A shadow in the ember

I lifted my gaze to where the god stood at the window overlooking the courtyard, his back to me. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s not like this was fruitless. We know that they were likely siblings and that one was an unwed mother. We have the parents’ names.”

“True.” But what did that even tell us? I closed the ledger, retying the cord. “I have a question.”

“Do you?”

I nodded. “It might seem like an offensive thing to ask.”

The god had glided forward. That was exactly how he moved—as if his booted feet didn’t touch the floor. He stopped on the other side of the desk. “I have a feeling that won’t stop you.”

I almost gri

“With the exception of the one bone,” he interjected, and it sounded like he smiled.

“Yes, with that exception.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and I could feel his stare, even though I couldn’t see it. “Let me ask you the same question. Why do you care? Did you know them?”

I crossed my arms once more. “Why do I care? Besides the fact that they killed a babe?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t know them.” Blowing out a breath, I looked around the study, seeing books that would likely never be read again, and knick-knacks whose value would no longer be appreciated. “When a god kills a mortal, it’s because of some offense,” I started. That was the tricky thing about the gods. They decided what warranted consequence, what was an offense, what was punishable, and what the punishment would be. “And you all like to make an…example out of such things.”

His head inclined. “Some do.”

“The act is to send a message to others. What the offense was is clearly known,” I continued. “Gods don’t kill in the middle of the night, take the body, and leave nothing behind. It’s almost as if they didn’t want this to be known. And that is, well, not normal.”

“You’d be correct.” He drew a finger along the edge of the desk as he walked, the silent slide of his fingertip catching my attention. “That is why I am so interested. This isn’t the first time they’ve killed like this.”

I dragged my gaze from his hand. “It isn’t?”

He shook his head. “In the last month, they’ve killed at least four others like this. They took some of the bodies with them, and a rare few were left behind. But with not a single clue as to why.”

I racked my brain to see if I remembered hearing anything about any mysterious disappearances or strange deaths, but I hadn’t.

“Now we’re at seven mortals.” He drew his finger up the glass globe of the lamp. “Most were in their second and third decades of life. Two females. Four males. And the babe. As far as I know, they have never killed one as young as the child tonight. The only thing they had in common was that they were all from Lasania,” he said, curling his finger around the beaded chain. With a click, he extinguished the lamp, returning the chamber to the moonlight. “One of them was someone most would consider…a friend.”

I hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t that gods couldn’t make friends with mortals. Some had even fallen in love with them. Not many, though. Most had simply fallen into lust, but friendships could be formed.

“You’re surprised,” he noted.

I frowned, wondering exactly what had revealed that. “I guess it surprises me that gods can be bothered by the death of a mortal when they will outlive us no matter what. I know that’s wrong,” I quickly added. “A murdered friend who happens to be mortal is still a…friend.”

“Yes.”

And it had to be hard to lose one. I didn’t have many friends. Well, come to think of it, if I didn’t count Ezra and Sir Holland, then I didn’t have any friends. Still, I imagined losing a friend would be a lot like losing a part of yourself. I felt the emptiness begin to leave me with an aching pierce to my chest. I didn’t try to bring it back. There was no reason to at this moment. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

In the blink of an eye, he’d rounded the desk and was only a handful of feet from me. The urge to step back hit me at the same moment the desire to step forward did. I remained where I was, refusing to do either.

“As am I,” he said after a moment.

I searched the shadows gathered inside his hood, unable to make out even a single feature. “But you…you knew exactly what they were doing. That’s why you followed them. Why didn’t you stop them?”

“They got here before me.” That finger of his had returned to the desk, trailing along the corner. “By the time I found them, it was already too late. I had pla

My heart turned over heavily as I craned my neck to look up at him. “As I said before, I didn’t ask you to step in.” I glanced at his hand, at the long finger gliding over the smooth surface of the desk. “You chose to change your plans.”

“I guess I did.” He dipped his head, and I wondered exactly how much of my features he could see now. A shivery awareness danced over my skin. I wondered if he would— “To be honest, I find myself quite a

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Like I said, I guess I’m lucky.”

“And as I said before,” he replied, his idle touch of the desk replaced by a tight grip, one that bleached his knuckles white. I unfolded my arms, senses alert as my pulse ticked up. “Are you really?”

The same reaction swept through me. I stiffened as the keen awareness vanished. A long gap of silence reigned, wherein he lifted a hand and lowered his hood. When his face had been hidden, I’d felt the intensity of his stare. Now, I saw it.

“I know you’re curious about why those gods did what they did, but when you walk from this house, you need to leave this alone. It doesn’t involve you.”

His demand dug into every wrong cord inside me. What little control I had over my life, I owned. Tension crept into my neck as I held his stare. “Only I get to determine what does and doesn’t involve me. What I do and do not do is of no concern to anyone. Not even a god.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asked in that same too-soft voice, the kind that stretched my nerves.

“Yes.” Slowly, I inched my hand toward my dagger. He’d shown no ill will toward me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“You’d be wrong.”

My fingers brushed the hilt of my dagger. “Maybe I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have no say about what I do.”

“You’d also be wrong about that,” he replied.

I was totally wrong. In reality, no one superseded a god. Not even Royalty. The authority of mortal Crowns was more for show than anything else. The true power lay with the Primals and their gods. And all Primals, all gods, answered to the King of Gods. The Primal of Life.

But that didn’t mean I had to like it, nor the predatory way he looked at me. “If you’re trying to intimidate or scare me into obeying you, you can stop. It’s not working. I don’t scare.”

“You should be afraid of many things.”

“I’m afraid of nothing, and that includes you.”

In one heartbeat, he was standing several feet from me. In the next, he towered over me, and his fingers were curled around my chin. The shock of how fast he’d moved paled in comparison to the jolt of static that followed and erupted across my skin at the contact of his hand. It was stronger. Sharper now.

His flesh was so very cold as he tilted back my head. He didn’t dig his fingers in, nor was his hold tight. It was just…there, cold and yet burning like an icy brand.

“How about now?” he asked. “Are you afraid?”

Though his grip wasn’t firm, I found it difficult to swallow as my heart fluttered like a trapped bird. “No,” I forced out. “Just mostly a

A beat of silence passed, and then, “You lie.”

I did. Kind of. A god had his hand on me. How could I not be afraid? But strangely and inexplicably, I wasn’t terrified. Maybe it was the anger. Perhaps it was the shock of what I had seen tonight, the u

“A little,” I admitted and then moved. Fast. Unsheathing the dagger, I brought it to his throat. “Are you afraid?”

Only his eyes moved, flicking to the hilt of the dagger. “Shadowstone? Unique weapon for a mortal to have. How did you come upon such a weapon?”

It wasn’t like I could tell the truth. That it had been located by an ancestor who’d gain the knowledge of what a shadowstone dagger could do to a god and even a Primal once weakened. So, I lied. “It belonged to my stepbrother.”

The god arched a dark brow.

“I sort of borrowed it.”

“Borrowed it?”

“For the last couple of years,” I added.

“Sounds like you stole it.”

I said nothing.

He stared down at me. “Do you know why such a dagger is rare in the mortal realm?”

“I do,” I admitted, even though I knew it would’ve been wiser to pretend ignorance. But the need to show him that I wasn’t a helpless mortal who could be bullied was far stronger than wisdom.

“So, you know that the stone is quite toxic to a mortal’s flesh?” he said, and of course I knew that. If it came into contact with a mortal’s blood, it would slowly kill them even if the wound didn’t get them. “And do you know what will happen if you attempt to use that blade against me?”

“Do you?” I stated, heart thumping. The incandescent white glow pulsed behind his pupils and seeped into the silver in wispy, radiant tendrils. It reminded me of how the eather had spilled and spit into the air around the Primal of Death.

 “I do. I bet you do also. But you’d still try.” His gaze flicked down to where I had the dagger pressed against his skin. “Is it strange that knowing that makes me think of how your tongue felt in my mouth?”

My entire body flashed hot even as I frowned. “Yes, a little—”

The god moved so quickly, I couldn’t even track his movements. He gripped my wrist and twisted, spi

“That was unfair,” I gasped.