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Ash sighed. “I heard what you said to her, Sera. That you wished it could have been different for her and were sorry it wasn’t.”

I really should have kept that to myself.

“You meant that.”

“I did.” Frustration rose as my eyes continued to sting. “And I don’t even know why. I hate Veses for what she did to you and for how she ran her Court. Still do, even though she’s dead. And I don’t regret ending her. It had to happen, but…” I closed my eyes, emotion lodging in my throat. “But she wasn’t always like that. You said so yourself.”

“Neither was Embris.”

“Veses was different.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“I…” I breathed through my nose as words worked their way around the knot in my throat. “She said it was nothing.”

Ash went still again.

“She said how Kolis treated her and the things he made her do was nothing.” My voice came out hoarse. I opened my eyes. “It wasn’t nothing. Gods know, I knew every time I said that what he did to me wasn’t nothing. And I know—” My voice cracked, and I shook my head, not wanting to shed a godsdamn tear over Veses. “I know Veses knew that, too. But she loved him. And maybe that was what turned her into what she ended up being. Always loving someone who loved someone else. I don’t know. But I can see a—”

“You should never see yourself in her,” he cut in, tipping my head back so my eyes met his. “Never.”

“I can see a part of me in her,” I continued, chest rising and falling fast. “Not the part that made her such a bitch, but the pain in her eyes. I saw it while in Dalos. She tried to hide it, but she…” A tear snuck free, and Ash immediately caught it with his finger. “But she did this—all of it—to herself. And if I…”

That was it.

If I had continued as if all that’d happened to me was nothing, I could’ve ended up like her. Maybe not as bad. Perhaps even worse, but in a different way. Because that kind of pain and shame, that kind of heartbreak, rotted you from the inside. It destroyed the glimpses of who you once were. And perhaps that was why her death bothered me. Because I could’ve done it to myself. Killing her was like killing that one part of me that had reluctantly co

I didn’t have to say all of that, but Ash still understood. I knew he did as he kissed each tear that started off as grief and then became relief. When they stopped, and I eventually found myself nestled once more against his chest, I finally fell asleep.

And I slept deeply.

Until I woke before dawn, gasping for air as a shout of fury slammed around in my head. I felt that cord. The co

Kolis was awake.

“Whoa,” Saion murmured as he leaned back in the settee.

I’d just finished the first stage of Ascension in case Phanos decided to either remain loyal to Kolis or refused to involve his Court. Only a tiny part of me held on to the hope that Phanos would choose us.

“You okay?” His cousin stood beside him, watching carefully as I closed the wound on my wrist.

“Yeah. Just a head rush.” Saion looked dazed as he tried to focus on me. “Your blood is…” He trailed off as a low growl of displeasure echoed from behind me.

Beside me, Reaver lifted his scaled head. A few minutes ago, he had growled when Saion neared me, which forced the god to stay seated and me to go to him.

Saion cleared his throat, sitting straighter. “It’s, um, something else.”

I shot Ash a frown over my shoulder as Jadis turned in her father’s lap, her brilliant blue eyes blinking. “You’re being ridiculous again.”

He ignored me, his glare fixed on Saion.

“Why is everyone growling at me today?” Saion asked.

The poor god was really having a rough morning.

I knew why Ash was growling. It was the whole keep-away-from-my-pregnant-wife thing, which made me so grateful that Kars was in the Callasta Isles because he’d surely get himself killed. But with Reaver, I had a feeling he was picking up on Ash’s tension and responding to it.

“Did I do something?” Saion asked, bewildered.

“No,” I was quick to answer, elbowing Ash in the stomach.

“Uh.” Saion glanced at Rhahar and then Ash before raising his hands. “I feel the need to apologize.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said. “He’s just cranky.”

“Cranky?” repeated Ash.

“Well,” Nektas drawled, rising from his chair with Jadis in his arms. The little draken was still focused on Ash as she clutched her father’s hair with her claws. “I think it’s time we head to the Triton Isles.”

“He’s right.” Saion shook his head, smothering a yawn. “Phanos would’ve felt this.”

And with Kolis being awake, we needed to make it quick.

I ran my fingers over Reaver’s head as Nektas handed Jadis off to Aios. The youngling immediately went for the goddess’s hair. I turned to Ash and asked in a low voice, “You okay?”

The rigidness of his jaw was starting to fade. Nodding, he folded an arm around my waist, and I saw Reaver approaching Saion, cautiously nudging the god’s leg with the top of his head. I guessed that was the draken’s way of apologizing.

“Ready?” Nektas asked, approaching us.

“Yes.” Ash looked at the others. “Remember, Kolis is awake. Everyone needs to be on high alert.”

There were several nods of agreement, and as the mist began to swirl around us, I saw Aios stretch a hand toward Reaver. I didn’t like leaving any of them while Kolis was awake, but I reminded myself that the younglings would soon return to Mount Rhee.

The smell of brine reached me before the bright light penetrated the fading mist. We were facing the sea. Sunlight glittered off the endless water, creating a stu

Gods, I really hoped Phanos made the right call—actually, speaking of Phanos… I started to step back—

Ash caught my arm as Nektas cursed. My gaze flew to his. “Careful,” he said. “You’re about to step on a lamaea.”

I spun around and looked down, quickly wishing I hadn’t.

The pale gray creature wiggled and slid across the sand. The fleshy smack of its flopping fins and the slippery slide of its dragging tails could fill a bucket of nightmares. I was so shocked by the sight of it that I couldn’t even concentrate enough to allow my vadentia to tell me what I was looking at. “What…what is that?”

“Another of my father’s ill attempts at creating new life,” he answered. “A lamaea.”

The creature’s almost mortal head and beady black eyes narrowed at Nektas. The draken gave the lamaea a wide berth.

“No offense,” I murmured, “but your father really needed to stop trying.”

“None taken.” He stepped forward as if to walk in front of the creature.

My grip tightened on his hand, and I dug my boots into the sand. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“They’re harmless,” he replied as the thing reared up on its fins, waving its tail arms. There was a distinctive fishy smell.

That was a whole lot of nope.

“Is it…waving at us?” I asked.

Ash gri

I gave a short, awkward wave back. The lamaea made a deep, chortling sound before flopping back to the sand. Somewhat dumbfounded, I watched it make its way to the shore and then disappear into the dazzling water.

“Damn it,” Nektas growled, drawing my attention. He had one foot lifted, and the sole was covered in something thick and glossy. “I stepped in lamaea slime.”

My lip curled as nausea rose so violently that I had to clap my hand over my mouth while Nektas charged up a short hill to where some leafy palm trees swayed in the breeze.

“Maybe you should wear shoes,” Ash commented as he led me around the trail of…goo.

Nektas frowned as he dragged his foot over the grass. “Shoes are cumbersome.”

Ash snorted, glancing back at me. Concern immediately filled his gaze. “You okay?”

Nektas looked up when I nodded and forced a swallow. “Yeah, I just don’t need to be thinking of gooey stuff right now.”

“You and me both,” the draken muttered.

I trudged through the sand, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out across my forehead by the time we joined Nektas under the palms. I really should’ve worn one of those sleeveless tunics instead of the quarter-length-sleeve gray one. It was hot under the bright sun.

Wiping my forehead, I looked up and caught sight of the ivory-and-blue-painted limestone palace. The entire second- and third-floor walls were made of glass. “There’s no Rise?”

“Phanos once said he didn’t want his view of the ocean obstructed,” Ash said as we crossed onto stone pavers carved into the shape of bivalve shells.

I could understand that desire as I sca

“I don’t think anyone is,” Nektas said, eyeing the thicker foliage crowding the back of Phanos’s palace. “Could they be on one of the other islands?”

“I don’t know.” Ash frowned as he released my hand and stalked toward the pillared veranda that appeared to circle the entire first level. Bright-red flowers lined the roof’s edge, trailing long stems of blossoms. “There should still be guards present here.”

As we followed Ash and stepped under the shade of the veranda, a sense of unease rose. A thin veneer of salt hung in the air as the wooden planks creaked under our steps. That gnawing sensation from deep within grew, sending a shiver of premonition down my spine.

“Something’s not right,” I murmured, almost to myself, but Ash caught the words and gave a curt nod, his jaw set in a way that told me he was on edge, too.

Beside me, Nektas’s gaze darted around as he sniffed the air. “I don’t like this. At all.”

Neither did I.

We reached the back of the veranda, where the shade gave way to a glaring sunlit expanse. The bay unfolded before us, a canvas of vivid blue. Across the water, the silhouettes of other islands rose like slumbering giants. The quiet should have been calming, yet it only served to amplify the disquiet—the wrongness—that whispered through the sea breeze.

My eyes swept over the docks that jutted into the bay like bony fingers. Where ships should have been lashed securely to the moorings, there was only the slap of waves against empty wood. My stare fixed on the ghostly dance of loose ropes in the water.

When I spotted the ropes remaining on the docks, their edges frayed as if they had been hastily severed, my unease turned to dread. “How many ships does Phanos have?”

“Roughly two hundred,” Ash stated grimly.