Текст книги "A shadow in the ember"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 42 страниц)

“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 thinned in my chest.

“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 scanned the ground, breath catching as I recognized Ash’s tall, broad form. Even from a distance, I knew it was him. A breeze moved across the courtyard, tossing the loose strands of his hair around his shoulders. His strides were long and sure as he walked alone, heading toward the cluster of the dark red trees.

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.

Like, in some ways, I had been.

My hand trembled slightly as I placed the glass down. “So how do some survive, while others don’t?”

“It all depends on whether a god assisted the godling,” she said, reaching up to toy with the chain around her neck. “That is the only way a godling survives.”

“And how would a god assist them?”

She grinned, a mischievous sort of look filling her golden eyes. “You may find such information to be quite scandalous.”

“Doubtful,” I murmured.

Aios laughed again. “Well, all right, then.” The hem of her flared sweater swished around her knees as she drifted closer. “They need to feed from a god.”

I leaned forward. “I assume you do not mean the type of food I just consumed?”

“No.” Her grin spread as she lifted a finger to her rosy lips. She tapped a fingernail off one delicate fang. “They do not grow these, but they will need blood. Quite a bit of it at first. And then, every so often once the Culling is complete.”

“Do all gods need to feed?” I asked. “Like that?”

She sat on the chair opposite me. “Yes.”

My stomach tumbled a bit. I’d obviously known that they could…bite, but I hadn’t known it was something they had to do.

A bit of her smile faded. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I mean, the idea of drinking blood makes me a little nauseous.”

“As it would for most who are not like us.”

 But I…I also remembered the scrape of Ash’s fangs against my skin. I felt myself flush. “Do you all feed off mortals?”

Aios arched a brow as she watched me. “We can. It does the same for us as feeding off a god would.”

My gaze flicked back to Aios’s beautiful face. Who did Ash feed from? “Are Primals the same?”

“They do not need to feed unless they’ve experienced some sort of weakening.” Her fingers returned to the chain. “Which isn’t often.”

“Oh,” I murmured, not exactly thrilled with the buzz of relief I felt. Something occurred to me. “Does anything happen to the mortal when a Primal or god feeds off them?”

“No. Not if we’re careful. Obviously, a mortal may feel the effects of the feeding more than any of us would, and if we were to take too much, then…well, it would be a tragedy if they were not third sons or daughters.” Her lips tensed. “It’s forbidden to Ascend them—to save them.”

Curiosity trickled through me. “Why?”

Tension bracketed her mouth. “They would become what we call demis—a being with godlike power that was never meant to carry such a gift…and burden. They are something else.”

I frowned, thinking that wasn’t much of an answer.

“But to answer your original question,” she continued, changing the subject, “the young man who was in here? His name is Paxton, and he’s completely mortal.”

So many more questions flooded me. Surprise flickered through me. “What is a mortal doing here?”

“Many mortals live in Iliseeum,” she told me, and it was clear that she thought that was common knowledge.

“Are they all…lovers?” I fiddled with the sash on the robe, thinking Paxton appeared far too young for that.

“Some have befriended a god or became their lover.” She lifted a shoulder. “Others have talents that appealed to one of the gods. For many of them, coming to Iliseeum was an opportunity to start over. Their paths are all different.”

An opportunity to start over. My heart skipped. Wouldn’t that be nice? I glanced down at my plate. There was no starting over, no other paths. There never had been.

“May I ask you something?” Aios asked, and I looked up, nodding. “Did you know?” She had come closer, her voice lower. “About the deal, before he came for you?”

“I did.”

“Still, that must’ve been a lot to deal with.” Aios clasped her hands together. “To know you had been promised to a Primal.”

“It was, but I learned a while ago that if you can’t deal with something, you find a way to do so,” I said. “You have to.”

A far-off look crept into Aios’s features as she nodded slowly. “Yes, you have to.” She cleared her throat, rising abruptly and making her way to the wardrobe. “By the way, I was able to find two gowns that I believe will fit. But Nyktos mentioned that you preferred pants over gowns.”

 I rose slowly and tentatively walked forward. He’d thought enough to mention that to Aios?

“I couldn’t get my hands on any tights, but these breeches should fit you.” Aios tugged on a pair of fawn-colored pants and then on a black pair she’d hung. “I hope these are sufficient.”

“Actually, I prefer them over tights. They’re thicker and have pockets.”

She nodded, flipping through the items she’d hung. “You have some long-sleeved blouses, vests, and sweaters. They’re a bit plain,” she said, running a hand over something silky and pale. “There are two nightgowns here for you and some basic undergarments. I imagine you’ll soon have many more items to choose from.” Turning to me, she once again folded her hands. “Is there anything else you need?”

I opened my mouth, reluctant to let her leave. I’d spent the vast majority of my life alone and left to my own devices. But this room was huge, and nothing about it was familiar. I shook my head.

Aios had just started for the door when I stopped her. “I do have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“Are you from the Shadowlands Court?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I once belonged to the Court of Kithreia.”

It took me a moment to recall what I had been taught about the different Courts. “Maia,” I said, surprising myself that I remembered the name of the Primal of Love, Beauty, and Fertility’s Court. “You served the Primal Maia?”

“At one time.”

Curiosity hummed through me. I had not known of any gods leaving the Primal they had been born to serve. “How did you end up here?”

Her shoulders tightened. “As I said before, it was the only place I knew would be safe.”

Left unsettled, I didn’t stop her as she left. While I found relief in the knowledge that she felt safe here, how secure could it be when those who liked to push the Primal of Death had strung those gods to the wall?

That was roughly about the time I realized that Ash hadn’t told me who had done that to the gods.

 I turned back to the wardrobe. The undergarments were nothing more than scraps of lace I imagined most would find indecent. I flipped past the gowns, finding a narrow leather strap beside the remaining clothing. I grabbed a sweater and breeches, changing into them.

After I found a comb and spent an ungodly amount of time working out the numerous knots in my hair, I braided it, remembering what Ash had said. Hair that looked like spun moonlight.

That was such a silly thing to say.

Returning to the bedchamber, I found myself staring at the chamber door.

Was I locked in my room?

Oh, gods, if they’d imprisoned me, I would—I didn’t even know what I would do, but it would probably involve finding the closest blunt object and knocking Ash over the head with it.

My heart hammered as I went to the door, bare feet whispering over the cool stone. I placed my hand on the brass knob. I took a deep breath and turned.

It wasn’t locked.

Relief shuddered through me, and I opened the door—

I gasped. A light-haired and fair-skinned god stood in the middle of the hall, facing my room. He was dressed as before, in black adorned with silver scrollwork across the chest, a short sword strapped to his side.

“Ector,” I squeaked. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Can I help you with something?”

He shook his head, remaining exactly where he stood, feet planted in the center of the hall like an unmovable tree.

Wait…

I inhaled sharply. “I doubt you’re standing there because you have nothing better to do, correct?”

“I have many, many better things I could be doing,” he replied.

“And yet, you’re standing guard outside my chamber?”

“Sure appears that way.”

Anger simmered, threatening to boil over. What good did an unlocked door do when he placed a guard outside my room? “You’re here to make sure I don’t leave my chambers.”

“I’m here for your safety,” Ector corrected. “I’ve also heard you tend to wander off into dangerous areas.”

“I don’t have a habit of roaming.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I misheard and it’s that you have a habit of entering places without making sure they’re secure.”

“Oh, well, now I know you spoke to Ash.”

“Ash?” Ector repeated. His brows rose. “I didn’t know you two were on that kind of name basis.”

And he wasn’t? I am not that to you. That was what Ash had said when I’d called him Nyktos.

I blew out an aggravated breath. It didn’t matter. “If I wanted to leave my room right now, would you stop me?”

“At the moment, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if something were to happen to you, I imagine Nyktos would probably be displeased.”

“Probably?”

Ector shrugged.

“What about later?” I demanded.

“That will be different, and we would have to see.”

“Have to see?” I laughed harshly. Unbelievable. “Where is he?”

“He’s busy at the moment.”

“And I imagine he can’t be interrupted?”

Ector nodded.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Stay in my room until he isn’t busy?”

“I’m not entirely sure what you’re supposed to do.” Amber eyes met mine. “And to be honest, I don’t think even he knows what to do with you.”

Chapter 26

The following morning, I jerked upright in bed, wrinkled and dazed as a woman strolled into my bedchamber after knocking once.

“Brought you something to eat,” she announced, stalking past the bed in a rapid clip, her short, honey-brown hair snapping at her rounded, reddish-brown chin.

I blinked slowly, still half asleep. The long, flowing sleeves of her white blouse slid up her arms as she placed a covered dish and a pitcher on the table, revealing a slender, black-bladed dagger affixed to her forearm. That wasn’t the only one. She had another strapped to her breeches-clad thigh. I tensed as the cobwebs of sleep vanished at the sight of the weapons. “Who are you?” I demanded.

“Davina is my name. Most call me Dav.” She whipped around. “And I suppose I should call you meyaah Liessa.”

My lips parted as goosebumps spread across my scalp. It wasn’t her words that drew the reaction. It was her eyes.

A shade of vibrant blue that rivaled the Stroud Sea stood out in stark contrast to her black, vertical pupils.

Pupils that reminded me of the draken I’d seen on the road on our way into the Shadowlands, but his eyes had been red.

She stared unblinkingly at me. “Are you all right?”

“Are you a draken?” I blurted.

One eyebrow rose. “That was kind of a rude question. But, yes, I am.”

At first, the only thing that entered my mind was how in the world someone roughly my height and slimmer than me could transform into something the size of the draken I’d seen. Then again, I couldn’t imagine her shifting into something even the size of Reaver, which was much smaller. But still.

Then I realized I was still gaping at her. Heat crept into my face. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to ask that. I just…” I didn’t really have a response.

She nodded, and I wasn’t sure if that was in acceptance of my apology or not.

My gaze dropped to the dagger at her thigh. “What does…meyaah Liessa mean?”

That eyebrow seemed to climb even higher. “It means my Queen.”

My entire body jolted. “Your Queen?”

“Yes,” she drew out the word. “You are the Consort, are you not? That would make you like a queen.”

I understood that, though it seemed weird to even acknowledge. But Ash… Another jolt ran through me. Ash had said liessa meant many things, all something beautiful and powerful.

A Queen would be powerful.

A Consort was.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dav asked.

“I think so.” Giving a small shake of my head, I shoved the covers aside. “Where is—?” I started to call him Ash but then remembered Ector’s reaction. “Where is the Primal?” I hadn’t seen him since I’d caught a glimpse of him entering those strangely colored woods.

“Busy.”

My spine stiffened. “Still?”

“Still.”

I told myself to take a deep breath and to remain calm. I did not know this woman. She was also a draken, and most likely not someone I wanted to anger. So, I forced my voice to remain level. “What is he busy with?”

For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t be any more detailed than Ector, but then she said, “He was in the Red Woods, dealing with Shades.”

Dying Woods? Shades? “I have a distinct feeling that you probably won’t appreciate the fact that I have more questions,” I started, and a faint trace of humor crept into her otherwise stoic features. “But what is the Dying Woods, and what are Shades?”

She studied me for a long moment. “The Dying Woods are the…dying woods. Dead trees. Dead grass.” She paused. “Dead everything.”

My lips thinned, even though I supposed I’d walked right into that one. “Then perhaps they should be called the Dead Woods.”

That glint of humor moved in her blue eyes. “I have said that myself many times.”

Relaxing a fraction, the robe fell around my legs as I stood. “And the Shades?”

“Souls who have entered the Shadowlands but refuse to cross through the Pillars of Asphodel to face judgement for the deeds committed while alive. They can’t return to the mortal realm. They can’t enter the Vale. So, they remain trapped in the Dying Woods. They become…lost, wanting to live but unable to gain that life.

“Oh,” I whispered, swallowing. “That sounds terrible.”

“It is,” she answered. “Especially since they are driven mad by unending hunger and thirst. They tend to get a bit bitey.”

My brows shot up. Bitey?

“Normally, they don’t cause that many problems, but sometimes, they find their way out of the Dying Woods and into Lethe,” she explained. “Then, Nyktos must round them up. Fun times had by all.”

“Fun times,” I repeated.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much to do.” Dav started for the door. “None of which involves answering questions. No offense meant.” She stopped at the door and bowed. “Good day, meyaah Liessa.”

Dav left the room, closing the doors behind her.

“Wow,” I murmured, my gaze drifting to the table. A short laugh left me. Despite the general unfriendliness of the draken, I kind of liked her.

Hours passed with no sign of Ash. It was Ector who brought a light lunch and then supper. He didn’t linger, flat-out ignoring my questions. Just as he had each time I opened the door and found him standing in the hallway.

Night had fallen once more, and when I stepped out onto the balcony and looked up, the sky had turned a deeper shade of iron, the stars and the lights from the city beyond brighter. The leaves from the woods below had become a deep crimson, almost a red-black.

I’d gone to bed slightly annoyed two nights ago, and more than slightly last night. When I woke again this morning, no less than thirty minutes ago, to find Ector standing outside yet again, I went from irritated to furious.

The god, on the other hand, had given me a rather jaunty wave.

Only a tiny part of me wondered exactly what Ector had done to earn his spot standing outside my door. He had to be going stir-crazy. I knew I was. The only thing that kept me somewhat sane and stopped me from breaking random things in the too quiet, too large room was the pacing—the pacing and the plotting.

Okay. Plotting wasn’t the best word for what I’d been doing. But plotting the many different blunt objects I could use to strike Ash over the head as I paced, filled me with a disturbing amount of satisfaction. None of those fantasies would do anything to aid in my seduction of the Primal, but how in the hell could I even begin to make him fall in love with me when he kept me locked in my chambers?

Then there were the glimpses of the young draken they called Reaver. Every so often, I caught sight of him in the courtyard, usually with Aios or one of the unknown guards, hopping on the ground and attempting to take flight with his thin wings. I watched from the shadows of the balcony, utterly enthralled.

A knock on the door whipped me around. I rushed forward, throwing it open. And came to a sudden halt. The god who stood in the threshold was neither Ash nor Ector.

“Hi there.” The god bowed deeply. “I don’t know if you remember me—”

“Saion,” I said. “You were there, in the Great Hall.”

“I was. How are you feeling?” he asked rather politely. “I hope better than I last saw you.”

He’d last seen me shoving a whip down someone’s throat. “Much better,” I answered truthfully. The marks the whip had left behind were no longer raised welts but faint red streaks that no longer ached.

“Glad to hear that.” The smooth brown skin of his head glinted richly in the hallway light. “Would you like breakfast?”

“I would like to leave this room.”

“The offer for breakfast, if you accept, would require you to leave.” He stepped back into the hall and to the side. “Yes, or no?”

There was a moment of hesitation. I didn’t know Saion, but I did know that I had to get out of this chamber before I started tying bedsheets together and attempting to scale the building from the balcony.

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” Saion waited until I was in the hall and then closed the door. “Please. Follow me.”

Wary, I did as he requested, wishing I had any weapon at this point as I followed him, continuously scanning my surroundings. We made our way down the wide hall and toward the staircase. Saion didn’t speak, and never one good with small talk, I was more than fine with the silence.

A jittery energy descended as we reached the first level. The brightly lit entryway was empty. I glanced at the double, windowless, wooden doors painted black.

“I hope you’re not planning to make a run for it,” Saion observed.

My head whipped in his direction. “I wasn’t.”

“Good. I’m feeling a bit too lazy to chase you down,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up. The smile was charming and as perfect as the rest of his features, but the sharpness in his gaze left me doubting the sincerity of that smile. He motioned for me to follow him through the archway. “And Nyktos would be quite irritated with me if he learned you’d managed to evade me on my watch.”

Why would he think I’d run off? “If he is so worried about me running off, then perhaps he should be the one watching over me.”

“Interestingly enough, I said the same thing.”

“Really?” I asked doubtfully, taking in the space beyond the sharply pointed archway. There were doors on either side, but the walls were black and bare. The only thing in the space was a white pedestal in the center of the room, but nothing sat on it.

“Really.”

I glanced at him. “How did he take that?”

The smile was easier now, but no less charming as we entered another hall. “He grumbled something about feeding me to Nektas.”

My eyes widened. I hoped he was joking. “What…what do draken eat?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” he replied. “And this was said in front of Nektas, who claimed to have no interest in eating me, thank the gods.”

The hall split into two, going in opposite directions. Ahead, two doors were spaced so far apart, each room could belong in a different home. But it was what rested in the center, between the two doors, that caught my attention. My steps slowed. Two thick, black pillars framed a short hall that opened into a circular chamber lit by hundreds of candles. Reminded of the Shadow Temple, a shiver curled down my spine as we drew closer. The golden candlelight broke apart the shadows in the chamber, casting a glow of fire over the massive blocks of shadowstone seated upon a dais. It was the throne. Thrones, actually. Two of them sat side by side, their backs carved into large and widespread wings that touched at the tips.

The Primal’s and Consort’s thrones.

They were hauntingly beautiful.

I looked up to see that the ceiling was open to the sky. No glass. Nothing. Did it never rain here?

Saion stalked toward the chamber to the left of the throne room, and it was a bit of a struggle to pull my gaze from the thrones. He opened the door. “After you.”

A whole host of spices and aromas filled the chamber as I continued in, my gaze touching on everything all at once. The walls were bare except for some candle sconces. No Primal magic there. Their flames cast a soft glow off the smooth ebony walls. A table sat in the center of the circular room, as large as the one in the banquet room in Wayfair. A dozen or so candles of varying heights glowed from the middle of the table, but I saw a silvery gleam cast across the covered dishes and glasses.

I looked up, my breath catching. The dome-shaped ceiling was made of glass, and it was the stars above that shone on the table. My lips parted.

“Beautiful.”

Gasping, I whirled around. Ash stood only a few feet from me. He wore all black, the tunic devoid of any embellishments. His hair was down, softening the sharpness of his cheekbones and the hardness of his jaw.

Startled by his sudden appearance, I bumped into one of the winged-back chairs. “It is,” I whispered. There was no way I could deny the eerie beauty of the cavernous chamber. “This room is very beautiful.”

A tight-lipped smile appeared as his gaze, so much like the starlight, swept over me. “I hadn’t even noticed the room.”

It took me a moment to realize what he meant. I glanced down at myself in surprise. I wore no gown, instead opting for the long-sleeved blouse and vest, much like Dav had been wearing. I glanced up at him, a rush of conflicting emotions rolling through me as his stare lingered on the laces of the vest, the cut of the blouse, and then strayed over the tight fit of the breeches. I was annoyed for a multitude of reasons, starting with being trapped in my chambers, and ending with his blatant perusal. But there was a different emotion—something smokier and warm—as we stood there in silence, seeming to just soak each other in. Ash had drifted closer, the heated intensity in his gaze sending a shivery wave of awareness and anticipation—