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“Damn.” I sighed. “I was hoping I would get to teach you how to use a fork.”
“I know how to use a fork.”
“You sure?” I gri
Those serious, now-jewel-blue eyes met mine. “I can pretend I don’t know how if you’d like.”
I laughed. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Good,” he said, shifting his stare to his hands and then back to me. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you did. I missed you all—” My chest hitched as I remembered standing in the Bonelands, thinking I might die before I got to see them again.
Reaver wiggled closer. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Clearing my throat, I glanced at Ash. He was filling a glass of water as Jadis, now draped over his shoulder, chattered in his ear about something to do with… “Grass—green grass.”
“You can understand her now?” Curiosity filled Reaver’s voice.
“I…I think I can. I swore I heard her earlier, and this time, I just kind of have a feeling about what she’s saying.” I sent Ash a smug look. “Either that or I’m hallucinating.”
“Likely the latter,” Ash teased.
I snorted. “Someone sounds jealous.” Wanting to distract Reaver and brag, I said, “Did you know that it took Ash actual days before he could understand the draken?”
Reaver looked between us while Ash raised a brow. “I didn’t.”
“Apparently, it’s not taking me that long,” I boasted.
“You’re such a quick learner,” Ash stated dryly.
I gri
“He never lies,” Reaver replied solemnly, and Ash’s grin spread. “She’s really excited about the grass. She’s never seen it green before.”
I focused on Reaver. “You haven’t either, have you?”
Reaver shook his head. “It’s different.” He sat back a little. A moment passed as he looked between Ash and me. “Did you really miss us?”
“Very much so.” I pushed the now-even-more-tangled hair back from my face. “And I was worried about both you and Jadis. I…” I swallowed, dropping my hands to my lap as I whispered, “I was also afraid.”
Mashing his lips together, he blinked damp lashes. Chest squeezing, I extended an arm. After a second, Reaver closed the distance between us and pressed himself against my side.
Folding my hand under the soft strands of hair at the back of his head, I closed my eyes. “But like Ash said, we’re safe. We’re good. All of us. And we’re going to stay that way.”
“Promise?” Reaver asked in a rough whisper.
“Promise,” I swore, kissing the top of his head.
Tension eased from Reaver’s thin body as he relaxed against me and quieted as I idly ran my fingers through the soft strands of his hair. Some time passed, and the release of all the emotion that had been building up in Reaver must’ve exhausted him. He fell asleep and ended up using my leg as a pillow.
I kept threading my fingers through his hair, worried that he’d wake up if I stopped. Sleep was always best after a good cry.
My mind wandered over everything it would take to make the promise Ash had made to Reaver happen as I listened to Ash’s footsteps and Jadis’s waning chatter. Even without the prickly sense of knowing, I feared I knew where this was headed.
And yes, it was a real, cold, cutting fear. Because no matter how many gods or Primals decided to stand with us, I knew lives would be lost.
I did what I didn’t want to. I thought about Kolis. There were moments when he was like how he must’ve been before bitterness and envy rotted him from the inside. Before that fateful day on the Cliffs of Sorrow when he saw Sotoria. But whoever he had been that allowed Eythos to continue loving him so irrevocably was long gone. His rot had decayed him so thoroughly that it ruined even his best intentions.
He was truly a monster now.
Kolis wouldn’t bow out. He thrived on ultimate power and authority. Got off on it. Without it, what did he have? Bitter truths and tainted memories?
But I knew Kolis wanted to avoid war. That was what I’d been about to tell Ash before the young draken arrived. Kolis wasn’t completely irrational. He knew what was at stake. He also didn’t want to fight in a war he believed he could lose.
And if we got the majority of the Primals to back us? Would he back down then? Maybe a little. Perhaps just enough to give us a chance to take him down.
Ash’s shoulder brushed mine as he sat beside me. Jadis was passed out against his chest, one of her scaled cheeks resting just above his heart. I lifted a brow as I saw that the little draken was all but swaddled in what appeared to be one of Ash’s sweaters.
“Just in case she decides to shift into her mortal form. It’s been happening less and less, but I don’t think she’s quite grown out of it,” Ash said, his voice low as Jadis wiggled in her sleep, managing to poke one clawed foot free of Ash’s sweater as he glanced down at Reaver. “How he was earlier? I haven’t seen him like that since his parents died.”
My attention shifted back to Reaver’s sharp features and the slight parting of his lips. “I promised him we would all remain safe,” I admitted.
“We will.”
I nodded as I smoothed my hand over the crown of Reaver’s head, but I knew I shouldn’t have made any promises.
There would be a fight.
Would it only be between us and Kolis, or would it become the war Attes spoke of and Kolis swore he wanted to avoid?
Either way, lives would be lost.
And we wouldn’t be able to keep everyone safe.
“You just missed Ash,” I said, holding the bedchamber door open for Nektas. “He took Jadis and Reaver to the chamber they normally sleep in.”
“Ah,” he murmured, glancing down the hall. “I’m guessing they were still asleep?”
“They were when they left, which kind of surprised me,” I admitted, having figured one of them would’ve woken when Ash draped them over his shoulders.
His head tilted. “Younglings are deep sleepers. Once they fall asleep, they’re out until morning.”
“Huh.” From what I knew, that was the complete opposite of mortal children.
His attention shifted back to me. “I hope you got some rest after your eventful night.”
My thoughts flashed to the hours spent in bed with Ash. There had been some rest involved. “I did.”
“That’s good to hear,” he said. “You may feel stronger than ever.”
“But I’m a baby Primal and, therefore, need lots of nap time,” I said, eyeing him. “Why do I suspect that you knew exactly where your daughter and Reaver were?”
A faint smile tugged at Nektas’s lips. “Am I that transparent?”
“Yes.” I stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”
His chuckle was low and raspy as he walked in. “This is unexpected.”
“What is?” I asked as I closed the door.
“This,” he answered with a sweep of his arm.
I sca
“A mess?” Nektas surveyed the space. “It actually looks lived in.” He bent, picking up a napkin that had fallen to the floor. “You remember what it looked like before.”
Cold. Neat. Almost empty and devoid of…life.
“It is actually a relief to see such a mess.” He placed the napkin on the table. “There is a warmth to it.”
A mix of emotions surfaced as I fiddled with one of the buttons on my robe. I was at once glad that there was life here and sad that there hadn’t been before.
That Ash hadn’t been able to allow that.
“I hate Kolis,” I whispered as a surge of essence rippled through me.
Nektas turned his head to me. “For what he has done to Ash and to you.”
My breath snagged. What he’d said hadn’t been posed as a question. It was a statement of fact. “Yeah.” I swallowed thickly. “By the way, I heard Jadis tonight through the te’lepe.”
Crossing his arms, he faced me. “I believe we were right in our assumptions regarding the maturity of the embers.”
I nodded.
“I did come here for a reason,” he said after a moment. “I wanted to apologize for tonight’s interruption. Both Jadis and Reaver were told to give you and Ash space.”
“Oh, gods. Please don’t apologize. I was glad to see them. I missed them, and I think they needed to see us to know we’re okay. Especially Reaver. And I needed to see them. There was a time I didn’t think I would see them again.” Avoiding Nektas’s gaze, I cleared my throat and then did what I had already done more than once this evening. I changed the subject. “Ash and I discussed Kolis,” I said, giving him a brief rundown of what we’d pla
“All of that sounds good,” he replied. “Though I have no interest in speaking for the draken.”
My lips pursed. Who would be better? “But you really do think it’s a good idea?”
“It’s a change.” He scratched his chin. “But change is good, especially when it’s needed.”
Exhaling slowly, I nodded. “There’s something else. Something I realized after speaking with you.”
He picked up an untouched strawberry. “What is that?”
“The riders. Do you know what they are?”
He finished off the sugar-dusted fruit. “What do you think?”
“I…I think you know more than you’ve shared with Ash,” I said after a moment.
Picking up another berry, he went quiet for a moment. “I was still of only one form when the riders came into existence, created to bring about the end.”
“Gods, you are so old,” I mumbled. He shot me a narrowed-eye look, and I flashed him a quick, bright smile. But he was old, and I knew what that meant.
“Why do you ask?” he questioned.
“It wasn’t until I was having di
He nodded, looking out over the courtyard. “I remember the Ancients more clearly than the eldest of the Primals. I know what some became.”
“And you never said anything to Ash?”
Nektas shook his head as he wiped his fingers on the napkin he’d picked up.
“I didn’t either. I almost did, but I had a feeling I shouldn’t. That there would be consequences if I did,” I told him. “But I don’t know why. I was wondering if you did.”