“I’m not arguing with you now.”
One eyebrow rose. “I feel as if every conversation we have verges on an argument when it comes to you.”
“It was you who started arguing with me.” I watched him. Lashes lowered, he appeared absurdly focused on separating the mass of curls.
One side of his lips curved up as he drew one of the curls straight. “You’re arguing with me now.”
I threw up my arms. “That’s because you’re saying—never mind.”
Ash released the strand of hair, his faint grin fading as his gaze met mine. “What do you know about the politics of Iliseeum?”
His question threw me. “Not much,” I admitted. “I know that Primals rule the Courts, and that gods answer to them.”
“Each Court is a territory within Iliseeum with more than enough land for each Primal and their gods to carry out their time as they see fit. And each Primal has more than enough power to do whatever they would like.” He rose from the bed and went to the table. There was a decanter there that hadn’t been there before, along with two glasses. “But no matter how powerful any one being is, there are always some who want more power. Where what they have is not enough.”
A chill swept down my spine as he pulled the stopper from the decanter. He poured the amber liquid into two short glasses. “And for them, they like to push other Primals. See how far they can go. How much they can push before the other lashes out. In a way, it can be a source of entertainment for them.” He carried the glasses over. “Whiskey?”
I took the glass he handed me. “Are you saying that another Primal did that because they were bored?”
“No. That was not done out of boredom.” He turned from me, taking a long drink. “That was done to see how far they could push me. Quite a few Primals enjoy…pushing me.”
The smoky flavor of the whiskey went down surprisingly smooth. “I know I’m about to sound repetitive, but I cannot understand why anyone would do that. You’re the Primal—”
“Of Death. I’m powerful. One of the most powerful. I can kill quicker than most. I can deliver lasting punishment that goes beyond death. I’m feared by mortals, gods, and the Primals, even those who push.” Ash faced me as he took another drink. “And the reason some push has to do with that question you seem rather obsessed with. Well, one of two questions you have asked multiple times. The one with the very complicated answer best not answered while one is bathing.”
It took me a moment. “Why you didn’t fulfill the deal?”
He nodded. “It’s because I did not make the deal.”
Shock seized me as I slowly lowered the glass to the bed beside me. “What?”
“It wasn’t me. I was not the Primal of Death then.” A tightness settled into his features. “My father was. He made the deal with Roderick Mierel. It was he who demanded the first female of the bloodline as a Consort.”
Chapter 25
All I could do was stare at Ash as what he said echoed over and over in my head. Denial immediately rose because of what it meant. I wanted to latch onto that denial, but Ash had said at the lake that not all Primals had been the first.
I’d just never thought he was referring to the Primal of Death.
My thoughts whirled. “Your…your father was the Primal of Death? He made the deal?”
“He did.” Ash stared down at his nearly empty glass. “My father was many things.”
Was.
“And he died?”
“It is not often that a Primal dies. The loss of a being so powerful can create a ripple effect that can even be felt in the mortal realm. Could even set in motion an event that has the potential to unravel the fabric that binds our realms together.” He swished the remaining liquid in his glass. “The only way to prevent that from occurring is having their power—their eather—transferred to another who can withstand it.” His hand stilled. “That is what happened when my father died. All that was his transferred to me. The Shadowlands. The Court. His responsibilities.”
“And me?” I asked hoarsely.
“And the deal he made with Roderick Mierel.”
I exhaled roughly as the strangest burst of emotions blasted through me. There was definitely relief because if that deal hadn’t transferred to Ash, there would be no way to stop the Rot. But then I realized that if it hadn’t transferred, the deal would’ve been severed in favor of Lasania at the time of the Primal’s death. It hadn’t. Obviously, it had moved to Ash. And what I felt wasn’t relief. It was an emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge—and couldn’t.
He hooked one leg over the other. “Drink, liessa. You look like you need it.”
I needed an entire bottle of whiskey to get through this conversation, but I took a healthy swallow. I was surprised that I actually did it. Something occurred to me as I placed the glass on the table. “You said there were Primals younger than some of the gods. You were talking about you, weren’t you?” When he nodded, my grip tightened. “Were you…were you even alive when he made the deal?” Immediately, I wished I hadn’t asked because if he hadn’t been, and he now had to die for something his father did…it made it all the worse.
“I had just gone through the Culling—a certain point in our lives where our body begins to go into maturity, slowing our aging and intensifying our eather. I was…” His lips pursed. “Probably a year or so younger than you are now.”
Hearing that he had at least been alive didn’t make it better at all. He’d been my age. What he’d said in the Great Hall came back to me. Choice ends today, and for that, I am sorry. Gods. It wasn’t just the loss of my choice but his, too. He hadn’t chosen this. I felt like I would be sick.
His head tilted. “You’re surprised?”
I tensed. “Are you reading my emotions?”
“A bit of your shock got through my walls, but they’re up.” His gaze met mine. “I swear.”
I believed him because staying out of my emotions would be a kind and decent thing to do.
I took another drink. “Of course, I’m surprised. By a lot. You’re really not as old as I thought you were.”
A dark eyebrow rose. “Is there a difference between two hundred years and two thousand to a mortal?”
Had he not asked the same while we’d been at the lake? “Yes. As bizarre as that may sound, there is a difference. Two hundred years is a long time, but two thousand is unfathomable.”
Ash didn’t respond to that, which allowed me time to try and make sense of all of this—of why his father would do this. “Your mother…?”
That eyebrow climbed more. “You say that as if you’re not sure that I had one.”
“I figured you did.”
“Good. I was afraid for a moment that you might believe I was hatched from an egg.”
“I really don’t know how to respond to that,” I muttered. “Were your parents not together?”
“They were.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it before trying again. “And did they…like each other?”
His chin lowered. “They loved each other very much, from what I recall.”
“Then I’m sure you understand why I’m even more confused that your father would’ve asked for a Consort when he already had one.”
“He no longer had one when he made that deal,” Ash corrected quietly. “My mother…she died during the birthing.”
My lips parted as sorrow rose within me—sadness I didn’t want to feel for him. I tried to shut it down, but I couldn’t. It sat on my chest like a boulder.
“Don’t apologize.” He stretched his neck from side to side. “I don’t tell you this to make you feel sorry for me.”
“I know,” I said, clearing my throat. I resisted the urge to ask how they’d died. I wanted to know, but instinct told me the more I knew about their deaths, the harder it would be for me to do what I must. “This is why you never collected on the deal.”
“You never consented to it.”
The ball of tension inside my ches
t tightened even further when it should’ve loosened. As did the knowledge that he hadn’t been the one to make the deal that had made me what I was today. A killer. A deal that had taken away every choice I could make. A deal that had set my life on a path that would ultimately end with the loss of my life.
But, gods, I wished he had. Because I could hold onto that. I could convince myself that he was getting what was coming to him. I could justify my actions.
“You didn’t consent, either,” I stated flatly, looking up at him.
He watched me in that intense way of his. His gaze flicked away. “No, I did not.”
I looked down at my drink, no longer feeling as if I would be sick. Instead, I felt like I wanted to cry. And, gods, when had I cried last? “Do you know why your father asked for a Consort?”
“I have asked that question myself a thousand times.” Ash laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. “I have no idea why he did it. Why he would ask for a mortal as a Consort. He died loving my mother. It made no sense.”
It really didn’t, which made all of this so much more frustrating. “Why didn’t you come to me at any point and tell me this?” I asked. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but maybe it could have? Perhaps we could have found another way.
“I considered it—more than once—but the less contact I had with you, the better. That is why Lathan often watched over you.”
Watched over me? “The one who was killed?”
“He was a…trusted guard,” he said, and I caught that he did not refer to him as a friend then. “He knew about the deal my father made, and he knew I had no intention of fulfilling it. But that didn’t mean that others wouldn’t learn that a mortal had been promised as my Consort. Either because of your family speaking about the deal, or because you were marked at birth, born in a shroud because of the deal.”
My breath caught as a shiver danced along the nape of my neck.
“And that mark, while unseen by mortals and most, can be felt at times. That would make some curious about you.” Ash drew his booted foot off the table. “It was Lathan who noticed the gods’ activity in Lasania—the ones we saw that night.”
“The ones that killed the Kazin siblings and the child? Andreia?”
“There was some concern that they may have felt this mark and were searching for it.”
My stomach hollowed. “You think they died because of me? Because they were looking for me?”
“At first, possibly.” He tapped his fingers on his knee. “But who they killed never really made sense or fit a pattern, other than the possibility that they all might’ve had a god perched somewhere on their family trees. That’s the only thing I could figure out. They weren’t true godlings, but they could’ve been descendants of a god.”
“Godlings?” I repeated, brows pinching.
“The offspring of a mortal and a god,” he explained. “If a godling then has a child with a mortal, that child would carry some mark upon them, too, but they would not be a godling.”
I understood then. Children could be born of a mortal and a god but it was rare—or at least that was what I’d believed. “I haven’t heard them called that before.”
“It is a term we use. Some of them will have certain godly abilities, depending on how powerful the parentage is. Most godlings live in Iliseeum,” he continued, his lips pursed. “Only the seamstress was someone you seemed to have had any contact with. And as far as we know, what was done to her wasn’t done to the others.”
There was a little relief there. I didn’t want their blood on my hands. There was already enough. “The Kazin siblings? Magus? Apparently, he was a guard, but I don’t know if I ever saw him or if he was even stationed at Wayfair.”
A thoughtful look crept into Ash’s face. “Still, if you did not know him nor the seamstress well, I don’t see how their deaths are related to you.”
I didn’t either. But it also seemed…too close to me. “Have you found out anything more related to what was done to Andreia?”
“Nothing. No one has heard of such a thing, even a mortal with the possibility of a god somewhere in their family line. And, yes, I find the lack of information to be beyond frustrating.”
It must not be often that a Primal couldn’t figure something out. Another thought rose. “Was Lathan mortal?”
The breath Ash let out was long. “He was a godling. I should’ve corrected your assumption.”
But would it have been necessary? Godling or mortal, a life was a life. “How did he die?”
“He tried to stop them.” His features were unreadable as he stared out the balcony doors. “He was overpowered and outnumbered. He knew better, but he did it anyway.” Ash finished his drink. “Either way, I didn’t come to you because I didn’t want to risk revealing you to those who would seek to use you.”
“Your enemies?” I asked. “Do those gods serve the Court of a Primal who likes to push you?”
“They do.”
“But why would any Primal or god believe that what happens to me would sway you?”
“Why wouldn’t they? They would not have known my intentions regarding you, especially if they had no knowledge of the deal my father made.” His gaze cut to me. “They would have no reason not to believe you were important to me.”
He was right.
I realized in that moment that I’d spent a lifetime believing that the Primal of Death was a cold, apathetic being because of what he represented. I’d been wrong. Ash wasn’t either of those things. He knew that each death left a mark. He understood the power of choice. I even thought of what Aios had said. That there had to be a reason she felt safe with him and trusted him. Ash cared, and I was willing to bet there was more than one decent bone in his body.
And none of that helped.
At all.
My duty was bigger than me—than what I felt. But it hadn’t been him who’d forced that duty upon me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and the words still felt strange on my lips. They hurt a little this time.
His gaze returned to me. “For what?”
I let out a short laugh. “For having that one decent bone in your body.”
A faint smiled appeared. “Are you hungry? I know the cooks sent up some soup, but I can have more of whatever you want made.”
I wished he’d refuse me food. “I’m fine.” I dragged my finger over the beveled edges of the glass. Another question rose from the endless cyclone of them. “Are there any…consequences for you?” A surprising, unwanted and wholly hypocritical dose of concern blossomed within me. “I mean, from what I understand of the deals, they require fulfillment from all parties involved.”
“There are no consequences, Sera.”
I eyed him. He’d answered without hesitation. Maybe even too quickly, but that wasn’t a concern of mine. At all. “How long had Lathan been keeping an eye on me?”
“It wasn’t until the last three years, when you were more…active,” he told me. “Does it make you angry to know that?”
It was really weird to know that someone had been keeping an eye on me without my knowledge. Of course, I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t that simple. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I should feel angry or not.” However, it did make me think of all the weird and dumb things Lathan could have witnessed. But it made sense that there would’ve been no need to keep an eye on me before the night of my seventeenth birthday. Before then, I’d only ever left Wayfair to travel into the Dark Elms outside of a few, rare occasions. “Why did you have him do that? You didn’t know me. You didn’t make the deal. You have no obligation to me.”
“That’s a good question.” Ash’s thundercloud-hued eyes drilled into mine. “Maybe if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been there that night to stop you from attacking those gods. They would’ve killed you. And, perhaps, that would’ve been a better fate for you.”
Ice drenched my skin as he continued holding my stare. Air thinned in my chest.
�
��Because now here we are. You’re in the Shadowlands. And soon, you will be known as the Consort,” Ash said. “My enemies will become yours.”
Sleep came surprisingly easy after Ash left, leaving me with even more questions. I expected to do nothing but lay in bed and dwell on everything he’d shared, but either I was exhausted, or I simply wanted to escape everything I’d discovered. I slept deeply, and it felt like a long time before I woke. I had no idea how many hours had passed. The sky was the same shade of gray, still full of stars, but a dull twinge had taken up residence in my upper shoulders. When I checked them in the standing mirror, the wounds appeared significantly less red and swollen. Whatever was in that balm Ash had used was a miracle.
Cinching the sash on my robe, I walked to the balcony doors and opened them. The gray sky was full of stars and no clouds as I walked to the railing overlooking the canopy of blood-colored leaves and the twinkling lights of the city beyond.
I’d learned so much that my thoughts raced from one thing to the next, but they kept coming back around.
Ash hadn’t made the deal.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I closed my eyes as I gripped the railing. It had been his father, for reasons known only to him. A great bit of unease still festered in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t right that Ash should pay with his life for what his father had done. It wasn’t right that I would also pay with mine.
Nothing about this was fair.
The smooth stone pressed into my palms as I continued to squeeze the railing. Nothing had changed, though. It couldn’t. The Rot had to be stopped, and Ash…he was the Primal of Death, the one who now held the deal. I had to fulfill my duty. If I didn’t, Lasania would fall. People would continue dying. There would be more families like the Coupers, no matter who took the Crown.
Was one life more important than tens of thousands? Millions? Even if it was a Primal? But what would happen if I managed to succeed? If he fell in love with me, and I became his weakness, what kind of wrath would his death force upon the realms? How many lives would be lost until another Primal took his spot?
A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon Page 34