A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  He had asked me to show him what I wanted—what I liked. And I had.

  Did it matter if I had lain with more than he had? Or if he had been with none at all? No. It just made me curious about him—his past and what he did when he wasn’t hunting gods or apparently keeping an eye on me. Had he never found someone he was attracted to? Or at least attracted enough to be with? Someone he had fallen in lust or even love with? And if so, how could I be the first? There had to be others who were more…well, more everything. Starting with, like, every single goddess.

  Except Cressa.

  Thoughts of Ash quickly faded to the background as the sun bathed me in its light, and I saw what awaited.

  The Rot had spread.

  My steps slowed as I looked over the trees to my right, and my stomach sank. The limbs of the jacaranda trees had once been heavy with trumpet-shaped purple blossoms. Now, they blanketed the ground, the blooms brown, their edges curled. Limbs bare, there was no mistaking the strange grayness of the Rot that now clung to the tree’s branches and trunk like moss.

  The farmers had tried what they believed King Roderick had done. They’d spent day and night, weeks and months, digging and scraping, but the Rot was deep. And under it, a hard, rocky type of soil absent of the nutrients needed to grow crops.

  A coldness drenched my chest as I stared at the Rot. The spread was definitely occurring faster. Even if the Primal of Death did come for me now, I wasn’t sure I could even make him fall in love with me in time.

  Lasania didn’t have years.

  I walked over, toeing aside a dead blossom with my boot until I saw what I already knew I’d see. The dirt itself had spoiled, turning gray.

  “Gods,” I whispered, staring at the ruined ground. Breathe in. The breath I took snagged as the scent of the Rot reached me. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, exactly. It reminded me of…

  Of stale lilacs.

  Just how the Hunters had smelled. The same scent that had filled the air before Andreia Joanis sat up, dead but still moving.

  It wasn’t my imagination. The Rot smelled the same.

  I looked back at the city. Through the remaining trees, the Shadow Temple glittered darkly in the sunlight. Toward the center, the Sun Temple shone brightly. Both were almost painful to look upon. Farther back, Wayfair Castle rose high on the hill, and beyond the ivory towers, the Stroud Sea shimmered a deep blue. How long until the Rot reached the farms I’d passed and the city beyond? What would happen if it reached the Dark Elms and then the sea?

  When I came upon the Massey farm, I saw that only an acre of untainted land remained behind the stone home and the now-empty stables. Worse yet, the gray of the Rot was dangerously close to the leafy heads of cabbage not yet ready to be picked.

  Holding my sack to my chest, I resisted the urge to run past the Massey home, to put distance between myself and the catastrophe waiting to happen. There was no point, though. My destination was far worse than this.

  The creak of hinges drew my gaze to the home. Mrs. Massey stepped outside, a woven basket in hand. The moment she spotted me, she waved.

  Shifting my load to one arm, I returned the gesture, riddled with guilt. Mrs. Massey had no idea that I could’ve stopped the devastation to her farm. If she did, I doubted she’d come outside to greet me. She would probably attempt to beat me over the head with that basket.

  “Good morning,” I called out.

  “Morning.” She drifted down the cracked stone of the walkway. The dirt clinging to the knees of her pants told me that she’d already been working what was left of the farm as Mr. Massey likely went to town. People like these were often up before anyone else and to bed after everyone else.

  Tavius often referred to them as the lower class. Only someone not fit to rule would think of the backbone of the kingdom as such, but the heir was, well…an ass. Tavius held little respect for those who put the food on his plate, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the feelings were mutual. And if they weren’t already, it was only a matter of time before they shared the same opinion.

  “What brings you out here?” Mrs. Massey asked. “Did the Crown send you?”

  She assumed I worked in the castle, believing the Crown offered the food I brought. I never gave her any indication to think otherwise. “I wanted to check in on the Coupers. I wasn’t sure if they knew about what’d happened last night in Croft’s Cross. With the damages to some of the buildings, I’m sure extra hands will be needed for repairs.”

  Mrs. Massey nodded. “Such a terrible thing.” She rested the basket on a rounded hip as her gaze shifted in the direction of the city. “But I suppose the upcoming Rite will bring…some joy.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure it will.”

  “You know, I’ve never been to a Rite. Have you?”

  “Haven’t had the opportunity,” I told her. It would be risky for me to show up there, especially when the Crown would be in attendance. But I was curious about all that occurred. “I’m sure it’s boring.”

  The skin on her sun-darkened face creased as Mrs. Massey laughed. “You shouldn’t say that.”

  I grinned, but my humor faded as my gaze skipped over the gray fields. “It’s spread since the last time I was here.”

  “It has.” She brushed away a wayward curl that’d escaped the lace of the white cap she wore. “It seems to be moving faster. We’ll probably have to harvest before any of its ready. That’s our only option at this point since the blockade that Williamson built out of wood didn’t stop it like we’d hoped.” She gave a small shake of her head, and then a wan smile appeared. “I’m just glad our son found work on the ships. It gets to Williamson, you know? That his son won’t be following in his footsteps like Williamson did with his father before him. But there’s no future here.”

  I held my sack tighter as my chest squeezed, wishing I knew what to say—wishing there was something to say.

  Wishing I had been found worthy.

  “I’m sorry.” Mrs. Massey laughed nervously, clearing her throat. “None of that is your concern.”

  “No, it’s all right,” I told her. “There’s no need to apologize.”

  She exhaled roughly as she stared at her ruined farm. “You said you were visiting the Coupers?”

  I nodded, glancing at what now felt like a sad sack of food. I’d already stopped at three other homes before coming here. “Do you need anything? I have apples and potatoes. There isn’t much, but—”

  “Thank you. That is a kind offer and much appreciated,” she said, but her spine had gone straight, and her mouth tightened.

  Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I realized that I might have offended her with such an offer. Many of the working class were proud people, not used to nor desiring what they sometimes saw as handouts. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were in need.”

  “I know.” The press of her mouth softened a bit. “And I won’t be too proud to accept such generosity once that day comes. Fortunately, we are not there yet. The Coupers can benefit far more than we can. They haven’t been able to grow a single crop in far too long, no potato or bean.”

  I glanced ahead to where the short, rolling hill shielded the Couper home from view. “Do you think Penn has already found another source of income?”

  “Amarys was telling me the other day that they’ve both tried,” she said, her gaze fixed in the same direction. “But with the harvesters fleeing to other farms and the shops in the city, nothing has been available. I think they decided to wait it out. Hopefully, it’s not too late for Penn to see if some of the businesses need aid.”

  There was a chance for Penn to find temporary work—for some good to come out of what’d happened in Croft’s Cross last night. I wanted to ask what the Masseys would do once their property became like the Coupers’. Would they hang onto their lands, believing that it would once again become fertile? Or would they leave the home and acres farmed by their families for centuries? The Masseys were older than the Coupers, but age wasn’t the
issue. Other sources of income weren’t plentiful.

  Something had to be done now, curse or not. This wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. It wasn’t even the hundredth.

  Turning back to Mrs. Massey, I said my goodbyes and started toward the Coupers’. The potatoes and apples wouldn’t last them long, but it was something, and I was positive that I would have more than I could carry tomorrow. So much of the food being prepped now would go untouched by the guests.

  The dead trees had long since fallen and had been cleared away, but it was still a shock to reach the hill and see nothing but what looked like a fine layer of ash.

  By the time the Couper home came into view, I’d expected to hear their daughter’s girlish laughter and their son’s happy shrieks, both too young to fully understand what was happening around them. The only sound was the dead grass crunching under my boots. As I grew closer to the home, I saw that the front door was cracked open.

  I walked onto the stoop. “Penn?” I called out and nudged the door open with my hip. “Amarys?”

  There was no answer.

  Maybe they were out back in the barn. They did have a handful of chickens left, at least they had when I was here a few weeks ago. They could also be in the city. Maybe Penn had already thought to go to the shipping companies. Figuring I could leave the apples and potatoes in their kitchen, I pushed open the door the rest of the way.

  The smell hit me right off.

  It wasn’t the scent of Rot that sent my heart racing. This was thicker and turned my stomach, reminding me of meat left out to spoil.

  My gaze swept the kitchen. Candles sat on the otherwise bare table, burned to the quick. The gas lanterns on the hearth mantel had long since gone out. The living area, a collection of chairs and worn settees, was also empty. Little balls and cloth dolls were neatly piled in a basket by the short hallway that led to the bedrooms.

  I stared at the doorway, my fingers digging into the scratchy burlap.

  Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

  My steps were slow as if I walked through water but they still carried me forward, even as the voice in my head whispered and then shouted for me to stop. Tiny bumps pimpled my skin as I entered the hall, and the smell…it choked me.

  Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

  The door to my right was closed, but the one to the left wasn’t. There was a buzzing sound, a low hum that I should’ve recognized but couldn’t in the moment. I looked into the room.

  What was left of the bag of apples and potatoes slipped from my suddenly numb fingers. I didn’t even hear it hit the floor.

  The buzzing was from hundreds of flies. The smell was from…

  The Coupers lay on the bed together. Penn and his wife, Amarys. Between them were their children. Donovan and…and little Mattie. Beside Penn was an empty vial, the kind the Healers often used to mix medicines in. I imagined they’d shared the bed like this many times in the past, reading stories to their children or just enjoying their time together.

  But they weren’t sleeping. I knew that. I knew the only life in that room was the godsforsaken flies. I knew that other than the insects, life hadn’t been in this house for quite some time. And that was why my gift hadn’t alerted me to what I was about to find. There was nothing I nor anyone else, mortal or god, could do at this point. It was far too late.

  They were dead.

  Chapter 15

  I was shaking as I stalked through the main hall of Wayfair, passing the Royal banners and the gold-plated sconces that burned even with all the daylight streaming in through the many windows. Servants came and went in a continuous stream as they scurried from the kitchens to the Great Hall. They carried vases of night-blooming roses that were currently closed, pressed table linens, and glasses scrubbed spotless. As I walked, I couldn’t believe how the entire floor of Wayfair Castle smelled of roasted meat and baking desserts, while the Coupers lay dead in their bed, the evidence of what Penn and Amarys believed was their only option resting in that empty vial. They’d chosen a quicker death over a longer, drawn-out one. Meanwhile, there was enough food being prepared right now to have fed them for a month.

  I wanted to tear down the banners and the sconces, rip the cloth and shatter glass. Fisting my dusty skirts, I climbed the wide, polished limestone stairs to the second floor, where I knew I’d find my stepfather. The greeting rooms on the lower level, lining the banquet room, were only used when meeting guests. I’d already checked there, and both rooms had been empty.

  Reaching the landing, I headed into the castle’s west wing. As soon as the hall came into view, I saw several men outside my stepfather’s private rooms. The Royal Guards stood in their ridiculous uniforms, staring straight ahead, their hands resting on the hilts of swords I doubted they’d ever lifted in battle.

  None of them looked in my direction as I approached. “I need to see the King.”

  The Royal Guard who blocked the door didn’t even blink as he continued to stare straight ahead. He made no move to step aside.

  My patience had left me the moment I saw what had become of the Couper family. I stepped closer to the guard, close enough that I saw the tendons of his jaw clench. “You either step aside, or I will knock you aside.”

  That got the older man’s attention. His gaze flicked to me, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.

  “And please feel free to doubt that I would carry through on that threat. Because I would love nothing more than to prove just how wrong you are,” I promised.

  Pink seeped into the man’s face as his knuckles bleached white from how tightly he held the sword.

  I cocked my head to the side, arching a brow. If he even dared to lift that fist an inch, I would break every godsdamn bone in his hand or die trying.

  “Step aside, Pike,” another Royal Guard ordered.

  Pike looked as if he would rather shove his entire face into a pot of boiling water, but he stepped aside. He didn’t reach for the door as he would’ve done for anyone else. The blatant disrespect wasn’t surprising, but I couldn’t care less as I gripped the heavy, gold handle and pushed the door open.

  The rich sent of pipe tobacco surrounded me the moment I stepped into the sunlight-drenched chamber. Rays of light reflected off the handblown glass figurines lining the shelves. Some were of the gods and Primals. Others were animals, buildings, carriages, and trees. The King had collected them for as long as I could remember. I found him sitting behind the heavy iron desk at one end of the circular chamber.

  King Ernald’s back was to the windows and balcony he’d stood on the night before. He had always been larger than life to me, broad of chest and tall, quick to laugh and smile. He wasn’t as ageless as my mother, though. The brown hair at his temples was beginning to gray, and the lines at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead were deepening.

  Right now, there was nothing large about him.

  Surprise shuttled across the King of Lasania’s face as he looked at the door. It was brief. His features soon smoothed out into the mask of impassivity he always wore when I was present. Those laughs and smiles always faded once he knew I was near.

  Deep down, I think he feared me, even before I had been found unworthy.

  My stepfather wasn’t alone. I realized that the moment I stepped into the office and saw the back of my stepbrother’s head. He was seated on the settee in the center of the room, idly picking through a bowl of dates.

  The room was otherwise empty.

  “Sera.” The King’s tone was flat. “What are you doing here?”

  No warmth or fondness. His question was a demand, not a request. In the past, that’d stung. After I was found unworthy, I felt nothing. Today, however, it sent a hot flash of rage through me. If he didn’t know why I was here, that meant he had no idea that I’d spent the last several hours watching the first guards I’d come across bury the Coupers.

  “The Coupers are dead,” I announced.

  “Who?” my stepbrother asked.

 
; My back stiffened. “Farmers whose lands were infected by the Rot.”

  “You mean the Rot you failed to stop,” Tavius corrected, lifting a date.

  I ignored him. “Do you at least know who they are?”

  “I know who they were,” my stepfather said, placing his pipe on a crystal tray. “I was notified of their passing no more than an hour ago. It’s most unfortunate.”

  “It is more than unfortunate.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, and my eyes narrowed because I had enough sense to know better. “What they decided to do is tragic. Those children—”

  “What they felt they had to do, you mean.” I crossed my arms to stop myself from picking up one of his precious figurines and throwing it. “What is tragic, is that they felt they had no other option.”

  My stepfather frowned and shifted forward in his seat. “There are always other choices.”

  “There should be, but when you’re watching your children—” My breath caught, and it burned through my lungs as little Mattie’s giggles echoed in my ears. “I don’t agree with what they did, but they were pushed to their breaking point.”

  “If things were so bad for them, why didn’t they simply seek other employment?” Tavius tossed out as if he were the first to have thought of such a thing. “That would’ve been a far better choice.”

  “What employment would they have been able to find?” I demanded. “Do you think a person can just walk into any shop or company or onto a ship and find a job? Especially when they spent their entire lives perfecting one trade?”

  “Then perhaps they should’ve learned another trade the moment your failure ruined their land,” he suggested.

  “How many trades have you decided to learn and mastered to the point you could then demand a job?” I challenged.

  Tavius didn’t answer.

  Exactly. The only skill he’d mastered was how to be an expert ass.

  “I believe what your stepbrother is attempting to say is the same as I have,” the King reasoned, placing his hands flat on the desk. “There are always choices. They chose wrong.”