Then I realized I was still gaping at her. Heat crept into my face. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to ask that. I just…” I didn’t really have a response.
She nodded, and I wasn’t sure if that was in acceptance of my apology or not.
My gaze dropped to the dagger at her thigh. “What does…meyaah Liessa mean?”
That eyebrow seemed to climb even higher. “It means my Queen.”
My entire body jolted. “Your Queen?”
“Yes,” she drew out the word. “You are the Consort, are you not? That would make you like a queen.”
I understood that, though it seemed weird to even acknowledge. But Ash… Another jolt ran through me. Ash had said liessa meant many things, all something beautiful and powerful.
A Queen would be powerful.
A Consort was.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dav asked.
“I think so.” Giving a small shake of my head, I shoved the covers aside. “Where is—?” I started to call him Ash but then remembered Ector’s reaction. “Where is the Primal?” I hadn’t seen him since I’d caught a glimpse of him entering those strangely colored woods.
“Busy.”
My spine stiffened. “Still?”
“Still.”
I told myself to take a deep breath and to remain calm. I did not know this woman. She was also a draken, and most likely not someone I wanted to anger. So, I forced my voice to remain level. “What is he busy with?”
For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t be any more detailed than Ector, but then she said, “He was in the Red Woods, dealing with Shades.”
Dying Woods? Shades? “I have a distinct feeling that you probably won’t appreciate the fact that I have more questions,” I started, and a faint trace of humor crept into her otherwise stoic features. “But what is the Dying Woods, and what are Shades?”
She studied me for a long moment. “The Dying Woods are the…dying woods. Dead trees. Dead grass.” She paused. “Dead everything.”
My lips thinned, even though I supposed I’d walked right into that one. “Then perhaps they should be called the Dead Woods.”
That glint of humor moved in her blue eyes. “I have said that myself many times.”
Relaxing a fraction, the robe fell around my legs as I stood. “And the Shades?”
“Souls who have entered the Shadowlands but refuse to cross through the Pillars of Asphodel to face judgement for the deeds committed while alive. They can’t return to the mortal realm. They can’t enter the Vale. So, they remain trapped in the Dying Woods. They become…lost, wanting to live but unable to gain that life.
“Oh,” I whispered, swallowing. “That sounds terrible.”
“It is,” she answered. “Especially since they are driven mad by unending hunger and thirst. They tend to get a bit bitey.”
My brows shot up. Bitey?
“Normally, they don’t cause that many problems, but sometimes, they find their way out of the Dying Woods and into Lethe,” she explained. “Then, Nyktos must round them up. Fun times had by all.”
“Fun times,” I repeated.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much to do.” Dav started for the door. “None of which involves answering questions. No offense meant.” She stopped at the door and bowed. “Good day, meyaah Liessa.”
Dav left the room, closing the doors behind her.
“Wow,” I murmured, my gaze drifting to the table. A short laugh left me. Despite the general unfriendliness of the draken, I kind of liked her.
Hours passed with no sign of Ash. It was Ector who brought a light lunch and then supper. He didn’t linger, flat-out ignoring my questions. Just as he had each time I opened the door and found him standing in the hallway.
Night had fallen once more, and when I stepped out onto the balcony and looked up, the sky had turned a deeper shade of iron, the stars and the lights from the city beyond brighter. The leaves from the woods below had become a deep crimson, almost a red-black.
I’d gone to bed slightly annoyed two nights ago, and more than slightly last night. When I woke again this morning, no less than thirty minutes ago, to find Ector standing outside yet again, I went from irritated to furious.
The god, on the other hand, had given me a rather jaunty wave.
Only a tiny part of me wondered exactly what Ector had done to earn his spot standing outside my door. He had to be going stir-crazy. I knew I was. The only thing that kept me somewhat sane and stopped me from breaking random things in the too quiet, too large room was the pacing—the pacing and the plotting.
Okay. Plotting wasn’t the best word for what I’d been doing. But plotting the many different blunt objects I could use to strike Ash over the head as I paced, filled me with a disturbing amount of satisfaction. None of those fantasies would do anything to aid in my seduction of the Primal, but how in the hell could I even begin to make him fall in love with me when he kept me locked in my chambers?
Then there were the glimpses of the young draken they called Reaver. Every so often, I caught sight of him in the courtyard, usually with Aios or one of the unknown guards, hopping on the ground and attempting to take flight with his thin wings. I watched from the shadows of the balcony, utterly enthralled.
A knock on the door whipped me around. I rushed forward, throwing it open. And came to a sudden halt. The god who stood in the threshold was neither Ash nor Ector.
“Hi there.” The god bowed deeply. “I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Saion,” I said. “You were there, in the Great Hall.”
“I was. How are you feeling?” he asked rather politely. “I hope better than I last saw you.”
He’d last seen me shoving a whip down someone’s throat. “Much better,” I answered truthfully. The marks the whip had left behind were no longer raised welts but faint red streaks that no longer ached.
“Glad to hear that.” The smooth brown skin of his head glinted richly in the hallway light. “Would you like breakfast?”
“I would like to leave this room.”
“The offer for breakfast, if you accept, would require you to leave.” He stepped back into the hall and to the side. “Yes, or no?”
There was a moment of hesitation. I didn’t know Saion, but I did know that I had to get out of this chamber before I started tying bedsheets together and attempting to scale the building from the balcony.
“Yes.”
“Perfect.” Saion waited until I was in the hall and then closed the door. “Please. Follow me.”
Wary, I did as he requested, wishing I had any weapon at this point as I followed him, continuously scanning my surroundings. We made our way down the wide hall and toward the staircase. Saion didn’t speak, and never one good with small talk, I was more than fine with the silence.
A jittery energy descended as we reached the first level. The brightly lit entryway was empty. I glanced at the double, windowless, wooden doors painted black.
“I hope you’re not planning to make a run for it,” Saion observed.
My head whipped in his direction. “I wasn’t.”
“Good. I’m feeling a bit too lazy to chase you down,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up. The smile was charming and as perfect as the rest of his features, but the sharpness in his gaze left me doubting the sincerity of that smile. He motioned for me to follow him through the archway. “And Nyktos would be quite irritated with me if he learned you’d managed to evade me on my watch.”
Why would he think I’d run off? “If he is so worried about me running off, then perhaps he should be the one watching over me.”
“Interestingly enough, I said the same thing.”
“Really?” I asked doubtfully, taking in the space beyond the sharply pointed archway. There were doors on either side, but the walls were black and bare. The only thing in the space was a white pedestal in the center of the room, but nothing sat on it.
“Really.”
I glanced a
t him. “How did he take that?”
The smile was easier now, but no less charming as we entered another hall. “He grumbled something about feeding me to Nektas.”
My eyes widened. I hoped he was joking. “What…what do draken eat?”
“Not me, that’s for sure,” he replied. “And this was said in front of Nektas, who claimed to have no interest in eating me, thank the gods.”
The hall split into two, going in opposite directions. Ahead, two doors were spaced so far apart, each room could belong in a different home. But it was what rested in the center, between the two doors, that caught my attention. My steps slowed. Two thick, black pillars framed a short hall that opened into a circular chamber lit by hundreds of candles. Reminded of the Shadow Temple, a shiver curled down my spine as we drew closer. The golden candlelight broke apart the shadows in the chamber, casting a glow of fire over the massive blocks of shadowstone seated upon a dais. It was the throne. Thrones, actually. Two of them sat side by side, their backs carved into large and widespread wings that touched at the tips.
The Primal’s and Consort’s thrones.
They were hauntingly beautiful.
I looked up to see that the ceiling was open to the sky. No glass. Nothing. Did it never rain here?
Saion stalked toward the chamber to the left of the throne room, and it was a bit of a struggle to pull my gaze from the thrones. He opened the door. “After you.”
A whole host of spices and aromas filled the chamber as I continued in, my gaze touching on everything all at once. The walls were bare except for some candle sconces. No Primal magic there. Their flames cast a soft glow off the smooth ebony walls. A table sat in the center of the circular room, as large as the one in the banquet room in Wayfair. A dozen or so candles of varying heights glowed from the middle of the table, but I saw a silvery gleam cast across the covered dishes and glasses.
I looked up, my breath catching. The dome-shaped ceiling was made of glass, and it was the stars above that shone on the table. My lips parted.
“Beautiful.”
Gasping, I whirled around. Ash stood only a few feet from me. He wore all black, the tunic devoid of any embellishments. His hair was down, softening the sharpness of his cheekbones and the hardness of his jaw.
Startled by his sudden appearance, I bumped into one of the winged-back chairs. “It is,” I whispered. There was no way I could deny the eerie beauty of the cavernous chamber. “This room is very beautiful.”
A tight-lipped smile appeared as his gaze, so much like the starlight, swept over me. “I hadn’t even noticed the room.”
It took me a moment to realize what he meant. I glanced down at myself in surprise. I wore no gown, instead opting for the long-sleeved blouse and vest, much like Dav had been wearing. I glanced up at him, a rush of conflicting emotions rolling through me as his stare lingered on the laces of the vest, the cut of the blouse, and then strayed over the tight fit of the breeches. I was annoyed for a multitude of reasons, starting with being trapped in my chambers, and ending with his blatant perusal. But there was a different emotion—something smokier and warm—as we stood there in silence, seeming to just soak each other in. Ash had drifted closer, the heated intensity in his gaze sending a shivery wave of awareness and anticipation—
I jumped at the sound of the door clicking shut. Only then did I realize that Saion had left us. I snapped out of whatever spell I had fallen into. “Did you have your lackey lock the door, or was that unnecessary since you are here?”
“I do hope you don’t call Saion that to his face,” Ash replied smoothly. “I’ll get little peace if you do.”
“Have I given you the impression that I would care if things were peaceful for you or not?” I snapped. The moment those words left my mouth, I cursed myself. I shouldn’t show my irritation. I should let it go. Be malleable. Understanding. Whatever. Any of those things would help me.
“You’re angry with me.”
“Are you surprised? You kept me in my chambers as if I were your prisoner.”
“Keeping you in your chambers was a necessary evil.”
I took a deep breath. It did no good. “There is nothing necessary about becoming your captive.”
His eyes turned to steel. “You are not my captive.”
“That’s not what it felt like.”
“If you think being kept in your chambers for a day or two is equal to being a prisoner, then you have no idea what being held against your will feels like,” he replied coolly.
“And you do?”
His skin thinned, features honing to an edge. “I am well acquainted with what that feels like.”
My mouth clamped shut. I hadn’t expected that.
Ash’s expression smoothed as he broke eye contact with me. “The food is growing cold.” He strode forward, pulling out the chair to the right. “Have a seat,” he said. “Please.”
I peeled away from the chair and took the seat he offered, replaying what he’d said over and over. Had he been held captive? Even though he was young compared to others, he was still powerful. Who could’ve done that?
Ash moved to my side and reached over my shoulder, beginning to lift the lids while I refused to allow myself to acknowledge how nice he smelled. An array of food was revealed under each lid. Bacon. Sausage. Eggs. Bread. Fruits. “Water? Tea? Lemonade?” he offered, extending his hand toward a cluster of pitchers. “Whiskey?”
“Lemonade,” I answered absently. I watched him pour the juice into a glass and then set about placing a little bit of everything on a plate—bacon, the sausage, the eggs, the fruit, and two rolls. Then he placed that plate in front of me.
The Primal of Death was serving me. Apparently, he believed I needed to eat for five. A nearly hysterical giggle climbed up my throat, but I squelched it as he poured himself what appeared to be whiskey and took the seat at the head of the table to my immediate left. The positioning surprised me. My mother and stepfather had sat at opposite ends of the table. The seat to the right of a King or, in some cases, the Queen, was usually reserved for an Advisor or other position of authority.
He reached over, picking up something that had been folded in a cloth. My breath snagged as he unwrapped it, revealing a sheathed shadowstone dagger—the one he’d gifted me with.
“I forgot to give you this when I saw you last.” He handed it over. “The sheath and strap are adjustable. It should fit.”
I stared at the dagger, my heart thundering. He was handing me a weapon that I could use to end his life. The blade he’d given to me.
Doing everything in my power to ignore the pressure clamping down on my chest, I reached over and took it. The brush of our skin sent a soft wave of energy over my fingers. Hands trembling slightly, I lifted my right leg and slid the strap around my thigh, securing the sheath.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the words tasting like soot on my tongue.
There was no response for several long moments, and then Ash said, “I hadn’t planned on leaving you alone in your room for so long. That wasn’t intentional.”
My gaze shot to his. “Then what did you intend?”
“Not to make you feel as if you were my prisoner. You’re not my captive. You never will be my captive.” His gaze shifted to his glass. “Something came up.”
He sounded genuine. “And you didn’t trust me to have free rein of the palace?”
Ash arched a brow. “Is that a serious question?” I pressed my lips together, and I thought he might smile, but he said, “Making sure you were safe in one place while I was occupied was all I could come up with at the moment. Either way, I wanted to…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for upsetting you.”
My brows lifted. “That apology sounded like it pained you.”
“It did.”
I narrowed my eyes.
His gaze slid back to mine. “I am sorry, Seraphena.”
The way he said my name, my full name… He made it sound like a sin. I looked away so
quickly, several curls slid over my shoulders and fell against my cheek. I’d left my hair down, figuring it could help since he seemed to enjoy it. “I don’t like being locked in. Kept somewhere, hidden and—” Forgotten. Hidden and forgotten. “I just don’t like it.”
“I heard,” he finally said, and I exhaled softly. “According to Ector, you were quite vocal in expressing your dislike.”
“Don’t do it again.” The word please went unspoken, but I could feel it in every bone. Wait… “You can read my emotions, but can you read my mind?”
His brows lifted. “Thank the Fates, I cannot read your thoughts.”
Relief crashed through me—thank the Fates? I eyed him, letting that comment slide. “You said your ability to read emotions came from your mother’s bloodline?”
“Yes,” he said, picking up his glass. “Her family descended from the Court of Lotho—the Primal Embris’ Court.”
Interest sparked. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Mycella.”
“That’s pretty.”
“It was.”
My gaze lowered to my plate. “It has to be hard not having known your mother. I didn’t know my father, so…” I pressed my lips together. “Do you get to visit her?” I asked, assuming that she’d passed onto the Vale.
“No.”
I peeked over at him, thinking of my father. “Is there some kind of rule against that? Visiting loved ones who’ve passed on?”
“As the Primal of Death, I risk destroying the mortal’s soul if they’re in my presence for any extended period of time, at least for those who have passed through judgement. That is a balance to prevent the Primal of Death from creating his or her version of life. There is no exact rule against it for gods or other mortals, but it wouldn’t be wise. Visiting loved ones who have moved on can cause both the one living and the one who has passed to become stuck—to want what neither can have, whether that be to continue seeing their loved one or to return to the living. It can even cause them to leave the Vale, and that does not end well.”
I thought of the spirits in the Dark Elms. Those who had refused to enter the Shadowlands altogether. They never sounded happy. Just sad and lost. Would those who left the Vale become the Shades that Dav had spoken of? Either way, I wouldn’t want that for the father I’d never met. I wouldn’t want that for anyone.
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