I didn’t realize we’d started walking until I became aware of the utter silence and the weight of thousands of stares. The breath I took was weak. The embers in my chest vibrated as my gaze bounced off shields held by the soldiers lining the aisle, the splashes of color from the vivid gowns and tunics, and the blurred faces. No one spoke as we walked forward, but they watched. All of them. Behind us. Ahead of us. I felt their gazes on the strands of my hair, on the cut of the glittering, lacy gown, and on my face.
Never had so many people looked directly upon me. My gaze swung to the dais at the end of the seemingly never-ending aisle. The back of my neck tingled. My chest started to ache—
“Breathe,” Ash murmured, his hand tightening around mine.
My racing heart slowed a little at the sound of his voice, and all I could manage from that point on was focusing on taking slow, measured breaths. I didn’t realize we’d reached the dais until Ash stopped, giving me enough time to lift the hem of my gown so I didn’t trip and land on my face. I knew I recognized the features of those who stood by the dais, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out who stood there.
I gripped the gown tightly, the diamonds digging into my palm as we ascended the rounded shadowstone steps, and the thrones came into view. They were situated before the banners, identical to the ones in the House of Haides. A white podium stood in front of the thrones.
And a crown sat upon it.
My lips parted. The crown was…I’d never seen anything like it. Spires carved from shadowstone formed a halo of glittering crescent moons. Delicate chains of black stone hung between the peaks, dripping clusters of diamonds along tiers of chains, which also connected to the front of each spire.
I was supposed to wear that? On my head?
Ash led me across the dais, passing the podium and stopping so we stood between the thrones, exactly where the shadowstone wings touched
between them. Ash angled his body toward mine and stopped so the podium and thrones were directly behind us. “Look at me,” he said under his breath, and I did just that. “It’s only us.”
Throat dry, I held his gaze as if it were a lifeline in the silence of the coliseum. Wisps of eather swirled slowly through his irises as he smoothed his thumb over the top of my hand. Movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t look away. It was Rhain, lifting the crown from the podium. Ash swept his thumb once more and then let go to take the crown, but his gaze never left mine as he…
Ash lowered himself to one knee, bowing to me.
A rush of shocked murmurs went through the crowd situated in the tiered levels of the City Hall as I stared down at him in confusion. He hadn’t mentioned that any sort of kneeling was supposed to occur. Based on the response from those watching, I didn’t get the impression that this was normal. I also didn’t understand why he, a Primal, was the one bowing.
“Now that’s a man who knows his place.” A smooth voice I recognized cracked the stunned silence. My gaze snapped to the source near the dais and landed on the sandy-haired Primal as soft giggles and chuckles traveled throughout the coliseum.
I wasn’t at all surprised to see Attes, dressed in black. Upon his head rested a helm of reddish-black stone. I hadn’t expected Kyn to show after what had happened in Dalos, but he was there, too, kneeling beside Attes.
The Primal God of Accord and War winked as a dimple appeared in his right cheek.
I quickly returned my gaze to Ash.
A half-grin had appeared on his lips. “You will need to bend a little for this to work,” he instructed quietly. “Keep your neck and head straight.”
Blinking rapidly, I bent at the waist. Ash once more held my gaze as he lifted the crown of moons and placed it atop my head. The chains of diamonds kissed my forehead and brow as he ran his fingers along the bottom of the halo, shifting the crown ever so slightly back so the tiny teeth along the bottom caught on my hair. I didn’t feel the weight, only because I was sure my entire body had gone numb.
Then Ash took my hand, and I straightened as he rose, his gaze flickering over my face and where the diamond chains rested against my
forehead. “Exquisite,” he murmured before turning so each of us stood before a throne and faced the crowd.
The crowd quieted.
“Rise,” Ash’s voice was deeper, louder. A powerful thunder. “Rise for the One who is born of Blood and Ash, the Light and the Fire, and the Brightest Moon,” he said, and my eyes cut to him as my breath caught.
My title.
I had forgotten about that amidst everything.
What he said sounded almost part prophecy. Magical. And completely beautiful.
Flecks of essence swirled through his eyes as he lifted his chin. “Rise for the Consort of the Shadowlands.”
All across the coliseum, Primals and gods, mortals and godlings rose as Ash lifted our joined hands high between us, applause lifting to where the draken were perched on the pillars—
I gasped at the sudden, intense series of tingles erupting along the palm pressed to Ash’s. My gaze swung to our joined hands as silvery- white light swirled around our palms and down our arms as the embers in my chest hummed fiercely in response. The glow of the eather reflected off Ash’s face as his eyes widened slightly. The crowd went silent.
“Is that you?” I whispered.
“No,” he rasped, features sharpening, skin thinning until a hint of shadow was visible beneath his skin. Disbelief filled his eyes as his gaze met mine. “Imprimen,” he said, clearing his throat. “Suu opor va id Arae. Idi habe datu ida benada.”
“W-what?” I only recognized one word spoken in the Primal language. Ash swallowed thickly. “Imprint,” he translated, staring at me in… awe as shocked murmurs eroded the silence. “It must be the Arae. They’ve
given their blessing.”
The Arae? Holland? I slowly looked out over the audience, catching only glimpses of slack jaws and wide-eyed Primals. My gaze connected with a Primal with smoky, reddish-brown skin and curly, russet-colored hair beneath a stunning, pale blue quartz crown of many branches and leaves.
The crowd erupted in cheers—feet and shields slamming into the floor as all the Primals but this one stood in open-mouthed silence. This Primal
gave me a small smile and pressed a hand free of jewels to the center of her chest before nodding.
I sucked in a shallow breath as Ash stepped back, guiding me to the throne. Heart thumping, our hands remained joined as we sat—as a sudden rumble echoed through the Shadowlands. A burst of intense, silvery fire lit the sky beyond the pillars as the draken lining the columns lifted their heads, letting out a staggering, high-pitched call. With wide eyes, I watched them take flight, circling the coliseum as a larger, thicker shadow fell over the crowd, blotting out the starlight. A gust of wind stirred the strings of lights and lifted the tendrils of my hair as I looked up.
Massive black-and-gray wings spread out as Nektas descended from above, landing in front of the thrones. Sweeping his wings back over our heads, his front talons slammed down on the edge of the dais. The thick frills around his head vibrated as a sound like thunder rolled from him. Those near the dais took several steps back, exchanging wary glances as smoke wafted from Nektas’s flared nostrils, and I looked at Ash…
My husband.
Ash’s lips curved into a shadow of a smile as he squeezed my hand and then released it. I drew my hand back and slowly looked down at it.
A series of luminous golden swirls swept over the top of my hand and between my thumb and pointer finger, sweeping in several whirls along the lines of my palm. I looked at Ash’s hand.
He bore the same mark as I did.
 |
“It’s an imprint,” Ash explained quietly, his left hand—the newly inked one—closed and resting on the table that had been placed before the thrones. “It appears when a union is favored.”
“By the Fates?” I traced the golden swirls on the inside of my palm. Unlike the charm that had been placed on me, this imprint didn’t fade into my skin.
“I suppose they could do such a thing,” he said in a low voice, leaning in so I could hear him. I imagine to those celebrating down below, it looked as if he were whispering sweet nothings.
“So, they didn’t?” I stared at the golden marks. “I don’t think so.”
“You lied?”
He brushed a curl back over my shoulder. “Just a little. I had to give some sort of explanation for what has been rather impossible. No one has been blessed upon their union in many centuries.”
I arched a brow. “Then how did this happen?”
His fingers lingered around the curl as he said, “My father was known to do this when he favored a union and wanted it known to all others. He’d give his blessing.”
I then remembered Ash mentioning that, but if this were something his father would do, it was something the true Primal of Life could do, meaning… My lips parted. “It was the embers.”
Ash leaned back with a smile, turning his gaze to the crowd. “And they will believe it was the Arae?”
“The Fates are capable of anything,” he answered. “So, it’s more than possible that they could do something of the sort.”
And yet, Ash was pretty confident that it hadn’t been them.
Looking down at my hand, I drew my finger along a shimmering whirl. Had it been the embers? Or had it been me? Either way, it seemed a little…self-indulgent to favor one’s own union.
“It won’t rub off,” Ash commented under his breath.
My finger ceased moving as I glanced over at him. He was watching the Primal with the crown of ruby antlers. Hanan. He stood with Kyn. Both appeared as if they were one refill away from being highly intoxicated. It was likely that I, too, would end up that way if I continued drinking instead of eating. In my defense, it was quite difficult to stuff my face at a table that had been prepared on the dais, in plain view of the thousands of people in attendance.
Meanwhile, Aios sat with several masked guests behind the dais. I would’ve preferred that.
“I’m not trying to rub it off,” I said, watching Kyn once more. What had Attes told him about the young draken, Thad? I’d learned that morning that he’d been brought to the Shadowlands and was currently in the mountains. “I just can’t stop touching it.”
“Hopefully, you’ll get used to it,” he told me. “The only way it fades is upon death, and I don’t plan on that occurring.”
I blinked as I closed my hand. “What if we decided to no longer continue this union?”
“Honestly?” He looked over at me, his brows pinched. A moment passed. “Not sure. None who’ve borne the imprint chose to separate.”
I wondered if he was thinking about the deal I’d struck with him—the bid for my freedom. But that was before I realized that I was…in love with him. Now, I wasn’t sure what to think about the deal we’d struck. Being done with him didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like a different kind of prison. I shook my head, telling myself there would be time later to dwell on all of that. “Are others with the imprint still alive?”
Ash shook his head. “Those my father blessed no longer live.”
A chill crawled down my spine. I didn’t have to ask. I knew. Kolis. Killing those his brother had favored for whatever reason sounded like Kolis’s particular brand of childish cruelty for the sake of cruelty.
But didn’t that make the imprint feel like a bit of an omen? I slipped my inked hand beneath the table to my lap as I looked out over the revelers. Ash had already pointed out the Primals I hadn’t recognized.
Maia. The Primal Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Fertility was just as she’d always been depicted. Full-figured and utterly stunning, her warm blond hair cascaded down her back in thick curls and framed yellowish- brown skin. Her pearl crown was one of roses and scalloped shells. She was fascinating to watch. Every move she made, every smile and flicker of her gaze, carried an air of softness and a hint of spice. I couldn’t see her now, as she was almost constantly surrounded.
I’d recognized Phanos, but it would be hard to miss him in the crowd. He was taller than all other Primals, possibly even Ash, and bore a crown shaped like a trident. He stood at least half a foot above all others, his bald head a burnt umber under the glow of the string lights. I’d tensed when I saw him briefly speaking to Saion and Rhahar, but no one else seemed that concerned, and he’d eventually walked off with the Primal of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty.
Embris reminded me of a hawk—a quiet, watchful man despite the mop of curly brown hair lending a boyish quality to his features. His bronze crown… disturbed me, having been molded into olive branches and what appeared to be serpents. Embris had left. Or at least I thought he had, as I hadn’t seen him or Phanos in a while. Ash didn’t seem surprised
by their quick departure as, according to him, they had done what was expected of them by showing and had no reason to linger.
My heart skipped as my attention shifted to the Primal who had smiled at me. I hadn’t seen the striking Primal in the crowd again until then. “Who is that?”
Ash followed my gaze. “Keella.”
The Primal of Rebirth, who had helped Eythos. I watched her as she sat quietly while several attendees spoke with her, a welcoming—if reserved—smile on her face. Out of all the Primals here, she was the one I wanted to speak to.
But she hadn’t approached the dais. None of the Primals or anyone other than those who worked closely with Ash had. I figured that had something to do with Nektas, who remained in his draken form and took up nearly all the space on the dais as he watched those below as if he wasn’t above biting off an arm or two.
“Do you think she knows?” I murmured. Ash leaned in closer to me. “About me—about what your father eventually did with the soul?”
Ash didn’t answer for a long moment. “Did you know that when a babe dies, their soul is reborn?”
I turned my head to him. “No.”
He nodded, his gaze flicking to Keella. “They’re the only souls that do not pass into the Shadowlands. Keella captures them and sends them back.”
My stare drifted back to her. “So, they are reincarnated?”
“No.” He shook his head as his fingers drummed the surface of the table. “Not in the sense of how reincarnation is understood. You see, a babe who dies as their first breath is taken hasn’t truly lived. They have no past or present to relive. Keella gives them a rebirth. A chance to truly live.”
“Oh,” I whispered, my throat thickening at the fairness of the act. “She can see the soul of all those she captures. My father once said
she sees them as her children and then often follows them throughout their lives.”
“Like a …” Air whooshed out of my lungs. “She captured her soul.”
He nodded. “I do not know if she could still follow that soul since it wasn’t a rebirth, but it is possible,” he told me, and I thought of her smile.
“Kolis thought it was, but she never told him who carried Sotoria’s soul. If she had, Kolis wouldn’t still be looking for it.”
My chest ached. Holland had said Keella had paid dearly for intervening with Sotoria’s soul. I stopped my imagination from filling in all the terrible ways that Kolis could’ve ensured that Keella was punished. “Why wouldn’t she have?”
“Keella’s not much younger than Kolis, but she is one of the few Primals who still believes in right and wrong and a balance that shouldn’t be adjusted to fit one’s wants or narratives.” A warm smile appeared, faint but real, and my heart skipped for a totally different reason. “She tries to be good.”
“Sounds like she is good.”
Ash lifted a shoulder as I took another sip, recognizing the honey- haired goddess swathed in white approaching the empty seat next to Keella. It was Penellaphe. Her stare lifted to the dais as she sat. Penellaphe smiled as she bowed her head to Keella, speaking. I looked away from her, searching for a familiar, ageless face I knew I wouldn’t find but was still disappointed when I didn’t.
Penellaphe’s appearance made me think of something else. “The title.”
I paused while Paxton refilled my chalice. “Thank you,” I said to him. The boy grinned and nodded, then hurried off, careful to avoid Nektas. “What about the title?” Ash said, stare fixed on the crowd much like
Nektas. His wine remained untouched.
“I like it,” I shared, feeling a bit foolish as my cheeks warmed. “You do?” Ash asked, turning to me. I nodded. “I’m glad.”
Hoping my face didn’t look as hot as it felt, I refocused on the crowd. I found Keella and Penellaphe once more, their heads tipped together as they continued chatting. “There was a little bit of Penellaphe’s prophecy in there.”
“Not enough that it should raise any alarms,” he assured. “It was the only thing that kept coming to my mind. Your hair. Moonlight.” The center of his cheeks were the ones that flushed now. He cleared his throat. “And you do look like the brightest moon tonight.”
The buzzing warmth of happiness in my chest rivaled that of the embers, and the feeling was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. “And the blood and ash part?”
“It is something the draken like to say,” he answered. “It has different meanings. Strength of the blood and bravery of the ash is one of them. Some believe it symbolizes balance and represents life and death.” Starlight glinted off his crown as he tilted his head back. “It just all seemed fitting for you.”
“It…it is a beautiful title,” I said.
The smile he gave me was warm and real, and it wrapped its way around my heart and made me even more desperate to see Veses burn.
My gaze roamed over the faces of those below and beyond us as I shoved thoughts of her aside. There were more masked faces than bare ones. I saw many smiles, but not from most of the Primals. I imagined that if I could sense emotions as Ash could, I would likely be drowning in agitation.
I saw Saion and Rhahar step aside to allow Attes to ascend the dais stairs. I didn’t think I could’ve been more grateful to see the Primal. “I think we’re about to have company.”
“Appears so.” Ash’s fingers stilled.
Attes nodded at Nektas as he passed the draken and then stopped before the table, bowing deeply. The crown covered half the scar slicing across his nose and left cheek, but the combination of the two made him appear all the more dangerous, even though he bore no weapons—none of the Primals did. He rose. “I thought I’d be the first to give my congratulations and well wishes as I will be taking my leave soon.”
“Appreciated,” Ash remarked coolly.
The less-than-friendly greeting didn’t go unnoticed. A dimple appeared in Attes’s right cheek as he turned luminous eyes on me. “The crown suits you, Consort.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“As does the imprint,” he added. “That was an…unexpected development.”
I kept my expression the same, even as trepidation skittered through
me.
“I feel as if I now truly must make time to visit the lakes in the mortal
realm,” he said. “Maybe the Arae will bless me with a beauty such as you and an imprint.”
“Now is a better time than ever to do so.” Ash’s fingers slid over the table, curling inwards against his palm as I fought my grin and lost.
That divot deepened as Attes’s lips tipped up farther.
“I’m assuming there have been no…events in your Court since the last time we spoke,” Ash said.
“Nothing but a few dakkais sniffing around. They left without causing much trouble,” Attes confirmed, sending a bolt of relief through me. But also wariness. Kolis must have felt my use of the embers. Why hadn’t he come at Attes harder? The Primal tipped his head in Ash’s direction. “We need to make some time to speak,” Attes reminded him. “The three of us.”
An emotion I wasn’t quite familiar with surged through me, leaving me a little confused as Ash said, “That can be arranged.”
“I look forward to it.” Attes bowed deeply. “May your union be a blessing upon the Shadowlands and beyond.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, reaching for my wine glass as I watched Attes walk toward Nektas. He stopped to speak to the draken.
“Reminds me of a cool iced drink.” Ash leaned back, glancing at me. “Your surprise.”
I arched a brow. “Was I projecting?”
“You were,” he confirmed. “It wasn’t the only thing you felt just now.”
“Well, I’m hoping you can shine some light on that.” I sipped the wine. “Because I have no idea what I was just feeling.”
“Satisfaction.”
My head cut to him.
“Care to share what that jackass said to make you feel that?” he asked, a teasing glint in his gray eyes. “Because that is something I’ve only felt from you on a few occasions. One of them not quite fit for public conversation.”
I snorted. “I can assure you that is not the only time I’ve been satisfied.”
“I know. You projected an indecent amount of satisfaction when you stabbed me in Stonehill.”
A short laugh burst from me.
“As you do whenever you hold a weapon to me or manage to nick my skin or hair,” he went on. “I could continue.”
“Not necessary,” I said, my amusement fading as I tried to figure out why I had felt satisfaction. The answer was all too easy to discover. Acknowledging it was something else entirely. “I…I guess I’m not used to
being included in discussions of importance, even ones that involve me, so I was surprised to be included.”
“And then satisfied with knowing that you were?”
I shrugged, feeling a bit of warmth creep up my throat. “I know it sounds silly.”
“It doesn’t.”
Peeking over at him, I saw that he watched me intently. I refocused on the crowd below, drawing in a deep breath. “I was never included in any type of conversation, whether it be about the weather or something of importance like the growing tensions between Lasania and other kingdoms. I suppose that doesn’t bother many, but for me, it made me feel like anything I may have thought or had to say didn’t matter. I…I didn’t count. You know, like I wasn’t a person, but a…”
“A ghost?”
I nodded, squinting. “Like I was there, but no one actually saw me— interacted with me. It’s the only way I can describe it. And being included makes me feel seen. Accepted.” Wondering how I allowed the conversation to wander to this point, I cleared my throat. “Anyway, do you know what Attes could want to speak to us about? I feel as if the possibilities are endless at this point.”
When Ash didn’t respond, I looked at him. He still watched me, his gaze intense, but his stare had softened. “What?” I whispered.
“I hate that you spent so long being made to feel that way. And I loathe that I likely added to that feeling. For that, I do not think I could apologize enough. You are seen and heard, liessa.”
The embers wiggled and vibrated along with my heart as his comments struck me silent. Liessa.
“And you matter. Always.” Ash bent, pressing his lips to my temple. The chaste, sweet kiss was as shocking as his words. I melted like butter left in the sun. He withdrew, glancing forward. “Keella approaches.”
I blinked, rocked out of what had honestly begun to feel like a swoon. I followed his gaze to where Keella had paused to greet Nektas. The draken nudged her arm in response to whatever the Primal had said, and she placed her hand against his cheek, stroking the scaled flesh.
I couldn’t recall anyone doing that to Nektas.
Eyes wide, I set my glass down before I dropped it. Awe battled with a nervous jolt of energy as the Primal of Rebirth approached us, her flowing
gown the same pale blue of her quartz crown.
“Nyktos,” Keella spoke, her voice reminding me of the winds in Stonehill. Silver eyes flicked to mine. Lingered. “Consort.”
“Hello,” I croaked, managing to stumble over the one word.
Ash greeted her with far more grace and confidence. “It is a pleasure and honor to see you, Keella. I hope you are well.”
She inclined her head in a regal way that had nothing to do with the crown she wore. “I am.” A faint smile appeared as she glanced down at his hand—his left hand. “It has been far too many years since I’ve seen a benada. An imprimen. It is truly a blessing. A beautiful one. May I?”
It took me a moment to realize that she was speaking to me. I lifted my right hand. Ash didn’t blink as Keella took my hand between hers. A charge of energy skittered up my arm, but she didn’t react as she drew a warm finger over the golden swirls on the center of my palm.
Russet curls bounced as she gave a slight shake of her head. “I honestly didn’t believe I would see such a thing again.”
“Neither did I,” Ash stated smoothly, even as my heart tripped all over itself. If there were any two Primals in this entire coliseum who might not believe it was the Arae, it would be Embris—who’d left—and Keella.
“I am glad that I have.” Her eyes, a whirlpool of silver, lifted to mine.
My throat tightened as a flood of questions surged—things I couldn’t ask at the coronation for fear of being overheard. It took great effort not to ask if she knew it was I—the one whom Eythos, with her help, had placed Sotoria’s soul in. Could she see Sotoria even now? Inside me? Could she discern if there was one soul or two?
“Truly.” Keella patted my hand before letting it go. Her smile mirrored the one she had given me earlier…
And I… I began to think that she might know. “As am I.”
The Primal’s attention shifted to Ash. “The title you bestowed on your Consort is also beautiful. Perhaps even… another blessing. May I ask what inspired such wording?”
The question was politely posed, but it carried an edge—not of anger but something else.
“You will likely be disappointed to learn that I was simply inspired by my Consort’s hair.”
I nearly choked on my breath at his candid response.
“Not at all. More like… enthralled to learn that. Hopeful,” she said, and my gaze snapped to her. “I do not wish to take more of your time. May your union be a blessing.” Her eyes met mine once more before she turned.
Startled from my daze, I said, “Thank you.”
The Primal of Rebirth faced us again, and that smile returned. An old smile. Knowing. Clever. The embers in my chest hummed. She nodded and then looked at Ash. “Your father would be so proud of you.”
