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All the food that would be prepared over the next several days could go to those who needed it. But then the Crown wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense of stability—one that was cracking and showing signs of breaking. No number of fancy gowns or elaborate feasts could hide that.
I climbed the dusty hill, the sack of apples and potatoes an u
Last night felt surreal, like a fevered dream, which seemed more plausible than spending a few hours beside the lake, speaking with a Shadowlands god—being touched by one. Pleasured by one.
Sweat dotted my brow as I reached up, tugging the hood of my blouse farther to shield my face from the sun. Ash. Warmth pooled low in my stomach. Thinking about his kisses, his touch, did very little to cool my already overheated skin, but it was far better than dwelling on the state of the kingdom or any of the other numerous things I could do nothing to change. Doing that only made me feel useless and guilty. But those kisses, the way he touched me, and what he said? They made me feel exhilarated and wanton and a dozen other different, maddening things. And there wasn’t even a hint of regret. I’d enjoyed myself…thoroughly, and I’d unexpectedly created a wealth of memories that would stay with me for however long.
There was a twinge of sadness, though, because it was over. And with each passing day that came, I knew those memories wouldn’t be as vivid and clear. They would become just like a faded dream. But I didn’t let it take hold. If I did, it would taint the memories, and I refused to allow that to happen. There were too few good ones as it was.
What Ash had said about not having a lot of experience when it came to debauchery returned for me to obsess over, which I’d already done a decent amount of. Could he have really been insinuating that he didn’t have a lot or any experience when it came to intimacy? That seemed impossible. He was a god who was probably, at the very least, several hundred years old. And he seemed awfully good at kissing and touching for someone who didn’t. But…
He had asked me to show him what I wanted—what I liked. And I had.
Did it matter if I had lain with more than he had? Or if he had been with none at all? No. It just made me curious about him—his past and what he did when he wasn’t hunting gods or apparently keeping an eye on me. Had he never found someone he was attracted to? Or at least attracted enough to be with? Someone he had fallen in lust or even love with? And if so, how could I be the first? There had to be others who were more…well, more everything. Starting with, like, every single goddess.
Except Cressa.
Thoughts of Ash quickly faded to the background as the sun bathed me in its light, and I saw what awaited.
The Rot had spread.
My steps slowed as I looked over the trees to my right, and my stomach sank. The limbs of the jacaranda trees had once been heavy with trumpet-shaped purple blossoms. Now, they blanketed the ground, the blooms brown, their edges curled. Limbs bare, there was no mistaking the strange grayness of the Rot that now clung to the tree’s branches and trunk like moss.
The farmers had tried what they believed King Roderick had done. They’d spent day and night, weeks and months, digging and scraping, but the Rot was deep. And under it, a hard, rocky type of soil absent of the nutrients needed to grow crops.
A coldness drenched my chest as I stared at the Rot. The spread was definitely occurring faster. Even if the Primal of Death did come for me now, I wasn’t sure I could even make him fall in love with me in time.
Lasania didn’t have years.
I walked over, toeing aside a dead blossom with my boot until I saw what I already knew I’d see. The dirt itself had spoiled, turning gray.
“Gods,” I whispered, staring at the ruined ground. Breathe in. The breath I took snagged as the scent of the Rot reached me. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, exactly. It reminded me of…
Of stale lilacs.
Just how the Hunters had smelled. The same scent that had filled the air before Andreia Joanis sat up, dead but still moving.
It wasn’t my imagination. The Rot smelled the same.
I looked back at the city. Through the remaining trees, the Shadow Temple glittered darkly in the sunlight. Toward the center, the Sun Temple shone brightly. Both were almost painful to look upon. Farther back, Wayfair Castle rose high on the hill, and beyond the ivory towers, the Stroud Sea shimmered a deep blue. How long until the Rot reached the farms I’d passed and the city beyond? What would happen if it reached the Dark Elms and then the sea?
When I came upon the Massey farm, I saw that only an acre of untainted land remained behind the stone home and the now-empty stables. Worse yet, the gray of the Rot was dangerously close to the leafy heads of cabbage not yet ready to be picked.
Holding my sack to my chest, I resisted the urge to run past the Massey home, to put distance between myself and the catastrophe waiting to happen. There was no point, though. My destination was far worse than this.
The creak of hinges drew my gaze to the home. Mrs. Massey stepped outside, a woven basket in hand. The moment she spotted me, she waved.
Shifting my load to one arm, I returned the gesture, riddled with guilt. Mrs. Massey had no idea that I could’ve stopped the devastation to her farm. If she did, I doubted she’d come outside to greet me. She would probably attempt to beat me over the head with that basket.
“Good morning,” I called out.
“Morning.” She drifted down the cracked stone of the walkway. The dirt clinging to the knees of her pants told me that she’d already been working what was left of the farm as Mr. Massey likely went to town. People like these were often up before anyone else and to bed after everyone else.
Tavius often referred to them as the lower class. Only someone not fit to rule would think of the backbone of the kingdom as such, but the heir was, well…an ass. Tavius held little respect for those who put the food on his plate, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the feelings were mutual. And if they weren’t already, it was only a matter of time before they shared the same opinion.
“What brings you out here?” Mrs. Massey asked. “Did the Crown send you?”
She assumed I worked in the castle, believing the Crown offered the food I brought. I never gave her any indication to think otherwise. “I wanted to check in on the Coupers. I wasn’t sure if they knew about what’d happened last night in Croft’s Cross. With the damages to some of the buildings, I’m sure extra hands will be needed for repairs.”
Mrs. Massey nodded. “Such a terrible thing.” She rested the basket on a rounded hip as her gaze shifted in the direction of the city. “But I suppose the upcoming Rite will bring…some joy.”
I nodded. “I’m sure it will.”
“You know, I’ve never been to a Rite. Have you?”
“Haven’t had the opportunity,” I told her. It would be risky for me to show up there, especially when the Crown would be in attendance. But I was curious about all that occurred. “I’m sure it’s boring.”
The skin on her sun-darkened face creased as Mrs. Massey laughed. “You shouldn’t say that.”
I gri
“It has.” She brushed away a wayward curl that’d escaped the lace of the white cap she wore. “It seems to be moving faster. We’ll probably have to harvest before any of its ready. That’s our only option at this point since the blockade that Williamson built out of wood didn’t stop it like we’d hoped.” She gave a small shake of her head, and then a wan smile appeared. “I’m just glad our son found work on the ships. It gets to Williamson, you know? That his son won’t be following in his footsteps like Williamson did with his father before him. But there’s no future here.”
I held my sack tighter as my chest squeezed, wishing I knew what to say—wishing there was something to say.
Wishing I had been found worthy.
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Massey laughed nervously, clearing her throat. “None of that is your concern.”
“No, it’s all right,” I told her. “There’s no need to apologize.”
She exhaled roughly as she stared at her ruined farm. “You said you were visiting the Coupers?”
I nodded, glancing at what now felt like a sad sack of food. I’d already stopped at three other homes before coming here. “Do you need anything? I have apples and potatoes. There isn’t much, but—”
“Thank you. That is a kind offer and much appreciated,” she said, but her spine had gone straight, and her mouth tightened.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I realized that I might have offended her with such an offer. Many of the working class were proud people, not used to nor desiring what they sometimes saw as handouts. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were in need.”
“I know.” The press of her mouth softened a bit. “And I won’t be too proud to accept such generosity once that day comes. Fortunately, we are not there yet. The Coupers can benefit far more than we can. They haven’t been able to grow a single crop in far too long, no potato or bean.”
I glanced ahead to where the short, rolling hill shielded the Couper home from view. “Do you think Pe
“Amarys was telling me the other day that they’ve both tried,” she said, her gaze fixed in the same direction. “But with the harvesters fleeing to other farms and the shops in the city, nothing has been available. I think they decided to wait it out. Hopefully, it’s not too late for Pe
There was a chance for Pe
Something had to be done now, curse or not. This wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. It wasn’t even the hundredth.
Turning back to Mrs. Massey, I said my goodbyes and started toward the Coupers’. The potatoes and apples wouldn’t last them long, but it was something, and I was positive that I would have more than I could carry tomorrow. So much of the food being prepped now would go untouched by the guests.
The dead trees had long since fallen and had been cleared away, but it was still a shock to reach the hill and see nothing but what looked like a fine layer of ash.