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And that probably should’ve been warning enough that I may have finally pushed too hard. But I was beyond…I was simply beyond everything. “Do you really think I wanted to do this to you? To anyone? It was the only way we believed we could save our people. It was all I’d been taught. For my entire life. It’s all I’ve ever known.” My voice cracked, and I drew in another sharp, too-tight breath. “I would say I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t blame you for that, but don’t you dare insinuate that what I’ve done with you was purely an act or that what I’m feeling is fake when I’ve spent my entire godsdamn life not being allowed to want or even feel anything for myself! Not when I spent the last three years hating myself for the relief I felt when you didn’t take me because it meant I didn’t have to do what was expected of me.”
Nyktos stared at me.
Silence drenched the room, and I realized that I was shaking. My entire body. I’d never spoken those words out loud. Never. My heart thundered as a knot expanded and grew in my throat, threatening to choke me. “I know what I am. I’ve always known. I am one of the worse sort. A monster,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “But don’t you ever tell me how I feel.”
Nyktos didn’t even blink.
The draken drifted closer to Nyktos, his red-eyed stare shifting from me to the Primal. Nektas leaned in, speaking too low for me to hear. Attention remaining fixed on me, Nyktos’ chest rose with a swift, deep breath.
A long moment passed, and then he finally looked away from me to focus on Nektas. “You should be on the wall just in case I was wrong about the reprieve.”
Nektas shook his head. “Others are there. They are standing guard.”
“I’d rather have you there.”
“I’d rather not leave your side,” the draken countered. “Not now.”
“I’m fine,” the Primal stated, his voice low. “I told you that three times now.”
“Five times, actually.” Nektas held his ground. “And I don’t have to tell you that I know better.”
All thoughts of what I’d just screamed at the Primal fell to the wayside. My attention shifted to the tears in his tunic. The splotches of darker material along his chest had spread.
Ector hopped off the dais. “How much of that blood is yours?”
“Most of it,” Nyktos answered, and the draken gave a low growl of disapproval.
“Shit,” Rhain muttered, joining Ector on the floor. “Are your wounds not healing?”
“Do you want to die tonight?” Nyktos fired back.
Saion widened his eyes as he stared at the floor, saying nothing more.
“I could try,” I started, and Nyktos’ head swung in my direction. “My gift—the ember. It worked on the wounded hawk.”
“Besides the fact that the ember of life isn’t powerful enough to work on me or a god,” he said, “I’m not sure I’d trust you enough to let you try even that.”
I flinched. I flinched again.
Nyktos’ nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, looking away. “I just need to clean up, which I plan to do now if that would make all of you feel better,” Nyktos said.
“That is not what would make me feel better,” Nektas replied.
“Too bad.” Nyktos glared at the draken. He started to turn and then looked back at me, his jaw hard. He refocused on Nektas. “Put her somewhere safe, where she can’t do whatever idiotic thing is surely filling her head. She assigns no value to her life.”
I opened my mouth, but Nektas cut me off. “That I can do.”
“Perfect,” the Primal snarled and turned, his boots a heavy thud against the shadowstone floor as he stormed out of the throne room.
As soon as I could no longer see him, I turned to Nektas. “How badly is he injured?”
“You don’t have to pretend in front of us,” Ector retorted.
Spi
Everyone, including the draken, stared at me.
Saion cleared his throat. “He was swarmed on the docks and the beach. The dakkais got in a lot of hits.”
Rhain exchanged a concerned look with Ector. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that he needs to feed,” Nektas answered. “And stubborn enough to ride it out.”
“Hell.” Ector ran a hand over his face.
My stomach pitched as I remembered what Nyktos had told me over our first breakfast. “What happens if he doesn’t feed and rides it out? Will he turn into…something dangerous? He mentioned something along those lines before.”
Nektas tilted his chin. “He’s weak enough that he could tip over into that.”
Rhain cursed again.
“But even if he doesn’t, he’s still weakened,” Nektas continued. “And that’s the last thing we need right now.”
I shoved a tangle of hair back from my face. “Why won’t he feed?”
Nektas’s gaze met mine. “Because he’s been forced to feed until he’s killed. That’s why.”
My lips parted. I took a step back as if I could somehow put distance between what Nektas had said and me. But I thought about the breakfast that morning, how I’d thought that he had been held against his will. I closed my eyes. “Did Kolis hold him prisoner?”
A long stretch of silence passed before Nektas said, “Kolis has done all ma
The heaviness in my chest felt like it would drag me down to the floor. “How…how do we get him to feed?”
“We don’t,” Rhain said. “We just hope he rides it out.”
“Actually, I think we can get him to feed now,” Nektas shared, and I opened my eyes to find him watching me. “He’s mad enough at you that he’d probably feed from you.”
I blinked once and then twice. “I’m…I’m not sure how I feel about the ease in which you suggested that.”
The draken raised his brows. “But?”
But Nyktos was weak, and it was the last thing they needed. He needed to feed, and if I had been ready to possibly be burned alive by a draken after killing Nyktos, I could prepare myself for this.
“Okay.” I sighed.
Those u
I had no idea if anyone would hold it against me—they had far bigger things to use in that way. I could say no, but if Nyktos had never discovered the truth, I would’ve offered myself. And, deep down, I knew it had nothing to do with the deal. It would’ve been because I didn’t want him to hurt.
“It’s my choice,” I said, looking up at Nektas. “I’ll try. I’m sure I’ll say something that will anger him.”
Nektas smiled.
“Are you sure about this?” Rhain asked. “She came here to kill him.”
“He brought her here,” Nektas corrected swiftly, surprising me. Though, I wasn’t sure what that changed. “Do you have a better idea?”
Rhain glanced at me. “No.” A pause. “What if he kills her?”
“Well,” Ector drawled as he walked past me. “Then I guess we don’t have to worry about her trying to kill him.”
“I’m not going to try to kill him,” I snapped.
“Now,” Ector tacked on.
“Come.” Nektas motioned for me to follow him, and I got moving, shooting Ector a narrow-eyed glare.
Saion gave me a thumbs-up as we walked past him. “Thoughts and many prayers.”
I didn’t even dignify that with a response. I followed Nektas to the back stairwell, my heart surprisingly calm. We started up the stairs when I asked, “Is Orphine okay?”
“She will be,” he said, and that was all we said until we neared the floor.
“I’m kind of surprised you suggested this,” I admitted. “What if he’s mad at you?”
“He told me to put you somewhere safe.” Nektas opened the door and held it for me. “That is what I’m doing.”
My brows pinched as I walked through. Nektas stopped in front of the door to my bedchamber. “He won’t answer if you knock, but I am sure the door between your chambers is unlocked.”
I stared at my door. “You really think this will work? Maybe he’s too mad to do it.”
“Let me ask you a question.” Nektas waited until my gaze met his. “Would you have followed through if you never learned that killing him would not have saved your people?”
I opened my mouth. The word yes slithered up my throat, but it didn’t go any further than that. It wouldn’t go past my tongue because I didn’t know if I would have. I couldn’t say yes.
“That’s why,” Nektas said, pushing open the door. “I think he knows that, too.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, nor could I dwell on the realization of what I’d admitted and what it meant. I walked into my room, my gaze immediately landing on the door to his bedchamber. I didn’t waste time just in case some small inkling of common sense invaded me. I only stopped long enough to toe off my boots and stockings. A fine mist of dakkai blood coated them, and I didn’t want to track it through the chambers. I went to the door between our rooms and turned the knob.
Nektas was right. It was unlocked.
A faint shiver curled down my spine as the door cracked open, revealing a short, narrow passageway and an empty, dimly lit bedchamber beyond. My heart was still calm as I closed the door behind me and I crept forward, the stone floors cold under my feet. I entered the bedchamber that smelled of citrus, and as I suspected, it was empty except for the necessities. A large bed and some bedside tables. A wardrobe and a few chests. A table with one chair. A long settee. That was all.
The steadiness in my chest faltered as my gaze shifted to the halfway-open door on the other side of the bedchamber. I caught a glimpse of a porcelain tub. I moved deeper into the cavern-like space, my throat drying as I saw Nyktos in the bathing chamber.
He stood in front of the vanity, wearing only unbuttoned breeches that hung low on his hips, grasping the rim of the sink with white-knuckled fingers. He dragged a damp towel across his bloodied chest, his teeth bared as he hissed in a pained breath. The wounds would’ve been fatal for a mortal, significant and shocking. And the fact that he seemed unaware of my presence told me exactly how weakened he was. For a moment, I could only stare at the shimmering blood coursing down the defined lines of his stomach. How was he still standing?
“Nyktos,” I whispered.
He froze at the sink, head bowed. The blood-soaked towel stopped moving across his chest. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked over at me. Knots formed in my stomach. There was a paleness there that hadn’t been before, settling into his skin. The glow behind his pupils was fainter than I’d ever seen it.
“I clearly recall telling Nektas to put you somewhere safe where you couldn’t get yourself into trouble,” he said.
“Yeah, well, he thinks he listened to you.”