A Primal that didn’t have a kind and decent bone in their body. Who didn’t think highly of freedom and consent. A Primal who didn’t interfere when others took delight in violence. Who didn’t care about murdered descendants that carried some small trace of godly blood within them.
“Gods,” I whispered, stomach twisting. How could I…how could I do this? How could I hide this mess of emotion from him, stop it from piercing whatever walls he had built around himself?
How could I not?
The people of Lasania were more important than my distaste of what I must do. They were more important than Ash. Than me.
Opening my eyes, I jerked back from the railing as movement from the courtyard below snagged my attention. I scanned the ground, breath catching as I recognized Ash’s tall, broad form. Even from a distance, I knew it was him. A breeze moved across the courtyard, tossing the loose strands of his hair around his shoulders. His strides were long and sure as he walked alone, heading toward the cluster of the dark red trees.
What was he doing?
A knock on the door drew me from my thoughts. Knowing it wasn’t Ash, habit had me reaching for my thigh, but there was no dagger there. No real weapon at all. I went to the door, only to discover that it was Aios.
She flowed into the room with clothing draped over her arm. “Glad you’re awake,” she said. “We were starting to worry. You’ve been asleep for a day.”
A day?
I blinked as a younger man entered behind her, bowing his head in my direction before placing a covered dish and a glass on the table. The aroma of food reached me, stirring my nearly empty stomach. He kept his head down, and most of his face was hidden behind a sheet of blond hair. Aios made a beeline for the wardrobe, throwing it open as I watched him turn to leave, noticing that he favored his right leg over his left. It wasn’t until he was closing the door behind him that he looked up, and I saw that his eyes were brown and there was no glow of eather in them.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat,” Aios said. “So, I had a little bit of everything made. Please eat before it gets cold.”
Somewhat in a daze, I roamed over to the table and lifted the cloche to reveal a mound of fluffy eggs, a few strips of bacon, a biscuit, and a small bowl of fruit. I stared at the food for several moments, unable to remember the last time I’d had warm eggs. I sat slowly, my gaze falling to the glass of orange juice. For some reason, the back of my throat burned. I closed my eyes, wrangling my emotions. It was just warm eggs and bacon. That was all. When I was positive that I had control of myself, I opened my eyes and slowly picked up the fork. I tasted the eggs and nearly moaned. Cheese. There was melted cheese in them. I nearly devoured the entire mound in less than a minute.
“You’ll be happy to know that I was able to find some clothing for you,” Aios said as she hung the items inside the wardrobe.
Forcing myself to slow down, I looked over my shoulder at her. I thought of the glow in her eyes. “You’re a goddess, right?”
Aios faced me with a quizzical lift to her brows. “On most days.”
I cracked a grin. “And the young man that was just here. Is he a…a godling?”
She shook her head as she turned back to the wardrobe, hanging what appeared to be a gray sweater. “Have you ever met a godling?”
“Not that I know of,” I admitted, thinking of Andreia. “I don’t know much about them.”
“What would you like to know?” she said, turning from the wardrobe.
“Everything.”
Aios laughed softly, the sound warm and airy. “Finish eating, and I’ll tell you.”
For once, I didn’t mind being told what to do. I broke apart the toasted, buttery biscuit as Aios said, “Most godlings are mortal. They carry no essence of the gods in them. Therefore, they live and die just like any other mortal.”
I thought of how Ash had said that most godlings lived in Iliseeum. “Do they typically reside in the mortal realm?”
“Some do. Others choose to live in Iliseeum. But for those who carry the eather in their blood, it’s usually because their mother or father was a powerful god. That eather is passed down to them.”
Was that the case for the Kazin siblings? One of them, or maybe even the babe, had enough eather in them to make them a godling? The babe with the missing father? Or did they just have a trace? Either way, why would the gods kill them?
“For the first eighteen to twenty years of life, they live relatively mortal lives,” she continued, snapping my attention back to her. “They may not even know that they carry the blood of the gods in them. But they soon will.”
“The Culling?” I guessed, picking up a slice of bacon.
She nodded. “Yes. They will begin to go through the Culling. That is when some learn that they are not completely mortal.”
My brows lifted. “That would be one hell of a way to find out.”
“That it would be.” Her head tilted, sending several long locks of red hair cascading over a shoulder. “But for most, they don’t survive the change. You see, their bodies are still mortal. And as the Culling sets in, and the eather in them begins to multiply and grow, infiltrating every part of them, their bodies can’t facilitate such a process. They die.”
“That…” I shook my head as I dropped the slice of bacon back onto the plate. “The eather sounds like a weed growing out of control in their bodies.”
Aios let out a surprised laugh. “I suppose that is one way to look at it. Or maybe, for some, a beautiful garden. Those who survive the Culling will then age much, much slower than mortals. Basically, for every three or so decades a mortal lives, it is equivalent to one year for a godling.”
What mortal lived to a hundred? Odetta had to have been close. “That sounds like immortality to me.”
“Godlings can live for thousands of years if they’re careful. They are susceptible to very few illnesses. But they’re not as…impervious to injuries as the gods and Primals are,” she explained. “For that reason, most godlings who survive the Culling live in Iliseeum.”
That made sense. A five-hundred-year-old person who looked as if they were twenty would definitely draw attention. That was also probably why we believed that the children of mortals and gods—godlings—were rare. A thought struck me, causing my stomach to twist. “Can Primals and mortals have children?”
She shook her head. “A Primal is an entirely different being in that way.”
I took a drink of the juice to hide my relief. It could take months…or even years to fulfill my duty. I didn’t want to bring a child into this only to leave them orphaned like Ash had been.
Like, in some ways, I had been.
My hand trembled slightly as I placed the glass down. “So how do some survive, while others don’t?”
“It all depends on whether a god assisted the godling,” she said, reaching up to toy with the chain around her neck. “That is the only way a godling survives.”
“And how would a god assist them?”
She grinned, a mischievous sort of look filling her golden eyes. “You may find such information to be quite scandalous.”
“Doubtful,” I murmured.
Aios laughed again. “Well, all right, then.” The hem of her flared sweater swished around her knees as she drifted closer. “They need to feed from a god.”
I leaned forward. “I assume you do not mean the type of food I just consumed?”
“No.” Her grin spread as she lifted a finger to her rosy lips. She tapped a fingernail off one delicate fang. “They do not grow these, but they will need blood. Quite a bit of it at first. And then, every so often once the Culling is complete.”
“Do all gods need to feed?” I asked. “Like that?”
She sat on the chair opposite me. “Yes.”
My stomach tumbled a bit. I’d obviously known that they could…bite, but I hadn’t known it was something they had to do.
A bit of her smile faded. “Does that bother you?”
/> “No,” I said quickly. “I mean, the idea of drinking blood makes me a little nauseous.”
“As it would for most who are not like us.”
But I…I also remembered the scrape of Ash’s fangs against my skin. I felt myself flush. “Do you all feed off mortals?”
Aios arched a brow as she watched me. “We can. It does the same for us as feeding off a god would.”
My gaze flicked back to Aios’s beautiful face. Who did Ash feed from? “Are Primals the same?”
“They do not need to feed unless they’ve experienced some sort of weakening.” Her fingers returned to the chain. “Which isn’t often.”
“Oh,” I murmured, not exactly thrilled with the buzz of relief I felt. Something occurred to me. “Does anything happen to the mortal when a Primal or god feeds off them?”
“No. Not if we’re careful. Obviously, a mortal may feel the effects of the feeding more than any of us would, and if we were to take too much, then…well, it would be a tragedy if they were not third sons or daughters.” Her lips tensed. “It’s forbidden to Ascend them—to save them.”
Curiosity trickled through me. “Why?”
Tension bracketed her mouth. “They would become what we call demis—a being with godlike power that was never meant to carry such a gift…and burden. They are something else.”
I frowned, thinking that wasn’t much of an answer.
“But to answer your original question,” she continued, changing the subject, “the young man who was in here? His name is Paxton, and he’s completely mortal.”
So many more questions flooded me. Surprise flickered through me. “What is a mortal doing here?”
“Many mortals live in Iliseeum,” she told me, and it was clear that she thought that was common knowledge.
“Are they all…lovers?” I fiddled with the sash on the robe, thinking Paxton appeared far too young for that.
“Some have befriended a god or became their lover.” She lifted a shoulder. “Others have talents that appealed to one of the gods. For many of them, coming to Iliseeum was an opportunity to start over. Their paths are all different.”
An opportunity to start over. My heart skipped. Wouldn’t that be nice? I glanced down at my plate. There was no starting over, no other paths. There never had been.
“May I ask you something?” Aios asked, and I looked up, nodding. “Did you know?” She had come closer, her voice lower. “About the deal, before he came for you?”
“I did.”
“Still, that must’ve been a lot to deal with.” Aios clasped her hands together. “To know you had been promised to a Primal.”
“It was, but I learned a while ago that if you can’t deal with something, you find a way to do so,” I said. “You have to.”
A far-off look crept into Aios’s features as she nodded slowly. “Yes, you have to.” She cleared her throat, rising abruptly and making her way to the wardrobe. “By the way, I was able to find two gowns that I believe will fit. But Nyktos mentioned that you preferred pants over gowns.”
I rose slowly and tentatively walked forward. He’d thought enough to mention that to Aios?
“I couldn’t get my hands on any tights, but these breeches should fit you.” Aios tugged on a pair of fawn-colored pants and then on a black pair she’d hung. “I hope these are sufficient.”
“Actually, I prefer them over tights. They’re thicker and have pockets.”
She nodded, flipping through the items she’d hung. “You have some long-sleeved blouses, vests, and sweaters. They’re a bit plain,” she said, running a hand over something silky and pale. “There are two nightgowns here for you and some basic undergarments. I imagine you’ll soon have many more items to choose from.” Turning to me, she once again folded her hands. “Is there anything else you need?”
I opened my mouth, reluctant to let her leave. I’d spent the vast majority of my life alone and left to my own devices. But this room was huge, and nothing about it was familiar. I shook my head.
Aios had just started for the door when I stopped her. “I do have one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Are you from the Shadowlands Court?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I once belonged to the Court of Kithreia.”
It took me a moment to recall what I had been taught about the different Courts. “Maia,” I said, surprising myself that I remembered the name of the Primal of Love, Beauty, and Fertility’s Court. “You served the Primal Maia?”
“At one time.”
Curiosity hummed through me. I had not known of any gods leaving the Primal they had been born to serve. “How did you end up here?”
Her shoulders tightened. “As I said before, it was the only place I knew would be safe.”
Left unsettled, I didn’t stop her as she left. While I found relief in the knowledge that she felt safe here, how secure could it be when those who liked to push the Primal of Death had strung those gods to the wall?
That was roughly about the time I realized that Ash hadn’t told me who had done that to the gods.
I turned back to the wardrobe. The undergarments were nothing more than scraps of lace I imagined most would find indecent. I flipped past the gowns, finding a narrow leather strap beside the remaining clothing. I grabbed a sweater and breeches, changing into them.
After I found a comb and spent an ungodly amount of time working out the numerous knots in my hair, I braided it, remembering what Ash had said. Hair that looked like spun moonlight.
That was such a silly thing to say.
Returning to the bedchamber, I found myself staring at the chamber door.
Was I locked in my room?
Oh, gods, if they’d imprisoned me, I would—I didn’t even know what I would do, but it would probably involve finding the closest blunt object and knocking Ash over the head with it.
My heart hammered as I went to the door, bare feet whispering over the cool stone. I placed my hand on the brass knob. I took a deep breath and turned.
It wasn’t locked.
Relief shuddered through me, and I opened the door—
I gasped. A light-haired and fair-skinned god stood in the middle of the hall, facing my room. He was dressed as before, in black adorned with silver scrollwork across the chest, a short sword strapped to his side.
“Ector,” I squeaked. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Can I help you with something?”
He shook his head, remaining exactly where he stood, feet planted in the center of the hall like an unmovable tree.
Wait…
I inhaled sharply. “I doubt you’re standing there because you have nothing better to do, correct?”
“I have many, many better things I could be doing,” he replied.
“And yet, you’re standing guard outside my chamber?”
“Sure appears that way.”
Anger simmered, threatening to boil over. What good did an unlocked door do when he placed a guard outside my room? “You’re here to make sure I don’t leave my chambers.”
“I’m here for your safety,” Ector corrected. “I’ve also heard you tend to wander off into dangerous areas.”
“I don’t have a habit of roaming.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I misheard and it’s that you have a habit of entering places without making sure they’re secure.”
“Oh, well, now I know you spoke to Ash.”
“Ash?” Ector repeated. His brows rose. “I didn’t know you two were on that kind of name basis.”
And he wasn’t? I am not that to you. That was what Ash had said when I’d called him Nyktos.
I blew out an aggravated breath. It didn’t matter. “If I wanted to leave my room right now, would you stop me?”
“At the moment, yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if something were to happen to you, I imagine Nyktos would probably be displeased.”
“Probably?”
Ector shrugged.
“What about later?” I demanded.
“That will be different, and we would have to see.”
“Have to see?” I laughed harshly. Unbelievable. “Where is he?”
“He’s busy at the moment.”
“And I imagine he can’t be interrupted?”
Ector nodded.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Stay in my room until he isn’t busy?”
“I’m not entirely sure what you’re supposed to do.” Amber eyes met mine. “And to be honest, I don’t think even he knows what to do with you.”
Chapter 26
The following morning, I jerked upright in bed, wrinkled and dazed as a woman strolled into my bedchamber after knocking once.
“Brought you something to eat,” she announced, stalking past the bed in a rapid clip, her short, honey-brown hair snapping at her rounded, reddish-brown chin.
I blinked slowly, still half asleep. The long, flowing sleeves of her white blouse slid up her arms as she placed a covered dish and a pitcher on the table, revealing a slender, black-bladed dagger affixed to her forearm. That wasn’t the only one. She had another strapped to her breeches-clad thigh. I tensed as the cobwebs of sleep vanished at the sight of the weapons. “Who are you?” I demanded.
“Davina is my name. Most call me Dav.” She whipped around. “And I suppose I should call you meyaah Liessa.”
My lips parted as goosebumps spread across my scalp. It wasn’t her words that drew the reaction. It was her eyes.
A shade of vibrant blue that rivaled the Stroud Sea stood out in stark contrast to her black, vertical pupils.
Pupils that reminded me of the draken I’d seen on the road on our way into the Shadowlands, but his eyes had been red.
She stared unblinkingly at me. “Are you all right?”
“Are you a draken?” I blurted.
One eyebrow rose. “That was kind of a rude question. But, yes, I am.”
At first, the only thing that entered my mind was how in the world someone roughly my height and slimmer than me could transform into something the size of the draken I’d seen. Then again, I couldn’t imagine her shifting into something even the size of Reaver, which was much smaller. But still.
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