“You can do it,” Aios cheered, hands clasped together under her chin. “Just jump.”
The purplish-black draken teetered on the edge of the boulder, his leathery wings arced high. I held my breath as Reaver jumped into the air, lifting his wings. Below the boulder, Jadis wiggled her green-and-brown body in an excited circle. Reaver dipped precariously, and both Aios and I stepped forward until he swooped above our heads with a trill of victory.
“Thank gods,” I muttered, exhaling heavily as he rose and glided. I watched Reaver sweep through the air, half afraid that he would fall for no reason. “I don’t think I’ve been more stressed in my entire life.”
Aios laughed softly as she brushed a coppery strand of hair over a shoulder. “Same.” She glanced over at me. “How are you feeling today?”
“I feel fine.” Jadis chirped, rushing across the ground of the courtyard, kicking up gray dust as she followed Reaver. I glanced down at my arm. “The scratches are barely even noticeable.”
“You’re lucky to have received the antidote when you did,” Aios noted, watching the draken. “A few more minutes, and it could’ve been too late.”
I nodded absently, my thoughts immediately finding their way to my bedchamber and to Ash. The emotions that pinged through me ran the gamut. Everything from that strange whirring sensation to a deep-rooted feeling of unease. I’d fallen asleep beside him the night before. I didn’t know exactly when it had happened. Silence had fallen between us as he continued toying with my braid. I wasn’t sure how long he remained at my side. He’d been gone when I woke, but his scent lingered on the pillows and sheets. I thought perhaps he’d spent the entire night with me.
And that was a good sign—a great one.
I nibbled on my lower lip as I turned back to Aios and the draken. The goddess had shown that morning with breakfast—one that she ate with me in my chambers. Afterward, she’d asked if I wanted to join her on a walk. Somehow, we’d ended up out here with the draken, and I wondered if Ash
had something to do with that. If he had told Aios that I didn’t need space. I didn’t ask because that seemed like a rather awkward conversation. Besides, I still couldn’t believe I’d admitted to feeling as if I’d done something to deserve being alone.
Fucking whiskey.
Jadis took off across the courtyard, apparently attempting to gain enough speed to take flight, something she had already tried several times. Aios went after her as Reaver landed a bit roughly by the boulder. He watched me from several feet away, his eyes narrowed. There was a thoughtful look about him, an almost wary one. I extended a hand toward him as Jadis peeked at him from behind one of my legs. Reaver tilted his head to the side as he tucked his wings back.
“Not very trusting, are you?” I remarked, lowering my hand as my thoughts returned to yesterday.
I flicked my gaze back to Aios. She had snagged Jadis by the arm, guiding the stomping draken away from the too-high boulder. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“It’s about the Primal, Veses,” I said, and Aios stiffened a bit as Reaver took flight again. “I got the impression that no one here likes her, and Ash said that she was the worst sort. Did she have anything to do with the gods on the wall?”
A breeze whirled through the courtyard, picking up and tossing the strands of her hair as she let go of Jadis’s arm and straightened. “No, she did not as far as I know, but she is…not well regarded by many in the Shadowlands. She can be rather vindictive when angered or ignored.” Aios laughed, but it was a tight sound. “Have you ever met someone who feels they are entitled to whatever they want? That is Veses. And that entitlement extends to people. Many gods or goddesses would enjoy being the object of her affections. And many do.” She turned to me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But she will fixate on what she perceives she cannot have. And if she is unsuccessful in achieving that, she can be very resentful.”
“And she wants Ash?” I surmised.
“Only because he has never shown her that type of attention,” she answered. “To her, it’s personal. Even though he’s never shown interest in anyone until you.”
Until you.
My stomach dipped at the exact moment my heart jumped. I ignored both reactions. “Has she hurt anyone because of his lack of interest in her?” “I don’t think so, but she can make things…difficult for him. While she may not be liked by many, she is well-connected.” Her brow creased. “You know, I don’t think she has always been like this. At least, that is what I’ve heard. When I was young, Mycella told me stories about Veses—about how giving and kind she was, bestowing good fortune on gods and mortals, even to those who had not prayed to her for such. She’s very old. Far past the time for her to rest, so I don’t know if her nature is partly due to living such
a long life or what.”
Two things really caught my attention. “Mycella? You mean Ash’s mother?”
She nodded as a faint, sad smile crossed her features. “We were distantly related. Cousins, as mortals would say. One of her aunts or uncles was from the Court of Kithreia. I was very young when she was killed.”
Was that why she felt safe here? Because of her relation to Ash? I glanced down as Jadis hopped onto one of my feet. “What do you mean by rest? Like go to sleep?”
“For some, yes. For others, it’s more like retiring. You see, Primals can be endless, and that kind of lifespan is even unfathomable to most gods. Though there have been a few who’ve become so powerful that they too are endless. And that amount of time…it can rot the mind.” Aios crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Reaver glide through the air. “To watch the world fall and be rebuilt around you, time after time. To see nothing new. To no longer be surprised and to become so accustomed to loss that even the idea of love is no longer a thrill.”
A wave of tiny bumps erupted along my skin under the black tunic I wore, and I tried to think of what that must be like. To live for so long you’d seen everything.
“The longer a Primal or a god lives, the greater the risk of them becoming more eather than person. Some can handle the endless time better than others, but eventually, it impacts all of us. There are ways to avoid it. One is to enter a deep stasis—to sleep. But very few have ever done that,” she said. “For those who do not wish to sleep, they can enter what we call Arcadia, a place very much like the Vale. A garden, so to speak. It allows for an Ascension of another and peace for the Primal.”
“Is that…another realm?” I asked as Jadis stretched, placing one talon on my other foot. I had no idea what the young draken was doing.
She nodded. “But Veses can’t do that. None of them can.”
I started to ask why when she looked past me, at the palace. A smile returned to her somber features. “Bele.”
Looking over my shoulder, I saw two figures crossing the courtyard, both dressed in black tunics with the fine silver stitching along the collar and across the chest.
The one I assumed was Bele was tall and lithe, her skin a light, golden brown, reminding me of the sparkling sand along the Stroud Sea. Hair the color of midnight lay over her shoulder in a thick braid. Her features were strikingly sharp, her eyes a shade of light, golden brown sparking with the glow of eather. She had a short sword strapped to one hip. I caught the curve of a bow visible over one shoulder.
Beside her was a man with rich, brown skin, his sleeveless tunic tailored to the broad width of his shoulders and chest. His dark hair was cropped close to his head. Something about his handsome features and the impassive set of his mouth was familiar.
Aios’s smile increased as they approached. The male glanced in my direction while Bele stepped forward to give Aios a quick, tight hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” Aios said, stepping back and clasping Bele’s arms. “You’ve been gone so long, I was starting to worry.”
The dark-haired goddess laughed. “You should know better than to worry about me.”
“I worry about all of you when you’re gone.” A bit of the joy faded from Aios’s tone, giving me the impression that was true.
“Do I get a hug?” the man asked as Bele stepped back, his dark brown eyes aglow with eather.
“I just saw you this morning, Rhahar.” Aios arched a brow, and I immediately recognized the name. He was one of the gods who’d checked the tombs with Ash. “But do you actually want one?”
“Not really.”
Laughing, Aios sprang forward anyway, giving the god an equally tight hug. I didn’t think the god could look more uncomfortable with his arms pinned straight to his sides, and I couldn’t help but grin as Jadis finally hopped off my feet and ambled toward Bele.
“Hey Jadis-bug.” Bele bent, rubbing the draken under her chin.
“Holy shit, is that Reaver flying?” Rhahar squinted, looking up at the faint star-strewn sky.
“Yes.” Aios glanced over her shoulder as Reaver flew in circles along the edges of the Rise. “He finally got the hang of it today.”
“You must be her,” Bele stated. Pulling my eyes from Reaver, I looked at her. She studied me with open curiosity. “Our soon-to-be Consort.”
There was a snag in my breath, but I nodded. “Apparently.”
Bele’s grin was brief as she placed her right hand over her chest and bowed at the waist. The gesture threw me off. None had done that before.
“You don’t have to do that,” I blurted out as she straightened. “I mean, I’m not really the Consort yet. You can call me Sera.”
“Just because it’s not official doesn’t mean you are not due the respect of your position,” Bele stated and then turned slowly to Rhahar.
Rhahar frowned at her. “What?”
She raised her brows as she pointed one glossy black-painted fingernail at me.
I stiffened, feeling warmth creep into my cheeks. “It’s really not necessary—”
“Yes. It is,” Bele interrupted, looking at me. “If we do not show you the respect of your position, then none of the other Courts will. And if they do not respect you, it is unlikely you’ll survive the coronation, Consort to the Primal or not.”
I opened my mouth, but I honestly hadn’t a clue how to respond to that less-than-reassuring statement.
“You know, she has a point,” Rhahar mused, eyeing me. “News of you has already traveled far and wide. Many are very curious…and confused as to why Ash would choose a mortal as a Consort.”
I still had no idea what to say.
“Okay,” Aios said with a sigh. “This first meeting couldn’t be more awkward.”
“But it’s true. Some of the gods are taking bets on how long she’ll live,” Bele said.
I blinked slowly. “Really?”
She nodded as her gaze dropped to where the shadowstone dagger was strapped to my thigh. “But Rhahar tells me you’re a fighter.”
My attention shifted to him, and I caught sight of Jadis hopping after Reaver, nipping at his tail. I didn’t think I’d ever seen something stranger…
or more adorable.
“Heard about how you held your own with the entombed gods,” he remarked. “She can fight.”
“Good.” Bele smiled, crossing her arms.
“Well,” I said, shaking my head. “This coronation sounds as if it will be fun.”
Rhahar’s laugh was rough and dry. “It’s definitely going to be something.”
His laughter struck that chord of familiarity again. I looked at him closer. The proud set of his features and the curve of his eyes resembled… “Are you related to Saion?”
A faint grin appeared. “Saion is my cousin. That is, when I claim him,” he answered, his dark eyes sharp. “By the way, he told me what you did with a whip.”
My eyes widened.
Bele’s head cocked to the side. “What did you do with a whip?” She looked at Aios. “Do you know?”
Aios shook her head.
“She shoved the handle of a whip down some asshole’s throat,” Rhahar answered, and Aios turned to me.
“Really?” Bele’s eyes glimmered.
I shifted my weight. “Yeah, I sort of did that, but he deserved it.”
The smile on Bele’s face grew as Jadis gave a pitiful squawk due to Reaver once more swooping up into the air. There was something else in Bele’s stare, though. Something I couldn’t quite place. “Strange that a Consort would have such a violent streak.”
I stiffened. “Do you know many Consorts?” “I do.”
“Mortal ones?”
She flashed me a tight grin. “No.”
“So…” I cleared my throat. “Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about Iliseeum and the innerworkings of the Courts, so should I be concerned about this coronation?”
Aios’s lips pursed. “Well—”
A cry of warning jerked my attention back to the draken. Reaver was flapping wildly, attempting to lower himself. My stomach plummeted. Jadis
teetered on the edge of the boulder, her nearly translucent wings lifting weakly as she tipped forward off the edge.
“Gods.” I shot forward, managing to grasp her tail as I curled an arm under her belly. Heart thumping heavily, I held her to my chest as she chirped madly. “You can’t fly yet,” I told her, having no idea if she understood me or not. “You would’ve broken a wing.”
Bele smacked a hand over her chest. “Oh, Fates, I about had a heart attack.”
“A heart attack? I just saw my life flash before my eyes.” Rhahar looked shaken as Reaver made an unsteady landing near the boulder. “Nektas would’ve had our necks. That’s after charbroiling us.”
My lip curled at the imagery that statement provided, and I bent to put the squirming draken on the ground. Reaver was right there, squawking away. I don’t know what he was communicating to her, but it did not sound pretty. The moment I let her go, she barreled into the larger draken.
“I think that’s enough outdoor fun times for you.” Aios stalked after Jadis.
My heart was still thumping heavily when Bele said, “To answer your question about the coronation… Should you be concerned? The answer is yes,” she advised, and I turned to her. “And if I may give you a piece of advice? No matter what happens, do not show fear.”
 |
The piece of advice Bele had imparted lingered with me as I stood in my bedchamber, wearing only a slip as a woman I’d never met circled me with a cloth tape in hand.
Her name was Erlina. She was mortal, and I thought perhaps in the third or so decade of her life. A seamstress from Lethe. And she was here to take my measurements. Not just for the coronation gown but also so I actually had a wardrobe that went beyond borrowed, scattered pieces.
“Will you lift your arm, Your Highness?” Erlina asked softly.
Recalling what Bele had said, I bit back the urge to tell her she didn’t have to address me so formally. I planned on staying alive long enough to fulfill my duty, so I lifted my arm.
I watched her step onto a small stool she’d brought with her and stretch the tape along the length of my arm, the flowing sleeves of her vibrant blue blouse fluttering. Then she turned, scribbling the measurements on a thick, leather-bound journal.
My gaze flicked to the closed chamber doors, where I knew Ector most likely stood. He had brought me to my chambers, letting me know that the seamstress had arrived. I hadn’t seen Ash yet, and when I asked where he was, I’d been told that he was at the Pillars.
Was he judging souls? If so, what did that even feel like, that kind of responsibility? Pressure. I imagined it was a lot like deciding to use my gift. “Your other arm,” Erlina instructed. When I raised an eyebrow, a small grin crept across her delicate, almost impish features. “Believe it or not, some people do have arms and legs that are not equal. It’s rare, and usually
due to some injury, but I figure it’s best to check.” “Learn something new every day,” I murmured.
“Same length.” Erlina nodded as she quickly measured my arm. She moved onto my shoulders, which I already knew were probably far wider than most ladies. And definitely broader than hers. She was tiny. “Did you know that your foot is roughly the same length as your forearm?”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
She peeked up at me through a fringe of lashes. “Yes.”
“Huh.” I looked down at my forearm. “Now I want to test that.”
“Most do when they first hear it.” She hopped down from the stool and went to the journal. Her dark brown hair she had twisted into a high bun slipped a little as she turned to me. “I was told that you prefer pants over gowns.”
A wave of surprise flickered through me that it appeared Ash had, yet again, remembered what I’d said. “I do. Did—?” I caught myself before I referred to the Primal as Ash. “Did Nyktos tell you that?”
“He did when he stopped by the shop last week,” she answered, and my stomach tumbled. Last week. It felt like I’d been here longer, and yet it still felt like yesterday when I knelt in the carriage before Marisol. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I was really backed up on designs.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her.
Another brief smile appeared. “I will work on the gown first, along with some blouses and vests for you as they are far quicker to tailor than pants.” She started to put the journal down on the table when she halted. “Do you
prefer breeches or tights? But before you answer, I am currently wearing tights.” She plucked out the black material. “They are almost as thick as breeches and as durable, but far more comfortable and soft. Feel them for yourself.”
I reached out, brushing my fingers across the surprisingly supple feel. “I would’ve thought they were breeches. The tights I’m accustomed to are far thinner.”
“And questionably opaque,” she added, and I nodded. “Which is why I spent an obscene amount of time going through fabrics to find something as efficient as breeches. You would think with all the tailors and seamstresses in all the kingdoms, they would’ve improved the functionality of tights. Not that there is anything wrong with breeches, but I, myself, prefer a waistband that doesn’t leave marks in my skin.”
I grinned. “Tights then.”
“Perfect.” She hopped onto the stool once more.
As she slid the tape beneath my arms to measure my chest, I once again thought of what Rhahar and Bele had shared. If word of Ash choosing a mortal as his Consort had spread to the other Courts, wouldn’t the people of Lethe have heard?
And what did they think?
I told myself I didn’t care because it wouldn’t matter. I would be no true Consort. My responsibilities lay with Lasania. I was their Queen, even if I never wore the crown. But I asked anyway because I…well, I couldn’t help myself.
“They have heard of you.” Erlina left the stool to write the numbers down. “Of course, many are curious. I do not think anyone expected His Highness to take a mortal as his Consort.”
“Understandable.”
“But they are excited. Thrilled may be a better word. And honored,” Erlina quickly added, a faint hint of pink staining her sandy, golden-brown cheeks. She held the book to her chest. “There are a lot of mortals in Lethe,” she explained, surprising me yet again. “For His Highness to take a mortal feels like…an acknowledgment to many of us. Like even though he is a Primal, he sees us as his equals, and there…well, there are not many like him. Many cannot wait to officially meet you.”
I felt a strange flip in my chest and nodded. I didn’t want to think about Ash viewing mortals as his equals. Not because it seemed ridiculous but
because I thought that it was true.
I cleared my throat. “And they’re thrilled that he is marrying?”
“Of course.” A wider smile raced across her features. “We want to see him living—see him happy.”
My stomach plummeted fast as I stood there. “The people of the Shadowlands…they respect him?”
There was a pinch to the slash of her brows and then a flash of understanding. “It must be hard believing that we have grown quite fond of the Primal of Death. Before I came to the Shadowlands, I would’ve laughed at the idea of such a thing, but…” A shadow crossed her features as she ducked her chin, coming to stand beside me. “But there were a lot of things I didn’t know then. Anyway, His Highness is loyal to us.” Her deep brown eyes met mine. “And we are loyal to him.”
Many questions rose in response to what she shared, as did the bubbling sense of unease that settled in the center of my chest. “Where…where I am from, not many respected the Crown. They didn’t have reason to.”
She drew the tape around my waist. “Where are you from?” I asked. She shifted the tape to my hips. “Terra.”
I didn’t know much about Terra except that it consisted mostly of farmlands with not nearly as many cities as Lasania. “Have you lived here long?”
“I suppose it depends on what one considers long,” she answered, moving away to capture the measurements. “I left the mortal realm when I was eighteen, but I did not come to the Shadowlands until I was closer to nineteen. I’ve been here ever since, so that would be…thirteen years.”
“Where were you before you came here?”
She knelt, stretching the tape the length of my leg. “The Court of Dalos.”
My eyes widened. “You were at the City of the Gods? With the Primal of Life? I didn’t know there were mortals there—I mean, besides the Chosen.”
“There aren’t,” she stated, stilling for a moment. “At least, not when I was there.”
Confusion swirled through me as the cool tape pressed against the inside of my thigh. “Then how did you…?” I trailed off.
“I was Chosen.”
I stared down at her, struck silent for a moment. “Was?”
Erlina nodded.
“And you’re not anymore? You didn’t Ascend?”
A twist of a tight smile appeared. “I did not Ascend, thank the gods.”
My lips parted, and immediately, I thought of Ash’s reaction when I mentioned the Chosen’s Ascension. He hadn’t shared something then, that much was clear. “I have so many questions.”
She halted, looking up at me, her eyes wide. For a brief second, I thought I saw fear in her gaze. Terror. A long moment passed, and then she moved on to my other leg, measuring the inseam. She said nothing more as she finished up and only spoke again to ask what colors I preferred. Erlina left shortly after, hurrying from the chamber as if it were filled with spirits.
I slid my arms through the robe, absolutely bewildered by what she’d shared—what she obviously wouldn’t elaborate on. I’d just finished tying the sash when a knock sounded on the bedchamber door. “Yes?” I called out.
The door opened to reveal Ash. That odd whooshing sensation swept through my chest again at the sight of him. He wore the dark clothing with the silver trim as he’d done while holding court. His reddish-brown hair was pulled back to the nape of his neck, giving the harsh beauty of his features a blade-sharp edge.
I hadn’t seen him since I’d fallen asleep. Beside him. Was that why I felt a flush invading my skin?
Ash had halted just inside the door, his silver gaze fixed on me—on where my fingers were still twisted around the sash. I saw a quick swirl of eather in his eyes, and then he moved, closing the door behind him. “I saw that Erlina just left. I thought I’d check on you, see how things went.”
Check on me?
Why would he do that? Or was that just something normal people did? I had no idea, and I also didn’t know why him doing that made my chest feel funny. I snapped out of my stupor. “Everything went fine.”
“Good.” I nodded.
Ash stood there, and so did I, neither of us speaking. In the back of my mind, I knew that this was the perfect opportunity to strengthen his attraction to me. I wore nothing but scraps of lace under the robe. I could loosen the tie, let it fall open. Asking about what Erlina had shared would do very little to further my cause.
But I wanted to understand how a Chosen had ended up in the Shadowlands. “Erlina was a Chosen.”
The change in his features was swift and striking. His jaw hardened, and his lips thinned.
“She didn’t tell me much beyond that,” I said quickly, not wanting her to possibly get into trouble. “Why didn’t she Ascend?”
Tension bracketed his mouth. “Is that what mortals believe still happens to the Chosen?”
I stiffened. “Yes. That’s what we’ve been taught. That’s what the Chosen spend their lives preparing for—their Rite and Ascension. They serve the gods for all time.”
“They don’t,” Ash stated flatly. “What you know of the Rite and the Chosen is nothing but a lie.” A muscle ticked along Ash’s jaw. “The Rite you celebrate—the one you hold feasts and parties in honor of? You’re celebrating what will ultimately be the death of most of them. It wasn’t always that way. At one time, the Chosen were Ascended. They did serve the gods. But that is not what it is now, and it hasn’t been for a very long time.”
A coldness seeped into my skin. “I don’t understand.”
“No Chosen has been Ascended in several hundred years.” Ash’s eyes were the color of the Shadowlands sky. “From the moment a Chosen arrives in Iliseeum, they are treated as objects to be used and given away, toyed with and eventually broken.”
Horror swept through me as I stared at him. A huge part of me simply dove into denial. I couldn’t believe it.
I couldn’t…gods, I couldn’t comprehend that. Couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that these men and women who’d spent their lives in the mortal realm, veiled and groomed to serve the gods in one form or another, were taken from the mortal realm only to be killed. The smile of the young male Chosen formed in my mind. It had been so wide. Real and eager.
And there had to be thousands of Chosen like him. Thousands. “Why?” I whispered, my stomach roiling as I sat on the settee. “Why not?”
I sucked in air that went nowhere. “That is not a good enough answer.” “I agree.” His eyes swirled slowly.
“Then why are the Chosen taken if not to be Ascended so they may serve the Primal of Life and the gods?”
“I do not know why the Rite is still held,” he said, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. “But they do serve the gods, Sera. They serve at their whims. And many of those gods do what they want with the Chosen, because they can. Because for some of them, that is all they know. That’s not an excuse. At all. But as long as mortals continue the Rite, more Chosen will meet the same fate.”
Red-hot anger whipped through me, and I was on my feet before I even realized it. “Mortals continue the Rite because the gods ask that of us. Because we are told that the Chosen will serve the gods. You speak as if this is our fault. As if we have the ability to tell the gods—a Primal—no.”
“I do not think that it’s the mortals’ fault,” he corrected.
My hands opened and closed at my sides as I took a step back. I turned away from Ash before I did something reckless. Like pick up the low-to- the-ground table and throw it at him. I crossed the bedchamber, stopping at the balcony doors. Did Kolis not know this was happening? Or did he not care? I glanced down at my hands. I couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t care. He was the Primal of Life.
But how could he be unaware? He was the most powerful of all the Primals. The King of Gods.
“How is this allowed by the King of Gods?” I asked, the image of him in the Sun Temple forming. You, Chosen, are worthy. I shuddered.
“Why would you think it is disallowed? Simply because he’s the Primal of Life?” A sharpness entered his tone. “You believe he cares?”
I turned to him. Nothing could be gleaned from his expression. “Yes. I would believe that.”
An eyebrow rose. “Then you know even less about Primals than I believed.”
My heart thumped in my chest. “Are you really suggesting that Kolis is okay with the Chosen being brutalized?”
His icy stare met mine. “I wouldn’t dare suggest that your Primal of Life could be so cruel.”
A wave of prickly anger swept through me. “Why would he allow that? Why would anyone do that?” I remembered what Aios had said. “It can’t be because they lived so long that this is the only way they find pleasure or entertainment.”
“I couldn’t answer that question—to even begin to tell you that it is due to losing humanity or simply because they view mortals as something
beneath them. I don’t know what corrupts and festers the mind that ultimately allows that type of behavior to occur. I don’t know how anyone finds pleasure in the pain and humiliation of others.” Ash had drifted closer. “I almost wish you hadn’t learned this. At least, not yet. Some things are better left unknown.”
“For the ones not involved, maybe. But for the Chosen? Their families? They’re taught that it is an honor. People wish they were Chosen, Ash. How is that right?”
“It’s not.”
“It has to be stopped,” I said. “The Rite. The whole act of being Chosen.
It has to be.”
Something akin to pride filled his eyes, but it was gone so quickly, I couldn’t be sure. “And how would you propose doing that? Do you think mortals would believe it if they were told the truth?”
“Probably not if it came from another mortal.” I didn’t even have to think about that. “But they’d believe a god. They’d believe a Primal.”
“Do you think they’d believe the Primal of Death?” I snapped my mouth shut.
“Even if another Primal came to them and showed them what really happened, there would be resistance. It is far easier to be lied to than it is to acknowledge that you have been lied to.”
I stared at him, taking in the cold lines and angles of his face. There was truth in those words. A sad, harsh one. “What do you do about this?”
His eyes searched mine. “I don’t stand by and do nothing, even if it may appear that way. That is how I prefer it.” Wisps of eather crackled along his irises. “That is how I keep people like Erlina alive.”
“You…you saved her? Brought her here?”
“I’ve only hidden her away. Like I’ve done for other Chosen. I try to get as many as I can without drawing attention,” he said, darkness gathering under his skin.
Only hidden her away? As if that were nothing. But was it enough? The answer was no. Thousands had been Chosen over the years. But it was something.
“Is it still dangerous for them?” I asked. “Other gods enter Lethe. Could they be recognized?”
“There is always a risk that someone who recognizes them will see them. They know that.” A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze shifted to the
empty fireplace. “We’ve been mostly lucky.”
“Mostly,” I repeated softly, and I thought of the woman who’d gone missing and how reluctant Ector had been to speak about her. “Is the woman who went missing a Chosen? Gemma?”
His iron-hued eyes swept to mine. “She is.” “And she hasn’t been found?”
“Not yet.”
My heart turned over heavily. “Do you think her disappearance is related to a god possibly recognizing her as a Chosen?”
“I believe it is related in some way, whether she was recognized or saw a god she knew and chose to go missing.”
Meaning it was possible that this Gemma had seen a god that would’ve recognized her, and was so afraid she’d panicked. “Where could she have gone?”
“To one side of Lethe is the bay. The Red Woods borders the southern side, and the Dying Woods surrounds the western and northern sides. I’ve had guards searching the woods, but if she went in there…”
He didn’t need to finish. If Gemma had gone into the woods, it was unlikely that she survived. I still didn’t believe a single drop of my blood had drawn those entombed gods aboveground. But even if she didn’t raise them, there were still the Shades and possibly even Hunters. Chosen were trained in self-defense. Not as extensively as I was, but they knew how to wield a weapon. Still, I doubted it would be enough.
I could only imagine what Gemma had faced as a Chosen that had caused her to take that kind of risk. Anger and disgust sat heavy on my chest along with a hefty helping of denial. I shook my head. “A part of me doesn’t want to believe any of this,” I admitted. “I do, but it’s just…”
Ash watched me closely as if he were trying to figure something out. “I don’t know why any of this comes as a surprise to you.”
I looked up at him. “How could it not?”
“Do you think mortals are the only ones capable of brutality? Of hurting others for no reason other than the fact they can? Manipulating and abusing others? The Primals and gods are capable of the same. Capable of much worse out of anger, boredom, or for entertainment and self-serving pleasure. Whatever your imagination can conjure will not even begin to encompass what we are capable of.”
What we are capable of? I looked away, pressing my lips together. He’d included himself in that statement, but he was trying to save the Chosen. He wasn’t capable of that. And I was here to kill him. What would happen to the Chosen then? Even if he were only able to save a small percentage of them.
Gods.
My chest seized. I couldn’t think about them. I couldn’t think about what could happen when I knew what would happen to the people of Lasania if I didn’t see this through. I swallowed hard. “You said this happens to most of them. Other than the ones you’ve hidden away, have some survived?”
“From what I could learn from those who help move the Chosen and find them some semblance of safety, some of the Chosen have disappeared.”
“What does that mean? They can’t simply just disappear.”
“But they do.” He met my stare. “There are no signs that they’ve been killed, but many are never seen or heard from again. They are simply gone.”
