Orphine had led me off the dais, through the war room, and into the narrow corridor that led to the east wing and Nyktos’s office, then left me standing in the shadowy alcove, still dazed by Nyktos’s actions. Doubting that I was being left alone, I opened the door and halted mid-step.
What I saw was not at all what I’d expected.
Nektas sat on the settee across from a small table with a covered dish and a pitcher of juice, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. His arms were folded across his chest, stretching the material of his black shirt. His eyes were closed and his head tipped back, exposing the coppery flesh of his throat. His long, dark hair streaked with red fell over one shoulder where…
In her draken form, his daughter lay on her back beside him, her hind legs pressed into the cushion of the settee as she batted at the strands of Nektas’s hair with her front talons.
Jadis turned her oval, greenish-brown head toward me. Her crimson- hued eyes widened as she let out what I could only surmise was a squawk of surprise. A happy surprise?
“Morning,” Nektas’s deep voice rumbled.
Jadis made that sound again as she pulled her talons from her father’s hair, jerking his head several times before freeing herself. He gave no reaction, his eyes remaining closed. The tiny draken rolled over onto her belly. Thin, nearly translucent wings unfurled as she jumped down from the settee, landing with a soft thud.
Scurrying across the floor on two legs and then four, Jadis ran straight into me. Clasping my leggings, she hopped as she yipped once and then twice, tugging on the material.
“She wants you to pick her up,” Nektas commented. “If you don’t submit to that, she’s likely to throw a temper tantrum.” One wine-red eye opened. “You do not want that to happen. Trust me.”
Considering she was starting to cough up smoke and flame, I really didn’t want that. I hesitated, though, glancing at my hands. I swallowed thickly. “Are you sure you want me to pick her up?”
“Why would I have a problem with that?”
“You saw what I did to Nyktos.” I cut him a sharp look.
“What you did to Ash was an accident. One I don’t fear you repeating with my daughter.”
I really hoped his confidence wasn’t misplaced as I bent at the waist, extending my arms like Nyktos had shown me. Jadis didn’t hesitate. The touch of her scales was cool against my skin as she latched onto my arms without using her claws. I lifted her, and she immediately plastered herself to my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Watch out for her—”
A wing smacked me in the face.
“Her wings,” Nektas finished with a sigh. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I leaned my head back as Jadis wiggled closer, her taloned fingers sinking into my hair. Her breath tickled the side of my neck as she made a soft, chattering noise. “Just don’t breathe fire on me.”
Wide, bright red eyes met mine. Jadis chirped. “I hope that was an agreement,” I told her.
“She likes you,” Nektas said. “So, if she does happen to breathe or burp up a little bit of fire on you, it will be purely by accident.”
“Good to know,” I murmured, patting the center of her back. I glanced around the office. “You weren’t in the throne room.”
“I didn’t need to hear what I already knew.”
Because he already saw me as brave and daring? Warmth crept into my cheeks. Or because he was already prepared for me to attempt another escape? Probably the latter.
“Ash should be here in a few.” Nektas gestured to the table. “He had food sent in for you.”
Ash.
Nektas was the only other person who called him that. My appetite was nowhere to be found at the moment, but I went to the one chair placed at the table and sat while Jadis continued her low chattering. I glanced at Nektas. He watched me as he had after I’d been wounded in the Red Woods. Curious about what he seemed to see. I didn’t allow myself to think about
how I’d seen him naked or how he’d borne witness to my utter failure of an escape.
Giving my head a shake, I shifted Jadis slightly as I reached for the pitcher of juice, pouring myself a glass. “Are you now tasked with watching over me until Nyktos or someone else is available?”
“I’m here because I chose to be.”
I arched a brow. “You don’t have to lie.”
Nektas cocked his head. He appeared relaxed as he spoke, but an undercurrent of energy brimmed beneath his flesh. “Why would I lie about something like that?”
I shrugged, wanting to believe that Nektas was here because he wanted to spend time with me instead of with everyone else.
“Orphine would’ve stayed with you if I were needed elsewhere, but I wanted to keep you company until Ash arrived.” Nektas’s head straightened. “Anyway, I figured I’d be better company than Orphine.”
I snorted as I picked up my glass, narrowly avoiding having Jadis’s wing knock it from my hand as she swung them down. “A carpet would be better company than Orphine.”
His chuckle was deep and raspy as I lifted the lid from the dish. Jadis’s little head immediately whipped around, her chattering growing louder at the sight of the bacon, the mountain of eggs sprinkled with sliced peppers, and the buttery bread. There was also a hunk of chocolate.
I glanced over at her father and thought of Davina. “Did…did Davina have family?”
“She had an older sister, but she died years ago,” Nektas said after a moment. “But other than her, none that I know of.”
“Will there be a burial rite? Or has it already taken place?”
“We do not hold ceremonies for the dead,” he told me. “We believe that forcing those who cared for the deceased to see them in their death does nothing to honor the dead. We know they know the soul has already left the body to enter Arcadia. When possible, one who was not close to the deceased burns the dead within hours of their death, and each one mourns how they see fit—either together or alone.”
Having not known that draken entered Arcadia instead of the Vale, I took a sip of my juice. “You know, I kind of like that. I wouldn’t want those close to me watching my body burn.” I thought about seeing my old nursemaid, Odetta, wrapped in linen and placed on the burial pyre. “Burial
rites are more for the living than the dead anyway. And, sure, I imagine it brings some closure. But I imagine it also creates more pain in others.”
Nektas nodded.
My hold on Jadis tightened as she reached for a crispy slice of bacon. “I don’t think you can have any of that.”
She tipped her hornless head up at me, her eyes woeful and bigger than before. “Sorry. I’ve been told you’re not allowed to have bacon.”
Nektas snorted. “Did Ash tell you that?” I nodded as I picked up a fork.
“Does he think I don’t know that he lets Jadis eat whatever she wants?” Since that was basically true, I said nothing as I got a forkful of eggs.
Jadis huffed loudly as I took a bite. “Can she have eggs?”
“If you can get her to eat anything off a fork instead of with her grubby little fingers, she can.”
Grinning, I scooped up a tiny bit of eggs on the edge of the fork and lifted it to her mouth. “Open up,” I said as she eyed the fork as if it were a serpent. “Just take the eggs. Don’t bite the fork.”
Her head cocked as her tail thumped off my hip. She stretched out her slender neck, sniffing the eggs. She jerked back from the fork, hissing as she bared…shockingly sharp teeth.
Yikes.
“Watch me.” I lifted the fork to my mouth, taking a dramatically slow bite of food. “See? Yum.” I added some more eggs to the fork. “Your turn.”
It took several more displays of how to eat from a fork before Jadis eyed the utensil seriously and then snapped her head forward. She closed her mouth over the eggs, and there was only a slight tug on the fork as she retreated.
“Holy shit,” Nektas murmured, surprised. “Do you know how many people have tried to get her to eat off a utensil? Even Reaver tried.”
“Good job, Jadis.” I glanced at her father as I added more eggs to the fork. “I guess I have the magic touch.”
Jadis tugged on my arm and held on as I lifted the fork to her mouth again. It still took her a couple of moments before she took a bite.
“You just might.” Nektas cleared his throat, glancing away. “But I think you remind her of her mother.”
All I knew was that Jadis’s mother had died two years ago. I knew nothing else. “What…what was her name?”
“Halayna.” He straightened, his features tensing. “She had hair like yours. Not as pale, but close. I don’t think Jadis remembers much about her. She’s still too young, but how can we ever be sure what a child remembers and doesn’t?”
I ate the entirety of the chocolate, then took a small bite of bacon, aware of Jadis’s greedy little eyes tracking the crispy slice. “Were you married?”
“We were mated,” he corrected. “It is the same as marriage in many ways. It is not something we draken enter into lightly. The bonds we forge together in a mating can only be broken by death.”
Divorces were rare among most in Lasania, but it was far more common among the nobles than I suspected marriages built from love were. “You loved her, then?”
“With my entire being.”
I briefly closed my eyes. He still loved her. I didn’t need to read emotions to know that. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, smiling faintly when Jadis glanced up at me as she chewed her eggs. I wanted to know how Halayna had died, but I wouldn’t ask the question in front of Jadis. As Nektas had said, there was no way to know what a child remembered and didn’t. “My mother loved my father—my birth father. He died the night I was born.” I took another bite of bacon, deciding to leave out the circumstances of his death. “I wonder if they were mates of the heart, you know? Maybe the legends about such a thing are real. Because I think a part of my mother died that night, too.”
“Two halves that make a whole. Heartmates,” Nektas said, drawing my gaze. He watched closely. “That’s what the Arae call it. It’s rare but real, and I never heard of it occurring between mortals. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. The loss of one’s other half can be…catastrophic. If your parents were heartmates, then I pity your mother.”
I wouldn’t go that far. Not after doing nothing to stop Tavius or making any real attempt beyond relying on me to better the lives of her subjects. Not anymore. She was lucky I hadn’t told Nyktos to take her into the Abyss.
“But it would make sense that your parents were that,” he said, leaning into the settee.
“Why is that?” I scratched Jadis under her chin, and she hummed, her eyes closing. My smile grew.
“Heartmates usually only occur between two people whose unions are linked to some great purpose.”
“Like how a viktor is assigned to watch over someone?” I asked, speaking of those who lived numerous mortal lives to serve as protectors or guides to those the Fates determined would be harbingers of great change and purpose.
He nodded. “Perhaps fate brought your parents together to make sure the embers of life were born as Eythos intended.”
“Perhaps.” I took a drink and then offered the juice to Jadis. She turned her nose up at it. “How much do you know about what Eythos did?”
“Everything.”
“Then you know I wasn’t being foolish last night. If I can make it to Kolis, I could be successful.”
“Maybe. But at what cost?”
“Does the price matter when we’re talking about stopping Kolis?”
“The price should always matter when it comes at the cost of a life,” he said.
The crack that had formed trembled deep in my chest. “But that’s a price I will pay either way.”
“You don’t know that.” Nektas glanced at the doors at the same moment I felt a warm buzz in my chest. “He comes.”
I busied myself by shoving half a slice of buttery bread into my mouth as Nyktos entered the chamber. I didn’t look up, but I felt his stare on the back of my head. Jadis had the absolute opposite reaction, whipping around in my arms and stretching up to look over my shoulder. She let out a loud, excited chirp right in my ear as she strained against me.
The Primal swooped her up out of my arms as he passed.
“Traitor,” I muttered, peeking up to see Jadis wrapping herself around him like a little tree bear, her eyes closed and tiny claws digging into where he had his hair pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck.
The scene was so sweet I was surprised my teeth hadn’t started to ache. “Sera got her to eat off a fork,” Nektas announced.
“Really? And here I thought Jadis would be eating with her…” Rubbing the little draken’s back, he turned to us. He scowled as his gaze landed on the table. On me. “Is that all you’ve eaten?”
“It is.” I picked up a napkin.
“You can’t possibly be done,” Nyktos muttered, placing Jadis on the chair by his desk. She popped up, only one crimson eye visible above the back of the chair.
“You can’t possibly be monitoring my food intake,” I retorted.
“You two are entertaining,” Nektas murmured. His daughter jumped down and scampered across the floor. Nektas bent, picked her up, and placed her on the couch. She curled into a ball beside his thigh.
“If you find this entertaining,” I said as Jadis let out a loud yawn, “you must be bored.”
Nyktos huffed. “He is.” The draken smirked.
“The only reason I was commenting on the food was because of the Culling. You don’t want to run the risk of weakening and falling into stasis.” His eyes met mine as he came forward and picked up a slice of bacon. “If you would like something else to eat, I’m sure I can have it prepared for you.”
“That’s not necessary.” I fiddled with the hem of the tablecloth. “Besides, I don’t think there’s enough food or sleep in either realm that will prevent what’s coming.”
“And what’s that?” Nyktos asked.
“Death.” I jerked my chin at the Primal. “And I’m not talking about you.”
Nektas gave me a small grin at that. “Death is not a foregone conclusion.”
“Is it not?” I started tapping my foot. “No,” he said.
Pressing my lips together, I shook my head. I had no idea what Nektas was thinking then. If he knew everything, he would know that only the love of the man I had planned to kill—someone actually incapable of love— could save me. He was aware of that.
“There is no reason to deny what’s coming.” I met Nyktos’s stare as he returned to leaning against his desk. “No matter how strong the embers of life are.”
A muscle ticked in Nyktos’s jaw. “We will have to agree to disagree on that.”
“You like to say that, don’t you?” “And you like to argue, don’t you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, arguing over this is pointless.” My foot beat a fast tempo now. “So, whatever makes you happy.”
“Nothing about any of this makes me happy,” Nyktos retorted, and I couldn’t fault him for that. “Either way, what Holland said may not have been entirely correct. There could be another option.”
Remembering what he’d said in the Dying Woods about needing five seconds of peace to come up with another way of saving my life, I smirked. “Like what?”
“Like what Kolis did to my father. Remove the embers.” My jaw practically hit the table. “Is that possible?”
“I don’t see why not.” Nyktos watched me. “Embers are eather, Sera. It’s the essence of a Primal. Kolis found a way to take it from my father without harming him.”
Hope sparked, but I squelched it before it could catch fire and spread. There were far too many what-ifs—too many questions. “But he wasn’t able to take all of it.”
“That’s because Eythos was a Primal,” Nektas interjected. “And you are a Primal born of mortal flesh. Those embers are not fully yours unless you Ascend into a Primal.”
“That really explains nothing to me,” I admitted. “Explain it to me as if I’m Jadis learning how to use a fork.”
Nektas grinned at that.
“What he means is that those embers have fundamentally changed you.” Nyktos clasped the edge of the desk as he stretched out his legs, crossing them loosely at the ankles. “You’re in the Culling. There’s no stopping that. But if we can remove the embers, you should be like any godling entering the Culling.”
Should? “Correct me if I’m wrong, but not all godlings survive the Culling, right?”
“They don’t, but my blood would make sure you survive,” he said. “Ensure that you don’t fail the Ascension.”
Shock blasted through me. Giving me blood to heal wounds seemed vastly different than aiding in my Ascension. “How…how much blood will I need for the Ascension?”
“All but the last drop of your blood would need to be removed,” Nyktos explained. “Then you’d have to replenish your blood with mine.”
“All but the last drop?” I whispered. “That’s a lot.”
“It is.” Nyktos’s gaze held mine. “That is why the Ascension can be so dangerous. You either take too much or not enough, but the alternative is unacceptable.”
Sitting back, I exhaled roughly as thoughts raced past the confusion of why he was still determined to do such a thing, even after the embers were removed. I would be of no real use to him at that point. The breath I took was thin. “What would I become if that worked?”
“You’d be like any godling who survives the Culling,” he answered. “But possibly more. Those embers are powerful. You could Ascend into an actual god.”
Godlings who Ascended weren’t exactly mortal beyond that point. They aged slower—every three decades of mortal life equated to one year of a godling’s. They were susceptible to very few illnesses, and while not as impervious to injury as a god or Primal, they could live for thousands of years—at least, according to Aios.
But a god?
I couldn’t even process the possibility of either of those options, but the hope was now a small flame. “Is that even possible?”
“It’s never happened before,” Nektas said. “When Eythos was the true Primal of Life and Ascended the Chosen, they became the same as godlings because of the eather being stronger in thirdborns. None had ever Ascended into an actual god, not even in the hundreds of years of the Chosen being Ascended. But none had Primal embers in them either. Anything is possible with you.”
That was a scary thought. “You said only Kolis and Eythos knew how it was done.”
“Someone had to tell Kolis,” Nektas pointed out. “He must have learned it from somewhere.”
“Before Penellaphe left, she said something to me that struck me as odd,” Nyktos said, and I remembered seeing them standing together in the throne room, speaking too quietly for me to hear. “And it kept nagging at me. She said that Delfai would welcome your presence.”
“Who or what is a Delfai?” I asked.
A shadow of a smile appeared on Nyktos’s lips. “A very old and powerful God of Divination.”
I frowned. “I don’t remember hearing about a specific God of Divination.”
“He was able to see what was hidden to others—their truths, both past and future,” Nyktos explained, and that sounded like a god I didn’t want to be even remotely close to. “As Penellaphe said, the Gods of Divination called Mount Lotho home and served in Embris’s Court. Most were destroyed when Kolis took my father’s embers. I assumed Delfai had been, too, but I checked the old records. He never entered Arcadia. He’s still alive.”
I leaned forward. “Can we find him? With your special Primal powers?”
Nyktos’s lips twitched. “Exactly what kind of powers do you think I have?”
“Hopefully, the kind that can find missing gods,” I suggested. “Unfortunately, I do not.” His fingers moved along the edge of his
desk, seeming to follow the rhythm of my tapping foot. “But I do know of something that can.”
“The Pools of Divanash,” Nektas shared, and I blinked. “They are divining pools, once overseen by the Gods of Divination. The pools can show any object or person the seeker searches for. They’ve been relocated to the Vale.”
“Where I cannot go,” Nyktos tacked on. “Also where Kolis can no longer enter.”
And I knew at once why they’d been relocated. If these pools could show someone’s location, they could’ve revealed where Sotoria’s soul was. “Your father moved them there?”
“My father had them guarded, but I moved them as soon as I was powerful enough to do so.”
“Thank you” rose on the breath I took, but it seemed…silly somehow to thank him. Because I wasn’t her. I focused on the draken. “But you can enter the Vale.”
“Yes. However, the pools are…temperamental.” Nektas gave a slight smile. “They will only provide answers after being given what no one else knows, by the one who seeks the answer. There can be no middle person—”
“Then I would have to go.” Nyktos nodded.
“I can go now.” I started to rise.
“You cannot go now,” Nyktos said. “Not until after the coronation.” “But—”
“It will not be safe for you to travel anywhere before then,” he cut in. “Will it be safe for me to do so even after?” I demanded.
His fingers stilled. “What protection it offers is better than none, Sera. Nothing may happen on the road to and from the Vale, but even I have trouble controlling some things in the Shadowlands. Creatures that would happily devour anything that crosses their paths that is not a Primal or claimed by one.”
Figuring he spoke of the Shades, I held his stare as the mere idea that being claimed offered protection blew me away. It also ticked me off. That was some bullshit. “I’m not afraid of what I may come across.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t be. But I will not risk you or Nektas without taking every possible safety measure first. He will protect you, but he cannot do so against a Primal until you are my Consort. This is not up for argument.”
“And if I want to argue anyway?”
He pinned me with a bland look. “If it makes you feel better to do so, then go ahead. I’m sure it will entertain Nektas.”
“It will,” the draken confirmed.
I blew out an exaggerated breath. “I guess I’ll just sit around and—” Something occurred to me. “If we find Delfai, and he’s able to tell us what to do to remove the embers, will the process cause what happened when Kolis stole the embers in the first place? The death of gods and Primals?”
Nyktos’s eyes met mine. “And if it does?”
My stomach dropped. “I would be exchanging my life for the lives of others.” I saw the guards falling from the Rise, swamped in flames. I thought of Davina. “I can’t do that.”
Nyktos’s head tilted. “No, I didn’t think you would.”
“It’s a good thing neither of us believes such an event will occur then,” Nektas said, and my gaze whipped between the two. “That happened because Eythos was the true Primal of Life. You would not yet be a Primal. The act wouldn’t have the same catastrophic consequences.”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” I demanded.
“I wanted to see if I was right about what you would choose,” Nyktos said.
I resisted the urge to throw my glass at him. “So, what would happen to the embers? Would they go into someone else?” My eyes went wide, the
hope now becoming a wildfire. “Could you take them? They belong to you, don’t they? The Primal of Life was your destiny.”
“It was my destiny.” Nyktos’s eyes glimmered faintly. “And if this works, it will be mine again.”
