There were too many what-ifs circling through my head after Nektas left— too much restless, anxious energy burning its way through me for me to sit still.
I needed to work it off.
And I needed to silence those what-ifs, at least for a little while.
I quickly braided my hair and spent the remainder of the afternoon going through as much training as I could remember and could be done alone. I pictured an imaginary partner, which wasn’t hard. My opponent alternated between Nyktos and me—because I was annoyed with us both for different reasons—while I went through shadowboxing and footwork. I dipped and lunged, working first with just my hands and then my dagger. None of it was as good as practicing with another person, but it was better than nothing. Fighting was part muscle memory, but long periods of inactivity could be the difference between living and dying.
Plus, it helped keep my mind empty. I wasn’t thinking about the summons, Nyktos’s plan, what he could’ve sacrificed in addition to everything he’d already had to do, or the soul that belonged in me. I was a different kind of blank canvas as I stabbed and kicked at the air, but exhaustion found me quicker than it should, and I chalked it up to the missed training sessions. At least, that’s what I decided to believe, because the alternative was the Culling.
I cleaned up using the cool water from that morning. Since it was getting late, I slipped on a flimsy excuse for a nightgown and then tugged on the robe. It felt like hours, yet only minutes had passed when Orphine arrived with dinner. Afterward, I returned to the chaise, where I cracked open a book, but just like the night before, I couldn’t concentrate. Those what-ifs came back.
When would Kolis summon us? Would Nyktos attempt to hide the summons from me? And if he didn’t, what if I looked like Sotoria?
Why did I dread that when I should welcome the possibility? Welcome what Nyktos had accused me of that afternoon.
Because Nyktos had been right. It made it easier for me to do what I needed to.
Except nothing felt easier.
Because what would Nyktos do if we arrived at Kolis’s Court, and the false King recognized me as Sotoria? Would he truly allow Kolis to take me? Or would he intervene? I knew the answer, and it terrified me. If I had been able to escape, I could have made it to Kolis without Nyktos being there. Not only being endangered, but also being put in a situation where he had to choose between the Shadowlands—
And me.
How could he continue convincing Kolis of his loyalty if he attempted to stop the false King from taking me? Hell, how was Nyktos successful this entire time? I knew Nektas said it was duty, but my gods…even I couldn’t have done that.
My gaze drifted to the silver-adorned door that adjoined our bedchambers, and I thought about that kiss.
He is how you wish him to be.
“I don’t even know him,” I whispered as the embers in my chest warmed—
I yelped, jerking upright as the door suddenly swung open. The book flopped onto the floor with a heavy thump as Nyktos strode in as if he had every right to do so.
“Did you even think about knocking first?” I exclaimed. “No.”
“You should have.” I pressed my palm to my thundering heart. “I could’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Many things,” I muttered. “Use your imagination.”
Nyktos stopped, his jaw tightening. “Not sure if using my imagination would be wise.”
“I suppose not.” I bent, picking up the book. When I glanced over at him, I saw that he’d quietly moved closer and was checking out the plates. “I ate all my dinner like a good girl, in case you were wondering.”
His cool, silver gaze flickered from the dining table to me. “Did you need something?”
“I only need one thing at the moment. Sleep.”
“Okay.” I opened the book and pretended to read. “Thank you for sharing.”
“Arm’s reach, Sera.”
Slowly, I looked up at him. “Seriously?” “Does it look like I’m joking?”
“Even with the lock on the balcony door? It worked just fine last night.”
“I’m sure, given enough time, you will have figured out how to pick that lock.”
“I’m sure that if I wanted to pick that lock, I would’ve already done so,” I snapped. “I’m not going to try to escape, Nyktos. What would be the point now?”
His features showed nothing, but his words…they said a lot. “You promised me you wouldn’t go after Kolis again. I want to believe that, but what I want cannot be more important than what I know. If presented with an opportunity, you will still take it. Even now. I’m not going to let that fragile trust be broken so quickly.”
My heart lurched as I stared up at him. A messy knot of emotion worked its way out from that crack. Words bubbled up. “I don’t want to.”
“I know.” His eyes lightened to a softer shade of gray, even as his chest rose with a deep breath. “Come to bed, Sera.”
I wasn’t even sure why I was fighting him on this. I liked sleeping in his bed. With him. Even when he irritated me.
That should concern me.
And it did, but all I could do was add that to the absurdly long list of things that worried me.
Rising, I went into the bathing chamber first to prepare for bed. When I cleaned my teeth and spat paste into the basin, traces of pink swirled through the foam. My gums had bled a little. My stomach tumbled as I quickly wiped at my mouth and then left the bathing chamber, following Nyktos through the dark, narrow passageway. I stopped near the bed, my mind traveling to the deal I’d offered him before Attes arrived. Gods, I’d forgotten about that.
Nyktos brushed past me. “At least you don’t have breeches and boots that need to be taken off tonight,” he said.
“I think you would prefer that once you see what’s under the robe.” Inexplicably nervous, I reached for the sash.
He turned to me, the light of the sconces glancing off the slope of his cheekbones. “Please tell me you’re not nude under there.”
Well, I supposed that indicated he had no intention of making that deal with me. “Are you worried you’ll be unable to control your body’s reaction again?”
“I live in constant fear of that,” he murmured, his gaze locking on me. A tiny part of me actually believed that. “I’m not nude. Not really.” “Not really?”
I undid the robe, letting it slip down my arms. Nyktos was now the one to go utterly still at the sight of the thin, nearly transparent nightgown.
His lips parted, revealing a hint of fangs. “That’s what you normally wear to bed?” he asked roughly.
“Believe it or not, this is the most demure of the nightgowns Aios brought me.” My cheeks warmed as he watched me drape the robe over the foot of the bed.
“Good Fates,” he muttered, stiff for a moment, and then he came toward me, each step slow and measured. A sweet thrill of anticipation darted through me as I tipped my head back to look up at him.
Only a thin slit of glowing silver was visible behind his thick lashes as he slipped his fingers under the satiny strap. The backs of his cool knuckles dragged along my skin as he drew the strap up my arm. He lingered for several moments, barely touching me, but I felt the featherlight press of his skin in every part of my body. He slipped his fingers out from under the strap. “May I?”
I didn’t know at first what he was asking permission for, but I realized he was once more staring at my braid lying over my shoulder. “You…you can.”
Nyktos moved his hand then. He didn’t pick up the braid or tug on it. Just below my shoulder, he curled his forefinger and thumb around the braid. I held still as he drew his fingertip down its length, grazing the curve of my breast. I shivered.
“Did I tell you”—he continued running his thumb over the braid—“that your hair reminds me of spun moonlight?”
“Yes.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said, nearing the tie holding the strands together. He carefully tugged the band free as he had before. Slipping it onto his wrist, he gently unwound the braid, letting the mass of waves and curls fall over my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
I stood there, my heart thumping as he went into the bathing chamber, closing the door behind him. I didn’t move as I heard water splash, my skin still tingling with the imprint of his touch. Finally, I forced myself to move. I went to the side of the bed I’d slept on the other night and climbed in, pulling the soft blanket up my legs as I eased onto my side, facing my bedchamber. A citrus and fresh-air scent immediately surrounded me.
I heard the door open, but I didn’t turn as he went to the wardrobe. I wanted to because I knew that he was undressing, but I figured there was no point in torturing myself further.
The bed shifted as he joined me, and then darkness swallowed the chamber. “You know,” I said, “you could’ve just waited for me to go to sleep and then snuck into my bed again.”
“I could’ve,” he agreed. “But then what would I have found upon entering your chamber once you went to bed?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I do that every night.” “Well, I find that news slightly disappointing.”
My brows lifted. I started to roll onto my back, but he spoke. He stopped me with two words. “I’m sorry.”
I stilled. “For what?”
“For earlier today,” he said after a moment. “When I suggested that your motivation for answering the summons was so you could get to Kolis. I should’ve known that wasn’t what drove you—at least not the main reason. You said that you wouldn’t go through with my plan if removing the embers resulted in others getting hurt.”
I wasn’t sure if he needed to apologize for that. If I were him, I would’ve assumed the same thing. But he had been wrong. Getting to Kolis hadn’t been the main reason, even though it should’ve been. “Thank you,” I murmured, returning my stare to the dark wall. “Does that mean you’re not going to try to leave me behind when he summons us?”
“I won’t. Not because it’s what I want, but because it’s what you want.”
I exhaled raggedly, wanting to thank him again but knowing that thanking him for this wouldn’t be appreciated.
Silence fell between us, and it went on for so long that I thought Nyktos had fallen asleep, but then he spoke again. “Why do you hold your breath so often?”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
“You hold your breath. Usually for a count, and then you exhale.” “Gods, it’s really that noticeable?” I asked, thinking of when he’d seen
me do it in the throne room while Holland and Penellaphe were there. “Not really.”
I frowned at the darkness. “But you noticed.”
“Doesn’t mean others have.” Several beats of silence passed. “Why do you do it?”
I closed my eyes. “It’s just something that Holland taught me to do.” He was quiet for a moment. “But why do you need to do it, Sera?” “I don’t know.”
Nyktos didn’t speak after that. There was nothing but silence for a long time, and then it was I who spoke. “Are you worried about the summons? What will happen?”
“No,” he said, and it was a lie. The bed shifted again. His arm came over my waist, the heavy, cool weight was…pleasant. “Arm’s reach.”
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore how much I enjoyed the feel of his arm. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized I’d done something I’d never done in my entire life.
I’d left the dagger in my bedchamber.
 |
I was in a…mood.
A morose mood as Holland would call it. It had been with me upon waking on what should’ve been my coronation day, but for the second time in my life, I’d woken on the day I was supposed to be married, only for those plans to change.
It was early, the sky still a deep shade of gray, but Nyktos had already left, and I hadn’t lingered in his bedchamber. I’d cleaned up with the fresh water someone had brought in and changed into the last gown I had, one cut quite similarly to the one I’d worn the day before but in all black. It was
only after practically squeezing my breasts into the bodice and fastening the last of the buttons that I realized my clothing had finally been laundered and returned, placed in a neat stack on the bed. I sighed, having no plans of undressing.
Instead, I went to the chaise and plopped down. That’s where I stayed, my mind restless, even though my body was still. Too still.
The moods had seemed to come and go with the changes in the wind while in the mortal realm, often striking me in the night when I couldn’t sleep and had nothing to occupy my mind. Those were the nights that even the idea of occupying my body in one of the hedonistic dens littering the Luxe held no appeal.
Those were the nights I wondered if my father had been plagued by the moods. If they had played a role in his fall from the tower the night of my birth. If so, was that the only thing he’d left me, if such a thing could be passed down? I wasn’t sure. But if so, I would’ve preferred something a little less dark.
Had Sotoria felt the same? Experienced these moods? Was she—?
I stopped myself as my heart began tripping too fast, and the feeling of having no control rose swiftly. I couldn’t think about any of that, so I sat there, the day yawning before me, empty and irrelevant. Would tomorrow be the same? The day after next? There was no training to take part in. No food to take to the families affected by the Rot. No unexpected visits from Ezra or requests to aid the Ladies of Mercy. Just more waiting. No escaping from where my thoughts wanted to linger—a place that thrived on replaying all the worst moments.
The disappointments and failures.
The embarrassments and desperations.
Except now, there were new ones. The destiny that had never been true. My betrayal of Nyktos and the fact that none of us had questioned what we believed would end the Rot. It was hard to look back now and not feel as if I should’ve known that Nyktos wasn’t the cause. It was hard to sit here, warm and well-fed, while those in my kingdom starved and would soon face unimaginable hardship and death if Nyktos’s plan didn’t work.
And it was hard to sit with myself. With the knowledge that I dreaded the summons when I should look forward to it.
My fingers worried the seam on the arm of the chaise as I stared at the neat pile of clothing that had been placed on the bed. I wasn’t used to such
idleness. Such lack of purpose. It made my skin feel too tight and thin. A knot lodged in my throat, my thoughts becoming as heavy as my body felt. I leaned into the chaise, feeling as if I could sink into the soft upholstery and become a part of it until I faded away. And wouldn’t that be kind of lovely—?
“No.” My heart started thumping as I sat up, my muscles going rigid. Breathe in. That was a—a bad thought. Uncomfortable. Suffocating. I smoothed suddenly damp hands over my bare knees. Hold. The chamber was too small as I sat there.
I was too small, shrinking with each passing second. Breathe out. I continued the slow, even breathing and squeezed my eyes shut until I saw white and the pressure in my chest loosened.
Why do you hold your breath?
My eyes opened as I rose. I couldn’t spend one more moment in this chamber. Slipping my feet into thin-soled shoes, I left the room, surprised to find Saion in the hall instead of Orphine. He didn’t put up a fight when I told him I wished to take my breakfast elsewhere, and the farther I made it from my chambers, the more the constriction in my chest and throat loosened.
We stopped in the kitchens, and then I took my breakfast in one of the many receiving chambers on the first floor with Reaver, who ended up following us and was currently napping on a narrow couch the color of the Dark Elms beyond Wayfair. Having breakfast outside my chamber was a marked improvement, but the silence was getting to me.
So was the way Saion quietly hovered near the doors, one hand resting on the hilt of a short sword, watching me as he had the day the Cimmerian came.
Placing my spoon aside, I glanced around the chamber. Just like all the ones I’d seen when Jadis had led us in and out of rooms, this one was well kept, even though it appeared as if no one had stepped foot in it in decades
—maybe centuries. There wasn’t even a speck of dust on the wood adornments of the arms and legs of the couch Reaver slept on. I scanned the bare shadowstone walls, reminded of Nyktos’s personal spaces—empty like a void. I frowned, realizing that other than the paintings of Nyktos’s parents in the library, I hadn’t seen another.
“Are these spaces ever used?” I asked as I ran a finger down my glass of juice.
Saion inclined his head, glancing at the walls. “Every once in a while, Jadis or Reaver explores them, but other than that, not that I’ve seen.”
“Who keeps them so clean?” “Usually Ector.”
“Is he that bored?”
Saion chuckled. “I’ve wondered that myself, but I think he does it for Eythos.”
My fingers stilled on the glass. “Like in his memory or something?”
“I think so.” He glanced over the space. “When Nyktos’s father was alive, he kept all these chambers open and clean. There used to be guests. Not as many as I imagined there were when Eythos was the true Primal of Life, but there was…” He trailed off as if he were searching for the right word.
“There was life here once?” I suspected.
Saion nodded. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “There was.”
That was thoughtful of Ector, and it was only surprising because I knew so little about him—about any of them. I leaned back in the chair. “Where are you from?”
Saion raised a dark eyebrow. “That’s a random question.” It was. “Just curious.”
He said nothing, and I figured that whatever change of heart he’d had only went so far. “Never mind,” I said. “I suppose we can resume the awkward watching-over-me-in-silence thing.”
“I was born in the Triton Isles.”
My gaze cut to him, a little surprised that he’d answered. “You belonged to Phanos’s Court?”
“Stayed there until I was about five decades past my Culling and then both Rhahar and I left.”
“Why did you leave?” I couldn’t help but ask. As far as I knew, the gods born to Phanos’s Court drew their power from the lakes, rivers, and seas, and, well, there were no such things in the Shadowlands.
“You really want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
His head tilted to the side, and he rested it against the doorframe. “Have you heard of the Kingdom of Phythe? It existed several hundred years ago
—about a hundred years before Eythos made the deal with your ancestor. It was a beautiful kingdom, full of people who lived off the land and the sea.
Peaceful people,” he said, and it didn’t pass me by that I now knew that Saion was older than Nyktos. “In the mortal realm, it once stretched along the southern foothills of the Skotos Mountain range, all the way to the sea.” “The name is vaguely familiar.” I frowned, searching my memories.
“Wasn’t it an old kingdom once favored by Phanos until one of the King’s sons did something to one of Phanos’s daughters or something?”
“That’s what has been written. But the only truth in that was that Phythe was once a favorite of Phanos’s—until they fell out of favor.”
I clutched the glass. “I have a terrible suspicion I know where this is going.”
“Yeah, you probably do.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “There was an oil spill off the coast of Lasania, wasn’t there? About a decade ago?”
“I saw it. Phanos came out of the water and destroyed all the ships in the port. Hundreds died,” I said. “What really happened then?”
Saion shook his head. “They used to hold these games in honor of Phanos every year, but they were dangerous. People often died during them, including the King’s only son. After that, the King ended the games, believing Phanos to be a benevolent Primal god who wouldn’t want to see his most faithful harming themselves.”
“They were wrong?”
“Fatally wrong,” he confirmed. “Phanos was insulted. Saw the ending of the games as a lack of faith. It enraged him, and he flooded the kingdom.”
“My gods,” I whispered, horrified.
“Yeah.” He let out a heavy breath. “We visited Phythe often. The people there were—they were good. Not all of them were perfect, you know? But none of them deserved that. Phanos just wiped away a kingdom. There was no warning. No one had a chance to escape the waves taller than the Rise that came from the sea and traveled miles inland. Everything and everyone within Phythe were taken into the sea.” He rubbed at his chin, shaking his head. “When Rhahar and I learned what he’d done, we were shocked. Couldn’t believe it. He did that over games that we knew damn well he hadn’t even paid that much attention to. And even if the King’s son had done something to one of his daughters, that doesn’t justify taking the lives of an entire kingdom. We couldn’t serve him after that. We weren’t the only ones who left, but”—he exhaled heavily—“that was why we left.”
“Gods, I don’t know what to say. That’s terrible.” I shuddered, imagining the fear the people of Phythe must’ve felt when they saw the wave coming toward them, knowing there was no way they could escape it.
“It is.”
I swallowed, glancing down at the peacefully unaware Reaver. “Were the Primals ever truly benevolent?”
“I don’t think anyone is truly benevolent through the entirety of their life. Not even mortals,” he said, and I looked up at him. “But we didn’t expect that from Phanos, so it has to mean that he wasn’t always like that.”
“You think it’s simply because he lived too long?”
“I don’t think it’s that—or at least it’s not the sole reason. The Primals are old. Soon, they too will become Ancients. But Eythos, along with Kolis, was older than them all. And he never descended into that kind of heartless existence. A few other Primals haven’t,” he told me, and I thought of Attes. “If you ask Ector and other gods who were alive when Eythos was the true Primal of Life, they will tell you that there was a marked change in many of the Primals when Kolis stole his brother’s essence.”
I set the glass aside. “You think that act impacted their behavior?
Caused them to become less benevolent?”
“That’s what Ector thinks.” Saion shrugged. “There’s no way to know for sure, but I think he’s onto something.”
If that were the case, could it mean that we could be successful at swaying at least a few Primals? “So, you ended up here, where there are no lakes or rivers beyond the Black Bay and Red River?”
A wry smile appeared. “Not at first. It was quite some time before we found our way to the Shadowlands or even came face-to-face with Nyktos.”
“How did that happen?”
He was quiet for several moments. “Gods cannot leave the Court they are born into without the permission of the Primal who oversees it. It’s not often that permission is granted. And if a god abandons their Court anyway, it’s considered an act of open rebellion, which is punishable by death—the final kind.”
I stiffened. “It doesn’t sound like you and Rhahar got permission.”
“We didn’t.” The half-grin returned. “Phanos sent others after those who left his Court following the incident with Phythe. Shortly after Eythos was killed, they eventually found us and brought us to the Court of Dalos, where gods are sentenced and punished. As we were being held there,
waiting for Phanos’s arrival, Nyktos visited us. Asked why we’d left. We told him the truth, and then he left.”
My brows shot up. “He just left?”
“Yeah. At the time, we thought that was an asshole thing to do.” Saion chuckled. “We didn’t know much about him, only that he was young for a Primal—really young. But he had already become known as one of the last Primals anyone wanted to cross. Anyway…” He continued before I could ask exactly how Nyktos had gained that reputation. “Nyktos came to Court the next day when Phanos arrived, and just before we were sentenced, Nyktos intervened. Said that Phanos didn’t have the right to sentence us as we no longer served him but served the Primal of Death instead. I doubt anyone was more shocked than Rhahar and me at the announcement, but Nyktos, man, he is a tricky son of a bitch when he wants to be. You see, when he visited us the day before, he touched us both when he left. Reached through the bars and patted our shoulders. We didn’t think anything of it. The only thing we both thought afterwards was that the cell was colder—that we were colder. That was it. But when he touched us, he took our souls.”
