We moved to the chamber behind the thrones. It was a war room of sorts, numerous swords and daggers lining the walls. A long oval table was situated in the center, the wood covered in nicks and grooves, giving the impression that daggers had been slammed into the surface on more than one occasion. Probably by one of the gods sitting there at this moment. Ector had returned by the time we entered the chamber, bringing with him Bele, who was trying but failing not to be obvious about openly staring at me.
Rhain and Saion, along with Rhahar, weren’t doing much better. All of them stared at me. Even Nektas, who stood in the corner. He hadn’t come straight to the chamber. When he joined us, I saw why. Something nearly as much of a shock as learning that Ash’s father had been the Primal of Life.
Cradled to Nektas’s chest was a dark-haired girl, wearing a loose nightshirt and wrapped in a blanket. It was Jadis, who…who very much looked like a small, mortal child no older than five. One tiny, bare foot poked out from the blanket.
“Blanket,” Nektas said, walking past me while carrying her. “She wanted her blanket.”
All I could do was stare and wonder if that was why she had been pulling the edges of my gown against her face earlier.
When she looked like a draken.
Reaver remained in his draken form, alert and resting beside Nektas.
Aios placed a glass of whiskey in front of me that I didn’t touch. Slowly, I looked over at Ash. The shadows had receded from his skin, but he watched me with the same intensity as he had in the chamber, and since he’d returned from checking in on Gemma. She had been looked over by the Healer who’d arrived at some point when we were in the chamber. I had no idea what Ash had told him, to keep how severely Gemma had been injured hidden.
Drawing in a too-short breath, I looked over at Ash. My stomach was still twisting itself into knots. “So…Kolis is your uncle?” My voice sounded so very far away.
He nodded. “They were twins. Identical. One fated to represent life and the other death. My father, Eythos, the Primal of Life, and my uncle Kolis, the Primal of Death. They ruled together for eons as they were meant to.”
A wave of goosebumps rippled over my skin as my arms fell to my sides. “What happened?”
“My uncle fell in love.”
I hadn’t expected him to say that. “I think there must be more to the story.”
“There is always more to the story,” Aios said, sitting beside Bele.
“It all started a very long time ago. Hundreds of years in the past, if not close to a thousand. Long before Lasania was even a kingdom.” Ash sat in the chair beside me, at the head of the table. “I don’t know if the relationship between my father and his brother was always strained or if there had been peace between them at one time. But there had always been this competitive side to them. To both of them. My father wasn’t wholly innocent in that, but from what I’ve learned, there was an issue of jealousy. After all, my father was the Primal of Life, worshipped and loved by gods and mortals alike.”
Nektas nodded. “He was a fair King, kind and generous, and curious by nature. It was him who gave the dragon a mortal form.”
Wide-eyed, I turned to Ash, and my heart stopped.
There was a small, distant smile on the Primal’s face. A beautiful and sad one. “He was fascinated with all life, especially the mortals. Even when he became the Primal of Death, he was in awe of everything they could accomplish in what, to Iliseeum, was an incredibly short period of time. He often interacted with them, as did many of the Primals back then. But Kolis, he was…respected and feared as the Primal of Death instead of welcomed as a necessary step in life—a doorway to the next stage.”
Rhahar’s brows pinched. “I always wondered if mortals wouldn’t be so afraid of death if they viewed it differently—as not an end but a new beginning.”
Maybe, I thought, swallowing. But death was the great unknown. No one knew how they would be judged or what truly awaited them. It was hard not to be afraid of that.”
“When Kolis entered the mortal realm, those who saw him cowered and refused to look him in the eyes while mortals rushed to greet his twin. I imagined that got to him,” Ash said, the faint smile turning into a wry grin, and I imagined that had to get to him. “On one of those trips into the mortal realm, Kolis saw a young mortal woman gathering flowers for her sister’s wedding or something along those lines.”
“Wait. Was her name Sotoria?” My thoughts spun. “The one that fell from what is now the Cliffs of Sorrow?”
“That would be her,” Bele confirmed, and I was stunned yet again.
I shook my head. “No one really knew if the legend of Sotoria was even real.”
“It is.” Bele smiled faintly. “Kolis watched her, and supposedly fell in love right then and there.”
I blinked once and then twice, glancing back at Ash as I recalled what Sir Holland had told me about Sotoria. He’d said that a god had frightened her. Could that part of the legend have gotten lost over the years?
“Either way, he was absolutely besotted with her,” Ash said. “So much so that he stepped out from the shadows of the trees to speak to her. Back then, mortals knew what the Primal of Death looked like. His features were captured in paintings and sculptures. Sotoria knew who he was when he approached her.”
Oh, gods… “I know what happened. He scared her, and she ran, falling to her death.”
Saion raised dark brows. “Romantic, huh?”
I shuddered. “He brought her back, didn’t he?”
“He did.” Ash tilted his head. “How did you know?”
“It’s a part of the legend—not a well-known part, and no one knew it was Kolis—but I…I hoped that part wasn’t true.”
“It is.” Ash scratched at his jaw as he straightened. “Kolis was distraught and somehow heartbroken. He called for his brother, summoning Eythos into the mortal realm. He begged for Eythos to give Sotoria life, an act that Eythos could do—and had done in the past—but my father had rules that governed when he granted life,” he explained, and I shifted on the chair, thinking of the rules I’d made that I hadn’t followed. “One of them was that he would not take a soul from the Vale. You see, the tradition of burning the body to release the soul is a mortal one, an act more for the
benefit of those left behind than those who have passed. The soul immediately leaves the body upon death.”
“I didn’t know that,” I whispered.
“You wouldn’t.” He sighed. “For most mortals, those who don’t refuse to leave the mortal realm like those in the Dark Elms, pass through the Pillars of Asphodel rather quickly. A lot linger for a little bit for one reason or another. Although Sotoria had died far too young and unexpectedly, she accepted her death. Her soul arrived in the Shadowlands, passed through the Pillars, and entered the Vale within minutes of her death. She did not linger.”
I drew in a shaky breath. Had Marisol lingered? Gemma? I sank a little into the chair. “So…the soul isn’t trapped at all? They don’t have to wait?”
“Not most of them,” he said, and I remembered the souls he’d said had required his judgement. “My father would not take a soul from the Vale. It was wrong. Forbidden by both him and Kolis. Eythos tried to remind his brother that he’d agreed never to do something like that. When that failed, my father reminded him that it wasn’t fair to grant life and then refuse it to another of equal worth. But I suppose that was one of my father’s flaws. He believed he could decide when a person was worthy. And maybe as the Primal of Life, he could. Maybe there was some sort of innate ability that allowed him to make that judgement and decide that Sotoria was not one of those chosen while another would be. I don’t know what made him choose when and when not to use that power.”
My heart turned over heavily. “That is why I never used my gift on a mortal until the first time.” It was hard to continue, feeling his gaze on me
—feeling all their stares. “I didn’t want that kind of…power, the ability to make that choice. And I always felt that once I did, the knowledge that I could become that power any time I was presented with the choice to do it or not… Well, I don’t know if it makes me weak or wrong, but I don’t want to have that kind of power.”
“That kind of power is a blessing, Sera. And it is a curse,” Nektas said, drawing my gaze to his. “Acknowledging that is not a weakness. It has to be a strength, because most would not realize how quickly that power can turn on them.”
“My father didn’t,” Ash said, and my gaze flicked up to him. “If he had never used his gift of life on a mortal, then Kolis may not have expected him to do it. But he did, and my father’s refusal…it started all of this.
Hundreds of years of pain and suffering for many innocents. Hundreds of years of my father regretting what he chose and chose not to do.”
A chill skated down my spine. “What happened?”
“Nothing at first. My father believed that Kolis had accepted his decision. Eythos met my mother during that time. She became his Consort and life was…normal. But in reality, a clock was counting down. Kolis spent the next several years—decades—attempting to bring Sotoria back. He couldn’t visit her, not without risking the destruction of her soul.”
“But he found a way?”
“He did, in a way.” Ash exhaled heavily.
“After all his years of searching, he realized that there was only one way,” Rhain said, staring at the table. “Only the Primal of Life could give Sotoria back her life. So, he found a way to become that.”
“How?” I breathed.
“I don’t know,” Ash admitted with a shake of his head. “None of us do. Only Kolis and my father know, and one will never speak of it, and the other is no longer here to tell.”
“Kolis was successful,” Ector said. “He managed to switch places with his twin, somehow exchanging destinies with him. Kolis became the Primal of Life, and Eythos became the Primal of Death.”
“The act was…catastrophic.” Nektas shifted Jadis slightly. “Killing hundreds of gods that served both Eythos and Kolis, and weakening many Primals—and even killing a few—forcing the next in line to rise from godhood into Primal power. Many of my brethren were also killed.” Nektas’s features turned harder as he dropped a quick kiss atop Jadis’s head. “The mortal realm felt it in the form of earthquakes and tsunamis. Many areas were leveled. Large portions of land broke off, some forming islands while other cities sank into the oceans and seas. It was chaotic for quite some time, but Eythos knew immediately why his brother had done it. He’d warned Kolis not to bring Sotoria back. That she was at peace, in the next stage of her life. That it had been too long, and if he were to do what he planned, Sotoria would not come back as she was. It would be an unnatural act, an upset to the already unsteady balance of life and death.”
I folded my arms over my waist. “Please tell me he didn’t do it.” “He did,” Nektas stated.
“Gods.” I closed my eyes, saddened and horrified for Sotoria. Her life had already been taken from her, and to learn that her peace had also been
stripped away sickened me. It was an unconscionable violation.
“Sotoria rose, and as my father had warned, she was not the same. Not evil or anything like that, but morose and horrified by what had been done,” Ash continued quietly, repeating what Sir Holland had told me. “When she died again, my father…he did something to ensure that his brother could never reach her. Something only the Primal of Death can do. With the aid of the Primal, Keella, he marked her soul.”
I tipped forward. “What does that mean?”
“They designated her soul for rebirth,” Aios answered. “Meaning that Sotoria’s soul never enters the Shadowlands and is continuously reborn upon death—over and over.”
“I…” I shook my head. “Does that mean she’s alive today? Does she remember her previous lives?”
“Her memories of her previous lives wouldn’t be anything substantial if she had any at all, but Kolis continues to look for her. Because of what my father and Keella did by marking her soul, she would be reborn in a shroud. Kolis knows this. He still searches for her.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Has he found her?”
“As far as I know, she has remained out of his reach.” He looked away, jaw tensing. “I hope she has in each life.”
I wanted to ask if he knew who she was, but her identity felt like another violation and a risk to her soul. It had already suffered enough. “So, what your father did for Sotoria was to keep her safe.”
“What he did for Sotoria wasn’t perfect. Some could argue that, in a way, it was even worse. But it was the only thing he could do to try to keep her safe.”
“Was Kolis always like this?”
Ash glanced in Nektas’s direction. “He’s always had a reckless, wild edge to him. A sense of grandeur that he believed was owed to him,” the draken said. “But there was a time when Kolis loved mortals and his gods. Then, he slowly changed. I don’t think even his age can be blamed. His rot…it took him long before we lost him.”
My mind felt like it would implode.
“Both my father and Keella have paid dearly for that over the years.” Ash’s gaze settled on me. “He didn’t just grow to hate my father, he came to despise him and vowed to make him pay.”
I tensed, trying to prepare myself for what I would learn next. It was almost hard to believe. To think of Kolis, who I had been raised to believe was without flaw, the gracious and benevolent King of Gods, as this selfish monster.
But now I knew why he did nothing to stop the abhorrent treatment of the Chosen.
“It was Kolis who killed my mother, striking her down while she was pregnant with me,” Ash shared, tone flat. “He did it because he believed that it was only fair that my father lose his love just as he did. He destroyed my mother’s soul, ushering in her final death.”
I clapped my hand over my mouth in horror. There was this immediate desire to deny what he said. Not to allow myself to believe it. But that wouldn’t be right. It would be unfair and wrong to force Ash to prove what I instinctively knew was true. Sorrow burned the back of my throat and stung my eyes. His parents being murdered was bad enough, but to know it had been done by someone who shared his blood? I thought I might be sick.
Ash swallowed thickly. “Like your mother, I believe that her death took a piece of my father with him.”
I wanted to go to him. Touch him. Comfort him—something I wasn’t sure I had ever felt the need to do before. I wouldn’t even know how to do it, so I pressed my hand to my chest and remained seated. “I’m so, so sorry. I know that changes nothing. I know you don’t want to hear that, but I…I wish I could somehow change that.”
Stormy gray eyes met mine, and then he nodded.
I lowered my hand to my lap. “How have the other Primals allowed this? How did none of them other than Keella step in when he took your father’s place? When he brought that poor girl back to life?”
“Kolis destroyed all record of the truth,” Ector explained from the other end of the table. “Both in Iliseeum and in the mortal realm. It was then that the Primal of Death was no longer depicted. He went to great extremes to hide that he was not supposed to be the Primal of Life. Even when it became apparent that something was not right. That he was losing his ability to create life and maintain it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The destiny was never his, just as the Primal of Death’s was never my father’s,” Ash said. “I was born into it, my destiny reshaped. But Kolis forced this onto himself and my father. What powers of life he gained were
temporary. It took centuries for those powers to wane, and by that time, my father was dead, and Kolis had mastered…other powers. But there has been no Primal born since me. He cannot grant life. He cannot create it.”
Something struck me. “Is that why no Chosen have Ascended?”
“Yep,” Bele said with a nod. “But he can’t stop the Rite, can he? That would raise too many damn questions. And so, the unstable balance has shifted even more.”
“Toward what?” I asked.
“Death,” Ash replied. Ice touched my skin. “Death of everything, eventually. Both here and in the mortal realm. It may take several mortal lifetimes for it to destroy the mortal realm completely, but it’s already started. Two Primals of Death cannot rule, and that is what is happening. Because at Kolis’s very core, that is what he is.”
My gods.
“Only the Primals and a handful of gods know what Kolis did—what he truly is,” Ash spoke again. “Most of the Primals are loyal to him, either out of apathy or because his actions Ascended them into Primal power. The others who think that what he did was unthinkable? They do not act out, either out of fear or an abundance of caution and intelligence.”
“Intelligence?” Disbelief rose. “How about cowardice? They are Primals. He may be the King, but he is only one—
Ash inclined his head. “You don’t understand, Sera. The powers he stole have weakened and become nearly nonexistent, but he has not weakened. He is the oldest Primal. The most powerful. He could kill any of us. And then what? A new god can’t rise. Not without Life. That will impact the mortal realm. Your home. Nothing can be done.” He leaned toward me. “At least, that’s what I believed. My father never told me or anyone about why he made the deal. It’s been a godsdamn mystery for over two hundred years. But he had a reason.” His gaze flickered over my features. “He gave us a chance for something to be done.”
I rocked back and then forward. “Like what? What can I do with just an ember of life besides bring back the dead?” I said, and then a strangled laugh left me. “And, yes, I know that sounds impressive and all—”
“Sounds?” Saion coughed out a laugh. “It is impressive.”
“I-I know that, but how can that change anything? How can that undo what Kolis has done?”
Ash touched one of my hands, causing the familiar jolt. “What Kolis did can’t be undone, but what my father did by placing what had to be his ember of life in you? Hidden away in a mortal bloodline this whole time? He made sure there was a chance for life.”
“It’s got to be more than that,” Rhahar said, leaning against the back of his cousin’s chair. “Most of us weren’t alive when Eythos was King. Hell, some of us weren’t even alive when Eythos lived.”
Rhain and Bele lifted their hands.
“But I just don’t think what he did only means that a Primal ember of life is still in existence.” Rhahar shook his head. “It has to mean something else.”
“Agreed.” Saion eyed me.
“But what?” I looked around the room.
“That part is still a mystery.” Ash’s hand slid off mine as he leaned back. “What’s going on in your head right now?”
I laughed, eyes widening slightly. “I don’t think you really want to know.”
“I do.”
I saw Saion raise his brows in doubt. “Wait. This is your father’s ember of life. Does that somehow make us…related?”
Ash barked out a laugh. “Good gods, no. It’s not like that. It would be like taking someone’s blood. That doesn’t make you related to them.”
“Oh, thank gods. ‘Cause that would be…” I trailed off at the sight of the eager stares, hoping I would continue. I cleared my throat. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t think of what else this gift could mean. How it can help. Your father, was his soul destroyed, too?” I asked, thinking that if it hadn’t been, it could be worth the risk of contacting him, even if Ash couldn’t. Then it hit me. “If you could’ve, you would’ve had someone contact him already.”
“His soul wasn’t destroyed.” Ash’s skin had thinned as wisps of eather swirled in his eyes once more. “Kolis still retained some ember of death in him, just like my father retained some of his ember of life. Enough power for Kolis to capture and hold a soul. He has my father’s soul.”
“Gods,” I uttered, my stomach churning with nausea. I briefly closed my eyes. “Is your…is your father aware in that state?”
“I don’t believe so, but I don’t know if that is what I tell myself just to make it easier to deal,” he admitted. A moment passed, and the eather
slowed in his eyes. His chest rose with a deep breath, and then he glanced over at Ector. “Now we know why the poppies came back.”
“What?” I glanced between them.
Ash’s gaze returned to me. “Remember the flower I told you about?” “The temperamental plant that reminds you of me?” I remembered.
Rhain smothered a laugh behind his hand as Ash nodded. “It’s not like the poppies in the mortal realm. Besides their very poisonous needles, they are more red than orange, and they grow far more abundantly in Iliseeum. Gods…” He drew his thumb along his lower lip. “They haven’t grown here in hundreds of years, but a few days after your arrival, one blossomed in the Red Woods.”
I remembered seeing him then, crossing the courtyard and entering the Red Woods alone. More than once, that had been what he was checking on. “But I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t think you had to do anything but be here,” Nektas said, rubbing a hand along Jadis’s back as she wiggled a bit in his arms. “Your presence is slowly bringing life back.”
That sounded…utterly unbelievable, but something Ash had said earlier resurfaced. “You said the effects of there being no Primal of Life was already being felt in the mortal realm.”
Ash nodded. “What you call the Rot? It’s what happened in the Shadowlands. It’s a consequence of there being no Primal of Life.”
I stared at him as my heart felt as if it stopped in my chest. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—in my head at first. I couldn’t have heard him right. Or I didn’t understand. “The Rot is a byproduct of the deal your father made with Roderick Mierel expiring.”
Ash’s brows lowered as he rested an arm on the nicked table. “That has nothing to do with the deal, Sera.”
Shock rippled through me, rocking me to my very core. “I don’t understand. It started after I was born. It appeared then, and the weather started to change. The droughts and the ice that falls from the sky. The winters—”
“The deal did have an expiration date because what my father did to the climate wasn’t natural. It couldn’t continue that way forever.” Ash’s gaze searched mine. “But all that meant is that the climate would return to its original state—more seasonal conditions like in some areas of the mortal
realm. Of course, I doubt it will ever get as cold as Irelone, not where Lasania is located, but nothing too severe.”
My heart sped up. There was a buzzing in my ears. I barely heard Saion when he said, “The weather has been affected by what Kolis did. That’s why the mortal realm is seeing more extreme weather like droughts and storms. It’s a symptom of the destabilization of the balance.”
“The deal has nothing to do with the Rot?” I whispered, and Ash shook his head. I…I wanted to deny what he was saying. Believe that this was some sort of trick.
“Did you think these two things were related?” Ash asked.
A tremor started in my legs. “We knew the deal expired with my birth. That’s when the Rot showed. That’s what we’d been told, generation after generation. That the deal would end, and things would return to as they were.”
“And they did,” Ash said. “The weather changed back to its original state years ago. But as Saion explained, it’s been more extreme because of the destabilization. Every place in the mortal realm has seen strange weather patterns.”
“This Rot showing when it did sounds like a coincidence,” Rhain stated. “Or maybe it is tied to your birth and what Nyktos’ father did. Maybe the emergence of the ember of life triggered something. Why it would cause the land to sour is beyond me.”
Ash leaned toward me. “But it’s not a part of the original deal my father made. What is happening in Lasania would’ve happened even if my father hadn’t made the deal, and it will eventually spread throughout the entire mortal realm, just as it will spread in Iliseeum.”
“Actually, you know what? I think Rhain was onto something. It might have to do with the deal,” Aios said, and my head swung in her direction. Her gaze met mine. “But not in the way you might think.”
“What are you thinking?” Ash asked, looking over at the goddess.
“Maybe this Rot—this consequence of what Kolis did—has taken so long to appear because the ember of life was alive in the Mierel bloodline over the years. I mean, the mortal realm is far more vulnerable to the actions of Primals. The fallout of there being no Primal of Life should’ve been felt long before this, right?” Aios glanced around the table. There were a few nods of agreement. “That ember of life was, in a way, protected in the bloodline. Still there, but…when you were born, the ember of life entered a
mortal body—a vessel so to speak—that is vulnerable and carries an expiration date.”
“You mean my death,” I rasped.
Aios cringed. “Yes. Or maybe not,” she added quickly when I shuddered. “Maybe the ember of life is just weakened in a mortal body, no longer able to hold off the effects of what was done.” She sat back with a faint shrug. “Or I could be completely wrong, and everyone should just ignore me.”
“No. You may be onto something,” Ash said thoughtfully, and I thought I might be sick as his attention shifted to me. A heartbeat passed while he studied me. “What’s going on, Sera?”
I couldn’t answer.
“This is more than just a surprise to you.” Eather trickled into his irises. “You’re feeling way too much for this to be confusion surrounding some sort of misinterpretation.”
Misinterpretation? A wet-sounding laugh rattled out of me. I knew he must be picking up on my emotions, reading them, and at that moment, I couldn’t even care. I didn’t think even he could decipher exactly what I was feeling.
The tremors had made their way through my body, shaking out any chance of denial.
What everyone said made sense. The day in the Red Woods, I realized how similar the Shadowlands were to the Rot in Lasania—the gray, dead grass, the skeletons of twisted, bare limbs, and the scent of stale lilacs that permeated the ruined soil.
But that meant—oh, gods, that meant that if the deal wasn’t responsible for the Rot, there was nothing I could do. Worse yet, it would spread throughout the entire mortal realm. And if Aios was right, it was because of my birth. Because this ember was now alive in a body that would eventually give out and die, taking the ember of life with it. The clock that had been counting down this entire time wasn’t the deal coming to an end. It was me coming to an end.
I pressed a hand to my roiling stomach as I stood, no longer able to stay seated. I backed away from the table.
“Sera.” Ash turned in the chair toward me. “What’s going on?”
I shoved hair back from my face, tugging on the strands. I didn’t see Ash. I didn’t see anyone in that room. All I saw was the Coupers lying in
that bed, side by side, flies swarming their bodies. And then I saw countless families like that. Hundreds of thousands. Millions. “I thought I could stop it,” I whispered, the back of my throat burning. “That’s what I spent my… my entire life on. I thought I could stop it. Everything I did. The loneliness. The fucking Veil of the Chosen. The training—the becoming nothing. The godsdamn grooming,” I dragged my hands down my face. “It was worth it. I would save my people. It didn’t matter what happened to me in the end—” Ash was suddenly in front of me, the press of his hands cool against my cheeks. “Did you all think fulfilling the deal would somehow stop the Rot?”
Another strangled laugh left me. “No. We thought…”
Make him fall in love. Become his weakness. End him.
I shuddered as I felt it—that swift, acute sense of being able to truly breathe. Like I had felt when he hadn’t taken me the first night I’d been presented to him. Relief. The reason was different this time. I didn’t have to manipulate him. I didn’t have to make him fall in love with me and then hurt him—kill him.
His face came into view, the sharp angles and the hollowness under his cheekbones. The rich, reddish-brown hair and striking, swirling eyes. The features of a Primal, who was nothing like I assumed or wanted to believe. Thoughtful and kind despite all he’d lost—despite all the pain he’d felt that would’ve changed most into something of a nightmare. A man that I…that I had begun to enjoy. To care for, even before I realized who he was and we’d sat side by side at the lake. A person who made me feel like someone. Like I wasn’t a blank canvas, an empty vessel.
Someone who had only been born to kill.
I didn’t have to do what I didn’t want. And, oh gods, I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to even be capable of that. And I didn’t have to be. The relief was so all-consuming, so potent, the rush of raw emotion threatened to swallow me. The only thing that stopped it was what had the night he hadn’t claimed me.
The guilt.
The bitter, churning guilt.
Millions would still die, even if I didn’t have to take his life. That was no blessing. No real reprieve.
“Sera,” Ash whispered.
I lifted my gaze to his, my breath seizing in my chest as his thumb swept over my cheek, chasing away a tear. The whipping tendrils of eather in his ultra-bright eyes snared mine.
“I don’t think she thought becoming your Consort would save her people.” Bele’s voice was a crack, reminding me that we weren’t alone and shattering something deep in me as the wisps in Ash’s eyes stilled. “I think she learned how to end a deal in favor of the summoner.”
Ash said nothing as he stared at me. Someone cursed. I heard the scrape of chair legs over stone, and then I felt it. A tremor in Ash’s hands, and the charge of energy suddenly pouring into the chamber, crackling over my skin. I saw it. The thinning of his skin and the shadows gathering underneath.
“You believed that the future of Lasania hinged on this deal—on you fulfilling it, but not as my Consort.” His voice was so quiet, so soft it sent a chill over my skin. “Do you know how to end a deal in the favor of the summoner?”
Every part in me screamed that I should lie. A surprising dose of self- preservation kicked in. That was the smart thing to do, but I was so tired of lying. Of hiding. “I do.”
Ash inhaled sharply. Shadows peeled away from the corners of the chamber and gathered around him—around us. “Is that why you kept going back to the Shadow Temple after I refused you? Is that why you wanted to fulfill the deal you never agreed to?”
Another fissure cut through my chest. “Yes.”
Eather crackled from his eyes as light began streaking through the swirling shadows winding up his back. The breath I took formed a misty, puffy cloud in the space between us. “Your training. Your grooming.” The tips of his fangs became visible as his lips peeled back. “All of what you’ve done from the day you were born until this very moment was to become my weakness?”
Pressure clamped my chest. I couldn’t answer. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the chamber, and what was left was too cold and thick to breathe. A burn started in my core, spreading to my throat as the eather- laced shadows took shape behind him, forming wings.
I was going to die.
I knew that then as I stared into those so-very-still, dead eyes. I couldn’t even blame him for it. I stood before him because I’d planned on killing
him. I’d always known my death would come at his hands or because I had ended his life.
“You,” he said, his voice a whisper of night, his hand sliding over my jaw. His palm pressed against the side of my throat. He tilted my head back, and I was no longer looking up at Ash. This was a Primal. The Primal of Death. He was Nyktos to me now. “You had to know you would not have walked away from this, even if you had succeeded. You’d be dead the moment you pulled that fucking shadowstone blade from my chest.
“Ash,” Nektas said, his voice close.
The Primal didn’t move. He didn’t blink as he stared down at me. “Does your life hold no value to you at all?”
I jolted.
“Ash,” Nektas repeated as Reaver made a soft sound.
The eather lashed through his eyes. The mass of shadows collapsed around him as he slowly lifted his hands from me. He stood there for a moment, his features far too stark, and then he took a step back.
Knees weak and heart racing, I sagged against the wall. “I…I’m—” “Don’t you fucking apologize,” Nyktos snarled. “Don’t you dare—”
A horn blew from somewhere outside, the blast echoing through the palace. Another sounded. I jerked away from the wall. “What is that?”
“A warning.” Nyktos was already turning away from me. “We’re under siege.”
