Kolis’s compulsion lifted, and the moment he vanished, control over my body and thoughts returned.
But I stood where he’d left me, in what was yet another, much grander gilded cage—one I had a terrible, sinking suspicion was the one Aios had spoken of.
Seawater dripped from my hair and gown, leaving small puddles on the shiny black floor as a faint tremor coursed down my arm. The return had been a blur, but once inside the cage, Kolis hadn’t left immediately.
He’d lingered for some time. But hadn’t spoken.
He had just looked down at me—at my face, my body—hands trembling
on my arms, then my waist and hips. I could still feel his fingers pressing into my flesh and then curling around the wet, thin material of my gown, my skin crawling the entire time.
He’d shook as if overcome by some kind of extreme emotion or struggling with restraint.
And he’d shivered while terror lodged in my throat and helplessness slowly suffocated me. He’d quivered through each second, every minute, as I feared what was to come, what he would do while I stood there. That
choking, smothering powerlessness had entrenched itself deeply within me, and it remained, even with him gone.
A shudder went through me, and my chest tightened. I hadn’t been able to look away or move out of his reach. I couldn’t even tell him to stop touching me, nor did I have the chance to regain some semblance of control. Nausea rose, turning my stomach.
I’d been helpless, absolutely powerless, and it had been so easy for him to ensure that. Four words. Just four fucking words, and he’d had complete control of me.
The back of my throat burned. The gold bars before me, spaced a foot apart, blurred. I managed one step, and then my legs stopped holding me up. I went down onto my knees and palms. I didn’t even feel the impact. My too- tight chest constricted even further as I took rapid, too-shallow breaths.
Kolis could do that again at any time. He could seize my will, strip my power from me before I even knew it, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I was trapped here, with him, without control. I would die here, either at Kolis’s hands or upon my Ascension, and there was no telling what would happen between now and then.
Actually, I did know.
Aios had spoken little about her time as one of Kolis’s favorites, but I’d been able to fill in what she hadn’t shared. He’d never touched his favorites, but I would eventually be different. I knew that. I’d seen it in his stare when he stood before me, his hands fisting the gown. It was the same kind of dark, twisted need I’d seen in Tavius’s eyes more times than I cared to remember.
I leaned back, my heart racing. I squeezed my eyes shut, but my cheeks became damp. Pain flared across my jaw as I clamped my mouth closed, but the ragged sound still deafened my ears.
I smacked my hands over my face—fuck, that hurt—but the physical pain was nothing compared to the withering agony that would leave no bruises behind.
Kolis’s promise of violent destruction of not only me but also those I cared about echoed in my mind, overshadowing the fear of assault. It was an oath I didn’t doubt for one second.
My body was now the one that shook. Raw panic and anger crashed through me, pouring into the crack in my chest that had formed in the Dying Woods when I attempted to escape the Shadowlands and turn myself over to Kolis. Pressure built. My heart did that skipping thing that caused what breath I’d managed to take to catch repeatedly. The inside of my throat had to be shrinking as tears stung the tender skin of my lip. The Primal essence stirred, pulsed. My skin prickled all over, the tiny hairs rising in response to
the brief charge hitting the air.
In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t good. I clearly remembered what had happened the last time I’d completely lost control. I’d almost brought Ash’s palace down on us and sent myself into the Ascension I wouldn’t survive. I’d end up going into stasis.
I couldn’t afford to weaken myself and become truly vulnerable.
The embers in my chest vibrated, and I lowered my hands, opening my eyes. My breath snagged. Silver eather sparked along the tips of my fingers as the embers and my blood started to hum.
“Keep it together,” I told myself, trying to slow and clear my thoughts.
But it was impossible.
Because it wasn’t just what would happen to me, it was what would surely be done to Ash—what had already been done to him. And Kolis had him in a cell somewhere.
I knew what kind of state he’d been in, and it hadn’t been good.
Something struck me, then. I thought of the roots that had come out of the ground when I nearly sent myself into Ascension. Why hadn’t the earth attempted to protect Ash? Although they hadn’t tried to protect me or the
embers inside of me either when I was so very close to dying. There had to be a reason for that, but my mind couldn’t focus on it. It dwelled on what awaited Ash—what Kolis would do to him.
I jerked, my shoulders rising and falling rapidly as I tried to take in enough air between the ragged, shattered sounds still coming out of me.
I pressed my lips together, attempting to cease the quiver in them and silence the sobs. Ash had never been entirely forthcoming when it came to what Kolis had done to him in the past, but I knew enough. Gods, I knew plenty.
Ash was a Primal, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be injured. He could be hurt badly. He could even be in stasis now, unable to defend himself.
Gods, thinking that wasn’t helping. The embers throbbed more violently
—
A low-pitched cracking sound drew my attention to the cage floor. Where
my bent knees rested on the black tile, a small splinter appeared in what looked like shadowstone, forming a thin spiderweb of fractures.
Gasping for air, I looked at the bars above me. A faint cloud of dust drifted down. Something glinted at the center of the cage up high, where all the bars came together, but I couldn’t focus on it.
My gaze moved to the chamber beyond. A buttery yellow glow from several chandeliers cast a soft light over shiny, obsidian walls. Shadowstone.
I could see the cracks in the stone—fractures that were far deeper and impossible for me to have caused.
I saw a gilded seat. How many damn thrones did Kolis have? One in every room, it seemed—possibly even the bathing chamber.
But it wasn’t the only item. Centered around it was a sitting area with several settees, a few low tables, and a couple of wingback chairs. To the left was a dining table and some other chairs. A dark, cherry-wood credenza was against the wall, stocked with numerous bottles of liquor and stacked glasses. All but the credenza and what it held was gilded.
Did Kolis hold meetings in here? Fucking gods, I bet he did.
Several windows were near the ceiling, too high to reach and only a
couple of feet wide and tall. So, unless I learned to fly and could contort my body to half its size, they wouldn’t do me any good.
I could only assume I was inside some chamber within Cor Palace, but I had no idea for sure. I could be anywhere.
Ash could be anywhere.
The tile beneath my palm cracked.
Holy shit, I was breaking shadowstone, one of the strongest materials in both realms—if not the strongest.
Oh, gods, I needed to calm down.
I slid my trembling hands to my knees. I could do this. I could control the panic and the Primal essence, couldn’t I? Even if it didn’t feel like it, the anxiety came from my mind. I knew how to stop it. And the eather? I now
knew that was a part of me, so much so that the embers couldn’t even be removed without killing me. I’d controlled it earlier. I could do it again now. The embers are yours for the time being, I reminded myself.
And I could control them again. I could control myself. I was not weak. I wasn’t helpless when it came to this. I wouldn’t be. I refused.
So, I needed to figure this out.
Was the essence responding to my emotions? To the violent mix of panic and anger? Or was it reacting to the feeling of not being able to breathe? It wasn’t the former. Yes, the eather always became more active when I felt something strongly, but it was the breathlessness and the feeling of not being attached to myself that was the cause. It was the spiral of feeling completely out of control as if I were capable of doing anything to myself, and anything could happen to me. That was doing this. Because it felt like dying. Like running full speed toward death.
But I wasn’t completely out of control. I wouldn’t do anything to myself. This wasn’t like the night I’d taken too much sleeping draft. I didn’t want to die. I hadn’t really wanted to then, either. I’d just been lost. And I was breathing. Not very well, but I wasn’t being choked by unseen hands. Air was still getting into my lungs. I just needed to slow down my respiration.
My fingers dug into my knees as I forced my aching jaw to open. I went with Ash’s instructions because it made me feel like he was here, and I badly needed that. I conjured up the memory of his body bracing mine, and his
arms wrapped firmly around me. Gods, I could hear him, his smoke-and- shadow voice.
“You need to slow your breathing,” he said softly. “Put your tongue behind your upper front teeth.”
I did as he’d instructed, pressing the tip of my tongue to the back of my upper teeth and keeping my mouth closed. Then, imagining that he was guiding me to do so, I straightened my back, removing any actual physical pressure from my chest.
“Close your eyes and listen to me.” I obeyed the command from the memory. “Focus only on me. I want you to exhale to the count of four. Don’t breathe in. Just exhale. One. Two. Three. Four. Now, inhale for the same count.”
I did exactly that, breathing out and then in. “Don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I kept going as seconds became minutes. I didn’t regain control
immediately. I had to fight for it. Needed to wait for my chest to loosen and my throat to expand. I had to fight for my breathing to slow and deepen.
Fight for the embers to calm down.
So, I did what I did best. I fought.
I had no idea how much time had passed. Could’ve been a handful of minutes or hours, but the tears finally slowed. My breathing deepened and became steadier. The embers calmed, and the spiraling feeling faded until I felt present, attached to my body, and in control once more.
Blowing out a ragged breath, I rocked back and then pushed to my feet.
The pain in my face and mouth alternated between a dull ache and a
throbbing pulse as I shoved tangled, damp curls back. I carefully wiped at my cheeks, my stomach dipping at the red sheen I saw on my palms.
Tears of blood.
Tears of a Primal.
Gods.
I took another deep breath as I looked at my right hand. The luminous, golden whirls swept over my hand and slipped between my thumb and pointer finger, continuing in sweeping swirls across my palm.
Ash was alive.
I just needed to make sure he stayed that way, which meant I had to get
the hell out of here and find him so he could take the embers. Then he would Ascend into what he was always meant to be: the true Primal of Life.
In my chest, the embers wiggled as if they…disapproved?
Gods, that was a wild thought. They were only energy. Power. They didn’t have opinions or biases. They just were.
And once Ash was the true Primal of Life, the few embers of death that still existed in Kolis would force him to once more assume the role of the Primal of Death. That would stop the Rot from spreading within the kingdom of Lasania, and eventually the rest of the mortal realm. And with the ability to Ascend gods restored, as I’d done with Bele and Aios, Ash could kill Kolis and have a new Primal rise in his place.
“What was Eythos thinking?” I whispered, asking for what felt like the hundredth time.
He’d created a weapon by putting the only true embers of life inside me, along with Sotoria’s soul.
But it was a poorly thought-out, imperfect one.
He clearly hadn’t considered all the things that could go sideways after the deal was made. Perhaps he’d thought I would be born before he died,
even though he knew Kolis would kill him. Or maybe he assumed Ash would follow through, taking me when I turned seventeen and therefore giving me a chance to kill Kolis before I entered the Culling. Before the embers could merge so deeply within me that a single drop of Ash’s blood had made it so they couldn’t be removed without my death. Perhaps he’d hoped his son would take the embers and be able to raise a god of the Shadowlands to
assume the role of the true Primal of Death before Kolis’s death wreaked havoc in both realms, which would happen if all the power had no place to go. But…
I slowly shook my head. There was no way he was foolish enough to bank on that. There was no way Ash could Ascend himself and raise another god before the energy Kolis’s death would release did its damage.
I’d seen how fast the shockwave had left Hanan, and there was already another god—another vessel—ready to hold that power.
So, again, what the hell had Eythos been thinking? All he’d managed to do was keep those two true embers of life safe.
And Sotoria. Until now.
Swallowing, I pressed my hand to the center of my chest. The gown was still wet, and it stuck to my palm. I didn’t hear Sotoria’s voice, but I knew she was there.
I could feel her like I never had before. It was as if she were a tangible entity that had woken up inside me.
And she was aware.
Of how much, though? Enough to feel what I did? Or just enough to know that she was trapped inside me? I wasn’t sure, but I hoped her
awareness was only the result of me being close to death and that she’d eventually return to being…well, what I wished for was something akin to being asleep.
Because I didn’t want her to feel imprisoned. I didn’t want her to be
conscious of what would likely happen next. She had been through enough already.
But hadn’t I been through enough, too?
A rising sense of hopelessness crashed over me. I…I couldn’t do what needed to be done. Was there even a point to it now? I’d had my shot at killing Kolis out on the beach and failed.
I didn’t care.
I didn’t.
Besides, Kolis likely knew exactly what I had been trained for, even if he hadn’t seemed all that concerned when I wielded a sword against him. The only option I had now was to escape and get to Ash.
Is it? whispered an annoying voice that sounded an awful lot like mine.
My heart turned over heavily as I stared at the golden marks on my palm.
But that nitpicky voice needed to shut the fuck up because I had tried to do my duty.
But did you, really?
I hated that fucking voice. Because, no, I hadn’t really tried. Stabbing
Kolis out there had been an act of fear and opportunity. That was all. Trying meant…
Becoming his weakness. Making him fall in love. Ending him.
I closed my eyes, but that did nothing to prevent the truth from smacking me upside the head. I did care. I pressed my balled fists against my eyes. The truth was, I didn’t want to do this.
I couldn’t.
I didn’t deserve to spend whatever time I had left forcing myself to
seduce a being such as Kolis. Convincing myself that I had a choice in what I was doing with my body. That I was in control. Enduring his attention and touch. Lying to myself and hating every second of it. And all for what?
To stop the Rot? Save a kingdom that didn’t even know I existed? The so- called greater good?
It wasn’t right.
And I couldn’t do it to Ash—to my love for him. More importantly, I couldn’t do it to myself. I couldn’t become an empty vessel again, a blank canvas. I was a person, not just a warm body created for manipulation, deceit, and the purpose of destruction.
“Fuck the greater good!” I shouted, my head jerking back as the scream echoed off the bars of the cage.
The answering silence was a whole different kind of agony.
A harsh laugh slithered out, and a storm of emotions raged within me.
Flames of anger licked at my insides and stirred the embers as a deep, painful sorrow dragged me down, like a weighty anchor tugging me into the depths of despair.
Because the truth was, I didn’t want to be the kind of person who sacrificed everything—their life, body, autonomy, and godsdamn soul—for everyone else. Everything I’d ever dealt with? My mother’s coldness and the feeling that I was somehow responsible for my father’s death? The fucking years of loneliness and having to carry the weight of a kingdom that didn’t even know I existed, let alone my name? My duty and being oh so careful in catering to Tavius’s fragile ego? The sense of bitter, festering failure?
Everything I’d given up? Family suppers and kinship? Friendship and
companionship? Knowing what it felt like to be wanted for who you were and not for what you could do for someone? Being known? Included?
Spoken to and acknowledged? Having people actually know that I fucking
existed and was real? I did all of that because I had to. Never because I chose to. I’d never had the choice to choose myself.
Now, I would.
I was choosing to fight.
