Ash had taken Jadis as we stood, which was a good thing since I apparently wasn’t going to like anything he was about to say to me.
The small draken had immediately thrown herself over one of his shoulders, front and hind legs sprawled and wings lowered. I had to stop looking at her because she looked totally ridiculous and utterly adorable.
Saion was waiting for us in the hall. “Here,” Ash said to him and reached up, plucking Jadis off his shoulder. “We disturbed her morning nap, so she’s in need of another.”
The god’s forehead wrinkled as he took the limp draken. “And what am I supposed to do with her?” He held the draken the way I imagined one would hold a child that’d soiled itself.
Jadis squawked at him.
“Rock her to sleep,” Ash suggested, and I blinked. “She likes that.” Saion stared at the Primal. “Rock her? To sleep? Seriously?”
“That’s what I do.” Ash shrugged. I was also gaping at him now. “It always works for me. If you don’t, she’ll resist falling asleep. Then she’ll get cranky, and you don’t want that. She’s been able to cough up sparks and some flames lately.”
“Great,” Saion muttered, draping the draken over one arm.
“Have fun.” Ash nodded at me to follow him, and it took me a moment to get my legs moving.
Glancing over my shoulder as we walked down the hall to our right, I saw Saion swinging his arms back and forth. “I don’t think he knows what rocking something to sleep means.”
Ash looked and laughed under his breath. “She’ll let him know soon enough.”
I dragged my gaze from what had to be one of the weirdest things I’d ever seen in my life.
“I thought this would be a good time to discuss your future here,” he said as we walked past the throne room.
“That sounds ominous.” “Does it?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a knack for decorating?”
“I’m a minimalist.”
That was an understatement.
I wondered what his private quarters looked like. Probably just the necessities. A nightstand. Wardrobe. Enormous bed. It felt like it went beyond minimalism, though. There were no paintings or sculptures, no banners or any other signs of life. The walls were as cold and hard as he was, so maybe that was just him.
Unnerved, I didn’t realize that Ash had stopped until I walked straight into his back. I gasped. “Sorry—”
Ash jerked, air hissing between his teeth. That sound. My gaze flew to his face. Tension bracketed his mouth—his eyes had darkened to a steel gray, and the white aura had brightened behind his pupils. Instinct urged that I take a step back because the sound he’d made reminded me of a wounded animal. Was he hurt?
I reached for him out of a different kind of instinct, like I had when I’d come upon the kiyou wolf. Immediately, I thought of the Shades. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t,” he snapped.
I froze, my hand inches from him. Heat stung my cheeks as I pulled my hand back. The sting of embarrassment went deeper, sharpening into a bitter slice of rejection. It was a silly feeling. I told myself that. I didn’t care if he suddenly had no interest in my touch. I just needed him to want it, and there was a world of difference there.
“I’m fine.” His jaw flexed as he turned his head to the side. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be more aware of your surroundings.”
“And I would’ve expected you to be less jumpy,” I retorted. “I can already tell it was wise of you to remove me from the dining hall. And very unwise to give me back my dagger.”
He arched a brow. “Why? Should I suddenly be worried about a sharp instrument being plunged into my chest?”
“Among other things,” I muttered.
His head tilted. I saw it as it happened, then—his eyes changing. It wasn’t so much the color as it was the shadows gathering behind them.
They retracted until they became the color of a thundercloud. “I have to admit, I’m interested in the among other things part of your statement.”
A shivery wave of irritation and heat rippled through me, stirring that reckless, impulsive side of me that should have everything to do with my duty but instead felt as if it had very little to do with it. I met his stare as I stepped into him, close enough that I felt the chill of his body. “Well, you have no chance of ever finding out what those things are if you jump away from contact with me.”
A tendril of eather flickered across those eyes. His lashes then lowered to half-mast. “Now, I’m very interested.”
“Doubtful.”
Ash had become still again, like he had in the lake and when I’d risen from the tub. Nothing about him moved. Not even his chest. “You don’t think I am?” he asked quietly.
My skin tingled with a heightened sense of awareness. The urge to step back hit me again. It was the way he stared at me, like a predator that had sighted its prey. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but the burn of his words still scalded my skin, and my mouth had an entirely different idea of what to do. “I think you’re a lot of talk. You seem to have no real interest in anything beyond touching me, no matter what you claim you do with your hand and—”
Ash moved as quick as a strike of lightning, blocking my path. “I want to make one thing clear.”
My eyes flew to his. The wisps of eather had seeped out into the irises.
He took a step toward me. This time, I moved back.
One side of his lips curled up as his chin lowered. “Actually, I need to make one thing clear.”
“Okay?” I swallowed as he stalked forward. I didn’t realize I’d continued to move away from him until my back pressed into the cold stone of the bare wall behind me.
Lifting an arm, Ash placed his hand beside my head. He leaned in close enough that the air I breathed tasted of citrus. “My interest in you is the furthest thing from just talk.”
A tremor of energy coursed through me as the tips of his fingers grazed my cheek. My tongue became tied. He was so incredibly tall that when he stood this close, there was only him and nothing beyond.
“My interest in you is a very real, very potent need.” His fingers skimmed the curve of my jaw and then the line of my throat. They stopped over my wildly beating pulse. “It’s almost as if it’s become its own thing. A tangible entity. I find myself thinking about it at the most inconvenient moments,” he said, his breath dancing over my lips. Against my better judgement, anticipation sank into my muscles, tightening them. “I find myself recalling the taste of you on my fingers a little too frequently.”
I sucked in a heady breath as tiny shivers hit every part of me. My palms flattened against the wall.
“I try not to,” he continued, tilting his head as his voice lowered to barely above a whisper. “Things are already complicated enough between us, aren’t they?”
I said nothing, just remained there, heart thrumming and waiting.
“But when I’m around you, the last thing I want is to be uncomplicated.” Ash’s lips coasted over my cheek, dragging a ragged gasp from me as they neared my ear. “Or in control. Or decent,” he said, and I shuddered at the decadent, wet flick of his tongue across my skin. “What I want is your taste on my tongue again. What I want is to be so deep inside you that I forget my own fucking name.” His sharp teeth closed around my earlobe. My entire body jerked, and nothing about it was forced. “And I don’t even need to read your emotions to know how much you want that, too.”
A shameless ache settled in me, and I didn’t even bother trying to muster up the idea of not enjoying this—him and his touch.
“So, keep that in mind the next time you doubt the realness of my interest,” he warned. “Because I won’t have you up against a wall. I will have you on your back, under me, and neither of us will remember our fucking names.” He pressed a kiss to my pounding pulse. “Are we clear, liessa?”
It took effort for me to find my voice. “Yes.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page,” Ash drawled and then stepped back. “Now, I thought I should also give you a quick tour.”
I remained against the wall, knees feeling oddly weak as my pulse pounded.
The curve of Ash’s lips was smug. “That is, if you’re up to it.”
I stiffened, my eyes flashing to his. His smile had deepened. Forgetting myself, I pushed off the wall. “I do not like you.”
“It’s better that way,” he said as he turned from me. I frowned at his back. “Most of the chambers on this floor aren’t in use.” He strode forward, and I was left to follow him. “The kitchens are at the end of this hall, and at the end of the other is the Great Hall. That, like most of the chambers, is not in use.”
I finally managed to pull myself together. “What about your offices?” “They are located through there.” Ash gestured at a set of doors inside a
shadowy alcove. “And it’s just an office.”
Interest sparked as Ash continued forward. “Does it just contain a desk and a few chairs?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Are you prophetic?” I snorted.
A faint smile returned as he focused ahead. “It has what it needs.”
A desk and chairs were all that was needed. But if he were anything like a mortal ruler, I knew a lot of his time was likely spent in such chambers. I thought of the glass figurines lining my stepfather’s office walls. Or had. Were they still there, or had Mother removed them?
Ash continued on to another alcove and opened the double doors. “This is the library.”
A light turned on as Ash walked inside the large chamber, casting a buttery glow across the rows and rows of books lining the walls. They went from the floor to the ceiling, the top shelves only accessible by a rolling ladder that traveled across some sort of track along the top shelves. In the center of the room I saw the only hint of real color I’d seen so far in the palace. Two long couches were situated across from each other, each the color of deep crimson. There appeared to be two portraits above several lit candles along the back wall, but they were too far away for me to make out any detail.
“That is a lot of books.” I drifted to the left. Many of the spines were covered in a fine layer of dust.
“Most belonged to my father. Some my mother.” Ash had moved to the center of the room, watching me as I made my way around the shelves. “There’s not a lot of…stimulating reading material. Most are ledgers, but toward the back, there are a few novels I believe my mother collected.” There was a pause. “Do you like to read?”
I nodded, glancing over at him. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you?”
“When I was younger, yes.”
“But not now?” I pulled my gaze away from him. Some of the spines had language on them that I couldn’t even begin to decipher.
“The escape that reading once provided has sadly faded,” he said, and I turned to him, about to ask what he sought to escape, when he spoke again. “You may help yourself to the library whenever you’d like.”
I nodded, eyeing him. “I’m not sure what part of that made you believe I would throw sharp objects at you.”
That half-smile returned. “It’s this part. You’re free to move about the palace and its grounds as you wish, but there are conditions.”
“Rules?” I clarified.
“Agreements,” he amended.
“I do not know how you can call them agreements when I haven’t agreed to anything,” I pointed out.
“True. I suppose I hope they will become that.” “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I guess they will be rules that you won’t enjoy.” My eyes narrowed. “What are these conditions?”
“The first hopeful agreement is that you’re free to go anyplace within the palace and on the grounds, as I said, but you are not to enter the Red Woods without me with you.”
That surprised me. “I would’ve assumed you would tell me not to enter the Dying Woods because of the Shades.”
An eyebrow rose. “I see someone has been talking.” I shrugged.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Sometimes, Shades find their way into the Red Woods. It is not often,” he explained.
I was glad to hear that since there appeared to be no wall between the Red Woods and the palace. “So, why can I only enter them with you? Does your presence keep the Shades away?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Once again, I thought about his reaction when I’d walked into his back. “Were you injured when you were wrangling them? I’ve heard they can bite.”
“Someone really has been talking,” he remarked. “They do bite, and they do claw.”
A shiver crawled down my spine. “Can their bites pierce your skin?”
“My skin is not impenetrable, as you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was a shadowstone dagger.”
“Sharp objects, whether they be teeth or daggers, can pierce my skin and the skin of a god.”
“Is that what happened to your back?” I drifted closer. He didn’t answer for a long moment. “It was.”
“And why hasn’t it healed?” “You have a lot of questions.” “So?”
A faint smile appeared. “Do we have an agreement?” Ash countered. “You haven’t told me why I cannot enter them without you.”
His eyes met mine. “Because you’d likely die if you did.” “Oh.” I blinked. “What else is in—?”
“The second agreement is that you can enter the city if you wish,” he went on, and I snapped my mouth shut. “But only after I have introduced you as my Consort. And if you have an escort.”
“I have more questions.”
Ash’s stare was bland. “Of course, you do.”
“Why must I wait until I am introduced as your Consort?”
“All mortals who call the Shadowlands and Lethe their home have my protection. But even the protection of a Primal can only go so far. Gods from other Courts can and do enter Lethe. As my Consort, any god or Primal would be extremely foolish to mess with you. Even those who like to push,” he explained. “But until then, you will only be seen as another mortal.”
I did not remotely like the sound of that. “Because mortals are at the bottom of the pecking order?”
“You know the answer to that.” My lips thinned. “Nice.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And I hope you know that I also don’t believe that—not as some do.”
I did and I wished I didn’t because if he truly viewed mortals as beneath him, it would make what I had to do easier. “Why, as a grown woman who has been introduced as your Consort, would I need an escort?” I questioned. “Why, as a grown woman, would you enter residences without making
sure they were empty first?” he countered.
My hands curled into fists. “You bring that up as if it were some sort of habit.”
“Is it not?” “No.”
The look he sent me said that he greatly doubted that. “Whether or not that is a dangerous, reckless habit of yours, you are not familiar with the city or its inhabitants, and they are not familiar with you. And while most Primals and gods know better than to harm a Consort, some simply do not follow the rules or have common decency.”
“Is it a rule? To not harm a Consort?” He nodded. “It is.”
“And has that rule been broken?”
“Only once,” he answered. I started to ask who, but he continued. “The next agreement—”
“There’s more?” I snapped.
“Oh, yes, there are more,” he replied.
I glared at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“There are times when I may have…visitors. Guests who I would not want to be around you,” he said. “Those times can be unexpected.”
My jaw began to ache from how tightly I clenched it.
“But when they occur, you are to return to your chambers and remain there until one of my guards or I retrieve you.”
I stiffened. None of his rules should bother me. My mother would insist that this was one of the moments that called for complete submission. And, surely, if I simply went along with these rules, it would aid me in my duty. But my skin tightened in a way that wasn’t at all pleasant. I’d spent a lifetime living behind a veil, even when I was no longer required to wear one. Hidden away, seemingly ashamed of. Forgotten.
“Why does this make you…sad?” Ash asked.
My head snapped toward him as I whispered, “What?” His chin had tilted again. “You feel sad.”
“I feel annoyed—”
“Yes, that, too. But you also feel—”
“I don’t.” My stomach dipped. “You’re not reading my emotions, are you?” When he said nothing, anger shot through me like an arrow. “I thought you said you don’t do that.”
“I try not to. But, apparently, my guard was down, and what you felt was like a…” He appeared to search for a word as I silently screamed. “I couldn’t block it out.”
The breath I sucked in was shrill. I didn’t want him knowing that what he said had made me sad. I didn’t want anyone to know that. “There are more rules?”
“Not exactly a rule,” he said after a long moment. “But we must discuss your coronation as Consort.”
My stomach tumbled a bit. I didn’t know why it made me nervous, but it did. “When will that take place?”
“In a fortnight.”
Two weeks. Gods. I swallowed as I crossed my arms over my waist. “And what does that entail?”
“It will be like a celebration,” he said. “High-ranking gods will come from other Courts. Possibly even Primals. You will be crowned before them.” His gaze flickered over me. “I will have a seamstress from Lethe come to fit you for an appropriate gown.”
I tensed. “It’d better look nothing like that wedding gown.”
“I have no intention of displaying you to the entirety of my Court and all others within Iliseeum,” he replied, and there was no denying the relief I felt. “And she will also be able to outfit you with a wardrobe.”
Nodding, my thoughts raced forward. “Will I…?” I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Will I be Ascended like the Chosen are upon being found worthy?”
Shadows rippled just beneath his skin. It happened so fast that I thought I’d imagined it. “What do you know about the act of Ascension, liessa?”
I lifted my shoulder. “Not much beyond the Primal of Life granting the Chosen eternal life.”
His features tightened and then smoothed out. “And how do you think one Ascends?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The secret of the act is highly guarded.”
Faint wisps of eather seeped into his eyes. “The act of Ascension requires a mortal’s blood to be drained from their body and replaced by that of a Primal or god. It is not always a successful transition,” he said, and I thought of what I had learned of the godlings and their Culling. “But those who are Chosen are born in a shroud. They already carry some mark—some
essence of the gods—in their blood. It allows them to complete the Ascension if it were to occur.”
My gaze immediately went to his mouth. What did a mortal become once Ascended? I knew they did not become a god, but that wasn’t my most important question. “Will my Ascension take place then?”
The eather in his eyes flared intensely. “You will not be Ascended. You will remain mortal.”
Surprise rolled through me as I looked up at him. Even though I knew that it didn’t matter whether or not I Ascended. I didn’t plan for either of us to be around long enough to even begin comprehending something akin to immortality. But he didn’t know that. “How can you have a mortal Consort? Has there ever been one?” I asked. If so, it had never been documented.
“There has never been a mortal Consort. But this was never your choice. It wasn’t mine, either,” he stated, and the twinge of rejection was so utterly ridiculous, I wanted to smack myself. “And I would never force someone into a near eternity of this.”
Of this.
He spat those words as if he spoke of the Abyss. For a moment, I didn’t understand, but there was so much I didn’t know about Iliseeum and their politics—the gods and Primals that pushed the limits of others, and what exactly that often entailed beyond what I’d seen on the way into the palace.
And it was yet another thing that didn’t matter. I didn’t need him to be open to the idea of Ascending me. I just needed him to love me.
Nervous, I lifted my gaze to his. “Are there any more rules, Your Highness?”
A half-grin appeared, stroking my temper. “Why do I find you referring to me as such arousing?”
“Because you’re an arrogant, controlling misogynist?” I suggested before I could stop myself.
Ash laughed, and I swore the corners of my vision started to turn red. “I am arrogant and can be somewhat controlling, but I feel no hatred for women, no more need to control them than I would a man.”
I stared at him blandly. “Are there any more rules?” I repeated.
“You’re angry—and no, I’m not reading your thoughts. It’s obvious.”
“Yes, I’m angry.” I turned from him, once more walking the length of the shelves. “What you call agreements are rules, and I don’t like rules.”
“I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked.
“I don’t like that you think you can establish rules as if you have the…” Common sense finally seeped in, urging me into silence.
Ash arched a brow. “The what, liessa? Like I have what? The authority? Is that what you were going to say? And did you stop yourself because you realized I have exactly that?”
I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t why, but it also probably should’ve been.
“I do have the authority. Over you. Over everyone here and every mortal in and outside of this realm, but that is not why I have these conditions,” he said as I came to the end of the shelves, near the portraits. “They are in place to help keep you safe.”
“I don’t need that kind of help,” I said, my gaze lifting to the portraits.
One was a man. The other a woman.
“One of the bravest things to do is to accept the aid of others.”
“Do you do that?” I asked, staring at the woman. She was beautiful. Deep red-wine hair, almost the same as Aios’s, framed an oval-shaped face, the skin painted a rosy pink. Her brows were strong, her silver-eyed gaze piercing. The cheekbones were high, and her mouth was full. “Do you often accept the aid of others?”
“Not as often as I should.” His voice was closer.
“Then maybe you don’t know if that is brave or not.” My attention shifted to the male, and even though I suspected I already knew who these people were, I still wasn’t prepared for how much he looked like the Primal standing behind me. Hair shoulder-length and black—a bit darker than Ash’s hair—he had the same bronzed tone of skin as Ash. The same features, really. Strong jaw and broad cheekbones. Straight nose and wide mouth. It was like looking at an older, less defined version of Ash, courtesy of the woman’s softer features. “These are your parents, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” He was directly behind me now. “That is my father. His name was Eythos,” he said, and I silently repeated the name. “And that is my mother.” He came to stand beside me, and a long moment passed. “I remember my father. His voice. The memories of it have faded over the years, but I can still see him in my mind. This is how I know what my mother looked like.”
Fighting the burn in the back of my throat, I folded my arms over my waist once more. “It’s hard to see her…in your mind, isn’t it? When you’re not standing directly in front of this painting.”
“Yes.”
I could feel his gaze on me. “There is a portrait of my father in my mother’s private chambers. The only one that still remains. It’s strange because all the other Kings’ portraits line the banquet hall.” I took a deep breath, hoping to ease the burn in my throat. “I think it…pained my mother too much to see him. She loved him. Was in love with him. When he died, I think…I think he took part of her with him.”
“I imagine it did.” Ash was quiet for a moment. “Love is an unnecessary and dangerous risk.”
Heart turning over heavily, I looked at him. “You really think that?” I thought of Ezra and Marisol and what came out of my mouth was the truth
—just not our truth. “I think love is beautiful.”
“I know that.” Ash stared up at his parents. “My mother died because she loved my father, struck dead while I was still in her womb.”
Every part of me froze upon hearing his words. Even my heart.
“That is why I am called the Blessed One. No one knows how I survived that kind of birth,” he said, and pressure clamped down on my chest. “Love caused their deaths long before either had taken their final breaths. Before my father even met my mother. Love is a beautiful weapon, often wielded as a means to control another. It shouldn’t be a weakness, but that is what it becomes. And those most innocent always pay for it. I’ve never seen anything good come from love.”
“You. You came from love.”
“And do you truly believe I am something good? You have no knowledge of the things I’ve done. The things that are done to others because of me.” Ash turned his head to me. His eyes were a steely, sheltered shade of iron. “My father loved my mother more than anything in these realms. More than he should have. And still, he could not keep her safe. That is why I have these conditions. These rules as you like to call them. It’s not about me attempting to exert authority over you or control you. It’s about trying to do what my father failed at. It’s about making sure you do not meet the same fate as my mother.”
