A light in the flame

“You’re not a terrible person. Tavius was a wretched excuse for a mortal,” I told her, wishing I’d known that Kayleigh’s life had been put on hold. I would’ve figured out a way to send word to her. “You should laugh and celebrate. You are no longer stuck.”

Her smile was shaky but tremendous as she looked at me, her glistening gaze tracking over my features before dropping to my right hand—to the golden imprint. “You were never the Queen’s handmaiden, were you?”

I sucked in a breath.

Princess Kayleigh glanced at Ash. “Was she?”

“No,” the Primal answered, the lines and planes of his face softening. “She was the one who should’ve been destined to rule Lasania.”

Ash’s proclamation ignited a flurry of emotions inside me, ones I would have to dwell upon later.

The Princess led us down the hall to a set of heavy wooden doors. It was clear that she wished to join us, but I coaxed her back to the receiving chamber. I had no idea how Delfai would respond to us.

Or how she would respond to knowing that she had a god cataloging her father’s library.

I nodded when Ash glanced at me. He then pushed open one of the doors, taking no more than a step before a voice spoke from the dimly lit cavern of a chamber in a rush of softly scented sandalwood.

“I’ve been waiting,” a man spoke. “For three long years.”

Chapter 44

Tapestries blocked out any sources of light as the door closed behind me. My gaze swept over the portraits of those with emerald eyes and the heavily stacked shelves lining the wall, stopping on the source of the voice.

A man stood near the bookshelves, his dark hair brushing the shoulders of a brilliant blue tunic. His back was to us, arms cradling what appeared to be a stack of books.

Ash moved to the center of the library by a golden cushioned settee and chairs. “Is that so?”

“It is,” the god replied, bending to slide a book between two others. “I was begi

I sent Ash a questioning raise of brows as I joined him. “It’s a name of honor now.”

“But it will become an old, honored one, long after my bones turn to ash.” Delfai looked over his shoulder. Onyx eyes deeply set in amber skin met mine. He barely looked older than me, but those eyes…they were as black and endless as Holland’s. “It is a name, Fates willing, you may one day know.”

A shiver coursed down my spine.

“But the Balfour name is an interesting one,” he went on before Ash or I could respond. “As are their ancestors. One comes to mind. An oracle. The last one to be born.” A faint smile appeared as he tilted his head to the side. “She was very kind, and I enjoyed conversing with her. The Princess here reminds me of her. Perhaps that is why I am comfortable here.”

“We’re not here to discuss the Balfour family,” Ash interrupted.

“I know.” Delfai turned to us. “You’ve come seeking knowledge of how to repeat what never should’ve happened.”

“That would be it,” Ash said, crossing his arms. “We want to know how the embers were transferred.”

“You want to know more than that,” Delfai corrected. “The Arae, even with all they can see, worried about what they couldn’t predict. The unseen. Unknown. The possibilities. And nothing worried them more than an imbalance of Primal power. The Fates wanted something in case there ever came a time when a new Primal must rise, but there was no Primal of Life to Ascend them.” Delfai’s dark head bowed as he walked along the shelves. “Obviously, one of them foresaw some of what was to come, but none of them had enough foresight to see that what they created could be used to bring about what they sought to prevent: a false King.” He chuckled, bending down. “Fate even fucks with the Fates.”

I exchanged a look with Ash. “What was it they created?”

“A conduit powerful enough to briefly store and transfer embers both volatile and unpredictable in their raw, unsheltered state.” Delfai ran his fingers over the books’ spines, lips moving in a silent murmur until he found whatever he was looking for. He shoved several tomes aside and slid in the one he held. “They had to go deep within the Undying Hills to find such a thing.”

“The Undying Hills are in the mortal realm,” I said as I ran my thumb along the inside of my palm and over the imprint. “A stretch of mountains along the northern region of the kingdom of Terra.”

“But they were once nameless, just another stretch of untouched land yet untainted by man or god.” Delfai faced us. “Until the Arae conjured forth the heart of the mountains—a precious stone created by the flames of dragons that used to inhabit this realm eons ago before Primals could shed joyous tears. It was the first of its kind, known for not only its indestructible strength, but also its irregular, jagged beauty and silver sheen. They called the diamond the Star.”

Ash frowned as my brows shot up. “I’ve heard of no such thing.”

The god smirked. “You weren’t meant to. No one but the Arae was supposed to know of its existence.”

“Why did removing the diamond cause the mountains to be called the Undying Hills?” I cut in.

“Are there not more important questions to ask?” the god queried.

I stared at him. “I’m fully aware of the fact that there are, but I’m curious.”

Delfai snorted. “Have you seen the Undying Hills?”

“No.” Come to think of it, I hadn’t even seen paintings of the land.

A wry grin tugged at Ash’s lips. “They got their name because only the most tolerant of plants and creatures can survive the mountains, which have long, barren stretches of land, providing little food or shelter. No mortal would survive long in those conditions.”

I crossed my arms. “But why did removing the diamond have that kind of effect?”

“The Arae had to erupt half the mountain to find the diamond,” Delfai explained. “The heated rock and gas irrevocably changed the landscape.”

“Oh,” I murmured. “I suppose that would do it.”

“So, the Arae got their conduit,” Ash said, getting us back on track. “How is it used?”

“For many purposes. But for your intent?” Delfai sat on the settee with a sigh that matched a god of his age, where his appearance did not. “It’s a rather simple process. Either a Primal or an Arae would be needed to use it—only they have the kind of essence needed to force such a transfer. Then contact. Between either the Primal the embers are currently in and the god they are to be transferred to…or in the case of how it was used, held by both Primals. The Star would transfer the embers.”

“That’s all?” Ash’s tone rang with disbelief.

“As I said, it is a rather simple process.” Delfai smiled up at us. “The Arae are known for their often-simplistic nature, are they not?”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I was glad this didn’t involve some sort of complicated spell.

“Wait. If the diamond was not supposed to be known, then why in the hell did a Fate tell Kolis about the Star?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, realizing that Holland must’ve known this but lied. Or had he? Could sharing this information be seen as crossing a line? Then again, what this Arae had done had definitely crossed all the lines. “Aren’t the Arae supposed to be…I don’t know, neutral and not interfere in fate? Giving Kolis the Star sure sounds like interference to me.”

His dark eyes flicked to mine. “The Arae often walk a fine line of guidance and interference, don’t they?”

I stiffened, and Delfai’s smile grew until a shiver of unease drifted down my spine. Then I remembered what Ash had told me about how the Primals fell. “When the Primals began to feel emotion, so did the Arae.”