A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t want to be around anyone.

  So, I walked like I did on nights when the buzz of energy made sleep impossible—nights that were becoming more and more common over the last several months. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air. It was still early enough that the hum of conversation and the clink of fancy glasses filled candlelit courtyards. The sidewalks were a sea of gowns and shirts far too heavy for the heat. I didn’t blend in with them as I kept walking. I moved unseen, a ghost among the living. Or at least that was how it felt as I traveled over a second, far-less-grand bridge that connected the banks of the Nye River. A fine mist had begun to fall, dampening my skin. I entered the hilly quarter known as Stonehill. The mist eased some of the heat, but I hoped the thick clouds rolling in from the water were a harbinger of much-needed heavier rains.

  The Temple of Phanos, the Primal of the Sky, Sea, Earth, and Wind, sat at the crest of Stonehill, its thick columns hazy in the drizzle. That’s where I was heading, I realized.

  I liked it up there. It wasn’t nearly as high as the Cliffs of Sorrow, but I could look out over the entire capital from the Temple steps.

  People still milled about, crowding the slender streets and steep hills, even though most of the shops had closed for the night. I stared up at the torch-lit house numbers, narrow one-story homes with canopied rooftop pavilions—

  Warmth poured into my chest without warning, pressing against my skin. My steps faltered on the obnoxiously steep hill. The tingling warmth cascaded down my arms. I sucked in a sharp breath as my heart banged against my ribs.

  That feeling…

  I knew what it meant—what I reacted to.

  Death.

  Very recent death.

  Forcing air in and out of my lungs in slow, even breaths, I turned in a circle and then started walking up the hill again. As I forced the warmth away, tamped it down, I still charged forward. It was as if I had no control. The…gift inside me drove me forward, even though I knew I would do nothing once I found the source. Still, I kept going.

  Less than a block ahead, I saw him.

  The god with long hair the color of the night sky. He strode down the opposite side of the street, his bare arms colorless in the moonlight.

  Madis.

  That was his name.

  Stepping back into a narrow alley, I pressed against the still-sun-warm stucco of a home. I reached into the folds of my surcoat, folding my fingers around the hilt of my dagger. And I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched the god, seeing in my mind the small babe he’d tossed like a piece of trash.

  Madis crossed under a streetlamp, stopping as a dog barked nearby, and then he turned halfway, facing the other side of the street. His head cocked to the side. The dog had ceased barking, but it was like…he’d heard something else. I started to pull the dagger free.

  What are you doing?

  The voice that whispered in my thoughts was a mixture of mine and the silver-eyed god’s. I could strike Madis. I was sure of it. But then what? Surely, a mortal killing a god would not go unnoticed. The fury I felt at what he’d done to the child tipped me toward not caring about the then-what? part.

  What drowns out that fear and pushes you to run so eagerly toward death?

  The silver-eyed god’s words haunted me as I stood there, and it cost me. Madis had started walking toward the shadowy pathways between the homes, moving fast. I cursed under my breath and pushed away from the wall. The hilt of the dagger dug into my palm, and I followed him. I stopped once I reached the sidewalk, my gaze shooting in the direction he’d come from as I thought of the tingling warmth that had now faded.

  I had a sinking suspicion the feeling was related to him.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, glancing at the dark walkway and then back.

  I started walking again, stopping near the end of the street. A faint bit of warmth returned as I turned to a building. No courtyard. The front door sat right off the sidewalk. Soft candlelight flickered behind the latticed windows along the side of the squat, stucco house. The white canopies on the roof were drawn, offering the pavilion a level of privacy.

  A gas lamp sconce sat below the house number and a sign that read: Joanis Designs.

  Icy air rushed down my spine. It couldn’t be the seamstress that had brought the frothy silk and pearl gown to my mother. That seemed too much of a coincidence—that I would be here for no reason, and that the god Madis would’ve harmed her.

  I moved before I could stop myself and turned the handle of the front door. Unlocked. I resisted the urge to kick it open, even though that would make me feel better. Instead, I sedately inched it inside.

  The smell of burnt flesh hit me as soon as I walked into the small foyer, the food I had eaten earlier souring in my stomach. I brushed past leafy potted plants in a den. Large spools of fabric and garment mannequins sat in the shadows. I held tight to the dagger and crept forward, entering a narrow, dark corridor where another door sat ajar. I knew the layout of these types of cottages. The chambers were stacked one after the other, with the kitchen typically at the back of the home, farthest from the living areas. The bedchambers would be in the middle, and the sitting rooms up front, where I’d seen the candlelight from the windows along the side of the home.

  Quietly, I inched open the door that separated the den used for business from the rest of her home. My gaze skipped over the empty, light-colored chairs and settee and the lit gas lamp I hadn’t seen from the street that sat on a tea table. A glass had been toppled, spilling red liquid across the oak table and a half-closed book. On the floor, a slender pale foot peeked out from the front of the settee. I went farther in, inhaling sharply. There was another scent here. One that was fresher than the godsforsaken charred smell. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it as I rounded the settee.

  Dear gods.

  Lying on her back was what remained of Miss Andreia Joanis. Her arms were placed over a bodice of pale lilac chiton as if someone had folded them. One leg was curled, the knee pressing into the leg of the tea table. Dark veins stained the skin of her arms, neck, and cheeks. Her mouth was open as if she were screaming, and the flesh—it was singed and charred. As was the area around her…

  She had no eyes.

  They had been burned out, the skin around them charred in a strange pattern, reminding me of…wings.

  The soft stir of air behind me was the only warning I had. Instinct took over, screaming that if someone were still in this home and had moved upon me that quietly, it didn’t bode well. I turned, sweeping out with my arm—

  A cool hand closed over my wrist as I twisted, thrusting up sharply with my right hand—my dagger. The blade met resistance, and the shadowstone, so sharp and deadly, pierced the skin, sank far—sank deep into his chest at the very same second the jolt of energy danced across my flesh, and I realized who had grabbed me.

  Who I had just stabbed in the chest.

  In the heart.

  Oh, gods.

  I lifted my gaze from where my hand and the dagger’s hilt were flush with a chest adorned in black, to eyes…

  Wide eyes streaked with swirling wisps of eather.

  Eyes of the silver-eyed god.

  Chapter 6

  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. Sl
ick 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, listen
ing 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.”