And there had to be thousands of Chosen like him. Thousands.
“Why?” I whispered, my stomach roiling as I sat on the settee.
“Why not?”
I sucked in air that went nowhere. “That is not a good enough answer.”
“I agree.” His eyes swirled slowly.
“Then why are the Chosen taken if not to be Ascended so they may serve the Primal of Life and the gods?”
“I do not know why the Rite is still held,” he said, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. “But they do serve the gods, Sera. They serve at their whims. And many of those gods do what they want with the Chosen, because they can. Because for some of them, that is all they know. That’s not an excuse. At all. But as long as mortals continue the Rite, more Chosen will meet the same fate.”
Red-hot anger whipped through me, and I was on my feet before I even realized it. “Mortals continue the Rite because the gods ask that of us. Because we are told that the Chosen will serve the gods. You speak as if this is our fault. As if we have the ability to tell the gods—a Primal—no.”
“I do not think that it’s the mortals’ fault,” he corrected.
My hands opened and closed at my sides as I took a step back. I turned away from Ash before I did something reckless. Like pick up the low-to-the-ground table and throw it at him. I crossed the bedchamber, stopping at the balcony doors. Did Kolis not know this was happening? Or did he not care? I glanced down at my hands. I couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t care. He was the Primal of Life.
But how could he be unaware? He was the most powerful of all the Primals. The King of Gods.
“How is this allowed by the King of Gods?” I asked, the image of him in the Sun Temple forming. You, Chosen, are worthy. I shuddered.
“Why would you think it is disallowed? Simply because he’s the Primal of Life?” A sharpness entered his tone. “You believe he cares?”
I turned to him. Nothing could be gleaned from his expression. “Yes. I would believe that.”
An eyebrow rose. “Then you know even less about Primals than I believed.”
My heart thumped in my chest. “Are you really suggesting that Kolis is okay with the Chosen being brutalized?”
His icy stare met mine. “I wouldn’t dare suggest that your Primal of Life could be so cruel.”
A wave of prickly anger swept through me. “Why would he allow that? Why would anyone do that?” I remembered what Aios had said. “It can’t be because they lived so long that this is the only way they find pleasure or entertainment.”
“I couldn’t answer that question—to even begin to tell you that it is due to losing humanity or simply because they view mortals as something beneath them. I don’t know what corrupts and festers the mind that ultimately allows that type of behavior to occur. I don’t know how anyone finds pleasure in the pain and humiliation of others.” Ash had drifted closer. “I almost wish you hadn’t learned this. At least, not yet. Some things are better left unknown.”
“For the ones not involved, maybe. But for the Chosen? Their families? They’re taught that it is an honor. People wish they were Chosen, Ash. How is that right?”
“It’s not.”
“It has to be stopped,” I said. “The Rite. The whole act of being Chosen. It has to be.”
Something akin to pride filled his eyes, but it was gone so quickly, I couldn’t be sure. “And how would you propose doing that? Do you think mortals would believe it if they were told the truth?”
“Probably not if it came from another mortal.” I didn’t even have to think about that. “But they’d believe a god. They’d believe a Primal.”
“Do you think they’d believe the Primal of Death?”
I snapped my mouth shut.
“Even if another Primal came to them and showed them what really happened, there would be resistance. It is far easier to be lied to than it is to acknowledge that you have been lied to.”
I stared at him, taking in the cold lines and angles of his face. There was truth in those words. A sad, harsh one. “What do you do about this?”
His eyes searched mine. “I don’t stand by and do nothing, even if it may appear that way. That is how I prefer it.” Wisps of eather crackled along his irises. “That is how I keep people like Erlina alive.”
“You…you saved her? Brought her here?”
“I’ve only hidden her away. Like I’ve done for other Chosen. I try to get as many as I can without drawing attention,” he said, darkness gathering under his skin.
Only hidden her away? As if that were nothing. But was it enough? The answer was no. Thousands had been Chosen over the years. But it was something.
“Is it still dangerous for them?” I asked. “Other gods enter Lethe. Could they be recognized?”
“There is always a risk that someone who recognizes them will see them. They know that.” A muscle flexed in his jaw as his gaze shifted to the empty fireplace. “We’ve been mostly lucky.”
“Mostly,” I repeated softly, and I thought of the woman who’d gone missing and how reluctant Ector had been to speak about her. “Is the woman who went missing a Chosen? Gemma?”
His iron-hued eyes swept to mine. “She is.”
“And she hasn’t been found?”
“Not yet.”
My heart turned over heavily. “Do you think her disappearance is related to a god possibly recognizing her as a Chosen?”
“I believe it is related in some way, whether she was recognized or saw a god she knew and chose to go missing.”
Meaning it was possible that this Gemma had seen a god that would’ve recognized her, and was so afraid she’d panicked. “Where could she have gone?”
“To one side of Lethe is the bay. The Red Woods borders the southern side, and the Dying Woods surrounds the western and northern sides. I’ve had guards searching the woods, but if she went in there…”
He didn’t need to finish. If Gemma had gone into the woods, it was unlikely that she survived. I still didn’t believe a single drop of my blood had drawn those entombed gods aboveground. But even if she didn’t raise them, there were still the Shades and possibly even Hunters. Chosen were trained in self-defense. Not as extensively as I was, but they knew how to wield a weapon. Still, I doubted it would be enough.
I could only imagine what Gemma had faced as a Chosen that had caused her to take that kind of risk. Anger and disgust sat heavy on my chest along with a hefty helping of denial. I shook my head. “A part of me doesn’t want to believe any of this,” I admitted. “I do, but it’s just…”
Ash watched me closely as if he were trying to figure something out. “I don’t know why any of this comes as a surprise to you.”
I looked up at him. “How could it not?”
“Do you think mortals are the only ones capable of brutality? Of hurting others for no reason other than the fact they can? Manipulating and abusing others? The Primals and gods are capable of the same. Capable of much worse out of anger, boredom, or for entertainment and self-serving pleasure. Whatever your imagination can conjure will not even begin to encompass what we are capable of.”
What we are capable of? I looked away, pressing my lips together. He’d included himself in that statement, but he was trying to save the Chosen. He wasn’t capable of that. And I was here to kill him. What would happen to the Chosen then? Even if he were only able to save a small percentage of them.
Gods.
My chest seized. I couldn’t think about them. I couldn’t think about what could happen when I knew what would happen to the people of Lasania if I didn’t see this through. I swallowed hard. “You said this happens to most of them. Other than the ones you’ve hidden away, have some survived?”
“From what I could learn from those who help move the Chosen and find them some semblance of safety, some of the Chosen have disappeared.”
“What does that mean? They can’t simply just disappear.”
“But they do.” He met my stare
. “There are no signs that they’ve been killed, but many are never seen or heard from again. They are simply gone.”
Chapter 32
From the moment I climbed into bed, I tossed and turned, falling asleep for only a few minutes before waking, finding myself staring at the doors to Ash’s chambers.
What I’d learned today haunted me, no matter how much I tried to stop it. The truth of what happened to the Chosen. The knowledge that so many gods were capable of such cruelty. The likely possibility that Kolis, the greatest Primal of them all, was aware of it. All of it circled and circled, despite the fact that none of it could matter. “Only Lasania,” I whispered to the quiet chamber.
I rolled onto my back, staring up at the shadowstone ceiling. But what if I succeeded? What if I stopped the Rot? What in the fuck was I saving Lasania from at the end of the day if the Primal of Life and the gods who served him took no issue with brutalizing the Chosen? The answer seemed simple. There were millions in Lasania, and only thousands of Chosen to be potentially taken. Did one sacrifice the few to save the many? I didn’t know, but it wasn’t like I didn’t realize that Ash’s demise would cause death as the Primal power was unleashed and found a new home. I didn’t even know why I was thinking about this.
I groaned as I shifted onto my side. I wouldn’t be here if I succeeded. I’d probably be destroyed—soul and all. The Chosen weren’t my problem. The politics of Iliseeum weren’t my problem.
Flipping onto my back and then side once more, frustration finally drove me from the bed. I tossed the cover aside, rising as I caught the ridiculously tiny sleeve of the nightgown Aios had placed in the wardrobe the first day. I tugged it up over my shoulder and padded barefoot across the stone floor. Grabbing the fur throw off the back of the chaise, I draped it over my shoulders, stepping out onto the balcony and into the silence of a Shadowlands’ night. I went to the railing, holding the blanket close as a rare breeze lifted loose strands of hair, tossing them across my face. The dark crimson leaves of the Red Woods swayed beyond the courtyard. How many gods were entombed there? Another random question that would—
“Can’t sleep either?”
I gasped, whirling toward the sound of Ash’s voice. He sat on the daybed outside his balcony doors. The silvery sheen of the stars above sluiced over the arm resting on one bent knee and the broad, bare expanse of his chest. My heart thumped even harder while the strangest urge to dash back inside and throw myself under the covers hit me.
Somehow, I managed not to do that. “I didn’t see you,” I said finally and then flushed. Obviously. “No, I can’t sleep.” I inched away from the railing. “How long have you been out here?”
“An hour. Maybe longer.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “In a way.”
I took another small step forward. “What does in a way mean?”
“In a way that things are okay because I’m alive,” he replied after a moment, and even though most of his features were cast in shadows, I felt the intensity of his gaze. “I can imagine why you’re not able to sleep after what you learned today.”
“My mind won’t shut down.”
“I know the feeling.”
I watched him. “Do you think of the Chosen often?”
“Always.” There was a long pause. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He’d asked that once during a quiet supper we’d shared. He was concerned about how I was handling what I’d learned about the Chosen. And I…well, it was unusual for me to be on the receiving end of that. “I am.” I ran my foot along the smooth stone. “I may be prone to impulsivity as Sir Holland would say quite frequently, but I also have a rather practical mind.”
“You do?”
I shot him a dark look. “What I’m trying to say is that I deal with things. What I learned today? I will deal with it.”
He studied me from the shadows. “I know you will. That’s what you do. Deal with whatever is thrown your way.”
I lifted a shoulder.
He was quiet and then said, “Would you like to join me?”
A tripping sensation invaded my chest. “Sure.”
“You don’t sound too confident in that choice,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice.
“No, I am confident in my choice. I’m just…surprised,” I admitted.
“Why?”
I shrugged once more as I got my legs moving, telling myself that this was a good surprise. Him wanting me to stay out here with him had to mean something. I sat beside him, staring ahead.
Ash was quiet for a couple of moments. “I wasn’t avoiding you today. I was at the Pillars.”
“I didn’t think you were.” I looked at him, tensing as I remembered something my mother had once taught me. Men don’t like to have to answer for their time not spent with you, she’d said. And considering what I’d done the day before, I should’ve remembered that piece of advice I would’ve otherwise ignored in another situation. “I mean, you don’t have to explain your whereabouts to me.”
His fingers moved restlessly in front of his bent knee. “I feel like I do after last night.”
Focusing on the tops of the trees beyond the wall, I resisted the urge to press my hand to my cheeks and see if they felt as hot as I thought they did.
“I feel like I also have to let you know that one of the reasons I can’t sleep is because I kept looking at the damn doors to your bedchambers.”
My gaze shot back to him.
“And then I lay there wondering why in the hell I placed your chambers beside mine. Sounded like a good idea,” he said, and my stomach rolled. “Now, I’m not so sure. Because I spent far too much time thinking that all I had to do was walk a couple of feet and that chamber wouldn’t be empty. You’d be there.”
The tripping sensation turned into a falling one. “And that is a bad thing?”
“Undecided.”
I laughed, looking away. “Well, I feel that I should let you know that I too was staring at those damn doors, and I’m only a few feet away and…”
“And what?” Shadows gathered in his voice.
“And I don’t mind engaging in bad ideas,” I told him.
Ash chuckled. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
I grinned as I tugged the edges of the throw up to my chin. “I am particularly talented at engaging in bad ideas.” I cleared my throat, searching for something to say. “I met Rhahar and Bele today.”
“I know.”
My brows lifted as I looked over my shoulder at him. “How?”
“I saw you briefly when I returned to check in with the guards. I was busy but still fully aware of where you were. Who you were with. When you left.”
“Well… That sounds creepy.”
“I also talked to Rhahar and Bele.” He shifted forward enough that the starlight caressed his face. There was an amused tilt to his lips.
His lips were so expressive. “I also learned something interesting from them today.”
“About the bets the gods of other Courts are taking?” Ash asked.
I sighed. “Yes.”
“They shouldn’t have told you that. Both Rhahar and Bele often speak before they think.”
“Well, since I am well familiar with that, I can’t hold it against them,” I said. “Where has Bele been? Aios reacted as if she had been gone for a long time.”
“She is a bit of a huntress. Of information. She has a knack for moving about unseen, so she is usually in other Courts, attempting to uncover information that may be useful.”
“Useful for what?”
“You have a lot of questions.”
“You have a lot of answers.” I eyed him. “Is she someone who helps get the Chosen out of Dalos?”
“She is,” he confirmed.
I mulled that over. “Do they know about the deal your father made?”
“They don’t, but I am sure they suspect that not all is as it seems.”
I nodded slowly. I imag
ined anyone who knew Ash would have questions about him randomly appearing with a mortal Consort. “How did things go at the Pillars? Were there souls you had to judge yourself?”
“There were, and things went both good and bad. It’s never easy making that choice. Life is important, liessa, but what comes after is an eternity. I know many believe that things are black and white. That if you do this or that, you will be rewarded with paradise or punished.” He lifted his hand, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen against his cheek. “It’s never simple. There are people who do terrible things, but that doesn’t always mean they’re terrible people.”
I twisted toward him, drawing a leg up onto the daybed. “You can say that because you see the soul exposed after death. You would know.”
“I do, but I still see the taint of whatever they did. It overshadows a lot of the good, but some exist in a shade of gray where they are not as easy to judge as the person who prays to the gods to end the lives of others would be.”
My brows lifted. “People pray for that?”
“I have lost count of how many times someone has come to the Shadow Temple, summoning a god to cause death upon another. I…” He exhaled slowly. “There was a time that I would answer those summonses.”
I stilled. Gods often answered summonses, but he must have been like his father.
“I would enter the Shadow Temple and hear the words mortals spoke. Listen to the favors they requested—the lives they wanted to end. I knew immediately that some were bad. Spoiled and rotten to the core,” he told me. “They asked for death for profit or because of some petty slight. Their motives were a pestilence, one I knew I couldn’t allow to spread. They didn’t leave the Temple.”
My fingers loosened on the blanket. I had a feeling I knew why they didn’t leave.
“And then there were others.” His fingers had stilled, but they were stiff. “Those who asked for the death of another because they sought relief from a brutal employer or an abusive father. Some who were pushed to their breaking points and saw no other option because there was none. Even if those people didn’t harm another, the intent was still there. Should they be punished? Should they be treated differently? What of those who kill to protect themselves or another? They are not like the others, but their crimes are the same.”
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