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“The escape that reading once provided has sadly faded,” he said, and I turned to him, about to ask what he sought to escape, when he spoke again. “You may help yourself to the library whenever you’d like.”
I nodded, eyeing him. “I’m not sure what part of that made you believe I would throw sharp objects at you.”
That half-smile returned. “It’s this part. You’re free to move about the palace and its grounds as you wish, but there are conditions.”
“Rules?” I clarified.
“Agreements,” he amended.
“I do not know how you can call them agreements when I haven’t agreed to anything,” I pointed out.
“True. I suppose I hope they will become that.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I guess they will be rules that you won’t enjoy.”
My eyes narrowed. “What are these conditions?”
“The first hopeful agreement is that you’re free to go anyplace within the palace and on the grounds, as I said, but you are not to enter the Red Woods without me with you.”
That surprised me. “I would’ve assumed you would tell me not to enter the Dying Woods because of the Shades.”
An eyebrow rose. “I see someone has been talking.”
I shrugged.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Sometimes, Shades find their way into the Red Woods. It is not often,” he explained.
I was glad to hear that since there appeared to be no wall between the Red Woods and the palace. “So, why can I only enter them with you? Does your presence keep the Shades away?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Once again, I thought about his reaction when I’d walked into his back. “Were you injured when you were wrangling them? I’ve heard they can bite.”
“Someone really has been talking,” he remarked. “They do bite, and they do claw.”
A shiver crawled down my spine. “Can their bites pierce your skin?”
“My skin is not impenetrable, as you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was a shadowstone dagger.”
“Sharp objects, whether they be teeth or daggers, can pierce my skin and the skin of a god.”
“Is that what happened to your back?” I drifted closer.
He didn’t answer for a long moment. “It was.”
“And why hasn’t it healed?”
“You have a lot of questions.”
“So?”
A faint smile appeared. “Do we have an agreement?” Ash countered.
“You haven’t told me why I ca
His eyes met mine. “Because you’d likely die if you did.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “What else is in—?”
“The second agreement is that you can enter the city if you wish,” he went on, and I snapped my mouth shut. “But only after I have introduced you as my Consort. And if you have an escort.”
“I have more questions.”
Ash’s stare was bland. “Of course, you do.”
“Why must I wait until I am introduced as your Consort?”
“All mortals who call the Shadowlands and Lethe their home have my protection. But even the protection of a Primal can only go so far. Gods from other Courts can and do enter Lethe. As my Consort, any god or Primal would be extremely foolish to mess with you. Even those who like to push,” he explained. “But until then, you will only be seen as another mortal.”
I did not remotely like the sound of that. “Because mortals are at the bottom of the pecking order?”
“You know the answer to that.”
My lips thi
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And I hope you know that I also don’t believe that—not as some do.”
I did and I wished I didn’t because if he truly viewed mortals as beneath him, it would make what I had to do easier. “Why, as a grown woman who has been introduced as your Consort, would I need an escort?” I questioned.
“Why, as a grown woman, would you enter residences without making sure they were empty first?” he countered.
My hands curled into fists. “You bring that up as if it were some sort of habit.”
“Is it not?”
“No.”
The look he sent me said that he greatly doubted that. “Whether or not that is a dangerous, reckless habit of yours, you are not familiar with the city or its inhabitants, and they are not familiar with you. And while most Primals and gods know better than to harm a Consort, some simply do not follow the rules or have common decency.”
“Is it a rule? To not harm a Consort?”
He nodded. “It is.”
“And has that rule been broken?”
“Only once,” he answered. I started to ask who, but he continued. “The next agreement—”
“There’s more?” I snapped.
“Oh, yes, there are more,” he replied.
I glared at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“There are times when I may have…visitors. Guests who I would not want to be around you,” he said. “Those times can be unexpected.”
My jaw began to ache from how tightly I clenched it.
“But when they occur, you are to return to your chambers and remain there until one of my guards or I retrieve you.”
I stiffened. None of his rules should bother me. My mother would insist that this was one of the moments that called for complete submission. And, surely, if I simply went along with these rules, it would aid me in my duty. But my skin tightened in a way that wasn’t at all pleasant. I’d spent a lifetime living behind a veil, even when I was no longer required to wear one. Hidden away, seemingly ashamed of. Forgotten.
“Why does this make you…sad?” Ash asked.
My head snapped toward him as I whispered, “What?”
His chin had tilted again. “You feel sad.”
“I feel a
“Yes, that, too. But you also feel—”
“I don’t.” My stomach dipped. “You’re not reading my emotions, are you?” When he said nothing, anger shot through me like an arrow. “I thought you said you don’t do that.”
“I try not to. But, apparently, my guard was down, and what you felt was like a…” He appeared to search for a word as I silently screamed. “I couldn’t block it out.”
The breath I sucked in was shrill. I didn’t want him knowing that what he said had made me sad. I didn’t want anyone to know that. “There are more rules?”
“Not exactly a rule,” he said after a long moment. “But we must discuss your coronation as Consort.”
My stomach tumbled a bit. I didn’t know why it made me nervous, but it did. “When will that take place?”
“In a fortnight.”
Two weeks. Gods. I swallowed as I crossed my arms over my waist. “And what does that entail?”
“It will be like a celebration,” he said. “High-ranking gods will come from other Courts. Possibly even Primals. You will be crowned before them.” His gaze flickered over me. “I will have a seamstress from Lethe come to fit you for an appropriate gown.”
I tensed. “It’d better look nothing like that wedding gown.”
“I have no intention of displaying you to the entirety of my Court and all others within Iliseeum,” he replied, and there was no denying the relief I felt. “And she will also be able to outfit you with a wardrobe.”
Nodding, my thoughts raced forward. “Will I…?” I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Will I be Ascended like the Chosen are upon being found worthy?”
Shadows rippled just beneath his skin. It happened so fast that I thought I’d imagined it. “What do you know about the act of Ascension, liessa?”
I lifted my shoulder. “Not much beyond the Primal of Life granting the Chosen eternal life.”
His features tightened and then smoothed out. “And how do you think one Ascends?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The secret of the act is highly guarded.”
Faint wisps of eather seeped into his eyes. “The act of Ascension requires a mortal’s blood to be drained from their body and replaced by that of a Primal or god. It is not always a successful transition,” he said, and I thought of what I had learned of the godlings and their Culling. “But those who are Chosen are born in a shroud. They already carry some mark—some essence of the gods—in their blood. It allows them to complete the Ascension if it were to occur.”
My gaze immediately went to his mouth. What did a mortal become once Ascended? I knew they did not become a god, but that wasn’t my most important question. “Will my Ascension take place then?”
The eather in his eyes flared intensely. “You will not be Ascended. You will remain mortal.”
Surprise rolled through me as I looked up at him. Even though I knew that it didn’t matter whether or not I Ascended. I didn’t plan for either of us to be around long enough to even begin comprehending something akin to immortality. But he didn’t know that. “How can you have a mortal Consort? Has there ever been one?” I asked. If so, it had never been documented.
“There has never been a mortal Consort. But this was never your choice. It wasn’t mine, either,” he stated, and the twinge of rejection was so utterly ridiculous, I wanted to smack myself. “And I would never force someone into a near eternity of this.”
Ofthis.
He spat those words as if he spoke of the Abyss. For a moment, I didn’t understand, but there was so much I didn’t know about Iliseeum and their politics—the gods and Primals that pushed the limits of others, and what exactly that often entailed beyond what I’d seen on the way into the palace.
And it was yet another thing that didn’t matter. I didn’t need him to be open to the idea of Ascending me. I just needed him to love me.
Nervous, I lifted my gaze to his. “Are there any more rules, Your Highness?”
A half-grin appeared, stroking my temper. “Why do I find you referring to me as such arousing?”
“Because you’re an arrogant, controlling misogynist?” I suggested before I could stop myself.
Ash laughed, and I swore the corners of my vision started to turn red. “I am arrogant and can be somewhat controlling, but I feel no hatred for women, no more need to control them than I would a man.”
I stared at him blandly. “Are there any more rules?” I repeated.
“You’re angry—and no, I’m not reading your thoughts. It’s obvious.”
“Yes, I’m angry.” I turned from him, once more walking the length of the shelves. “What you call agreements are rules, and I don’t like rules.”
“I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked.
“I don’t like that you think you can establish rules as if you have the…” Common sense finally seeped in, urging me into silence.
Ash arched a brow. “The what, liessa? Like I have what? The authority? Is that what you were going to say? And did you stop yourself because you realized I have exactly that?”
I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t why, but it also probably should’ve been.