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His expression changed then, his gaze sharpening and lips thi
It wasn’t only because he was a god—well, that did surprise me a little—but I could count on one hand how many people would’ve remained. I shifted a bit, uncomfortable with that truth.
A moment passed. “How are you feeling? Does your head hurt, or do you feel sick at all?”
“No. There’s just a slight ache, that’s all.” I shifted my gaze from his. “I can’t believe I…I knocked myself out.”
“Well, I don’t think you did it all alone. The serpent played a role in it.”
I shuddered, closing my eyes. “I hate snakes.”
“I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked dryly. “Did they do something terrible to you in the past? Other than keeping the pest population at bay?”
My eyes snapped open at the teasing edge to his tone. “They slither.”
“That’s all?”
“No. They slither, and they’re fast, even though they have no limbs. You never know they’re there until you almost step on them.” I was on a roll now. “And their eyes… They’re beady and cold. Serpents are not to be trusted.”
One side of his lips lifted. “I’m sure they feel the same way about you.”
“Good. Then they should stay away.”
That half-grin remained. “Though these types of snakes were far from normal.”
The image of the Hunter resurfaced, and acid bubbled in my stomach. “I…I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Most haven’t.”
I thought about the scent of stale lilacs. “Is that what happened to Andreia? Did she become a…Gyrm?”
“No,” he answered. “I still don’t know what happened to her.”
“But they were once mortal, right?” I had so many questions. “How did they end up like that? Why the serpents? Why were their mouths stitched like the Priests?”
“There are two types of Gyrms. These were mortals who had summoned a god. In exchange for whatever need or desire they had, they offered themselves for eternal servitude. Once they died, that was what they became.”
I swallowed, my stomach churning. Would a mortal still have offered themselves if they knew that the end result would be that? I supposed it all depended on how desperately they sought whatever they needed. “Why the stitched mouths? The eyes?”
“Supposedly, it’s done so they are loyal to only the god or Primal they are in service to.”
“Are the Priests Gyrms, then?” I asked. If they were no longer truly alive, it explained how they survived with their mouths sewn closed. It also explained their i
He nodded.
“The Primals stitch the Priests lips shut?”
The skin around his mouth tightened. “What happens to them when they die was established a very, very long time ago. It has become an expected act.”
Expected or not, it seemed u
“And the serpents…” he spoke again, drawing me from my thoughts. “That is what replaced their insides.”
I honestly couldn’t speak for several moments. “I have no idea what to even say to that.”
“There is nothing to be said.” Ash relaxed against the rock as he stared beyond me to the lake.
My eyes widened. “I don’t even know if I want to know this, but do the Priests in the Temples have snakes in them?”
His lips twitched as if he were fighting a grin. “I have to agree with you probably not wanting to know the answer to that.”
“Oh, gods.” I groaned, shuddering. “You said there are two types of Gyrms?”
“Those who offered eternal servitude in return are typically known as Hunters and Seekers. Their purpose is usually to locate and retrieve things. There are other classes of Gyrms, dozens really, but those are the main ones.” Ash’s fingers moved over my collarbone in a slow, idle circle, startling me. “Then there are those who enter servitude as a way to atone for their sins in lieu of being sentenced to the Abyss.”
“So, for them, it is not eternal?” I asked as my focus shifted to his touch. The pad of his thumb was rough, and I imagined it was callused from years of handling a sword, as mine were already becoming. Though, as a god, I wondered how often he had to wield a sword. He could’ve used eather earlier to end whatever had become of Andreia, but he’d opted for a blade.
“No. For them it is for a set amount of time. They are usually known as Sentinels, who are, in a way, soldiers. The Priests fall into that group. They are more…mortal than the first group in the sense that they have their own thoughts.”
“What happens if they turn to ash like the Hunters did?”
“For those who are atoning for their sins, it depends on how long they’ve been in service. They may return to the Primal or god they serve, or choose to go to the Abyss. The Hunters? They return to the Abyss.”
My gaze lifted to his face. He was still staring out at the lake. Was he aware of what he was doing? Touching me so casually?
I couldn’t even think of when I was last touched in such a way. Those I spent time with at The Luxe didn’t touch like this, and they wanted me. Maybe he was unaware of it, but I wasn’t, and if even a single flicker of hope resided inside me regarding fulfillment of my duty, I needed to put some distance between us.
But I didn’t move.
I remained there with my head on his thigh, letting his thumb trace the lazy circle. The touch utterly transfixed me. I enjoyed it.
And why couldn’t I? I was no longer the Maiden. I’d decided already in the last three years that I was allowed to enjoy everything I had been forbidden.
I cleared my throat. “You…you said the Hunters were most likely looking for something?”
“That is the only reason Hunters would be in the mortal realm.” He was quiet for a moment. “They could be looking for me.”
I thought that over. “Why would they be looking for you?”
His gaze touched mine. “I have plenty of enemies.”
My pulse kicked. “What have you done?”
“Why must I have done something?” he countered. “Maybe I’ve drawn the ire of others for refusing their demands or because I involved myself in their business. It’s a bit judgmental to assume that I did something wrong.”
My brows knitted, and I thought of what those gods he’d been following did. “I hate to admit this, but you do have a point.”
“Did it pain you greatly to admit that?”
“Yes,” I admitted. His gaze left mine, but his thumb still moved. How could he not realize what he was doing? He had to know, right? The digit was attached to his body. I opened my mouth—
“You’re about to ask if it has something to do with those gods I was following.” A wry humor filled his tone.
I frowned. “No.”
He glanced down at me again, raising a brow.
I rolled my eyes with a sigh. “Okay. I was. Is it because you are trying to find out why they are killing mortals?”
His laugh was soft. “It could be, but it’s not often that I’m in the mortal realm for any length of time, liessa,” he said, and my heart skipped in my chest in response to the nickname. “That alone would provoke the interest of others, and their interest is something I find greatly a
“It would seem rather reckless for the gods to spend their time seeking to provoke one another.”
“You’d be surprised,” he muttered.
I was.
His gaze flicked back to mine. “You do realize that you’re not a god, and you’ve risked doing more than just irritating me.”
My lips pursed as I looked across the lake. “Well,”—I drew out the word—“I have a bad habit of making poor decisions.”
Ash laughed, and it was a deep one—one that taunted the corners of my lips. I ignored it.
“Does it bother you?” Ash asked.
“What?” I inquired, unsure of what he was referencing.
His eyes met mine. “Me touching you.”
Well, that answered my unasked question. He knew exactly what his fingers were doing. “I…” I didn’t mind it at all. The touch felt wonderfully grounding, as if I were a part of something or someone. I didn’t realize that I was smiling until I noticed that Ash’s lips had parted, and he was staring at me again in that heavy way that centered in my stomach. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s a…novel feeling.”
“Novel feeling?” The half-grin returned. “A touch like this?” His fingers moved then, not just his thumb. He drew them up over my arm, curling them toward his palm, and a soft wake of shivers followed. “Is different to you?”
“It is.”
His stare changed, a slightly perplexed pinch to his brow forming. It occurred to me that someone casually touching one’s arm probably wasn’t a unique feeling to most.
The burn of embarrassment increased as my gaze flicked to the sky. “I mean, it’s all right. I don’t mind it.”
Ash didn’t respond, but his thumb continued, this time slowly sweeping up and down. The feel of his skin against mine was different, and it had nothing to do with him being a god.
As I lay there, trying to forget the awkwardness, I couldn’t help but wonder how old he was. From what I understood, Primals and gods aged like mortals until they reached eighteen to twenty years, and then their aging slowed to a crawl. Ash looked no older than Ezra or Tavius, the latter having just turned twenty-two. Gods tended to be on the younger side compared to Primals. “How old are you?”
He had returned to staring at the lake. “Older than I look, and probably younger than you think.”
My brows furrowed. “That’s not much of an answer.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“Does it matter?” Ash countered. “Whether I’m a century old or a thousand years? I’ve still outlived anyone you know. My lifespan would still be incomprehensible to you or any mortal.”
Well, I guessed he was, in a way, right again. How many years he’d lived didn’t really matter when he would still appear only a few years older than me a hundred or more years from now.
I didn’t know what would’ve happened if I had become the Primal’s Consort. Would my aging have stopped thanks to some sort of Primal magic? I’d never really considered it because it hadn’t mattered when I would’ve died. It only mattered whether or not I succeeded at my duty.
I shifted my thoughts, not wanting to think about any of that. Not right now.
He looked down at me with eyes a swirling shade of quicksilver as his chin lowered. “What if I told you a secret?”
“A secret?”
He nodded. “The kind you could never repeat.”
“The kind you’d have to kill me if I did?”