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My duty was bigger than me—than what I felt. But it hadn’t been him who’d forced that duty upon me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and the words still felt strange on my lips. They hurt a little this time.
His gaze returned to me. “For what?”
I let out a short laugh. “For having that one decent bone in your body.”
A faint smiled appeared. “Are you hungry? I know the cooks sent up some soup, but I can have more of whatever you want made.”
I wished he’d refuse me food. “I’m fine.” I dragged my finger over the beveled edges of the glass. Another question rose from the endless cyclone of them. “Are there any…consequences for you?” A surprising, unwanted and wholly hypocritical dose of concern blossomed within me. “I mean, from what I understand of the deals, they require fulfillment from all parties involved.”
“There are no consequences, Sera.”
I eyed him. He’d answered without hesitation. Maybe even too quickly, but that wasn’t a concern of mine. At all. “How long had Lathan been keeping an eye on me?”
“It wasn’t until the last three years, when you were more…active,” he told me. “Does it make you angry to know that?”
It was really weird to know that someone had been keeping an eye on me without my knowledge. Of course, I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t that simple. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I should feel angry or not.” However, it did make me think of all the weird and dumb things Lathan could have witnessed. But it made sense that there would’ve been no need to keep an eye on me before the night of my seventeenth birthday. Before then, I’d only ever left Wayfair to travel into the Dark Elms outside of a few, rare occasions. “Why did you have him do that? You didn’t know me. You didn’t make the deal. You have no obligation to me.”
“That’s a good question.” Ash’s thundercloud-hued eyes drilled into mine. “Maybe if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been there that night to stop you from attacking those gods. They would’ve killed you. And, perhaps, that would’ve been a better fate for you.”
Ice drenched my skin as he continued holding my stare. Air thi
“Because now here we are. You’re in the Shadowlands. And soon, you will be known as the Consort,” Ash said. “My enemies will become yours.”
Sleep came surprisingly easy after Ash left, leaving me with even more questions. I expected to do nothing but lay in bed and dwell on everything he’d shared, but either I was exhausted, or I simply wanted to escape everything I’d discovered. I slept deeply, and it felt like a long time before I woke. I had no idea how many hours had passed. The sky was the same shade of gray, still full of stars, but a dull twinge had taken up residence in my upper shoulders. When I checked them in the standing mirror, the wounds appeared significantly less red and swollen. Whatever was in that balm Ash had used was a miracle.
Cinching the sash on my robe, I walked to the balcony doors and opened them. The gray sky was full of stars and no clouds as I walked to the railing overlooking the canopy of blood-colored leaves and the twinkling lights of the city beyond.
I’d learned so much that my thoughts raced from one thing to the next, but they kept coming back around.
Ash hadn’t made the deal.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I closed my eyes as I gripped the railing. It had been his father, for reasons known only to him. A great bit of unease still festered in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t right that Ash should pay with his life for what his father had done. It wasn’t right that I would also pay with mine.
Nothing about this was fair.
The smooth stone pressed into my palms as I continued to squeeze the railing. Nothing had changed, though. It couldn’t. The Rot had to be stopped, and Ash…he was the Primal of Death, the one who now held the deal. I had to fulfill my duty. If I didn’t, Lasania would fall. People would continue dying. There would be more families like the Coupers, no matter who took the Crown.
Was one life more important than tens of thousands? Millions? Even if it was a Primal? But what would happen if I managed to succeed? If he fell in love with me, and I became his weakness, what kind of wrath would his death force upon the realms? How many lives would be lost until another Primal took his spot?
A Primal that didn’t have a kind and decent bone in their body. Who didn’t think highly of freedom and consent. A Primal who didn’t interfere when others took delight in violence. Who didn’t care about murdered descendants that carried some small trace of godly blood within them.
“Gods,” I whispered, stomach twisting. How could I…how could I do this? How could I hide this mess of emotion from him, stop it from piercing whatever walls he had built around himself?
How could I not?
The people of Lasania were more important than my distaste of what I must do. They were more important than Ash. Than me.
Opening my eyes, I jerked back from the railing as movement from the courtyard below snagged my attention. I sca
What was he doing?
A knock on the door drew me from my thoughts. Knowing it wasn’t Ash, habit had me reaching for my thigh, but there was no dagger there. No real weapon at all. I went to the door, only to discover that it was Aios.
She flowed into the room with clothing draped over her arm. “Glad you’re awake,” she said. “We were starting to worry. You’ve been asleep for a day.”
A day?
I blinked as a younger man entered behind her, bowing his head in my direction before placing a covered dish and a glass on the table. The aroma of food reached me, stirring my nearly empty stomach. He kept his head down, and most of his face was hidden behind a sheet of blond hair. Aios made a beeline for the wardrobe, throwing it open as I watched him turn to leave, noticing that he favored his right leg over his left. It wasn’t until he was closing the door behind him that he looked up, and I saw that his eyes were brown and there was no glow of eather in them.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat,” Aios said. “So, I had a little bit of everything made. Please eat before it gets cold.”
Somewhat in a daze, I roamed over to the table and lifted the cloche to reveal a mound of fluffy eggs, a few strips of bacon, a biscuit, and a small bowl of fruit. I stared at the food for several moments, unable to remember the last time I’d had warm eggs. I sat slowly, my gaze falling to the glass of orange juice. For some reason, the back of my throat burned. I closed my eyes, wrangling my emotions. It was just warm eggs and bacon. That was all. When I was positive that I had control of myself, I opened my eyes and slowly picked up the fork. I tasted the eggs and nearly moaned. Cheese. There was melted cheese in them. I nearly devoured the entire mound in less than a minute.
“You’ll be happy to know that I was able to find some clothing for you,” Aios said as she hung the items inside the wardrobe.
Forcing myself to slow down, I looked over my shoulder at her. I thought of the glow in her eyes. “You’re a goddess, right?”
Aios faced me with a quizzical lift to her brows. “On most days.”
I cracked a grin. “And the young man that was just here. Is he a…a godling?”
She shook her head as she turned back to the wardrobe, hanging what appeared to be a gray sweater. “Have you ever met a godling?”
“Not that I know of,” I admitted, thinking of Andreia. “I don’t know much about them.”
“What would you like to know?” she said, turning from the wardrobe.
“Everything.”
Aios laughed softly, the sound warm and airy. “Finish eating, and I’ll tell you.”
For once, I didn’t mind being told what to do. I broke apart the toasted, buttery biscuit as Aios said, “Most godlings are mortal. They carry no essence of the gods in them. Therefore, they live and die just like any other mortal.”
I thought of how Ash had said that most godlings lived in Iliseeum. “Do they typically reside in the mortal realm?”
“Some do. Others choose to live in Iliseeum. But for those who carry the eather in their blood, it’s usually because their mother or father was a powerful god. That eather is passed down to them.”
Was that the case for the Kazin siblings? One of them, or maybe even the babe, had enough eather in them to make them a godling? The babe with the missing father? Or did they just have a trace? Either way, why would the gods kill them?
“For the first eighteen to twenty years of life, they live relatively mortal lives,” she continued, snapping my attention back to her. “They may not even know that they carry the blood of the gods in them. But they soon will.”
“The Culling?” I guessed, picking up a slice of bacon.
She nodded. “Yes. They will begin to go through the Culling. That is when some learn that they are not completely mortal.”
My brows lifted. “That would be one hell of a way to find out.”
“That it would be.” Her head tilted, sending several long locks of red hair cascading over a shoulder. “But for most, they don’t survive the change. You see, their bodies are still mortal. And as the Culling sets in, and the eather in them begins to multiply and grow, infiltrating every part of them, their bodies can’t facilitate such a process. They die.”
“That…” I shook my head as I dropped the slice of bacon back onto the plate. “The eather sounds like a weed growing out of control in their bodies.”
Aios let out a surprised laugh. “I suppose that is one way to look at it. Or maybe, for some, a beautiful garden. Those who survive the Culling will then age much, much slower than mortals. Basically, for every three or so decades a mortal lives, it is equivalent to one year for a godling.”
What mortal lived to a hundred? Odetta had to have been close. “That sounds like immortality to me.”
“Godlings can live for thousands of years if they’re careful. They are susceptible to very few illnesses. But they’re not as…impervious to injuries as the gods and Primals are,” she explained. “For that reason, most godlings who survive the Culling live in Iliseeum.”
That made sense. A five-hundred-year-old person who looked as if they were twenty would definitely draw attention. That was also probably why we believed that the children of mortals and gods—godlings—were rare. A thought struck me, causing my stomach to twist. “Can Primals and mortals have children?”
She shook her head. “A Primal is an entirely different being in that way.”
I took a drink of the juice to hide my relief. It could take months…or even years to fulfill my duty. I didn’t want to bring a child into this only to leave them orphaned like Ash had been.