A light in the flame

“Yes?” I somehow resisted the urge to taunt him with what he’d done, and I was, in fact, rather proud of myself for doing so.

“I…I would’ve come earlier,” he said. “But there was an issue at the Pillars.”

“That’s why you left with Rhahar?” I asked, not letting myself focus on what had come before that. He nodded. “Was it souls that needed your judgment?”

“Not this time. It was souls who refused to cross.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Far more than you’d think.” He sighed. “More and more souls are refusing to cross and are entering the Dying Woods instead. It gets the ones already there stirred up.”

“The Shades can’t be fun to deal with.”

“As you know, they’re not.” His fingers quietly tapped the side of his glass. “The moment the souls refuse to cross and enter the woods, they become Shades. Nektas believes that’s it for them. They’re lost and should be destroyed. Immediately. And I know I should. None has ever come back from that. But I think…what if one does? What if? There should still be a chance for them to either face justice or receive redemption. But once they’re destroyed, that’s it. There are no more chances.”

Wetness gathered in my eyes as I blew out a shaky breath. Knowing he didn’t like to kill the Shades twisted my heart, especially since my actions had led him to do just that. Him wanting to give them another chance was yet another sign of how good he was. And, gods, he deserved better than this life. One that wouldn’t allow him to be close or affectionate with another because he feared those emotions would bring harm to them. In reality, it wasn’t even a life. I knew that more than anyone. He simply existed, and that wasn’t fair.

“I hope your plan works.”

A dark eyebrow rose. “Is it because you’re finally thinking of a future that doesn’t involve your death?”

“No.”

“Of course, not,” he muttered.

“It’s clear that you should be the true Primal of Life,” I explained. “Not because it was your destiny, but because you’re good.”

A faint smile appeared, but it didn’t warm his features like the ones before had. “That’s where you’re wrong. I told you before. I have one kind, decent bone in my body, Sera. But I am not good, and you would do well to remember that.”

Chapter 21

My heart turned over heavily, but I believed in what I’d said. “What makes you think you’re not good?”

“I have…done things, Sera.”

“Like killing out of necessity or by force?”

Nyktos said nothing as his unflinching stare settled on me.

“Or is it because you started to enjoy killing those who’d summoned you out of a desire to harm another?” I continued. “None of that changes that you’re inherently good, Nyktos.”

The line of his jaw tensed. “And how would you know? What life experiences could give you that sort of insight when you’re a mostly mortal who is only on the cusp of living twenty-one years?”

I arched a brow. “I know because I’m sitting here alive when many, including everyone from your guards to gods and mortals alike, would’ve killed me when they learned of what I’d pla

His gaze sharpened on me.

“And, yes, those embers in me are important enough to keep me alive, but those embers don’t mean you have to be kind. You could’ve thrown me in a dungeon.”

“That’s still an option,” he remarked, pouring wine into his glass and then mine.

“If you were going to do that, you would’ve by now instead of fearing you’re trying to control me. All you’ve proven is what I’m saying.” I picked up the refilled glass, toasting him.

He put the bottle aside. “All you’ve proven is what I’ve told you before. That one decent and kind bone I have in me belongs to you.”

A worrying degree of satisfaction rushed through me, as did the urge to demand that he prove that. That the decent and kind bone really belonged to me and only me.

“But do not mistake my handling of you as a reflection of who and what I am,” he added, taking a drink.

“Your…handling of me isn’t the only reason I know you’re good,” I countered. “You didn’t want to enjoy those killings, and you stepped away before it could change you. I know because you feel the marks those deaths left behind, and you carry them on your skin. I know because despite not having the ability to love, you are still kind and care deeply—more than most.”

He smirked, looking away. “You don’t know what you think you do.”

“I know because I’m not good.”

Nyktos’s gaze shot to mine. “You think you’re not good because of what you pla

I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, that is just a drop in a very deep, messed-up bucket full of many more drops.”

The eather brightened in his eyes. “And what are those other drops?”

“You’ll find out if your plan doesn’t work. You’ll get to see my soul upon my death. It’s not black. It’s red, drenched in the blood of those I’ve killed. Lives I’ve taken that haven’t left behind the marks you speak of.” The embers in my chest vibrated. “I don’t feel them. Not like you do. Sure, I may experience some remorse, but it never lasts. I felt the same as I did when I shoved that whip down Tavius’s throat—”

“And you shouldn’t have a second of remorse,” Nyktos snarled, flashing his fangs.

“But I felt the same when I carved the Lords of Vodina Isles’ hearts from their chests, and their only real crime was angering my mother.” I lifted my brows at him. “Nor did I really feel anything when I killed the man in Croft’s Cross who was likely pimping his children. Not that anyone should feel bad for killing that bastard, but I didn’t make it clean and quick. The rest of them—and there are maybe…eighteen the last I counted?” I said, thinking of the guards Tavius had likely sent. It had been fourteen before that. “All I felt for them was pity and a

Nyktos was silent as he eyed me, and it slowly dawned on me that, perhaps, I could’ve kept all of that to myself. But what did it matter? I had no reason to pretend to be anything but what I was. Still, I almost wished I’d kept my mouth shut because he was the one person who hadn’t made me feel like the monster I’d just revealed myself to be.

“And yet,” he said finally, in that soft, midnight way of his, “you were willing to endanger yourself to protect many you’ve never met. More than once. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for the Shadowlands.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” I rose then, no longer able to sit. “I’m tired. I think I’m ready for bed—”

“There is no such thing as a good Primal.”

“What?”

“The essence that courses through our veins is what made the realms, creating the air that is breathed, the land that is sowed, and the rain that falls from the skies to fill the oceans. It’s powerful and ancient. Unbiased. It’s absolute. And in the begi

Nyktos stared up at me. “Eons passed that way, seeing the birth of many new Primals, including my father. And during that time, Primals didn’t die. They simply entered Arcadia when they were ready. The idea of fighting one another hadn’t even occurred to them, let alone killing each other. Procreation occurred for the sake of creation. And, eventually, gods were born. Then mortals. And for a time, there were no wars and no u