A light in the flame

The doors there were open, unguarded.

I almost tripped over myself when I saw a young mother and her two red-haired children sitting beneath one of the purplish-pink jacaranda trees. Their plain linen shirts and gowns made it clear that they weren’t nobles.

Shocked by what I was seeing, it wasn’t until we were close to the entrances near the kitchens that I noticed those around us had become aware of our presence.

Steps slowed. Some stopped completely. A guard rubbed at the nape of his neck, frowning as he glanced around. A father holding the hand of a young girl toddling beside him pulled her closer as he carried a sack in his other arm. Others looked up at the sky as if searching for an explanation for the sudden drop in temperature.

The air had cooled.

Not by a lot, but enough that people noticed as nervous gazes bounced over us and then darted back.

“They feel me,” Nyktos explained under his breath. “They don’t know what they feel, but they know something is among them.”

I frowned. “Does this happen every time you visit the mortal realm?”

“No, but I normally avoid large crowds for this reason,” he said. “A handful of mortals has little impact. But this many? It gets the essence pumping, and it becomes almost like a tangible entity—not seen but felt. And what they feel unsettles them.”

Because what they felt was death.

I glanced up at Nyktos as we entered the hall, but his features were hidden beneath the hood. “Does it bother you?” I asked quietly. “Their reaction?”

“What they feel is natural,” he replied. “It does not bother me.”

I stepped to the side to make way for a maid hurrying into the kitchens, her arms full of dishes. Her face blanched as she crossed before us, but she didn’t look at us as she disappeared into the castle. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.” Nyktos’s fingers brushed mine, creating a faint zap of energy. “What they’re feeling is instinct, and that instinct is telling them not to loiter near me. And they shouldn’t.”

Because all Primals impacted mortals simply by being in their company. The length of time before a mortal felt a Primal’s effect varied. Some mortals would be more susceptible to violence or lust, and some Primals would likely ensure their presence was felt, but Nyktos was a Primal of Death. His presence could kill if he wasn’t careful.

“How can I be bothered by their sense of self-perseveration?” Nyktos finished.

But Kolis had been.

It was part of what had driven his jealousy toward his brother—the fear that even I could sense in those who passed as we walked the hall mostly used by servants.

I nibbled on my lip as my steps slowed. Unease grew, having much to do with the fact that no one had stopped to question us. It caused my fear regarding some sort of uprising to grow, but it was also because the last time I’d walked this hall was the last day I’d spent in the mortal realm.

My instinct guided me to the one place I did not want to revisit.

The Great Hall.

Nyktos’s hand brushed mine once more. “You okay?”

Stomach churning like the fans overhead, I nodded. “Yeah. Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m just concerned about Ezra.”

I could feel Nyktos’s gaze on me as I forced myself through the marble pillars carved with golden scrollwork. Breathe in, I reminded myself as my chest tightened.

The Great Hall was as I remembered. Mostly.

Mauve ba

Nyktos’s hand curled around mine, sending a jolt of surprise through me. My gaze flew to him.

His head was tilted forward. “I believe I’ve found your stepsister.” He then gently squeezed my hand before releasing it.

Swallowing, I made myself look past the statue I’d been forced on my knees before as my stepbrother split my back open with a whip.

Two diamond and citrine thrones sat on the raised dais at the end of the Hall. Neither was draped in white or scattered with black roses to mourn their lost King.

The King I’d ultimately killed.

I winced, reminding myself that how I felt about that had more to do with the embers than with me.

The thrones were empty, but I saw Ezra. Suddenly, it was easier to breathe.

Ezra sat in a much less elaborate chair at the foot of the dais, her light brown hair swept up in a neat bun. There was no crown upon her head as she listened to a man across the table from her speak, one who leaned over a stack of parchment. The man’s clothing and posture screamed noble, and the angry flush to his olive skin warned that he was unhappy. Guards stood behind Ezra, two to her left and two to her right. They were dressed as those on the wall were: tunics, breeches, armor.

The corners of my lips turned up as I saw that Ezra, despite the humidity, wore a neatly tailored waistcoat minus any frills. My smile spread when I spotted the familiar tilt of her stubborn jaw as she responded to whatever the man was saying. I was sure it was keen, clever, and deliciously cutting.

“I believe she is hosting a town hall,” Nyktos commented.

Heart slowing, I nodded. That was exactly what Ezra was doing, and just as I’d imagined, she did not hold one from a throne or a balcony, far away from the people. She sat with them.

And she’d also opened the gates of Wayfair to them.

Nyktos’s head turned sharply. A guard slowly approached us, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

He stopped several feet from us, his throat bobbing. “The Queen is currently seeing the last of those who wish to speak with her today,” he said, and it pleased me to hear her referred to as Queen. “You may make an appointment to do so tomorrow by visiting the record keeper at the gatehouse.”

It also pleased me that what Ezra was doing appeared to be more than just holding a weekly or biweekly town hall.

“We ca

The guard visibly paled as he stared into the shadowy recesses of Nyktos’s hood.

I cut the Primal a look and then stepped forward. “We do need to speak with her today,” I said, gentling my tone. “And I believe she will make time for us if you tell her that Sera is here to speak with her.”

The guard didn’t budge as his wide-eyed gaze bounced between Nyktos and me. I could sense that he was about to hold his ground.

“Go,” Nyktos urged, moving a foot closer in that quiet, u

Whatever the guard heard or saw got him moving. He pivoted, hurrying off.

I turned to Nyktos. “Did you use compulsion?”

“No.” He laughed softly. “I think I just scared him.”

“Rude,” I murmured as I walked the secondary wall of pillars encircling the main floor and entered the private alcove furnished with settees and chairs.

He laughed again. “Perhaps.”

I snorted, sca

Ezra went rigid for a heartbeat and then shot to her feet, pressing a hand to her slender waist. The noble across from her hastily followed as she searched the floor. I waited, knowing Ezra would remember that I’d favored the alcove the few times I was in the Great Hall.