Well.
Dammit.
I exhaled noisily. “Good question.” “Or a pointless question.”
“How so?”
He tipped closer, and that scent of his—the fresh, citrusy one, wrapped its way around me. “Because we both know why we remained right where we are. I interest you. You interest me. So, here we remain.”
Denials rose, but even I had the foresight to know how weak they would sound if I attempted to give voice to them.
What was I doing here? With him?
My stomach tumbled as my gaze dropped to his mouth, and I quickly looked away. Staying here had nothing to do with his mouth for godssake. My heart skipped anyway. I was here because when would I ever get to speak so openly with a god who was rather mild-tempered? When did I get to talk so openly with anyone? Any other conversation was always shadowed by how I’d failed the kingdom.
But he was a god. And even if he wasn’t, I couldn’t say I knew him all that well. I was barely dressed, and Ash made me wary. Because right now, I could easily see myself doing something incredibly impulsive and reckless enough to blow up in my face.
I peeked at Ash. He’d drawn that bottom lip of his between his teeth as he watched me. My heart started thumping, and all I could think was that today had been so very…weird.
“Why are you interested enough to stay?” I asked. Dark eyebrows rose. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why would a mortal be of interest to someone from Iliseeum?”
He tilted his head. “I am beginning to think you don’t know much about us.”
I shrugged.
A breeze picked up a strand of his hair, tossing it across his face. “We find mortals to be very interesting beings—the way you all choose to live, the rules you create to govern and sometimes limit yourselves. How fiercely you all live—love and hate. Mortals are uniquely interesting to us.” He lifted a shoulder. “And you? You interest me because there seems to be little time between what occurs in your head and what comes out of your mouth. And there seems to be little regard for the consequences.”
My brows knitted. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.” He chuckled. “It is.”
“I’m going to have to take your word for that.”
That soft half-smile made another appearance, and that was all he said for a little while. “You asked earlier if I killed a lot,” he said, surprising me. “Only when I had to. Has it been a lot? I’m sure to some it has been. To others? Probably not something they’d blink an eye at, but I haven’t enjoyed any.” His voice was heavy. “Not a single one.”
Even though his answer caught me off guard, it was clear this was something he didn’t like to talk about. I shifted, pressing my knees together. “I’m sorry.”
“An apology?”
“I…I shouldn’t have asked that question in the first place. It’s not any of my business.”
Ash stared at me. “What?”
“You are entirely contradictory,” he said. His gaze met mine and then flicked away. Several long moments passed. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and maybe that was because I was used to the quiet. “I remember the first time I had to kill someone. I remember how the sword felt in my hand—how it felt as if it weighed double. I can still see the look on his face. I will never forget what he said. ‘Do it.’ Those were his words. Do it.”
I squeezed my knees together even tighter.
“No death has been easy, but that one?” His hand opened and closed as if he were trying to work feeling back into his fingers. “That one will always leave the deepest mark. He was a friend.”
I pressed my palm to my chest. “You…you killed your friend?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He stared at the lake. “That’s not an excuse or justification. It was just something that had to be done.”
I couldn’t understand how he could do that, and I needed to. “Why would it need to be done? What would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”
A muscle throbbed along his jaw. “Dozens, if not more, would’ve died if I hadn’t taken his life.”
“Oh,” I whispered, feeling a little sick to my stomach. Had his friend been hurting people, forcing his intervention? If so, then I could understand that. Do it. Had his friend known that he needed to be stopped? I didn’t ask if that was the case. I wanted to. The question practically burned my tongue, but it didn’t feel right. And it didn’t feel right knowing that he’d been forced to do that and had also lost another friend to those three gods. “Then I’m sorry you had to do that.”
Ash’s head jerked toward mine, his stare searching. “I…” He fell quiet for several breaths. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I gathered my damp hair and began twisting it, wishing I could share something so intimate, but I didn’t know how to do that. How to make myself comfortable enough to do so. The only other thing that came to mind and unfortunately spilled from my lips was utterly ridiculous. “I hate gowns.”
There was a beat of silence. “What?”
Perhaps I needed to have my lips sewn shut. “I just find gowns to be… cumbersome.” And I also hated for my thighs to rub together, but that was not something I would discuss with him.
He watched me. Being the focus of those steely eyes was unnerving. “I imagine they would be.”
I nodded, face feeling too warm as I stared at the gently rolling waters of the lake. I knew I shouldn’t say anything, especially to a god who served a Primal, but what I’d done was something I never talked about. Not even with Sir Holland. And I hadn’t realized until that moment how much weight those unsaid words carried.
But I couldn’t voice them. They revealed too much. They were too much of a burden.
Staring at the lake, I sought to change the subject. “Have you found out anything more about why those gods are killing mortals?”
“Unfortunately, not. The three gods have been hard to track.” He sighed. “And I can only pry so much without drawing unwanted attention. If I do, then I won’t discover why they’re doing this.”
“Your friend, the one Cressa and the others killed?” I asked. “What was his name?”
“Lathan,” he answered. “You would’ve liked him, I think. He never listened to me either.”
A small grin tugged on my lips but faded quickly. “Was his body left or was he…?”
“His body was left, soul intact. He didn’t become whatever it was that woman became last night.”
“Oh,” I whispered, watching the light of the moon ripple over the black waters. “It doesn’t make his death any easier, I’m sure, but at least he wasn’t destroyed.”
Ash was quiet for a long moment. “You know what you remind me of?” I looked over at him again, and his gaze snared mine. Warmth hit my skin once more, seeping into my veins. There was no sting of embarrassment. This was different, a more languid and sultry type of heat.
“I’m half afraid to ask.”
He was silent for a moment. “There was this flower that once grew in the Shadowlands.”
Every part of my being zeroed in on him. Where he lived… He was talking about Iliseeum. One of the things I was looking forward to as the Consort was the chance to see the realm. I couldn’t listen harder if I tried.
“The petals were the color of blood in the moonlight and remained folded in on themselves until someone approached. When they opened, they appeared incredibly delicate, as if they would shatter in the softest wind, but they grew wild and fiercely, any place there was even a hint of soil. They even grew between the cracks of stone, and they were incredibly unpredictable.”
Did I really remind him of a delicate, beautiful flower? I wasn’t sure what part of me could be considered delicate. A fingernail? “How are flowers unpredictable?”
“Because these were quite temperamental.”
A laugh burst out of me. The wisps of white pulsed behind his pupil once more, churning slowly. His gaze shifted back to the lake. “Is that the part that makes you think of them?”
“Possibly.”
“I’m curious to learn how a flower is temperamental, especially such a delicate one.”
“The thing is, they only appeared delicate.” He was closer now, having lowered his arm from the rock. “In truth, they were quite resilient and deadly.”
“Deadly?”
He nodded. “When they opened, it revealed the center. And in that center were several spiky needles that carried a rather poisonous toxin. Depending on their mood, they released them. One needle could take down a god for a week.”
“Sounds like an amazing flower.” And slightly horrifying. “I’m not sure if it’s a compliment to know that I remind you of a murderous plant.”
“If you’d ever seen them, you would know that it is.”
I smiled, flattered despite it all, and imagined that it must not take much to flatter me.
“I have a question for you now,” he said. “Ask away.”
“Why are you here by a lake? I imagine a Princess has access to a large tub filled with steaming hot water.”
I stiffened, having forgotten that, in my anger, I had revealed that I was a Princess. “I like it here. It’s…”
“Calming?” he finished for me, and I nodded. “With the exception of the Hunters,” he added. “How often do you come here?”
“As much as I can,” I admitted, studying his profile. It was all so strange. Him. Me. Us. This conversation. How at ease I felt around him. Everything.
“Do you never worry that anyone could happen upon you?”
I shook my head. “You are the first person I’ve ever seen in these woods
—well, the first god. And not counting the spirits, but they never come close to the lake.”
“And no one knows what you do out here?”
“I imagine some of the guards know I’ve been in the lake since they see me return with wet hair.”
His brows knitted. “I find it hard to believe that none of them has ever followed you.”
“I told you, people are afraid of these woods.”
“And what I know of mortal men is that many of them will overcome any number of fears the moment they realize a beautiful female can easily be caught in a compromising position. Especially a Princess.”
“Beautiful?” I laughed again, shaking my head.
He cut me a look. “Please don’t expect me to believe that you’re unaware of your beauty. You do not strike me as the coy type, and I’ve been rather impressed by you so far.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But thanks, I will be able to sleep soundly knowing that you’re impressed by me,” I retorted.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly impressed when I told you to go home and you remained.”
I stared at him.
“But then you kicked the Hunter, and I was…well, I felt something, all right.”
My eyes narrowed.
“I can’t say I was impressed when you appeared as if you were about to embrace the Hunter,” he went on. “But then you disarmed it. That was impressive—”
“You can stop now.”
“You sure?” The teasing grin had returned.
“Yes,” I stated. “I’m not sure why I’m still sitting here talking to you.”
“Perhaps you feel indebted to me since I watched over you while you were unconscious.”
“I was unconscious for a few moments. It’s not like you stood guard for endless hours.”
“I am quite important. Those moments felt like hours.” “I do not like you,” I said.
His eyes shifted to mine, and that curve of his lips remained. “But you see, you do. That’s why you’re still here and no longer threatening to claw my eyes out.”
I snapped my mouth shut. Ash winked.
“The clawing of the eyes could still happen,” I warned him.
“I don’t think so.” He bit down on that lower lip of his again, the act snagging my gaze once more. “Besides the fact that you know you won’t succeed, you said I was beautiful, and clawing my eyes out would ruin that, wouldn’t it?”
My cheeks heated, but I wasn’t sure if it was the reminder of what I’d said or the glisten on his lower lip. “I did suffer an injury to my head right before I said that.”
His laugh was barely above a breath.
Twisting my hair once more, I focused on the ripples spreading across the lake. It had to be late, and I knew I should head back, but I was reluctant to return to life away from the lake. “What are the Shadowlands like?”
“A lot like these woods,” he said. When I looked over at him, he was looking at the moonlight-dappled trees.
“Really?”
“You’re surprised,” he said, and I was.
“I just didn’t think the Shadowlands would be beautiful.”
“The Shadowlands consists of three separate places,” he replied, and I jumped a little as I felt his fingers brush mine. That shiver of static danced across my knuckles as my head jerked in his direction. He gently disentangled my fingers from my hair. “May I?”
Seeming to lose the ability to speak, I simply nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking permission for. I was silent as he tugged on a strand of my hair, stretching it until the curl became straight.
“There is the Abyss, which is what everyone thinks of when they picture the Shadowlands—fiery pits and endless torment,” he said, staring at the strand of my hair. “But there is also the Vale, and that is paradise for those worthy.”
“What is the Vale like?”
His gaze lifted to mine, searching. A moment passed. “That, I cannot tell you.”
“Oh.” Disappointed, I lowered my gaze to the long fingers that held my hand.
“What awaits in the Vale cannot be shared with anyone, mortal or god. Not even Primals can enter the Vale,” he added. “But the rest of the Shadowlands is like an entryway—a village before the city. It is beautiful in its own way, but it was once one of the most magnificent regions in all of Iliseeum.”
Once was? “What happened to it?” “Death,” he stated flatly.
A chill swept over me. “What is the rest of Iliseeum like?”
“The skies are a color of blue you would never see in this realm, the waters clear, and the grass lush and vibrant,” he told me. “Except for when it’s night, the hours of darkness are brief in Dalos.”
My breath caught. Dalos.
The City of the Gods, where the Primal of Life—Kolis—and his Court resided. “Is it true that the buildings reach the clouds there?”
“Many surpass them,” he answered, and for a moment, I tried to imagine what that must look like.
And failed.
I fell quiet as I watched him toy with the strand of my hair, sort of awestruck that a god was sitting beside me, playing with my hair, teasing me.
“Shouldn’t you be home by now, safely and respectfully tucked away in your bed?” he asked.
“Probably.”
His gaze flickered over my face. “Then others must be looking for you.” I laughed as I dragged my gaze from his. “They’re not.”
“Truly?” Doubt clouded his voice. “Because they believe you are already where you’re supposed to be?”
I nodded. “I’m very skilled at coming and going without notice.” “Why does that not surprise me?”
I cracked a grin.
“Is that a smile?” He leaned over, eyeing me far too intently to be serious. “It is. You’ve graced me with three of them now. Be still my heart.”
Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “It must not take much to still your heart.”
“Apparently, it takes a mortal Princess,” he said. “One who roams haunted woods in the dead of night and swims gloriously naked in a lake.”
I chose to ignore the gloriously naked part. “Is it common for gods to sit and chat with mortals after spying upon them?”
He made that sound again, that deep and shadowy chuckle as he drew his thumb over my hair. I swore I felt that touch down my spine. “Primals and gods do all sorts of things with mortals after unintentionally crossing paths with them.”
My mind took what experience I had with “all sorts of things” and happily played around in the gutter with it.
His gaze flicked up from my hair, eyes a molten silver. “Especially with those we’ve had the pleasure of glimpsing all those unmentionable places.”
“Can we pretend as if that didn’t happen?”
His grin spread. “Are you really pretending that it didn’t?”
No. “Yes.”
Ash’s shoulders lifted in silent laughter. “Are others as…?” I trailed off.
“What?”
It was hard to think of the right word. “Are others as kind as you?” “Kind?” His head tilted. “I am not kind, liessa.”
The way he said liessa. It was indecent. “You have reacted far kinder to things most would’ve reacted to cruelly and without hesitation.”
“You mean when you stabbed me?” Ash clarified. “In the chest?”
I sighed. “Yes. Among other things. Are you going to say you only have one kind bone to go along with that one decent bone?”
“I would say that I have one decent, kind bone in my body when it comes to you, liessa.”
There was a snag in my breath. “Why?”
Silvery eyes met mine once again, the wisps of eather still. “I don’t know.” He let out a short, surprised laugh, his brows furrowing. “I don’t need to. Nothing would change from this moment, no matter if I left you upon waking or if I lingered longer. I don’t know. And that is an… interesting experience.”
What he said didn’t offend me because I wouldn’t have believed him if he had an entire list of reasons he was this strange with me. He was a god. Whether he lived hundreds of years or even longer, everything I knew could be contained in his palm. He was pure power given physical form, and there had to be countless beings in Iliseeum that were far more, well…everything than me. There were mortals far more intriguing and worthy of that one kind, decent bone in his body. And I didn’t mean that as a blow against myself. It was just the truth. I was unique because of what my forefather had done and that I had been born in a shroud and given a gift somehow and for some reason. Not because of anything I’d done with my life. The only understandable part was that he didn’t understand why we sat here.
“But there is something I do know.” Curiosity rose. “What?”
“I want to kiss you, even though there is no reason for me to other than I want it.” The heated intensity of his stare held mine. “I would even go as far as to say I need to.”
A wild flutter started in my chest and quickly spread, much like that deadly flower of his that I reminded him of.
Did I want to kiss him?
I thought of when we’d kissed the night I’d first encountered the three gods, and the sharp, swift curl low in my stomach told me that, yes, I did. I was attracted to him on a visceral level that hadn’t been overshadowed by how infuriating he could be from one moment to the next, or the fact that he was a god—one who served the Primal of Death. Both of those things should extinguish any attraction I felt, especially the latter, but I couldn’t deny that he was the source of the flashes of warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
Nothing seemed real right now. Not from the moment I’d healed the kiyou wolf to this very second. It was as if I’d entered a different world, one where I didn’t have to become someone else. One where I was wanted instead of scorned, desired instead of disliked. A world where I was just me and not the failed Maiden or would-be Consort.
I knew I shouldn’t. Just like I probably shouldn’t have worked up the nerve to enter The Jade and experience physical pleasure on my terms and just for me. I had no idea what the Primal would think if he ever came for me and realized that I was truly no longer the Maiden—if he would even know. I also knew there was a higher risk involved with Ash because he wasn’t a god from another Court.
But I wanted to feel. I wanted to be someone. I wanted to be kissed again. By him.
And I wouldn’t let who I was supposed to be, who I ended up becoming, or any thought of the Primal of Death stop me from allowing myself to want.
My pulse pounded dizzyingly fast. “Then kiss me.”
