Born of Blood and Ash

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Sourness lingered in the back of my mouth as I stood in the dimly lit library.

There had been no almost vomiting this time. The late lunch/half-supper I’d eaten hadn’t stayed in me for long.

The only blessing was that Ash hadn’t been present for it, and it had happened so quickly there hadn’t been time for me to feel any sort of anxiety over it. He’d been with Rhain…or maybe Saion and Rhahar. Either way, Ash was now just beyond Lethe, where the army trained. At least, that was what Rhahar had said Ash was doing when I left the bedchamber.

He’d been gone when I woke.

Waking up without him by my side reminded me of how it had been when I’d first slept in his bedchamber. He was never there in the mornings.

My throat thickened as I stared up at the portraits of Ash’s parents. I’d slept late. Well into the afternoon—no dreams, no nightmares.

I was positive the vomiting had everything to do with last night. Okay. Mostly everything. I was also nervous about the prospect of randomly shifting again. At this point, anything was possible.

I transferred my weight from one foot to the other, wincing at the dull ache in my thighs and stomach. My muscles were definitely sore from either the change or all the ru

Hurling noodles and rice everywhere probably also had something to do with the twinge in my side.

My gaze drifted over Eythos’s familiar features. Gods, I still couldn’t believe Ash had been the one to paint these.

I wasn’t even sure why I’d come here. The library was a dark, cavernous place where sadness seemed to cling like dust to the tomes lining the shelves, the portraits, and the furniture. My attention shifted to Mycella.

She was beautiful, and there was little doubt the kindness in her eyes and the curve of her lips had been exactly as Nektas described.

And she had, at one time, harbored feelings for Kolis.

Disgust rolled through me, and I had to remind myself that was before Kolis became who he was today. Even I had seen brief—very brief—moments of who he used to be.

I didn’t even know why I was thinking about this.

Actually, that wasn’t true. It was because I was doing everything in my power not to think about the fact that Ash knew way more than I realized or wanted to acknowledge. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. I didn’t even know how to deal with myself, other than wanting to take a wire brush to my skin. And maybe my brain.

It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.

I believed him. I know he loves me. How could I not? He had been willing to set the realms on fire to save me.

But how couldn’t it change the way he saw me? Because it had changed the way I saw myself.

I’d thought I had been prepared to handle Kolis. That I could separate who I was from who I needed to be. After all, I had been groomed to do just that since I was old enough to be sent to the Mistresses of the Jade. To lie. Manipulate. Seduce. I should have been able to handle everything that happened and then some.

It wasn’t like I’d actually enjoyed learning the art of seduction before I was even of appropriate age to be married, for crying out loud. It had been awkward and embarrassing to go from not even speaking about sex to discussing it in great, graphic detail with strangers, and then learning how to do it. It had been confusing and even scary at times.

My gaze lowered to the flickering flames above the candles set out under the portraits. Even now, my cheeks burned thinking about it. One didn’t learn how to seduce with simple words. You were shown. You practiced, acting out what you were taught. And, well, the body didn’t always agree with the mind. What I had felt when the courtesan showed me how to pleasure another while pleasing myself, and then later, when I pretended, had been a confusing-as-fuck mix of emotions. It had felt good, and it had also felt wrong. I had been curious, and I had also dreaded the sessions and the look on Holland’s face when he knew I’d begun that portion of my training. All in all, it wasn’t a great experience. I had gotten over it.

But I really hadn’t gotten over that either, had I?

Pressing my lips together, I reached down and brushed my fingers over the hilt of the bone dagger. The feeling of it on my thigh was calming and helped me refocus my thoughts. My training didn’t matter. What did was that, despite all of it, it seemed I couldn’t deal.

It didn’t make sense. Sure, Kolis had bitten me twice—almost three times. The first time had been mind-numbingly painful. The second time… He hadn’t made it hurt. He had ejaculated, but whatever pleasure the bite had forced upon me had been brief. He’d slept beside me. He’d held me. He’d looked at me, seeing far more than I ever wanted, and he’d touched me. But it wasn’t like I’d been raped. Nor was I like Veses, who had to pretend that she enjoyed being degraded. Kolis had known I didn’t like what he was doing. I hadn’t experienced what Ash had, repeatedly having to allow Veses to feed off him, either. And given what little I knew of Veses, she’d likely made it hurt as many times as she’d made it feel good. Then, there was everything Ash had experienced due to Kolis. I hadn’t spent decades under the threat of the gods only knew what.

But I had spent years with the threat of Tavius lingering in the shadows of every corridor and his cruelty that bordered on sadism. I’d had to deal with the leering, too-long looks that started when I was far too young to be on the receiving end of any sort of attention like that. It hadn’t been until the end that he’d gotten bold—and idiotic—enough to attempt to touch me. My last day in Lasania—the last day of his life—he would’ve tried more if he hadn’t spent the night celebrating his father’s untimely passing.

At the end of the day, though, none of that should affect me like it was because it was…

I closed my eyes, still able to hear Ash shout, “Stop saying that nothing happened!” He had been wrong, though. In comparison, what I had experienced was nothing.

But as I stood there, I wondered what I would say to someone else if they’d experienced what I had. Would I tell them it was nothing? Would I even think that?

But I should be different.

I had to be.

Because I couldn’t let this be my ruination, and that was exactly what it felt like.

Awareness throbbed through me, drawing me from my thoughts. I tilted my head and listened. I didn’t hear any footsteps, but even though Ash was shockingly quiet for someone his size, I knew it wasn’t him.

Tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck as I turned. A shock of surprise ran through me as I saw the God of Dreams, dressed in black, standing in the doorway.

Dark hair shielded his face as he bowed. “I did not mean to startle you, meyaah Liessa.”

“It’s all right.” I watched the oneirou straighten. Despite him staying at the palace, this was the first time I’d seen him since Kyn was here, and I kept forgetting that he was here.

“A library,” he remarked curiously. Those startling eyes that bordered on amethyst swept over the chamber before returning to me. “May I?”

I nodded, reminding myself of what Ash had warned me before I even got the urge to read the god.

“Thank you.” Thierran entered, once more eyeing the tomes lining the shelves.

After an awkward moment of silence, I found my ma

“It has been, for the most part.”

Hearing his response, I was a little taken aback. “For the most part?”

“I have not slept well here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“Apology accepted.”

I managed to stop the laugh before it escaped. I didn’t know if I should be insulted or amused.

“The doors to this space have always been closed,” Thierran spoke. “So, I wondered if it was another sitting chamber or something more exciting.”

“I imagine discovering that it is only a library is disappointing.”

His laugh was soft—airy, even—as he walked along the rows of books. “Quite the opposite, meyaah Liessa. I’ve always found libraries enjoyable.”

“Then you must prefer the peace of one,” I guessed, noting the sheathed daggers on each of his forearms.

“Typically.” He stopped halfway, dark brows furrowing. “Though I’m not sure I would find this one all that peaceful. There’s a…sadness to it.”

Once again, a wave of surprise rippled through me. “There is.”

“My awareness of such has caught you off guard.”

“It has.” I quickly racked my brain for what knowledge it contained on the oneirou as he began walking again.

“All oneirou—what is left of us, that is—are sensitive to…impressions left behind. Emotions leave an imprint,” he shared, his attention shifting to the candlelit portraits. “Especially extreme ones.”

My gaze followed his to the painting of Mycella. Ash’s mother and Aios were cousins, so either her aunt or uncle was from Kithreia. I knew Mycella wasn’t from there, though.

“Mycella was from Lotho,” I said.

Thierran nodded.

“Many who live near Mount Lotho are gifted with unique talents. Walking in dreams. Prophesizing.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Sensing emotion.”

“And manipulating it?”

“That, too.” He turned back to the paintings. “Mycella’s father was an oneirou, one of the oldest. From what I knew of her, she could not enter other’s dreams, but she could read emotions and control them if she so wished.” He paused. “She passed down half of those abilities to her son.”

“She did.”

“The oneirou blood is strong, though. Known to skip a generation, only to reappear again,” he said. “If you and Nyktos were to have a child, it’s quite possible they would have the same abilities as Nyktos, or even those of his mother’s father.”

My heart skipped a beat as his words tugged at a memory. Something I should have remembered—

“But that’s neither here nor there.” Thierran faced me. “When we first met, you tried to read me.”

Tension crept into my neck. “I did.”

One side of his lips turned up, pulling the scar on his left cheek taut. “You failed.”

“Correct.” My shoulders squared. “I didn’t try it on purpose. It sort of just happened. However, I didn’t exactly attempt to stop myself from doing it either.”

He stared at me for what felt like an entire minute. “Your honesty is refreshing. Besides your husband, who is still very young…” It was odd hearing him say that, considering he looked the same age as Ash. “Most Primals tend to be untruthful, even when it is not necessary. Which is amusing since the Ancients could not lie.” His head cocked. “Did Nyktos tell you how I was scarred?”

“He did not.” The swift change of subject left me a little unsettled. His unflinching stare was far more u