I turned my head away, my chest and stomach twisting. For some reason, I thought of the first night I’d been taken to the Shadow Temple. When I had soaked in that scented bath for hours and then had the hair removed from places I never even considered before. It was almost as if what I had been expected to do hadn’t become a reality until that very moment. Not even the time spent with the Mistresses of the Jade had truly prepared me for the fact that weakening the Primal called for a level of seduction. And it had only been after the hair had been stripped, and the balm applied to soothe the sting that it had struck me that I would have to be naked with the Primal of Death. No horrendous wedding gown. No tunic or tights. Not even a dagger. There would be no shields, and that…that had terrified me. In the time since, whenever I allowed myself to be someone, anyone else while in The Luxe, I was never completely nude. And maybe being so exposed still terrified me. But I had been nude with him in the lake. And outside of it? I might as well have been.
In the entire time spent preparing for this very moment, the time when he claimed me, I’d never once considered that I might actually enjoy the seduction. I hadn’t believed the Mistresses when they’d said that I could. Not because I didn’t think I would find pleasure in such intimacy, but because I didn’t believe I could find pleasure seducing the Primal that I needed to kill.
The heat in my veins now told me that I most likely would. And that had to be wrong. Twisted, even. Monstrous. But this was partly his doing. He’d made this deal. He’d known that it came with an expiration date. He’d shown no sign of compassion toward the mortals who were now suffering because of it. Pressure clamped down on me again just as the twinkling surface of the lake appeared between the trees, and the sound of rushing water greeted us.
I sat straighter. “Why are we at my lake?”
“Your lake?” He laughed again, still low but longer this time. “Interesting that you feel a sense of…ownership to this lake. Is it because of how it made you feel?” Odin carried us past the last stand of trees. “How did you describe it? Calming?” There was a pause. “Perhaps at home?”
I clamped my mouth shut and said nothing as we neared the shore.
His grip tightened on Odin’s reins. “You do know what covers the floor of this lake.”
“Shadowstone,” I whispered, my stomach beginning to tumble.
“This is the only place in the mortal realm where you’ll find shadowstone. There’s a reason for that.” His chest brushed my shoulder and arm, and I tensed. “There’s a reason mortals fear these woods. Why spirits haunt them.”
My gaze swept over the water pouring from the rocks and the ripples cascading across the lake.
“Perhaps there’s even a reason you never feared them.” His breath was against my cheek again, and the beat of my heart skipped and then sped up. “Why you felt so calm here.”
“What are you saying?” I whispered.
“There are ways to travel to Iliseeum. One is to travel east—far east until we cross not only the Skotos Mountains but even farther to where mortals believe the world simply ceases.” He shifted Odin’s reins into my numb hands. “That would take far too long. There are quicker ways, through what one would consider gateways. Only those from Iliseeum know how to find and reveal them. Use them. Each gateway can take one into a certain part of Iliseeum. Your lake is a gateway to the Shadowlands.”
To him.
A shiver erupted over my skin as I stared at the dark waters.
Ash lifted his hand, and everything stopped. Froze. The water spilling over the rocks halted, suspended in the air. The ripples ceased, and my heart could have, too.
My hands slipped from the pommel as the lake…split in half, peeling back and exposing the flat, glossy shadowstone bottom. In the moonlight, a fissure appeared in the stone. Wisps of silvery-white mist seeped from the crack, and without a sound, a wide and deep rift appeared.
I’d been in this lake hundreds of times throughout my life, splashing and playing as a child, hiding and forgetting. This lake, the water and the land around it, had felt like home. And the whole time, this was what existed under the surface. This was what my lake was.
Ash’s fingers brushed mine as he nudged Odin forward. The horse followed, whinnying softly.
“You’re right, you know? There was time at the lake to make sure you knew who I really was. I should have told you.” His arm curled at my waist, and he tugged me back. I didn’t fight him. I pressed against him, my heart careening.
A white haze swirled around Odin’s legs as he took us into the misty rapture. Another shudder rocked me. I didn’t know if it was the descent or the Primal’s words. “But you spoke with no fear. You acted fearlessly. Each time I saw you,” he continued. “You interested me, and I hadn’t expected that. I didn’t want that. But at that lake, you were just Seraphena,” he said, and my breath snagged at the sound of my name spilling from his lips. It was the first time he’d said it. “And I was just Ash. There was no deal. No perceived obligations. You stayed simply because you wanted to. I stayed only because I wanted to. You let me touch you because that was what you wanted, not because you felt as if you had to. Maybe I should’ve told you, but I was…enjoying myself with you. I wasn’t ready for that to end.”
And then he took me into the Shadowlands.
Chapter 22
What Ash admitted, the truth of what he said, was swept into air that was neither warm nor freezing. Into the complete and total darkness that swallowed us.
Lightheaded and dizzy, I feared I would never see again. I reached down as I strained against the unyielding wall that was Ash’s chest. It caused the rawness along my back to ache as I clasped his arm. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see anything—
A tiny pinprick of light appeared above, then another and another until hundreds of thousands of specks of light cascaded over the sky.
Stars.
They were stars, but not like the ones in the mortal realm. They were more vivid and radiant, casting a silvery glow that was far more powerful than the moon. I scanned the skies, searching and searching.
“Where is the moon?” I asked hoarsely.
“There is no moon,” Ash answered. “It is not night.”
My brows snapped together as I took in the sky that very much resembled night. “Is it day?”
“It is neither day nor night.” The arm around my waist loosened. “It just is.”
I didn’t understand as Odin traveled forward, each step clanging off cobblestone. I looked down, spying fingers of mist trailing softly over the road. I returned my stare to the sky. The longer I looked at it, the more I realized it didn’t resemble a night sky. Yes, there were stars, and they were brighter than anything I’d seen, but the sky was more…shadowy than black. Darker than the stormiest, most overcast day in the mortal realm. It reminded me of the moments before dawn, when the sun rose behind the moon and beat back the darkness, turning the world a shade of iron.
“Is there no sun?” I asked, wetting my lips.
“Not in the Shadowlands.”
Barely able to comprehend that I was actually in the Shadowlands, I wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge of there being no sun or moon. “Then how do you know when to sleep?”
“You sleep when you’re tired.”
He stated this as if sleeping were that simple. “What about the rest of Iliseeum?”
“The rest of Iliseeum appears as it should,” he answered flatly.
I wanted to ask why and what that meant, but the barren landscape changed. Tall trees appeared, and as we traveled, they grew closer and closer to the road. Bare, twisted trees that were nothing more than skeletons. Several large, rocky hills loomed ahead, spaced around the road we traveled on.
Uncertainty beat at me, along with all those messy emotions I couldn’t describe. But so did curiosity. The part of me that had always yearned to know what Iliseeum looked like stirred. I started to lean forward but stopped and forced my body to relax against his.
Putting space between was the exact opposite of what one did when they wanted to seduce another. I looked down at the arm held firmly around me. And despite how cool his skin was, the feel of him was…pleasant.
A deep, chuffing sound jerked my head up. One of the hills shuddered and rose. That was no hill ahead of us. My mouth dropped open. Wings swept out and then up into the starry sky. The ground around us trembled, scattering what was left of the mist as something thick and spiked swept across the road. My gaze followed the sidewinding tail to the creature that was at least twice Odin’s size.
Black and gray under the starlight, it stood on four muscular legs as it shook its great body, sending a fine layer of dirt into the air. Spikes traveled from the tail and along the thick scales of its back, some as small as my fist, others the size of several hands in length. The creature twisted sharply, faster than I would’ve ever anticipated something that size to move, turning its long, graceful neck in our direction.
Air thinned with each breath. I choked on a scream that never made it past my throat as a massive talon landed in the center of the road, claws wide and sharp. A moment later, the frilled head was directly in front of us—a head nearly half the size of Odin’s body.
I fell back against Ash, staring at it—at the flat, broad nose and wide jaw, the pointed horns that sat upon its head like a crown, and eyes that were such a vibrant shade of red, they contrasted sharply with the pitch-black, thin, vertical pupil.
I knew what I was staring at. I’d read about them in dusty, heavy tomes. I knew what purpose they served. They were the guardians of Iliseeum. I knew they were real, but I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing one—couldn’t believe I was face to face with a dragon.
A very large dragon with gray and black scales and many, many teeth. It leaned in even closer, its nostrils flaring as it appeared to sniff the air—sniff us.
“It’s okay,” Ash told me, and I realized I was once again clutching his arm. “Nektas won’t harm you. He’s just curious.”
Just curious?
I flinched as the dragon’s hot breath lifted the hair around my face.
Nektas let out a soft purring sound as he tilted his head even closer and then lowered it so it was only inches above Odin’s mane.
“I think he wants you to pet him,” Ash said.
“What?” I whispered.
“It’s his way of knowing you mean him no harm,” he explained, and I wondered exactly how in the two realms I could ever be a threat to this creature. “And him allowing it is how he shows you that he won’t hurt you.”
“I believe you—him.” I swallowed.
The dragon made that low trilling sound again.
“Where’s all that bravery?” Ash asked.
“My bravery ends when I’m faced with something that can swallow me whole.”
Nektas puffed out a hot breath as he cocked his head.
“He’s hurt that you would think he’d do such a thing,” Ash observed. “Besides, I don’t think he can swallow you whole.”
My mouth dried as I continued staring at the beast. He was beautiful and terrifying, and I didn’t know if any mortal alive today had seen one. I swallowed again, slowly easing my grip on Ash’s arm. My breath caught in my throat as I reached out.
If he bit my hand off, I would be so very disappointed.
Nektas vibrated with sound once more. The very tips of my fingers touched his flesh. I pressed lightly, surprised to find that his bumpy scales felt like smooth leather. I petted his nose rather awkwardly. The dragon made a chuffing sound again, this time sounding very much like a laugh.
Pulling his head back, Nektas’s gaze focused over my shoulder and then he turned. The ground trembled as he pushed off his hind legs. Air whipped around us as powerful, clawed wings swept back. He lifted into the sky with a shocking surge, rising fast.
“See?” Ash held Odin’s reins tightly. “He will not harm you.”
I touched a dragon.
That was all I could think.
“You can lower your hand now.” Amusement danced in his tone.
Blinking, I pulled my hand to my chest. “It’s a dragon,” I murmured.
“He’s a draken,” he corrected as Nektas flew ahead. “They are all draken.”
They? Draken? The remaining hills weren’t hills, either. They shuddered and lifted their diamond-shaped heads to the sky, tracking Nektas. Wings unfurled against the ground, stirring dirt and dust as they rose, stretching their necks. They were smaller than Nektas, their scales a shimmering onyx in the starlight, but no less powerful as they pushed off their hind legs and launched into the sky.
“You…you have four…draken protecting you?” I asked, my stomach sinking. It wasn’t like I’d forgotten who the Primals’ guards were. But seeing it was a shock.
Ash nudged Odin forward. “I do.”
I watched the three others join Nektas, their wings sweeping gracefully through the sky. “And they have names?”
“Orphine, Ehthawn, and Crolee,” he answered. “Orphine and Ehthawn are twins. I believe Crolee is their distant cousin.”
“You call them draken?” I asked. “How is that any different from a dragon?”
“Very different.”
I waited. “Please tell me you’re going to explain further.”
“I am. Just thinking of a way to make it less confusing,” he said, that thumb of his beginning to move again. “Dragons were very old creatures. Very powerful. Some believe they even existed in both realms long before gods and mortals did.”
“I…I didn’t know that.”
“You wouldn’t,” he said. “A long time ago, a very powerful Primal befriended the dragons, despite being unable to communicate with them. He wanted to learn their stories, their histories, and being quite young at the time, he was rather…impulsive in his actions. He knew one way he could talk to them was to give them a godly form—a dual life. One where they could shift between that of a dragon and a godly form.”
This young Primal he spoke of had to be Kolis. That was the only Primal who could create any form of life. “They can…they can look like you and me?”
“For the most part,” he confirmed. I really wanted to know what he meant by that. “Those who chose to take the dual life were called draken.”
“Are there any dragons left? Ones that don’t shift?”
“Sadly, no. Dragons and draken live for an extraordinarily long time, but their ancestors went extinct quite some time ago.” His thumb moved in that slow, idle circle again. “They weren’t the only ones this young Primal gave a dual life to.”
I thought of the creatures I’d once heard of that lived in the sea off the coast of Iliseeum. I had so many additional questions, but they fell to the wayside as I saw what the draken were flying towards.
A torch-lit wall appeared below, tall as the inner wall of Wayfair, but the castle I had grown up in paled in comparison to what sat atop a gently rolling hill. A massive, sprawling structure that was as wide as it was tall. Turrets and towers stretched high into the sky, and the entire palace was star-kissed, glittering as if a thousand lamps had been lit. It reminded me of the Shadow Temple but was far larger.
A heavily wooded area pressed against the back of the palace walls and beyond them, as far as I could see, were specks of light too numerous to count. A city—there was a city.
My pulse galloped as we rode down the hill. Tiny balls of dread and anticipation formed in my stomach as we drew close to the gated wall. I was stuck in a chasm of apprehension and something akin to curiosity but stronger.
“That is…that is your home?” The air seemed thinner, and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not as I saw the draken circling the palace.
“It is known as the House of Haides. The wall surrounding it is called the Rise,” he told me. “It encompasses both Haides and the city of Lethe, up to the Black Bay.”
Ahead, the trees still encased the road, but more of the wall became visibl
e, as did the gate. There was something on the wall—several somethings I couldn’t make out. We rounded a slight bend in the road. The wall also appeared to be made of shadowstone, the surface not nearly as glossy or smooth. Instead of reflecting the starlight, it seemed to swallow any and all light, which was what made those shapes so difficult to discern until the massive, iron gate silently began to open.
My gaze crept over the wall, over the shapes, and I started to feel lightheaded. The shapes on the wall were that of a cross. My breathing was too shallow, even though my chest heaved with each breath.
They were people.
People stripped bare and impaled on the wall with some sort of stakes through their hands and chests. Their heads hung limply, and the stench of death filled the air.
Bile climbed my throat as my grip tightened on the pommel. “Why?” I whispered. “Why are those people on the wall?”
“They are gods,” Ash answered, his voice flat and as cold as the waters of the lake. “And they serve as a reminder for all.”
“Of what?”
“That life for any being is as fragile as the flame of a candle—easily extinguished and stamped out.”
Two of the draken circling the palace descended on either side of the gate, stirring up a gust of wind. They landed on the Rise. Neither the shuddering impact nor the deep, rumbling sound they made penetrated the horror of what I’d seen on the Rise.
I sat in stunned silence as I saw men—men and women in black and gray armor—along the Rise, stop and bow deeply as Ash rode past. But I barely saw them. Barely saw the numerous balconies and spiraling outdoor staircases that seemed to connect every floor of the palace to the ground.
Ash had gods impaled to his wall.
The cruelty and inhumanity of that and his words left me numb and confused as we entered the brightly lit stables. For someone who’d once said that every death should leave a mark, his actions told a different story.
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