A light in the flame

“Blood.” Callum inhaled deeply. “Ash.”

Something about the way he said that shook free a memory of the night the draken had freed the entombed gods. Veses’ guard had said something similar after he scented my blood. He’d said—

“Blood and ash.”

I stiffened to the point where the shackle around my neck threatened to cut into my throat. My heart fell and tumbled as I turned to the partition wall. It had opened, letting a bit of the rare hours of night seep into the chamber. I could make out the shadows of tall leafy trees behind…

Kolis.

At that very second, I realized I hadn’t thought of what I’d been groomed to do since birth. What Holland had prepared me for. Not once since waking up.

Become his weakness.

Make him fall in love.

End him.

Kolis.

Not Ash.

And here I was, with him, yet fulfilling my duty was the furthest thing from my mind as I fought the urge to take several steps back from the false King. He was dressed as he had been when I saw him in Dalos. Loose linen pants. No shirt or boots. He bore no crown tonight as Callum faced him, bowing deeply.

“I’m glad to see you’re finally awake,” Kolis noted.

Breathe in. The embers remained silent as Kolis strode forward, but there was still a burning in my chest. Terror and fury that were only partly mine. A sense similar to déjà vu swept through me. I hadn’t been here before, caged and chained.

But Sotoria had. When Kolis brought her back to life.

I wanted to run. I wanted to rage, but a lifetime of being taught to never show fear—to never show any emotion—filled me. The veil settled over me as I held Kolis’s stare.

Kolis inclined his chin. “You do not kneel?”

“No,” I bit out. “I do not.”

Kolis laughed, low and soft, as Callum stepped to the side of the gilded cage. “Still incredibly brave, I see. Just as you were when you took the dagger handed to you.” He placed his fingers on the bars. “Then again, how brave were you when you pla

I clenched my jaw shut to stop myself from saying something incredibly foolish and keep my teeth from chattering. “Blood and ash?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”

Kolis trailed his hand over the bars as he laughed again. A look akin to respect flickered over his too-perfect features, and then his gaze lowered. I could only be grateful for my loose hair hanging in tangled curls over my chest. “It is the name of the prophecy.”

My thoughts immediately went to the one Penellaphe had shared. “A prophecy?”

“No. I speak of the prophecy. The last dreamt by the Ancients. A promise only known by a few. Dared to be spoken of by even fewer.” His fingers danced over the bars as he began to walk, to prowl. “And only repeated by the descendant of the Gods of Divination,” he said. Penellaphe. He spoke of her. “And by the last oracle to be born.”

The god, Delfai, had mentioned the last oracle, too, hadn’t he? An oracle born of the Balfour bloodline. What were the chances that it was a coincidence that Delfai had mentioned this oracle?

None.

Kolis’s grin was slow and cold. “But my dear Penellaphe didn’t receive a complete vision,” he said.

I tensed.

“Lucky for her, Penellaphe believed I had no knowledge of the vision. Those who do seem to meet untimely deaths,” he said, and Callum chuckled. “My brother knew.” He gestured at me. “Obviously.”

I turned, following him as he stalked the length of the cage.

He stopped directly across from me. “Prophecies often come in threes. Each part seemingly unrelated until they’re all pieced together.”

The nape of my neck tingled. Penellaphe…she had said that. That they often had a begi

Kolis’s golden-flecked gaze shifted to Callum.

He stepped forward. “‘From the desperation of golden crowns and born of mortal flesh, a great primal power rises as the heir to the lands and seas, to the skies and all the realms. A shadow in the ember, a light in the flame, to become a fire in the flesh,’” he recited. “‘When the stars fall from the night, the great mountains crumble into the seas, and old bones raise their swords beside the gods, the false one will be stripped from glory until two born of the same misdeeds, born of the same great and Primal power in the mortal realm. A first daughter, with blood full of fire, fated for the once-promised King. And the second daughter, with blood full of ash and ice, the other half of the future King. Together, they will remake the realms as they usher in the end.’”

“‘And so it will begin with the last Chosen blood spilled, the great conspirator birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals will awaken as the Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction to the lands gifted by the gods,’” Kolis continued for Callum. “‘Beware, for the end will come from the west to destroy the east and lay waste to all which lies between.’”

Kolis pressed his forehead against the bars. “I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

The fact that he’d known Penellaphe had spoken to us unsettled me greatly.

“And what do you think of it?” he asked.

I forced a half-shrug. “Nothing much except that it’s clear to me who the false one—the great conspirator—is.”

Kolis laughed. “Your attitude amuses me.”

“Happy to hear that.”

“But not that amused.” His eyes flashed an intense shade of gold and silver. “But, yes, I do believe it was referring to me. Now, the two daughters? That has always confounded me. Still does a little, but I do believe it’s Mycella. She was, after all, promised to the once King. My brother.” He tapped his chin. “The second daughter? You. You are promised to the future King—or who would’ve been the future King once Eythos entered Arcadia, and Nyktos Ascended to take his place.

“Three parts. The begi

“Of course, there is,” I murmured.

“There is the end.” Kolis smirked as he gripped the bars. “‘For the one born of the blood and the ash, the bearer of two crowns, and the bringer of life to mortal, god, and draken. A silver beast with blood seeping from its jaws of fire, bathed in the flames of the brightest moon to ever be birthed, will become one,’” he said, and my skin chilled. “That would be you again, in case you’re not keeping up with things.”

My pulse thrummed unsteadily as my thoughts whirled. “My…my title. The born of blood and ash part. The…the brightest moon.”

“Yes. Your title, bestowed on you by my nephew.” His smirk deepened. “‘Blood and ash’ is something the draken like to say. It can mean several things.”

I folded an arm across my stomach. “That’s…that’s what he said.”

“He spoke no lie, at least not then.” A hint of his fangs appeared, turning my stomach. “Blood. The strength of life. Ash. The bravery of death. Life and Death, if taken literally.”

Suddenly, I remembered Keella’s reaction to the title and how she’d asked what had inspired it. My Consort’s hair. That had been an honest answer. I knew this, felt it in my bones and heart, and Keella had…she had said it made her hopeful. Just as Delfai had said after referencing the brightest moon upon Ash not killing him. Could they be the few who knew of the complete vision? Keella was nearly as old as Kolis, and the gods only knew how old Delfai was. Then there was Veses’ guard. He knew what he’d sensed when he scented my blood. And Veses’ reaction to learning what I carried. I was betting she knew, too.