My heart stuttered and then sped up. Air lodged in my throat as I watched him slowly lower his gaze to his chest—to the dagger I’d shoved deep into him. Shock turned my entire body numb. I didn’t even feel his hand still wrapped around my left wrist. I didn’t feel anything but disbelief and pounding, sheer terror.
Shadowstone could kill a god if they were stabbed in the heart, and my aim had only been off by a fraction of an inch—if that. In the back of my mind, I knew he’d survive this, but it had to hurt.
Quicksilver eyes lifted to mine once more. The wispy tendrils of eather whipped through his irises, and I knew he would kill me. There was no way he wouldn’t. Pressure clamped down on my chest as he let go of my wrist and slowly took a step back, freeing himself. Slick blood coated the blade, dark and shimmery in the lamplight—nothing like mortal blood. I stared at my dagger, bracing myself as I took several steps back.
“Yet again, you entered a home without taking a moment to see if you were truly alone,” the god said, and my gaze flew to his. The eather swirled even more wildly in his eyes. “That was incredibly reckless. Don’t ever do that again.”
My lips parted on a harsh exhale. “I…I just stabbed you in the chest, and that is what you have to say?”
“No. I was getting to that.” Tilting his head to the side, dark hair slid across his cheek. “You stabbed me.”
“I did.” I took another step back, throat now too dry to swallow.
“In the chest,” he tacked on. The front of his tunic was torn, but there was no stain of blood. Nothing. If it weren’t for the smear on the blade, I wouldn’t have believed I had actually done it. “Almost in my heart.”
A tremble ran through my hands. “Well, it seems it had very little impact on you.” Which was terrifying on a whole other level.
“It stung,” he growled, head straightening. “Deeply.” “Sorry?”
His chin lowered. “You are not sorry.”
I actually was. Sort of. “You grabbed me.” “Do you stab everyone who grabs you?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Especially when I’m in a home with a dead body and someone grabs me from behind without any warning!”
“I’m not ready to talk about why you’re even in this home with a dead body,” he stated, and I frowned. “But first, you don’t sound sorry.”
“I was—am—but I wouldn’t have stabbed you if you hadn’t grabbed me.”
“Are you seriously blaming me?” Disbelief rang in his tone. “You grabbed me,” I repeated. “Without warning—”
“Perhaps you should look before stabbing?” the god argued. “Or has that never occurred to you?”
“Has it ever occurred to you to announce your presence so you don’t get stabbed?” I shot back.
The god moved fast. I had no chance to do anything. He was suddenly in front of me, gripping the dagger blade-first. He yanked it from my hand. A second later, silver-white energy crackled over his knuckles. The light flared and pulsed, swallowing the blade and the hilt. The shadowstone and the iron handle crumbled under his grip.
My mouth dropped open.
He opened his hand, and the lamplight caught the ashes of what remained of my dagger as they fell to the floor.
“You destroyed my dagger!” I exclaimed. “I did,” he parroted my words.
Stunned, all I could do was stand there for several moments. I couldn’t even think about the years my family had kept that dagger safe, waiting for me. “How dare you!?”
“How dare I? Do you think that maybe I don’t want to be stabbed again with it?”
“You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you simply said hello!” I shouted.
“But what if I just happened to startle you?” he challenged. “You’d likely stab me even then.”
I balled my hands into fists. “Now, I really want to stab you again.”
“With what?” His chin lowered once more, eyes a swirling storm. “Your bare fingers? I’m half-tempted to allow you to try.”
I inhaled sharply at the almost teasing tone. He was amused by this. But he had destroyed my favorite dagger. Whatever flimsy hold I had on my restraint had been severed. “Maybe I’ll get my hands on another shadowstone blade. And instead of going for your heart, I’ll aim for your throat? Can a god survive without their head? I’m eager to find out.”
He arched a brow. “I think you actually mean that.”
I smiled widely then—the same kind of expression I’d given my mother earlier. “Perhaps.”
Shock briefly flickered across his face, widening those churning eyes. “You actually dare to threaten me? Even now?”
“It’s not a threat,” I said. “It’s a promise.”
He drew back. Immediately, I recognized that I may have let my temper get the better of me, forgetting exactly what he was.
A ripple of energy rolled across the chamber, licking my skin. The feel of it was icy-hot, leaving a wake of goosebumps behind as it rattled the paintings on the walls.
I could barely force air into my lungs, but I held my ground instead of caving to the instinct to run—to bolt from the house and this being with incomprehensible power, never looking back. Shaking, I lifted my chin. “I’m supposed to be impressed by that?”
The god became very still as the light pulsed intensely. Every muscle in my body locked up. Maybe my mother had been eerily prophetic about my mouth?
He laughed, low and throaty. I didn’t see him lift his hand but I did feel the cold press of a finger against my cheek. My heart faltered as I tried to prepare myself for the pain of the eather burning me from the inside, just like it had with the Kazin siblings and the poor woman on the floor here.
But no pain came.
All I felt was the rough pads of his fingers trailing over my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my lips. “What truly scares you, liessa?” he asked, and I thought…I thought I heard a hint of approval in his voice. “If I do not?”
Liessa. That was the second time he’d called me that and I wanted to know what the word meant. Now didn’t seem the most opportune time to ask such a question.
“I…I am afraid,” I admitted because…who wouldn’t be?
The intense, silvery light faded from his eyes. “Only on a superficial level. Not the kind of fear that shapes a mortal, changes who they are and guides what choices they make,” he said, his thumb sliding over my chin, brushing the underside of my lip. His touch was solid, an icy brand that sent a wave of apprehension and…something stronger through me. Something that felt like finally, like that same sense of rightness I’d felt before. Obviously, something was very wrong with me. Because that didn’t make sense. “You may feel terror, but you’re not terrified. And there is a kingdom’s worth of difference between the two.”
“How…how would you know?” I asked, my heart hammering as his fingers splayed across my jaw and cheek. I didn’t know if my heart beat so fast because he was touching me, or because he did it so gently. His hand grazed the curve of my neck, and I wondered if he could feel how fast my pulse thrummed. “Are you a God of Thoughts and Emotions?”
He let out another raspy, rough laugh as his fingers slipped under my hood, moving beneath the braid hanging at the nape of my neck. “You,” he said, his thumb moving in a slow swipe over the side of my throat. There was something about the way he said that. “You are trouble.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as another wave of shivers pulsated through me, settling in very indecent places, and leaving me to question how unwise I actually was.
Which, I had a feeling, was very.
Because the sharp swirl of tingles tightening my skin was utterly insane.
He didn’t even look mortal right now. “Not really,” I whispered.
“Lies.”
I searched the hard, brutally striking lines of his features. “You…you aren’t angry with me?”
“I’m definitely perturbed,” he replied, and I could think of dozens of better adjectives to describe the state of my rage if someone had almost stabbed me in the heart. “As I said, it stung. For a moment.”
Only for a moment?
“I have a feeling your next question will be if I’m sure I’m not going to kill you,” he continued, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking that. “I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind when I felt the blade pierce my skin.” His thumb made another slow pass over my pulse.
“What stopped you?”
“Many things.” His head tilted slightly, and I felt cool breath coast over the curve of my chin. “Though I find myself questioning my sanity, considering you then proceeded to threaten me again immediately.”
I stayed quiet, listening to instinct for once.
“Color me surprised,” he said, lips curving upward. “I expected you to have some sort of retort.”
“I’m trying to employ common sense and remain somewhat quiet.” “How is that working out for you?”
“Not very well, to be honest.”
The god laughed quietly, and then his fingers left me. “Why are you here?”
The swift change in him and the subject left me reeling for a minute, and I almost sank against the wall as he turned to the body. Why was I here? My gaze flicked to where the woman lay. Oh, yes, murder. Gods. “I was walking…” I folded my arms across my waist, knowing I couldn’t tell him the complete truth. “I saw that god from earlier leave this house and thought I should check it out.”
“You saw him leave but did not see me enter?” he questioned. Dammit. “No.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Why would you think you should check it out?”
I stiffened. “Why not? Shouldn’t people be concerned when they see murderous gods leaving mortals’ residences?”
An eyebrow rose. “Shouldn’t mortals be more concerned about their safety?”
I snapped my mouth shut.
The god turned away, and without his piercing gaze on me, I took a moment to really look at him. He was dressed like the last time I’d seen him: dark breeches, hooded tunic, sleeveless and black. Gods, he was even taller than I remembered. There were also leather straps across his chest and upper back, securing some kind of sword to his back. The hilt was tipped down and to the side for easy access. I didn’t remember seeing him with one when I encountered him before.
Why would a god need a sword when they had the power of eather at their fingertips?
I shifted my weight. “She was killed like the Kazin siblings, wasn’t she?
That’s why you’re here.”
“I was alerted to one of them entering the mortal realm,” he said, edging around the body of Miss Joanis. So, someone was aware of him tracking the responsible gods. “I got here as fast as I could. Madis was lazy this time. Leaving her here. I was looking for some evidence of who she was when you arrived, let yourself in, and failed to check the rest of the home.”
My eyes narrowed. “You mean when you failed to announce your presence?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Come now, do you believe someone who harbored ill will towards you would’ve announced their presence?”
“No. I believe that someone who doesn’t, would,” I replied. “All others would end up with a dagger in their chest.” The corners of my lips turned down. “That is if I had a dagger.”
“Perhaps you would still have a dagger if you didn’t go around stabbing people.”
I actually still had one. Tucked in my boot. Not a shadowstone blade, but a slender iron one. However, that was beside the point. “I don’t go around stabbing people.” Usually. “And you owe me a shadowstone dagger.”
“Do I?”
I nodded. “You do.”
“By the way, how did your stepbrother come upon such a weapon?”
It took me a moment to remember the lie I’d told him. “Someone gave it to him for a birthday. I don’t know who or why. My stepbrother has never expressed interest in weapons.”
“You do realize that it’s forbidden for mortals to hold shadowstone daggers.”
I did, but I lifted a shoulder in a shrug.
One side of his lips tipped up, and then he looked away. “Did you let go of what you saw at the Kazins’ home like I asked?”
My spine stiffened. “I don’t recall that you asked. More like demanded.
But, no, I did not.” “I know.”
“Were you watching?”
Molten silver eyes connected with mine. “Perhaps.” “That’s…creepy.”
One broad shoulder lifted. “I told you I would. I figured I should keep an eye on you. Make sure you didn’t get into any more trouble.”
“I don’t need you to do that.”
“I didn’t say you did.” He inclined his head as he eyed me. “Then what are you saying?”
“I wanted to,” he said, and he sounded surprised by the admission.
I opened my mouth and then closed it. How…how was I supposed to respond to that?
“What did you find out?” he asked after a moment.
It took some effort to gather my thoughts. “If you were watching, you should know.”
That faint grin reappeared. “I imagine you discovered that no one had anything bad to say about those mortals.”
“In other words, you already know I didn’t find out much,” I admitted. “Has…have there been any more deaths? Besides this one?”
He shook his head. “Do you know her?”
“I…I know of her. She’s a seamstress. Andreia Joanis.” I inched forward. “She’s very talented. In high demand. Or was.” I cringed a little. “I actually saw her earlier.”
His gaze sharpened on me. “You did?”
I nodded, looking at the body. “Yeah. It was only for a few minutes. She was bringing a gown to my mother,” I told him, thinking that piece of information didn’t matter. “What a strange coincidence, right?”
“Right,” he murmured.
When I looked up at him, I saw he watched me in that intense way that felt as if he could see everything I wasn’t saying. “Did you find anything that could indicate why Madis did this?”
The god shook his head. “Nothing.”
“But you believe that she died for the same reason as the others?”
“I do.” He dragged a hand over his head, shoving his hair out of his face.
I started to speak but stopped.
“Why do I sense you want to ask something?”
The frown returned. “You’re a god. How do you not know what the other gods are up to?”
“Just because someone is a god doesn’t mean they have some sort of inherent knowledge of the comings and goings of other gods, or the reasons
behind their actions,” he answered. “Neither would a Primal.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I was suggesting,” I pointed out. “I meant that since you seem pretty—”
“Thank you.”
I shot him a bland look. “Since you seem pretty powerful, couldn’t you demand to know what they’re doing?”
“That’s not how it works.” He leaned forward. “There are things that gods and Primals can and cannot do.
Curiosity sparked through me. “Are you telling me that not even a Primal can do as they please?”
“I didn’t say that.” His head tilted down. “A Primal can do whatever they want.”
I threw up my hands. “If that’s not the most contradictory statement I’ve heard in my entire life, I don’t know what is.”
“What I’m saying is that a Primal or a god can do whatever they please,” he said. “But every cause has an effect. There are always consequences for every action, even if they don’t impact me directly.”
Well, that was an incredibly vague explanation that kind of made sense. I looked at the seamstress. Something occurred to me. When a mortal passed, it was believed that the body must be burned so the soul could be released to enter the Shadowlands. I wasn’t sure that what had happened to the Kazin siblings counted as a burial burning. “Those who die like the Kazins…do their souls make it to the Shadowlands?”
The god was quiet for a long moment. “No. They…they simply cease to exist.”
“Oh, my gods.” I pressed my hand to my mouth.
His eyes lifted to mine. “It is a cruel fate, even one greater than being sentenced to the Abyss. There, at least you are something.”
“I…I can’t even process what it would be like to simply stop being.” I shuddered, hoping he didn’t notice. “That is…”
“Something only the vilest should face,” he finished for me.
I nodded as I took in the sitting room, the bright blue and pale pink throw pillows, the small stone statues of sea creatures rumored to live off the coast of Iliseeum, and all the tiny knick-knacks that were little parts of Andreia Joanis’s life. Pieces of who she was and who she would never be again.
I cleared my throat, desperately searching for something else to think about. “What Court do you belong to?”
He raised a brow again.
“I mean, are you from the Shadowlands?”
The god studied me for a moment and then nodded. I tensed, although I wasn’t surprised. He continued to watch me. “There’s something else you want to ask.”
There was. I wanted to know if he knew who I was. If that was why our paths had crossed twice now in such a strange way. He may not know about the deal but he could know that I was the would-be Consort of the Primal he served. But if he didn’t know, it would be a risk. This god could tell the Primal that I had been in possession of a shadowstone dagger and hadn’t been afraid to use it.
So, I landed on something else I’d always been curious about— something I would’ve asked the Primal himself if I’d had the chance. Being from the Shadowlands, there was a good chance he might know. “Are all souls judged upon death?”
“There isn’t enough time in a day to do that,” he said. “When someone dies and enters the Shadowlands, they are once more given physical form. Most will pass through the Pillars of Asphodel, which will guide them to where the soul must go. Guards there ensure that happens.”
“You said most. What about the others?”
“Some special cases must be judged in person.” His gaze bore into mine. “Those who need to be seen to determine what their fate may be.”
“How?” I crept closer to him.
“After death, the soul is exposed. Raw. No flesh to mask their deeds,” he explained. “The worthiness can be read after death.”
“And…what about a soul now? I mean, when someone is alive.”
He shook his head. “Some may know things just from looking upon a mortal or another god, but the core of one’s soul is not one of them.”
I halted when I caught his faint citrusy scent. “What things?”
A small grin appeared. “So very curious,” he murmured, his gaze coasting over my face, seeming to linger on my mouth. A warmth entered my veins, one that seemed wholly inappropriate since I now knew for sure which Court he served. But he looked at me as if he were fascinated by the shape of my mouth.
As if he might want to taste my lips again.
A shivery wave of anticipation swept through me, and I knew if he did, I wouldn’t stop him. It would be a bad choice on my part. Maybe even on his. But I often made bad decisions.
The god’s gaze cut away, and I didn’t know if I felt disappointment or relief. He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. The hint of fangs became apparent. It was definitely disappointment I felt.
An odd feeling pressed against the center of my chest without warning, where the warmth often gathered in response to death. The heaviness unfurled through me, feeling like a coarse, suffocating blanket. I drew in a shallow breath, frowning at the sudden, strange scent of lilacs. Stale lilacs. It reminded me of something I couldn’t place at that moment as I felt myself turn back to the body without consciously willing myself to do so.
Wait.
I took a step closer. “Did you move her legs?” “Why would I do that?”
Unease slithered through my veins. “When I came in, one of her legs was bent at the knee, pressing against the table. Both are straight now.”
“I didn’t move her,” he replied as my gaze lifted to her face. The charred skin shaped like wings across her cheeks and forehead seemed to have faded a little. “Maybe you—”
The rattle of a breath being drawn and the crackle of lungs expanding silenced the god. My gaze flew to her chest just as the bodice of her gown rose. I froze in disbelief.
“What…?” the god muttered.
Andreia Joanis sat up, that gaping mouth opening even farther, the singed lips peeling back to reveal four long canines—two along the top of her mouth and two along the bottom. Fangs.
“The fuck?” the god finished.
“That’s not…normal, right?” I whispered.
“Which part? The fangs, or the fact that she’s dead and still sitting up?”
Andreia’s head tilted toward the god, seeming to look at him with eyes that were no longer there.
“I don’t think she’s dead,” I said. “Any longer.”
“No,” the god growled, causing my skin to pimple. “She is still dead.”
“You sure—?” I swallowed a gasp as the seamstress’s head snapped in my direction. “She’s staring at me, I think. I can’t be sure. She doesn’t have
eyes.” Out of instinct, I reached for my thigh, only to come up empty. I started to turn to the god. “I would really like to have my dagger—”
A hissing sound came from Andreia, the kind of noise no mortal should be able to make. It rose and deepened, turning into a piercing snarl that raised every single hair on my body.
Andreia rocketed to her feet, the movement so inexplicably fast that I jerked back out of reflex. Fingers curled, she launched forward—
The god was just as unbelievably fast, stepping in front of me as he withdrew a short sword. The blade glimmered like polished onyx in the candlelight. Shadowstone. He stepped forward, planting a boot in her midsection. The seamstress flew backward over the tea table.
She fell onto the floor, quickly rolling into a crouch. Popping back up, she came at us again. I started to reach for the blade in my boot when the god met her attack, thrusting the shadowstone sword deep into her chest.
The seamstress’s body spasmed as she reached out, trying to grab hold of the god. Tiny, spiderweb-like fissures appeared along her hands and then raced up her arms, spreading over her throat and then across her cheeks.
Jerking the shadowstone sword free, the god stepped to the side, his focus intent on the seamstress. Those fissures deepened into cracks as her legs collapsed under her. She went down hard, folded into herself.
I stood there, mouth hanging open. Patches of her body seemed to sink in as if she were nothing more than a dried-out husk. “What…what did I just see?”
“I have no idea.” The god tentatively stepped forward, nudging Andreia’s foot. The skin and bone turned to ash, quickly followed by the rest of her body.
Within a span of several heartbeats, nothing remained of the seamstress but her gown and a dusting of ash.
I blinked. “That was…different.”
The god looked at me. “Yeah, it was.”
“And you…you have no idea what just happened? Like that’s never happened before?”
Steel-hued eyes met mine. “I have never heard of something like that happening before.”
Being a god from the Shadowlands, I imagined he would know about mortals coming back from the dead. “What do you think was wrong with her? I mean, why did she act that way?”
“I don’t know.” He sheathed his sword. “But I don’t think Madis simply killed her. He did…something. What, I have no idea.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “I would not repeat what you’ve seen here.”
I nodded. As if anyone would believe me if I did.
“I must go,” he said, glancing back at the ash-covered gown and then to me. “You should, too, liessa.”
I didn’t want to spend another second in this house, but a hundred different questions exploded in my head. The absolute least important one of all was what came out of my mouth. “What does liessa mean?”
The god didn’t answer for what felt like a small eternity. “It has different meanings to different people.” The eather pulsed in his eyes, swirling once more through the silver. “But all of them mean something beautiful and powerful.”
