time or the last war.
Thirty days.
The shudder rolling through me had nothing to do with the cool temperatures. The sharp swell of pain deep in my chest made it difficult to breathe and blended with the nearly overwhelming need to escape this haunted place and go to Carsodonia. That was where he was. That was what the Handmaiden had told me, and I didn’t think the Revenant was lying. How could I free him if I were here, trapped amid the skeletons of a once- great city? Held captive by the responsibilities of a Crown I hadn’t wanted?
My gloved fingers trailed down the buttons of the woolen sweater coat to where they ended at the waist. I reached between the flared halves and closed my hand over the pouch secured to my hip, clutching the toy horse.
My thoughts calmed.
Near the bushy, yellow wildflowers growing along the foundation, I sat on the edge, letting my legs dangle off as I eyed the landscape. Waist-high weeds had reclaimed most of the road that had once traveled to this part of the city, leaving only glimpses of the cobbled streets beneath. Thick roots had taken hold among the toppled buildings, and the sweeping pines’ heavy limbs climbed through broken windows in the few walls that still stood. Sprigs of lavender poked through abandoned carriage wheels, the sweet, floral scent following the wind whenever it blew.
I had no idea how old Duke Silvan had been, but I was sure he’d lived enough years to clean this part of Massene up. To do something with the land so it no longer resembled a graveyard of what once had been.
The Chosen who will usher in the end, remaking the realms.
A shiver accompanied the memory of Vessa’s words. As far as I knew, neither Naill nor Emil had been able to find her chamber, but she was locked away, fed and safe in a room two doors down from the Great Hall.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” a gruff voice said from above, causing me to jump.
Delano hadn’t been the only one to follow. Reaver had, too, taking to the air as he tracked us through the pines. He glided so quietly above us that I’d forgotten he was up there, circling.
The voice could belong to no one but him.
Tilting back my head, I looked up a dozen feet or so to where the draken perched on the flat surface of a pillar. Warmth crept into my cheeks.
Seeing Reaver in his mortal form was already an utterly unexpected experience. But seeing him completely, absolutely naked whilst crouched on a pillar took the oddness of the situation to a whole new level.
Reaver was a…blond.
With his somewhat grumpy disposition, I’d conjured up a much darker- haired image of him.
I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. Luckily, any areas that would’ve been considered highly inappropriate by most were hidden from view, given how he was positioned. Still, there was a lot of exposed, sinewy, sand-colored flesh. I squinted. Skin that carried the faint but distinct pattern of scales.
“You’re in your mortal form,” I said dumbly.
A curtain of shoulder-length hair obscured most of Reaver’s features except for the angle of his sharp jawline. “How observant.”
My brows rose as I felt Delano brush against my thoughts, his imprint springy and featherlight. Following that unique sensation, I opened the pathway to him, and his response was immediate. He is an odd one.
I couldn’t really argue against that at the moment. He probably thinks we’re odd.
He probably wants to eat us, Delano replied as he slid past one of the pillars.
I almost laughed, but then Reaver said, “You are filled with worry. We can all feel it. Even those on their way here.”
My attention jerked back to him. We. As in the draken. The wolven could sense my emotions when extremely heightened because of the Primal notam. “Are the draken bonded to me?” I asked since Nektas hadn’t exactly said they were. Just that they were now mine.
“You are the Liessa. You summoned us. You carry the blood of Nyktos and the Consort in you. You are…” He trailed off. “Yes, we are bonded to you. I am perplexed by the fact that you’re only now realizing that.”
The corners of my lips turned down. “I’m not just figuring it out. I hadn’t really thought that…deeply about it,” I finished lamely. “Can I communicate with you like I do with the wolven?”
“No, but as you know,” he said, and I blinked slowly, “we will know and answer your will, as it has always been that way with the Primals.”
“But I’m not a Primal.”
“What you are is not wise,” he responded, and now I really frowned. “You shouldn’t be this far from the manor.”
“I’m not far.” I could still smell the wood smoke mingling with the lavender.
“These mortals are afraid of you, as you already know,” he continued, and my stomach twisted. “Fear tends to lead to poor choices.”
“I won’t let anyone get close enough to do me any harm,” I said. “Neither will Delano.”
“One does not need to be near you to harm you,” he pointed out. “As you were told before, you may be hard to kill, but it’s not impossible. That woman may not have succeeded, but others could inflict damage.”
My fingers stopped their ceaseless toying with the sweater’s buttons as wind tossed strands of hair back from Reaver’s face. I finally got my first true look at him.
There was a strange asymmetric quality to him as if his features had been plucked from random traits. His eyes were wideset and tilted down at the inner corners, giving him a somewhat mischievous impression that didn’t match the somberness of his vivid sapphire stare. Nor did the full, distinctively bow-shaped lips seem to belong to the strong, chiseled jaw and light brown brows that arched in a sardonic, almost taunting way. His cheekbones were high and sharp, creating shadows below them. Somehow, the hodgepodge of features worked. He wasn’t classically handsome but so
interesting to look upon that he was thoroughly striking. He had a hint of gauntness to his face that made me wonder if he was still recovering physically from such a long sleep.
I pulled myself out of those thoughts with a shake of my head. “Exactly what does kill a god?”
“A god can kill another,” Reaver said. “Shadowstone can also kill a god.”
The same material had been used to construct many of the Temples and the palace in Evaemon. I’d never thought of it as a weapon until those skeletal guards we’d seen after entering Iliseeum had wielded shadowstone weapons.
It was what had punctured Tawny’s skin in the chaos after everything had gone so terribly wrong.
“Through the heart or head,” he elaborated.
Immediately, I saw the arrow the Revenant had pointed in my direction, but the Revenant had spoken as if she hadn’t believed the shadowstone would kill me. I supposed it was a good thing she’d obviously thought wrong.
“What happens if a mortal is stabbed with shadowstone?”
“It would kill them,” he said, and air fled my lungs. “But your friend lives. There has to be a reason for that.”
Reaver had definitely been listening whenever I spoke of Tawny. “What kind of reason could there be?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, and I tamped down a surge of frustration. “But you are the first female descendant of the Primal of Life—the most powerful being known. In time, you will become even more powerful than your father.”
How I could be more powerful than my father was beyond me. Nor did I know why the female part mattered. Still, I got stuck on those two words.
Your father.
Ires.
Those two words left me uncertain. I swallowed, looking away. Whatever relief I’d felt when I learned that Malec wasn’t my father had been short-lived. My father was a cave cat I’d seen as a young child and again in Oak Ambler, at Castle Redrock. But the only father I remembered was Leopold. Still, anger hummed through my blood, mingling with the
eather and warming those cold, hollow places scattered throughout. I would free him, too. “How long has Ires been held captive?”
“He left Iliseeum while we slept, after waking one of the draken to accompany him.” The line of Reaver’s jaw flexed as he stared ahead. “I don’t know why he left or exactly when. I only became aware some eighteen years ago when the Primal awakened.”
My brows knitted as Delano sank onto his haunches beside me. “Why did Nyktos awaken?”
Reaver’s head swung in my direction. Those ultra-bright eyes were unnerving even with the distance between us. “I believe it was when you were born. It was felt.”
I hadn’t known that.
He returned his gaze to the sky. “That was when we learned that both Malec and Ires were gone. As was…Jade.”
It took me a moment to realize that he spoke of Jadis—Nektas’s daughter.
Tension bunched the muscles along his shoulders. “I don’t know why Ires took her. She was young when we went to sleep. And when she was awakened, she would’ve been untested. It wouldn’t have been safe for her.”
I felt the strange urge to defend a man I didn’t know. “Maybe he didn’t think it would be dangerous.”
Reaver huffed, and I swore I saw faint wisps of smoke coming from his mouth. “I think…I think he knew something had happened to his brother and went to look for him. Malec was lost to us long before we realized,” he said, his words similar to what Nektas had told me. “But Malec was Ires’s twin. So alike as children, you couldn’t tell them apart. As they grew older, their differences became clear,” he said, his rough, unused voice turning distant. “Ires was cautious and thoughtful in everything, while Malec was reckless and didn’t often stop to think of what he’d done until afterward. Ires was content in Iliseeum, but Malec had grown restless, visiting the mortal world as the deities slowly built Atlantia. Because both he and Ires were in born this realm, he could come, but that was not without its limitations. The longer he stayed, the more his power lessened. Still, he chose to stay, even knowing what he would have to do to stay strong.”
That lessening of his power must explain why no Primal notam existed between Malec and all the wolven like they had with me. “How did he stay strong?”
“He had to feed, Liessa.” One eyebrow rose as Reaver looked down at me. “He had to feed often. Any blood would do for a god or a Primal, whether it be mortal, Atlantian, or another god.” A pause. “Wolven. Anything but a draken. You cannot feed from a draken.”
Surprise rolled through Delano and me. Atlantians could feed off mortals, but it did nothing for them. Apparently, however, the world was one giant buffet when it came to gods and Primals. However, this piece of news meant…
I had to feed.
“Do you…?” I swallowed hard. “Do you know how often?”
“Probably not as often as Malec once you come into your power. Unless injured. But until then, you will need to ensure you do not weaken.”
“Wait. I’ve Ascended—”
“Yes, I know that. Thanks for pointing it out,” he interrupted, and my eyes narrowed. “But you haven’t finished your Culling.”
Delano’s head cocked, and it felt like my brain did the same.
My abilities had begun to change over the last year, as I became of age to enter the Culling. Before that, I had only been able to feel—taste—the pain of others. But that had grown, allowing me to read all emotions. My ability to ease pain had also changed to one that could heal injuries. But after…he had saved me by giving me his blood—thus Ascending me—I had been able to bring the young girl back to life. So, I’d thought the Culling had run its course. “How do you know?”
“Because I would feel it,” he said, as if that explained everything.
It really explained nothing, not even touching on why I was different than Malec. But those questions were lost in the realization that I would have to feed. I hadn’t felt the need yet. I didn’t even know what to think about what would happen if I had to do it before I freed…him. That was yet another thing I didn’t want to stress about.
Delano nudged my limp hand with the side of his face. I reached over, gently petting the back of his neck. I wished my hands weren’t gloved so I could feel his fur. I knew that his coat was thicker and softer than even Kieran’s.
“Why can’t I feed from a draken?” I asked and then wondered if that was a rude question.
“Because it would burn the insides out of most. Even Primals.” Oh.
All right, then.
I shook that disturbing image from my mind. “What exactly would weaken a god? Besides being injured?”
Reaver’s head tilted once again. “You do not know much about yourself, do you?”
My lips pursed. “Well, this whole god thing is relatively new, and, you know, there aren’t any gods standing around ready to educate me. Nor are there any texts I can simply read.”
He made a harrumphing sound as if those weren’t good enough reasons. “Most injuries would only weaken you unless they were serious. Then you will weaken more quickly. Using the essence of the gods can, over time, also weaken you if you haven’t completed the Culling. Which, as I said, you have not.”
Delano’s ears flattened. That’s not ideal.
No, it wasn’t. Using the eather meant that I could fight like a god, but if it weakened me… My stomach dipped. “I didn’t know that.”
“I’m shocked to hear that.”
Even Kieran would’ve been impressed by the level of sarcasm in Reaver’s voice. “How will I know when the Culling is complete?”
“You’ll know.”
I resisted the urge to pick up one of the small rocks and throw it at him. “What good is having that kind of power if it inevitably weakens me?”
“It is a balance, meyaah Liessa,” he said, and I blinked. I hadn’t expected to hear him call me my Queen like the wolven did. “Even we have weaknesses. The fire we breathe is the essence of the Primals. Using it tires us. Slows us down. Even the Primals had their limitations. Weaknesses. Only one is infinite.”
Nyktos.
He would be infinite.
“From what I can remember, it varies how much using the essence weakens from god to god,” he continued. “But as I said, you carry the Primal essence within you. I imagine it will take longer for you to weaken that way, but you will know when it happens.” His head turned in the direction of the camp. “Your wolven comes.”
A sugary ripple of amusement came from Delano as I looked over my shoulder, seeing a distant figure among the broken stone and tall grass. “If you’re talking about Kieran, he’s not my wolven.”
The wind lifted the strands of Reaver’s hair away from his face, revealing the bland set to his features. “Is he not?”
“No.” I ignored the quiet huffing sound that Delano made as I rose. “None of the wolven are mine.” I glanced up at him. “The wolven belong to no one but themselves. The same goes for you and the other draken.”
There was a pause. “You sound a lot like…her.”
Noting the softening of his tone, I looked up at him, opening my senses. As before, I felt nothing. In my chest, the essence of the gods hummed, and the urge to push, to see if I could shatter his walls was almost as hard to resist as not throwing a rock at him had been. “The Consort?”
A brief smile appeared, and my gods, it was a breathtaking transformation. The chilly hollowness to his features vanished, turning him from someone uniquely appealing to a stunning, otherworldly beauty. “Yes. You remind me very much of the…Consort.”
The way he said that was more than a little odd, but I thought of what Nektas had said. A reminder that this wasn’t just about him. “Will the Consort really wake upon Ires’s return?”
“Yes.”
“And what does that mean for the other gods?” For us, I wanted to add, but I wasn’t sure if I truly wanted to know the answer to that at the moment.
“I imagine they will eventually wake.”
I wondered why the Consort being awake had anything to do with the other gods. Or if it really had to do with Nyktos—that if his Consort had to sleep, he chose to be with her, which caused the other gods to sleep. I was also tired of calling her the Consort. “What’s her name?”
His smile vanished, and his features sharpened as he stared down at me from his perch. “Her name is a shadow in the ember, a light in the flame, and the fire in the flesh. The Primal of Life has forbidden us to speak or write her name.”
Disbelief flooded me. “That sounds incredibly controlling.”
“You don’t understand. To speak her name is to bring the stars from the skies and topple the mountains into the sea.”
My brows inched up my forehead. “That’s a bit dramatic.”
Reaver said nothing. Instead, he rose so quickly I didn’t have a chance to even look away. Thankfully, I saw nothing I shouldn’t see because tiny silvery sparks erupted all along his body as he leapt from the pillar and changed. My mouth dropped open as a long, spiked tail formed, and then
purplish-black scales appeared. Thick, leathery wings unfurled from the shimmer of light, briefly blocking out the muted glare of the sun. Within seconds, a draken swept through the air, high above.
A springy, featherlight sensation brushed against my thoughts as I stared up. As I said before and will likely say again, Delano’s voice whispered, he’s an odd one.
“Yeah,” I said, drawing the word out. “What do you think about what he said, though? About what would happen if we spoke the Consort’s name?”
I really don’t know, he answered as we started across the foundation. Could she be that powerful? As powerful as Nyktos? Because that’s what it sounded like.
It really did, but none were more powerful than Nyktos. Or his equal.
Not even the Consort. I didn’t like thinking that, but it was what it was.
Delano stayed at my side as we crossed the ruins, carefully making our way through the wispy reeds and broken stone toward the small group headed our way. Emil and the dark-haired Perry, whose skin was a warm brown in the sun that broke through the pines, flanked Kieran. The wolven was the only one who didn’t wear the gold and steel armor—because of… reasons.
Kieran carried something. A small box. As we drew closer, Reaver landed among the wildflowers, shaking the nearby half-standing walls. His horned head swiveled in the direction of the approaching group. Emil and Perry wisely gave Reaver a wide berth while Kieran ignored the draken’s presence.
I knew something had happened the moment I saw the tension bracketing Kieran’s mouth, but I picked up nothing from him.
His emotions were shielded, and that wasn’t normal at all.
I looked at the others more closely. There was no half-wild grin or teasing glint in Emil’s golden eyes either. Tart uneasiness drifted from Perry. When Emil didn’t pause to make an elaborate display of kneeling, the unease tripled.
I glanced at the box again, and everything in me slowed. My heart. My breathing. The wooden box was no bigger than the length of the wolven dagger sheathed to my thigh but adorned with blood-red rubies. “What’s that?”
“A Royal Guard brought it to the Rise of Massene,” Emil answered, his knuckles bleached white from clutching the hilt of his sword. “He was
alone. Said he traveled day and night from the capital. All he had was that small chest. He said it was for the Queen of Atlantia, from the Queen of Solis.”
The back of my neck tightened. “How did she know we were here?” I looked between them. “There’s no way word could’ve traveled to Carsodonia that quickly.”
“Good question,” Kieran said. “It would be impossible for her to know.” But she did.
My gaze flicked to the box once more. “And where is the Royal Guard now?”
“Dead.” An icy blast accompanied Emil’s lingering shock. “As soon as he finished speaking, he stood right there and slit his damn throat wide open. I’d never seen anything like that.”
“That doesn’t bode well.” Tiny bumps erupted all over my skin as my gaze fell to the wooden box. A gift? “Have you opened it?”
Kieran shook his head. “The Royal Guard said only your blood could open it.”
I frowned as Reaver stretched his long neck, eyeing what Kieran held.
“He had to be talking about old magic—Primal magic.” Perry’s handsome features were drawn tight by tension. “If one knew how to use Primal magic, they could create wards or spells that would work in a way that only responded to certain blood or bloodlines. They could use the magic for almost anything, really.”
“It’s the same kind of Primal magic that created the Gyrms,” Kieran reminded me.
I suppressed a shudder at the image of the faceless creatures made of eather and dirt that were conjured forth. The Unseen had created them, but it was now abundantly clear that the Blood Queen had gained knowledge of the old magic—how to tap into the Primal essences that created the realms and was around us at all times.
My muscles tensed even further as I stared at the box. Malec would’ve known all about old Primal magic that was now forbidden. “What am I supposed to do? Cut a vein and bleed on it?”
“Let’s not cut a vein open,” Kieran advised.
“A drop or two of your blood will probably suffice,” Perry suggested as Delano moved between us, brushing against the Atlantian’s legs. Perry reached down, running his hand along the length of Delano’s back.
“How do you know so much about Primal magic?” I asked as I reached for the box. Kieran held on, clearly reluctant to let go. My gaze flew to his, my senses opening. Then I felt something from him. It was tart in the back of my throat. Unease. A muscle flexed in his jaw as he let go of the surprisingly lightweight box.
“My father,” Perry answered, and I thought of Lord Sven as I turned, looking for a flat surface on which to place the box. I found a portion of wall that stood about waist high. “He’s always been fascinated with the old Primal magic, collecting anything written about it that he could get his hands on.” There was a rough chuckle. “Spend any amount of time with him, and he’ll start telling you how there used to be spells that could guarantee a successful yielding of crops or make it rain.”
“Has he ever tried to use Primal magic?” I sat the box on the flattest section of a nearby wall.
“No, Your Highness.”
A shaky breath left me as I glanced at Perry. “You don’t have to call me that. We’re friends.”
“Thank you, Your—” He caught himself with a faint smile. “Thank you, Penellaphe.”
“Poppy,” I whispered absently.
“Poppy,” Perry repeated with a nod. “My father, he wouldn’t dare anger the Arae or even the sleeping gods by using such magic.”
“The Arae?” It took a moment for the image of Priestess Analia and the heavy tome called The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis to creep into my thoughts. I remembered. “The Fates.”
“Yes,” Perry confirmed.
I remembered Tawny and I once talking about them, and the whole idea of beings that could either see or control the outcome of the lives of every living creature seemed utterly unbelievable to both of us. But then again, I hadn’t believed in Seers or prophecies either.
I turned back to the box. “Lord Sven’s knowledge of Primal magic may come in handy. He’ll be arriving with Valyn, won’t he?”
“Yes.”
Kieran stepped in close, his earthy scent surrounding me, reminding me of the woods between Castle Teerman and the city Atheneum. “I don’t know about this, Poppy.” He touched my arm. “There could be anything in that box.”
“I doubt she placed a venomous viper in there,” I replied as I tugged the glove off my left hand, shoving it into the pocket of my sweater coat.
“She could’ve placed any manner of venomous or poisonous things in that box,” he countered, his voice low. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t either, but…” I turned my left hand over, revealing the golden swirl across my palm. The marriage imprint. Then I withdrew the wolven dagger from its sheath. “I need to know.” I lowered my voice as I met Kieran’s stare. “I have to.”
The hard press of his mouth tightened, but he nodded. Reaver’s shadow fell over us as he watched. The bloodstone shone a deep red as I quickly dragged the tip of the sharp blade over my thumb. I gritted my teeth at the brief, stinging pain. Blood welled as I sheathed the dagger.
“Where do you think I should place my blood?” I asked, my hand steady.
“I would try the latch in the center,” Perry suggested, inching closer.
I didn’t hesitate, smearing my blood over the small metal latch shaped very much like a keyhole—without a hole. I pulled my hand back and waited.
Nothing happened.
Perry leaned in. “Maybe try—” Then something happened.
A faint, reddish-black shadow seeped out from the seam as the box cracked open. Emil cursed…or maybe said a prayer. I wasn’t sure. He lurched forward as Kieran threw out his arm as if he sought to edge me away, but the rippling shadow quickly disappeared. The Atlantian halted as the lock unlatched with a click, and the lid cracked open.
My stomach dipped. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that the sight of such a thing a year ago would’ve had me backing up and praying to gods I had no idea still slept. I reached for the box.
“Careful,” Kieran murmured, his hand now hovering near mine.
I had a feeling if a viper did spring out of the box, Kieran would catch it with his bare hands.
And I would also scream.
Slowly, I lifted the lid the rest of the way. A pillow of crimson satin appeared within, and nestled in the center was—
I jerked back, stumbling. Icy shock coated my throat. No one spoke. No one else moved. Not even Kieran, who stared into the box, his hand still
hovering over it. Not even me.
My heart started pounding. My breath quickened. Kieran’s hand trembled and then closed into a fist.
The wedding band made in Spessa’s End shone a lustrous gold, matching the one I wore.
Always and forever.
The same message was inscribed on both. Neither of us had removed our rings since the ceremony.
And this one hadn’t been now, either, for it remained on the finger I had placed it on.
