I watched Nektas carry a sleeping Jadis out of the office. The little draken was sprawled over one broad shoulder, limbs and wings limp but tangled in her father’s hair. He was taking her to one of the bedchambers on the second floor that I’d learned had been converted into a nursery of sorts.
Apparently, while sleeping, Jadis had a habit of unconsciously slipping into her mortal form, and as Nektas had put it, no one needed to see her naked as a jaybird.
Though I wasn’t sure what that even meant. As far as I knew, jaybirds didn’t wear clothing.
“You really got her to eat with a fork?” Nyktos asked.
Slowly, I twisted around in my chair to face him. He still leaned against the desk. “I did.”
Nyktos smiled. It was close-lipped and faint, but it still had a transformative effect, warming the cold beauty of his features. “I’ve tried to get her to do it on more than one occasion. Usually end up with her knocking the fork from my hands or throwing herself on the floor. Sometimes simultaneously.”
I grinned at that. “Nektas said I might remind Jadis of her mother—the color of my hair or something like that—and thinks that helped.”
“Possibly.” His gaze met mine and then flickered away. “Halayna’s hair was on the lighter side. Not as fair as yours, though.”
Not like moonlight? Thank the gods and the Fates everywhere I didn’t ask that. “How did…how did she die?”
Nyktos didn’t answer for a long moment. “She was murdered.” He dragged a hand over his chest. “She was summoned to Dalos, and Kolis murdered her.”
I sucked in a shuddering breath. “Why?”
“Kolis loathes Nektas. He wanted to make him pay for being loyal to my father and then to me since he believes that Nektas should’ve been
honored to serve him after he became the Primal of Life.”
Heart aching, I shook my head. “So he killed Halayna to punish Nektas?”
“Kolis would’ve preferred to kill Nektas, but he knows better than to do that without a really good reason.” Nyktos lowered his hand. “Unless Kolis killed Nektas in self-defense, many of the other draken throughout Iliseeum would have taken the act personally. They would have gone after Kolis and any who defended him.”
My brows shot up. “And the other draken didn’t take him killing Halayna personally? And why couldn’t the draken just take Kolis on themselves?”
“A draken can gravely wound a Primal, but they cannot kill one,” he reminded me. “And many of the draken did take what Kolis did personally. But with Nektas, it’s…different. He’s old.”
“How old?”
His gaze drifted back to mine. “He was the first dragon given mortal form.”
I nearly choked on my breath. “You mean…?”
That smile of his returned, a little broader and warmer, and even more startling in its impact. “My father befriended him when he was a dragon. Nektas was the first to become a draken. He was the draken who gave his fire to the flesh my father lent to create the first mortal.”
“Good gods, he would have to be…” I couldn’t even do the math in my head, especially when all I could think about was that I’d been in the presence of the draken who’d helped to create the mortal race. “How long can draken live?”
“As long as a Primal if they are not killed.”
I sucked in a shallow breath. “So, they are immortal?”
“Not even a Primal is immortal, Sera. Nothing that can be killed truly is, no matter how long we live.”
“Is anything immortal?”
“The Arae. And before you ask, I don’t know how old your Holland is,” he said. And I had been about to ask that. “The viktors are also immortal, but in a different way.”
It made sense since the viktors died but didn’t stay dead, instead returning to Mount Lotho to await being born again. Sort of like Sotoria—
Clearing my thoughts of her, I refocused. “Does anyone other than Nektas know about this plan?”
“Only a few I spoke to this morning,” he said.
“And who are those few?” I asked. Nyktos rattled off names of those who either watched over me or were seen with him often. The usual suspects. “And how much do they know about what is inside me?”
“They know you have more than one ember and that you’re in the Culling—something they didn’t need to be told since they know what those embers mean, and they’ve already seen you experience the symptoms. They know what those embers will do if they remain inside you. They support the plan.”
I doubted the desire to see me live was the reason they supported it. “All of it? Including you Ascending me?”
“They don’t have a say in that.” He studied me. “But none voiced any concerns.”
I also doubted that, even with his speech. “And what about Sotoria’s soul?”
“No one here but Nektas knows that,” he said. “Having that knowledge could endanger them—and you—if they were to be captured and questioned.”
My smile of relief was part grimace. I didn’t think any of his trusted guards would betray Nyktos. His unwillingness to share that little piece of knowledge was likely due to the fact that it could change the way his trusted guards viewed how things should be handled. But I let that go, switching to other questions. “If this plan of yours works, and you become the true Primal of Life, could you Ascend the Chosen?”
Nyktos nodded.
“Would you continue with the Rite?” I asked, curious.
“You know, I’m not entirely sure.” His brows pinched. “I think I would prefer for it to be more of a choice. Not a requirement.”
I liked the sound of that. “But couldn’t you just do away with the Rite altogether?”
“That could be done, but the Rite was started for a reason. The Chosen once had a real purpose. They were needed to replenish Iliseeum by bringing younger, newer gods into the fold—gods who knew what it was like to be mortal. It’s a balance in a way, one designed to offset those who
would live such long lives they’d forget just how fragile and precious mortal life is.” Nyktos watched me. “You seem…conflicted about that.”
I was. Which was why I wasn’t all that irritated about him clearly reading my emotions. None of the Chosen given over to the Rite had Ascended in centuries. Most were killed within days of entering Dalos. Others became something else entirely. But my distaste for the tradition had started before I learned of their true fates. “I understand their purpose. It makes sense. But the Chosen…while they may have everything provided for them in the mortal realm, they don’t really live, you know? Their faces can’t be looked upon. They cannot be touched or spoken to by anyone other than another Chosen or the Priests.”
“None of that is necessary.” Nyktos frowned. “We didn’t start that. The mortals did.”
“Then why hasn’t it been changed?”
“I would if I were in a position to demand such things, but…”
“Only the Primal of Life can.” I sighed, understanding. “God, what if… what if all those Chosen who haven’t been killed are being turned into Craven like Andreia?”
“It’s hard to even comprehend,” he replied. “Though it seems like the Revenants are not the same as the Craven.”
I nodded, thinking over what Gemma had shared. “It sounded like Kolis has been tinkering with his creations. Changing them. Maybe improving on them.” I shook my head, exhaling. “If this plan works, what happens to Kolis? And the Rot?”
“If it works, I imagine I would Ascend again. The impact may be as… volatile as when Kolis stole the embers. It might not be. There is no way of knowing. But other Primals and gods would feel it. They would sense that Kolis was no longer the Primal of Life.”
“So, that doesn’t sound like he dies then.”
Nyktos laughed roughly at the clear disappointment in my voice. “Kolis is the oldest Primal alive. We may never be able to kill him. We may only ever be able to weaken him enough to entomb him.”
“Like…like the gods beneath the Red Woods?” He nodded.
“But you’re wrong, though,” I said. “The way to weaken and kill him is sitting right in front of you.”
The eather intensified in his eyes. “You promised,” he said softly.
I squirmed in the chair. “I did.”
He watched me. “I’m trusting you to keep your word, Sera, and that trust is a very fragile thing.”
“I know.” I lifted my chin. “I’m just pointing out the truth.”
“It’s not the truth.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It never will be.” Looking away, I tried not to dwell on that fragile trust that he spoke of.
“And the Rot?”
“Once I have the embers inside me, the Rot should vanish from the mortal realm—from your kingdom.”
The relief that swept through me would’ve taken my legs out from under me if I’d been standing. It was that potent. An end to the Rot wouldn’t fix everything in Lasania, but with Ezra and Marisol’s leadership, there was more than just hope for my kingdom. There was a future for the entirety of the mortal realm. I could almost cry.
“Your relief,” Nyktos murmured, drawing my gaze to him. “It’s… refreshing. Earthy.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear that I was projecting my emotions. Nodding, I pulled myself together as something occurred to me. “The people here? They have no want for food?”
“Much is imported from other areas of Iliseeum, as well as the grain used to feed the cattle and hogs, but there is just enough to keep everyone fed.”
“Is it possible that food can be exported from these parts of Iliseeum to Lasania so the suffering can be eased until the Rot is fixed?”
“I wish that were something that could be done,” he said softly as disappointment swept through me. “The effects the essence has on mortals who don’t carry it in their veins—and even animals—also impacts other organic matter. The food grown in Iliseeum would begin to rapidly decay as it crossed through the Primal mists between the realms.”
I exhaled slowly, telling myself there was still a chance to end the people’s suffering. “And what about the Shadowlands? You said it didn’t always look like this.”
“The Shadowlands were always different from the rest of Iliseeum— the stars were visible, even during the day, and the nights were darker than any other place in Iliseeum. But, yes, it would recede from here.” He looked at the ceiling, dragging the edge of his fangs over his lower lip. The act snagged my attention, creating a soft whirl in the pit of my stomach. “The
change here was slow at first. Parts of it fell to what you call the Rot by the time I was born. But most of the Shadowlands was still alive. Thriving. I think you would’ve found it beautiful. It resembled the woods around your lake—wild and lush.”
Hearing him refer to it as my lake did strange things to my chest that were best left alone lest I project my emotions down his throat again.
Thick lashes lowered. “Where land is barren and lifeless now, there were once lakes and fields of flowers as vibrant as the moon.”
“Poppies,” I whispered. The flowers that were nothing like those in the mortal realm had delicate petals the color of blood in the moonlight on the outside and were a shade of crimson on the inside. They only opened when someone approached them. Poisonous, beautiful flowers that were unpredictable and temperamental and reminded him of me.
“The poppies,” he confirmed. A few days after my arrival in the Shadowlands, one had blossomed in the Red Woods. He’d believed it was my presence bringing life back to the Shadowlands. “There were also seasons here. Hot and steamy in the summer, snowy and blustery in the winter. As a child, I used to spend many of those warmer days in the lakes that once stretched along the road leading to the gates of the Rise. When I grew a little older and had trouble sleeping, I would swim. It’s one of the things I miss most.”
“Is that why you were in my lake that night?” I asked.
“I’d been to the lake many times before,” he admitted after a moment.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many times we’d narrowly missed each other.
“Even when my father died, the Rot didn’t spread fast,” he went on after a moment. “It continued slowly, year after year, taking little pieces at a time and turning the world gray as the sun grew weaker and the nights even longer. Then, seemingly overnight, all the trees in the Dying Woods dropped their leaves, and all the lakes dried up. That was the last of the seasons and sunlight here. But outside of the Shadowlands, it continues to spread slowly.”
Tension settled in my shoulders. I suspected I knew the answer to the question I was about to ask, but I wanted to be wrong. “When did that happen?”
His lashes swept up. “In five months, it will have happened twenty-one years ago.”
Gods.
Sitting back, I turned my attention to the bare bookshelves. “Aios was right in a way, you know? When she said that the embers of life were protected while in a mortal bloodline. But when I was born, that was no longer the case. They entered a vessel with an expiration date.” Focusing on him, I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Why would you apologize? It’s not your fault.” “I know.” I lifted a shoulder. “But I’m still sorry.”
Nyktos stared at me for several heartbeats. “I have a question for you.” “Ask away.”
“What do you think of this plan?”
“What do I think?” I rubbed my knees. “I hope it works. It’ll stop the Rot and hopefully weaken Kolis. And if it does work…” I trailed off, my throat constricting.
“What?” Nyktos asked quietly.
I didn’t know how to put into words what I was thinking, let alone feeling, because it was something I’d never considered before. A future without an early, certain death. A possibly very long future, one that could possibly span hundreds of years. I felt…hope. For myself. It felt a little selfish since his plan carried the risk of more attacks between now and then, and the possibility of us not being able to locate the missing god—or the god being of no help to us. There was a lot of risk, but there was also hope.
And hope felt as fragile as the trust he’d spoken of.
Aware that Nyktos was watching me, I cleared my throat. “I think it’s a good plan.”
He nodded and didn’t speak for a few moments. “We need to talk about the coronation.”
Gods, that was in two days. My stomach tumbled even further because it felt as if I’d forgotten.
“I realized we hadn’t discussed what occurs during the coronation in any real detail.” He chewed his food as neatly as he carved it. “I figured you would have questions.”
“Should I? You said I would be crowned before high-ranking gods and Primals.” I squinted. “Actually, you said that the attendance of other Primals was only a possibility.”
“I lied,” he admitted without shame. “I figured learning that Primals would be there would make you nervous.”
“It doesn’t.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. It makes me a little nervous, but it’s not like that news is something I can’t handle.”
“When we first discussed the coronation, you’d just been brought into the Shadowlands and discovered that it was not I who had made the deal that forced you to become my Consort. Your entire life, whatever it may have been, had just been upended right after you were whipped,” he stated, his eyes flashing to a steely gray. I quickly shifted my focus to the bare shelves. “Even one as strong as you can only take so much.”
“You never know how much you can take until you can’t take more,” I said. “But I…I appreciate the motivation behind the lie.”
Nyktos chuckled. “Sure, you do.”
“So, there is more than just me being crowned and calling it a night?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Is that how Kings and Queens are crowned in the mortal realm?” “Gods, no. There are days-long celebrations. Feasts and parties.
Fireworks.” I smiled. “I do enjoy fireworks.” “There will be no fireworks.”
I pouted. “That’s disappointing.”
His fingers partially hid his smile as he scratched his chin. “Nor will there be days-long celebrations.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
“But there will be a feast after the coronation.” “Here?”
“No. The coronation will be in Lethe, at the Council Hall,” he said. “And we won’t see each other tomorrow. It’s tradition—a belief that not seeing one another before the start of the coronation will ward off bad luck.”
“You believe in that?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“You know, I’d rather not take any chances, so I will honor the tradition to the best of my ability.” He tipped his head back. “I will meet you before the ceremony. We will ascend the dais together, and it will be I who crowns you and bestows a title upon you.”
Realizing I hadn’t seen him with a crown yet, I wondered exactly what it looked like and if I would be expected to wear it. Crowns looked absurdly heavy. “So, what is my title?”
A wry grin appeared. “Not sure yet.” I arched a brow. “Nice.”
“I’ll come up with something,” he promised. “If the Fates find us worthy and everyone behaves with the decorum that is expected, the feasts will begin.”
“And if they don’t?”
“You will be heavily guarded throughout the entirety of the event,” he shared. “I will not allow any harm to come to you.”
“I don’t need you to keep me safe.”
Thick lashes lifted, and those wisps of eather fragmenting the silver in his eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them. “But you do.”
“I think I proved on more than one occasion that is not the case,” I replied, tensing.
“You showed no fear with the dakkais and didn’t hesitate when the entombed gods were freed,” he said as my gaze dropped to my hands. “I know you’re strong and can fight. That you’re brave. Needing me or anyone to look out for you doesn’t mean you’re weak, that you can’t defend yourself, or that you’re afraid. We all need someone to watch over us.”
Heat crawled up my throat. “Do you?” “Desperately,” he whispered.
My gaze flew to him. Nyktos might be the youngest of the Primals, but I’d seen him in his true form. He was a winged being of night and power, able to obliterate gods with a mere look. I’d seen him turn trees into ash in anger. But there was a truth in that one word, a vulnerability I found myself wanting to protect.
Nyktos pushed off the desk and walked to the credenza. He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick, bound tome. “We will also need to get a handle on what happened last night.”
“The dumping me on your bed and taking my clothing off part of last night?” I suggested.
He sent me a dry look as he sat. “The eather you wielded. Right now, that may just be tied to your emotions. I don’t know if removing those embers will stop you from doing it again until you complete the Culling. It may not. What I know is that the embers have already changed you. There is eather in your blood. That will not be removed, and you will still be able to harness eather once you complete the Culling.”
“But not restore life.”
“Not without those embers.”
I glanced down at my hands. I wasn’t sure if I would miss the ability to restore life. The ability to create life out of death didn’t always feel like a part of me, but it was a part of me. The embers in my chest warmed at the thought, but they were also bound and determined to kill me.
“The ability could come to you more easily between now and then,” he continued as he began unwinding the twine. “Like it would for a god-born destined to Ascend to Primalhood.”
“Like you?”
He nodded. “There are ways we can try to draw it out of you again that won’t run the risk of weakening you, as long as you’re not using the eather in other ways and are taking care of yourself.”
“Really?” I sat forward, my interest more than piqued. “Is that something we can try now?”
A faint grin appeared, but he froze. His gaze flicked over my shoulder.
A moment later, I heard a knock. “Come in.”
I twisted in my chair as the doors opened to reveal Saion.
“There is…a problem at the gates,” he said, and a wicked sense of déjà vu swept through me.
“Elaborate,” Nyktos ordered, closing the tome.
Saion sent me a quick glance. “The Cimmerian are here.”
I tensed as Nyktos sat. I’d learned of the Cimmerian during my studies. They were lesser gods a couple of generations removed from Attes, the Primal of Accord and War, and Kyn, the Primal of Peace and Vengeance. Gods born fully formed as warriors. There were even legends about them being brought forth during mortal wars by Kings brave—or foolish— enough to summon either Attes or Kyn. “Why would Attes or Kyn send warriors here?”
“Not all Cimmerian serve Attes and Kyn. Some serve in other Courts.
These have come from Hanan’s,” Saion shared, and my stomach dropped.
Nyktos glanced at Saion as he replaced the tome and opened another drawer. “Where’s Bele?”
“With Aios,” Saion answered. “Nektas is taking Jadis and Reaver to them.”
“Good. Bele will not leave the younglings.” Nyktos grabbed straps that went around his waist and chest, designed to hold swords and other sharp, pointy weapons. “How many are at the gates?”
“About a hundred,” Saion said. “Fuck,” Nyktos growled.
“Most of the guards are on the Rise along Lethe as you requested, keeping an eye on the Black Bay.” Lamplight from a nearby sconce glanced over the rich, black skin of Saion’s cheek as he cocked his head. “There are only about a dozen here. So, if things go south…”
“And if they do go south?” I rose as Nyktos opened a cabinet door and slid out a long, wide shelf full of weapons. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of—”
“Cimmerian are not your run-of-the-mill gods. Using eather around them feeds their abilities,” Saion said.
“Like the dakkais?” I asked.
“The dakkais want to devour those with eather in them, but the Cimmerian pull strength from it. The essence amplifies their abilities. Makes them stronger.” Nyktos withdrew a sword, strapping it to his back so the handle pointed down, and leaving me to wonder exactly how deep the credenza was. “And they don’t fight like anyone you’ve ever seen.”
Dread quickly blossomed. “How do they fight?”
“They can summon shrouds of night to blind their opponents,” Saion told me. “The kind that not even Nyktos can see through.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. That had not been in any of my studies. “And they would try to fight you?” When Nyktos didn’t answer, I twisted to Saion. “Will they?”
Saion nodded. “Fighting is one of the few things that seem to bring those fuckers any joy. They’re willing to fight with just about anyone, including Primals.”
Nyktos slid a dagger into the strap across his chest and another into his boot. “I want you to stay here.”
“I can help,” I protested. “I can fight—”
“She really can fight,” another voice chimed in from the hall. “And with most of the guards—”
“Ector?” Nyktos cut in.
There was a beat of silence, and then the fair-haired, sharp-featured god appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”
Nyktos pinned him with a cold stare. “This is one of those times I’ve discussed with you on multiple occasions.”
I frowned.
“When I need to…” Ector cleared his throat. “Shut the fuck up?” “Exactly.” Nyktos stalked out from behind the desk, securing a short
sword to his waist. “I know you can fight. This isn’t about that. We could be wrong about why they are here, especially with the draken attack and the coronation taking place the day after tomorrow. If someone is attempting to take you, they know I will have little support in retaliation if you’re not my Consort. They could be here for you, and I don’t want to make that easier for them. Stay here, Seraphena.”
I decided at that very moment, when he said my name like that, that I wanted to punch him. In the throat. Hard.
Nyktos stopped at the door once more, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll check in with you later. Until then,” he said, his eyes meeting mine, “behave.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” I bowed. “I wouldn’t want to be grounded.”
Out in the hall, someone—likely Ector—choked loudly. The swirling in Nyktos’s eyes slowed as he locked his gaze on me. “Don’t push me on this.” His head swiveled toward Saion. “Stay here and make sure she doesn’t leave.”
Saion looked at me with a heavy sigh. “Honored to obey such a command.”
I clamped my mouth shut, not even daring to breathe until Nyktos was gone. Only then did I allow my head to fall back so I could let out a silent scream as I clenched my hands.
“Did that make you feel better?” Saion asked. “Whatever it was that you just did?”
“No,” I bit out.
“Didn’t think so.” He arched a brow as he leaned against the door. “So, you’re ready for nap time? Or would you like a snack? Maybe some diced apples?”
My eyes narrowed on the god. His lips twitched.
Disgusted, I looked away. I fully understood why Nyktos didn’t want me out there. Even if the Cimmerian weren’t here for me, the last thing we needed was more gods from other Courts recognizing me. Understanding didn’t translate into liking it. “Will Nyktos and the others be okay out there with the Cimmerian?”
Saion was quiet for a moment. “You’re really worried?”
Inhaling sharply, I turned to the god. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”
“I suppose not,” he murmured, eyeing me with a slightly perplexed pinch to his brow.
I crossed my arms. “What? Are you going to talk about snapping my neck again?”
“No.” He continued staring as if I were a puzzle with missing pieces. “Did you really try to escape so you could kill Kolis on your own?” he asked.
I tensed. “Do you think Nyktos would lie about that?” “I suppose not.”
“Then you already know the answer to your question.”
“You had to know that what you tried would’ve ended in your death, and yet that didn’t stop you,” he said. “As such, it would now be dishonorable to speak of snapping your neck.”
“But completely honorable to do so before?”
“Probably not, considering you’re technically the true Primal of Life,” he said. “Which means I should be bowing before you.”
“Please, don’t.”
Saion grinned. “I won’t,” he said. “It’s wild, though. True Primal of Life embers alive in a mortal.”
“Wild is one way of putting it.” I began to pace.
“None of us were all that surprised to learn that,” he went on. “Not after what you did for Gemma and Bele. But still, suspecting it and having it confirmed are two very different things.”
I nodded, my thoughts wandering to what might be happening outside. I knew Nyktos would be alright, but he was out there facing the Cimmerian because I had Ascended Bele. If things turned violent, he might walk away unscathed, but what about Ector? Or Rhain, who had to be somewhere nearby? Theon and Lailah? Rhahar? The guards or any of the draken who could get caught up in the fight while I stayed inside? How many lives would be lost today?
I couldn’t just stand by.
“What are you doing?” Saion turned as I started across the room. “I really hope it involves napping, but I have a feeling it doesn’t.”
Grasping the handles, I yanked open the doors. “It doesn’t.” “So, where are you going, then?”
I stalked out into the hall. “I’m going to go push.”
