A light in the flame

“Well, I’m hoping you can shine some light on that.” I sipped the wine. “Because I have no idea what I was just feeling.”

“Satisfaction.”

My head cut to him.

“Care to share what that jackass said to make you feel that?” he asked, a teasing glint in his gray eyes. “Because that is something I’ve only felt from you on a few occasions. One of them not quite fit for public conversation.”

I snorted. “I can assure you that is not the only time I’ve been satisfied.”

“I know. You projected an indecent amount of satisfaction when you stabbed me in Stonehill.”

A short laugh burst from me.

“As you do whenever you hold a weapon to me or manage to nick my skin or hair,” he went on. “I could continue.”

“Not necessary,” I said, my amusement fading as I tried to figure out why I had felt satisfaction. The answer was all too easy to discover. Acknowledging it was something else entirely. “I…I guess I’m not used to being included in discussions of importance, even ones that involve me, so I was surprised to be included.”

“And then satisfied with knowing that you were?”

I shrugged, feeling a bit of warmth creep up my throat. “I know it sounds silly.”

“It doesn’t.”

Peeking over at him, I saw that he watched me intently. I refocused on the crowd below, drawing in a deep breath. “I was never included in any type of conversation, whether it be about the weather or something of importance like the growing tensions between Lasania and other kingdoms. I suppose that doesn’t bother many, but for me, it made me feel like anything I may have thought or had to say didn’t matter. I…I didn’t count. You know, like I wasn’t a person, but a…”

“A ghost?”

I nodded, squinting. “Like I was there, but no one actually saw me—interacted with me. It’s the only way I can describe it. And being included makes me feel seen. Accepted.” Wondering how I allowed the conversation to wander to this point, I cleared my throat. “Anyway, do you know what Attes could want to speak to us about? I feel as if the possibilities are endless at this point.”

When Ash didn’t respond, I looked at him. He still watched me, his gaze intense, but his stare had softened. “What?” I whispered.

“I hate that you spent so long being made to feel that way. And I loathe that I likely added to that feeling. For that, I do not think I could apologize enough. You are seen and heard, liessa.”

The embers wiggled and vibrated along with my heart as his comments struck me silent. Liessa.

“And you matter. Always.” Ash bent, pressing his lips to my temple. The chaste, sweet kiss was as shocking as his words. I melted like butter left in the sun. He withdrew, glancing forward. “Keella approaches.”

I blinked, rocked out of what had honestly begun to feel like a swoon. I followed his gaze to where Keella had paused to greet Nektas. The draken nudged her arm in response to whatever the Primal had said, and she placed her hand against his cheek, stroking the scaled flesh.

I couldn’t recall anyone doing that to Nektas.

Eyes wide, I set my glass down before I dropped it. Awe battled with a nervous jolt of energy as the Primal of Rebirth approached us, her flowing gown the same pale blue of her quartz crown.

“Nyktos,” Keella spoke, her voice reminding me of the winds in Stonehill. Silver eyes flicked to mine. Lingered. “Consort.”

“Hello,” I croaked, managing to stumble over the one word.

Ash greeted her with far more grace and confidence. “It is a pleasure and honor to see you, Keella. I hope you are well.”

She inclined her head in a regal way that had nothing to do with the crown she wore. “I am.” A faint smile appeared as she glanced down at his hand—his left hand. “It has been far too many years since I’ve seen a benada. An imprimen. It is truly a blessing. A beautiful one. May I?”

It took me a moment to realize that she was speaking to me. I lifted my right hand. Ash didn’t blink as Keella took my hand between hers. A charge of energy skittered up my arm, but she didn’t react as she drew a warm finger over the golden swirls on the center of my palm.

Russet curls bounced as she gave a slight shake of her head. “I honestly didn’t believe I would see such a thing again.”

“Neither did I,” Ash stated smoothly, even as my heart tripped all over itself. If there were any two Primals in this entire coliseum who might not believe it was the Arae, it would be Embris—who’d left—and Keella.

“I am glad that I have.” Her eyes, a whirlpool of silver, lifted to mine.

My throat tightened as so many questions rose—things I could not ask at the coronation and risk being overheard. But it took great effort for me not to ask if she knew it was I—the one who Eythos, with her aid, had placed Sotoria’s soul in. Could she see Sotoria even now? Inside me? Could she tell if one soul existed or two?

“Truly.” Keella patted my hand before releasing it. Her smile mirrored the earlier one she had given me…

And I…I begin to think that she did know. “As am I.”

The Primal’s attention shifted to Ash. “The title you bestowed on your Consort is also beautiful. Perhaps even…another blessing. May I ask what inspired such wording?”

The question was politely asked, but there was an edge to it—not one of anger but something different.

“You will likely be disappointed to learn that I was simply inspired by my Consort’s hair.”

I nearly choked on my breath at his honest answer.

“Not at all. More like…enthralled to learn that. Hopeful,” she said, and my gaze flew to her. “I do not wish to take more of your time. May your union be a blessing.” Her gaze met mine again, and then she turned.

Jolted out of my shock, I said, “Thank you.”

The Primal of Rebirth faced us once more, and that smile returned. An old smile. Knowing. Clever. The embers in my chest hummed. She inclined her head and then looked at Ash. “Your father would be so proud of you.”

Chapter 42

There wasn’t time to speak privately with Ash or to take more than a few moments to make use of the privy as celebrators descended upon the dais. The elaborate crowns of the Primals, their reserved, wry greetings blurred into masked faces and looser, warmer smiles as they flooded the shield-lined aisle to where Ash and I sat.

Shouts echoed above the music every couple of minutes, jarring me as one well-wisher replaced another.

“Should I be concerned?” I asked Ector, who had come to stand at my side.

“No.” Ector smiled down at me. “They are cheers for their new Consort.”

A little thrown by the declaration, I glanced at Ash. He smiled at what a masked male said, but at some point during the greetings, he’d lowered his hand to where mine rested on my thigh. No one, except possibly Ector and Rhahar, who stood at Ash’s side, could see where his hand was, but it was a shock to me, nonetheless. The touch wasn’t for display, and the weight of his hand against mine was grounding, comforting as I…as I was seen by so many.

Only Kyn and Hanan didn’t approach, and I lost sight of them in the throng of people who continued forward in a wave. I’d been growing tired, my neck starting to ache from the weight of the crown, but the shouts—the cheers—had beaten back the exhaustion. It was…nice to be welcomed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother had ever been welcomed by her people. Or my father before he died. I couldn’t remember. King Ernald and my mother had grown so distant from the people they were supposed to care for, but Ezra was different. She wasn’t ruling from a tower behind a wall.

Plates of food had been replaced with cups that were kept full, the music more frenetic, heavier, and I didn’t think any of the Primals remained in the Shadowlands by the time Ash leaned in, letting me know that it was time for us to take our leave. Deafening cheers reverberated off the star-strewn sky as we made our way back to the entry house.