A shadow in the ember

“They are…mostly mortal, born to serve one purpose,” Nyktos explained, sitting beside me. “To guard a harbinger of great change or purpose. Some are not aware of their duty, but they serve nonetheless through numerous mechanisms of fate—like being at the right place at the right time or introducing the one they’ve been destined to oversee to someone else. Others are aware and are part of the life of the one they’re protecting. Sometimes, they’re called guardians. In all the time I’ve heard of them, I’ve never known there to be more than one to protect any given person.”

“And do you think that the mortals killed by those gods were these viktors?”

“It’s possible. It’s not easy for a god or Primal to sense them. They’d have marks, just like godlings and descendants of gods have,” Nyktos explained. “You’d have to suspect that they could be that to even sense for it. And I…I didn’t.”

And why would he at the time? All he knew was that his father had made this deal. He hadn’t known what his father had done. “And by mostly mortal, what do you mean?”

“He means they’re neither mortal nor god. But they are eternal, like the Fates,” Saion said.

My brows lifted. “Well, that clarifies everything.”

Saion smirked. “They are born into their roles, much like a mortal is born, but their souls have lived many lives.”

“Reincarnated like Sotoria?” I asked.

“Yes, and no.” Nyktos leaned back. “They live like mortals, serving their purpose. They die either in the process of doing that or long after they have served, but when they die, their souls return to Mount Lotho, where the Arae are, and are given physical form once more. They remain there until it is their time once again.”

“When they’re reborn, they have no memory of their previous lives, only this calling that some may or may not figure out. It’s a way for the Fates to keep the balance equal,” Saion said. “But when they return to Mount Lotho, their memories of their lives return.”

“All of their lives?”

The god nodded, and I blew out a long breath. That could be a lot of lives to remember—a lot of deaths and losses. But also a lot of joy. If the Kazin siblings were viktors, did they know their duty? What about Andreia or the ones whose names I did not know? What about the babe?

What if that was what Sir Holland was?

My breath snagged in my chest. Could he be a viktor? He’d protected me by training me, and he never gave up. Never. And he knew about the potion. It…it made sense. And because it did, it made me want to cry.

I let my head fall back against the cushion. This was a lot to digest. It had been a lot in a short period of time.

“If you want to bathe or rest, there is time,” Nyktos offered.

I glanced at him, feeling a tug in my chest as our gazes collided. “I would like to stay here until we know if the Fates will answer. I don’t want…”

I didn’t want to go back to my chamber. I didn’t want to be alone. I had too much in my head—too much inside of me.

A silence fell over the room, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I must’ve dozed off. The next thing I knew, I felt a soft touch on my cheek—a poke. Blinking open my eyes, I realized that my head was lying on Nyktos’ thigh, and I was staring into the crimson-hued eyes of a young boy, maybe nine or ten years old with shaggy, sandy blond hair.

Crimson eyes with thin, vertical pupils.

“Hi,” the child said.

“Hello,” I whispered.

His head tilted, his small, elfin face perplexed. “I thought you were dead.”

What the…?

“You’re not.”

“No?” At least, I didn’t think I was.

“Both of you sleep,” the boy stated with a nod of his head. “He didn’t hear me enter. He always hears me.”

Nyktos stirred, apparently hearing him then. His thigh tensed under my cheek.

Jerking sideways, I placed my hands on the cushions and unfurled my legs. The child watched me with a very serious expression for someone so young.

“Reaver,” Nyktos said, voice rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

I nearly choked on my breath as I stared at the light-haired boy, trying to reconcile the sight of him as a draken with that of a child. It was somehow odder than seeing Jadis briefly as a little girl.

“I was watching you all sleep,” Reaver answered.

My lips pursed.

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing you were doing,” Nyktos replied, leaning forward. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hair slide over his cheek. “You must have a reason for being in here.”

“I do.” He stood straight in his sleeveless tunic and loose pants, the same gray color as the tunics Nektas often wore. “Nektas sent me to get you. He’s in the throne room.”

“Okay. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Reaver nodded curtly and then glanced at me. “Bye.”

“Bye.” I gave him an awkward wave I wasn’t even sure he saw as he darted from the room on small, fast legs. “He is…”

“Intense?”

A strangled laugh left me. “Yeah.” I scooted to the edge of the settee. “Sorry,” I mumbled, thinking he probably didn’t appreciate me using him as a pillow. “About sleeping on you.”

“It’s okay,” Nyktos said after a moment, and I looked over at him. He was staring ahead, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t mean to sleep, but you needed the rest. Both of us did.” He rose then, looking down at me. “If Nektas sent him, that means the Fates answered.”

My heart tripped over itself, and I stood so rapidly I got dizzy. I stepped back, bumping into the settee.

Nyktos reached out, placing his hand on my arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

His eyes searched mine. “Do you have a headache?”

“N-No. I think I just stood up too fast.”

Nyktos stared down at me. “I think it’s the blood.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “Too much has been taken from you. Your body hasn’t had a chance to replenish.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted as I started to step away but stopped, taking in the tightness of his features. “Don’t feel bad about feeding from me.”

He was quiet.

“You needed the blood. I’m glad I could do that for you,” I told him. “If I’m a little dizzy because of blood loss, that’s on Taric. Not you.”

Still, he said nothing.

I was starting to feel a bit foolish. Perhaps I had misread him. “Anyway, I just wanted to make that clear. We should get going—”

The only warning I got was the scent of citrus and fresh air. I hadn’t even seen him close the distance between us, but I felt his palm against my cheek, and his mouth on mine in the same heartbeat.

Nyktos kissed me.

The feel of his lips—his warm lips—was a heady shock, and the way he tugged at my lower lip with his fangs sent tiny, hot shivers through me. I opened for him, kissing him back just as fiercely as his mouth moved against mine. The way he kissed me was hard, demanding. Claiming. He sent my senses spi

Nyktos lifted his mouth from mine and stepped back, his hand lingering on my cheek before falling away. He looked as shaken as I felt, his features stark, eyes a storm of eather, his chest moving in deep, rapid breaths.

“That…” Nyktos swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. When they reopened, the eather had slowed. “That changes nothing.”

Nyktos’ words lingered just like his kiss did as we left his office and walked to the throne room.

There was a twisting motion in my chest as if someone had reached inside and started squeezing my heart. But there was something else at my core. Something small and faint that reminded me of hope. I didn’t know what to make of either emotion, but as we neared the chamber, I shoved those feelings aside to dwell on later.

Rhahar and Ector stood at the archway of the chamber. They were not alone. An unfamiliar man stood with them, his sandy-blond hair brushing broad shoulders adorned in a belted, light gray tunic. His face was weathered and sun-warmed. Beside him stood a goddess. I knew what she was at once. It was the ethereal quality of her features and the faint luminous glow under her light brown skin. Her hair was the color of honey, a few shades lighter than the gown she wore, and her eyes were the brightest blue I’d ever seen. As we approached, the man placed a hand over his heart and bowed at the waist, as did the goddess.

“Penellaphe?” Surprise filled Nyktos’ tone.

“Hello, Nyktos.” She straightened, stepping forward. She glanced briefly in my direction. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“Too long,” he confirmed. “I hope all is well?”

“I am.” Penellaphe’s smile was brief, fading as she looked at me again.

Nyktos followed her gaze. “This is—”

“I know who she is,” Penellaphe cut in, and my brows lifted. “She is why I’m here.”

“I am?”

She nodded, looking back to Nyktos. “You summoned the Arae.”

“I did, but…”

“But I am not the Arae. You’ll understand why I’ve come,” she said, stepping back. Her hands clasped together. “One of the Arae waits inside for you. For both of you.”

Curiosity marked Nyktos’ face as he looked over at me. I nodded and Penellaphe turned to the male. “Wait for us here?” she asked.

“Of course,” he answered.

She inclined her head. “Thank you, Ward.”

I peeked over at him as we passed. I couldn’t tell if he was a godling or a mortal, but I didn’t see any aura in his eyes. Rhahar and Ector moved aside as Penellaphe drifted past them. I picked up my pace as Nyktos glanced over his shoulder, his steps slowing. I caught up with him, entering the now-candlelit chamber.

Nektas approached us, his long hair tied back, and Reaver at his side.

“Thank you.” Nyktos paused to clasp the draken’s shoulder.

“We will wait for you in the hall,” Nektas answered, nodding in my direction as he put a hand on the back of Reaver’s head, ushering the young boy forward. “We will wait for both of you.”

A knot formed in my throat. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Nektas had acknowledged me. I swallowed hard, looking toward the thrones and the dais. Maybe I just needed more sleep or—

Everything in me stopped. My legs refused to move. My head emptied because what I was seeing—who I saw standing before the dais, cast in the soft light of the candles and the stars—brought me up short. It made no sense. None at all. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me.

Because it couldn’t be Sir Holland.