A light in the flame

Embris reminded me of a hawk—a quiet, watchful man despite the mop of curly brown hair lending a boyish quality to his features. His bronze crown… disturbed me, having been molded into olive branches and what appeared to be serpents. Embris had left. Or at least I thought he had, as I hadn’t seen him or Phanos in a while. Ash didn’t seem surprised by their quick departure as, according to him, they had done what was expected of them by showing and had no reason to linger.

My heart skipped as my attention shifted to the Primal who had smiled at me. I hadn’t seen the striking Primal in the crowd again until then. “Who is that?”

Ash followed my gaze. “Keella.”

The Primal of Rebirth, who had helped Eythos. I watched her as she sat quietly while several attendees spoke with her, a welcoming—if reserved—smile on her face. Out of all the Primals here, she was the one I wanted to speak to.

But she hadn’t approached the dais. None of the Primals or anyone other than those who worked closely with Ash had. I figured that had something to do with Nektas, who remained in his draken form and took up nearly all the space on the dais as he watched those below as if he wasn’t above biting off an arm or two.

“Do you think she knows?” I murmured. Ash leaned in closer to me. “About me—about what your father eventually did with the soul?”

Ash didn’t answer for a long moment. “Did you know that when a babe dies, their soul is reborn?”

I turned my head to him. “No.”

He nodded, his gaze flicking to Keella. “They’re the only souls that do not pass into the Shadowlands. Keella captures them and sends them back.”

My stare drifted back to her. “So, they are reincarnated?”

“No.” He shook his head as his fingers drummed the surface of the table. “Not in the sense of how reincarnation is understood. You see, a babe who dies as their first breath is taken hasn’t truly lived. They have no past or present to relive. Keella gives them a rebirth. A chance to truly live.”

“Oh,” I whispered, my throat thickening at the fairness of the act.

“She can see the soul of all those she captures. My father once said she sees them as her children and then often follows them throughout their lives.”

“Like a …” Air whooshed out of my lungs. “She captured her soul.”

He nodded. “I do not know if she could still follow that soul since it wasn’t a rebirth, but it is possible,” he told me, and I thought of her smile. “Kolis thought it was, but she never told him who carried Sotoria’s soul. If she had, Kolis wouldn’t still be looking for it.”

My chest ached. Holland had said Keella had paid dearly for intervening with Sotoria’s soul. I stopped my imagination from filling in all the terrible ways that Kolis could’ve ensured that Keella was punished. “Why wouldn’t she have?”

“Keella’s not much younger than Kolis, but she is one of the few Primals who still believes in right and wrong and a balance that shouldn’t be adjusted to fit one’s wants or narratives.” A warm smile appeared, faint but real, and my heart skipped for a totally different reason. “She tries to be good.”

“Sounds like she is good.”

Ash lifted a shoulder as I took another sip, recognizing the honey-haired goddess swathed in white approaching the empty seat next to Keella. It was Penellaphe. Her stare lifted to the dais as she sat. Penellaphe smiled as she bowed her head to Keella, speaking. I looked away from her, searching for a familiar, ageless face I knew I wouldn’t find but was still disappointed when I didn’t.

Penellaphe’s appearance made me think of something else.

“The title.”

I paused while Paxton refilled my chalice. “Thank you,” I said to him.

The boy gri

“What about the title?” Ash said, stare fixed on the crowd much like Nektas. His wine remained untouched.

“I like it,” I shared, feeling a bit foolish as my cheeks warmed.

“You do?” Ash asked, turning to me. I nodded. “I’m glad.”

Hoping my face didn’t look as hot as it felt, I refocused on the crowd. I found Keella and Penellaphe once more, their heads tipped together as they continued chatting. “There was a little bit of Penellaphe’s prophecy in there.”

“Not enough that it should raise any alarms,” he assured. “It was the only thing that kept coming to my mind. Your hair. Moonlight.” The center of his cheeks were the ones that flushed now. He cleared his throat. “And you do look like the brightest moon tonight.”

The buzzing warmth of happiness in my chest rivaled that of the embers, and the feeling was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. “And the blood and ash part?”

“It is something the draken like to say,” he answered. “It has different meanings. Strength of the blood and bravery of the ash is one of them. Some believe it symbolizes balance and represents life and death.” Starlight glinted off his crown as he tilted his head back. “It just all seemed fitting for you.”

“It…it is a beautiful title,” I said.

The smile he gave me was warm and real, and it wrapped its way around my heart and made me even more desperate to see Veses burn.

My gaze roamed over the faces of those below and beyond us as I shoved thoughts of her aside. There were more masked faces than bare ones. I saw many smiles, but not from most of the Primals. I imagined that if I could sense emotions as Ash could, I would likely be drowning in agitation.

I saw Saion and Rhahar step aside to allow Attes to ascend the dais stairs. I didn’t think I could’ve been more grateful to see the Primal. “I think we’re about to have company.”

“Appears so.” Ash’s fingers stilled.

Attes nodded at Nektas as he passed the draken and then stopped before the table, bowing deeply. The crown covered half the scar slicing across his nose and left cheek, but the combination of the two made him appear all the more dangerous, even though he bore no weapons—none of the Primals did. He rose. “I thought I’d be the first to give my congratulations and well wishes as I will be taking my leave soon.”

“Appreciated,” Ash remarked coolly.

The less-than-friendly greeting didn’t go u

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“As does the imprint,” he added. “That was an…unexpected development.”

I kept my expression the same, even as trepidation skittered through me.

“I feel as if I now truly must make time to visit the lakes in the mortal realm,” he said. “Maybe the Arae will bless me with a beauty such as you and an imprint.”

“Now is a better time than ever to do so.” Ash’s fingers slid over the table, curling inwards against his palm as I fought my grin and lost.

That divot deepened as Attes’s lips tipped up farther.

“I’m assuming there have been no…events in your Court since the last time we spoke,” Ash said.

“Nothing but a few dakkais sniffing around. They left without causing much trouble,” Attes confirmed, sending a bolt of relief through me. But also wariness. Kolis must have felt my use of the embers. Why hadn’t he come at Attes harder? The Primal tipped his head in Ash’s direction. “We need to make some time to speak,” Attes reminded him. “The three of us.”

An emotion I wasn’t quite familiar with surged through me, leaving me a little confused as Ash said, “That can be arranged.”

“I look forward to it.” Attes bowed deeply. “May your union be a blessing upon the Shadowlands and beyond.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, reaching for my wine glass as I watched Attes walk toward Nektas. He stopped to speak to the draken.

“Reminds me of a cool iced drink.” Ash leaned back, glancing at me. “Your surprise.”

I arched a brow. “Was I projecting?”

“You were,” he confirmed. “It wasn’t the only thing you felt just now.”