Текст книги "Born of Blood and Ash"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 63 страниц)

“Even knowing that if he granted life—”

“Death is never cheated?” Ash finished. “Yes.” A moment or two passed. “As I’ve said, my father wasn’t perfect. Wanting to ease the pain of those suffering was only part of the reason. The act of granting life may have come from an altruistic place, but there were…personal benefits gained from such.”

“He enjoyed the worship it brought him?”

“Yes.” His lips grazed the corner of mine. “Once my father realized that he could not continue granting life as he was, he knew he couldn’t personally answer the summonses. That’s when gods began acting as the middle people between the summoners and the Primals. It started first with Eythos, and then the rest of the Primals followed suit.”

My brows knitted. “But you can still feel the summonses, right? Eythos had with King Roderick. And I know Kolis did.” I swallowed. “He heard my father’s summons.”

Ash slipped his hand from under mine and straightened in front of me. “What do you mean?”

I realized just then that I hadn’t told him about this. There hadn’t been much time to share things with him after we were finally free of Dalos. “The night I was born, my father knew what it would mean. He summoned Kolis, having no idea that Eythos had answered Roderick in the past.”

“Why did he…?” Ash cursed. “He wanted the deal undone.”

I nodded, my heart twisting for the man I’d never met. “He didn’t want that kind of future for his daughter.”

“What father would?” Ash stated, the respect evident in his voice. “If I were to have a child, I wouldn’t want them to live a life of no choice, one where their future was already determined for them.”

My stomach dipped again, this time solely due to the idea of Ash as a father. “You know what that means, right?”

“That Kolis always knew about you?” When I nodded, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because of everything you did to prevent Kolis from discovering me. What you’ve sacrificed.” Anger boiled, stoking the embers as I drew in a deep, calming breath. “It was for—”

“It wasn’t for nothing, Sera. I don’t regret a damn thing I did to keep you safe,” he said. “And it’s not something you ever need to apologize for.”

The calming breath did not help.

I placed my hands on the table. “How can you not be mad? You kept yourself away from me out of concern for Kolis taking notice of me. You had people watching me. Lathan died doing so.”

“I haven’t forgotten any of that.”

Eather pulsed hotly through me as I rocked back. “You made a deal with Veses to keep her from telling Kolis about me, and there was no reason for you to do so.”

Ash’s gaze locked with mine. “Nor have I forgotten what I’ve done, Sera.”

“Then why aren’t you furious?” My fingers pressed into the tabletop, and power vibrated along my skin. What I had experienced was nothing compared to what he’d had to go through with Veses. Essence crept into the corners of my vision, the violent energy seeping out. The chandelier creaked as it began to sway. “I am.”

“I never would’ve guessed that,” he replied dryly. “You should calm down.”

My chin dipped. “Hearing that makes me want to do the exact opposite.”

“My apologies,” he drawled, the essence flaring brightly behind his pupils.

I inhaled sharply, my eyes narrowing. “I’m choosing to ignore the lack of sincerity in your tone.”

“And I’m choosing not to let anger over something I cannot change consume me.”

My fingers lifted from the table as a scorching, pulsating energy coursed through them. A hot, stinging power throbbed, and the very air itself seemed to cling to my skin and then contract as I stared down at Ash. “Then I choose to be angry for the both of us.”

“How about you choose not to levitate?”

“How about—what?”

“You’re levitating.” Full lips twitched. “As in, you’re rising into the air—”

“I know what levitating means.” I glanced down, and…yep, I was definitely doing that. My ass was no longer on the table. Like, not even remotely. My legs were straight, and I was several feet above Ash. The shock of seeing that dampened my anger, and I immediately started to drop with a yelp.

Ash caught my arms and lowered me to the table. “Steady.”

Looking up through strands of hair, I cursed. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

“It happens,” he said, like floating into the air wasn’t a big deal. He curled his hand around the nape of my neck, bringing our faces together so we were only inches apart. “I don’t want you to be angry for both of us, Sera.”

“But Veses—”

“She’s not worth it.” His gaze caught and held mine. “Neither of us can change the past—undo the decisions we’ve made. I’m not saying it isn’t fucked up. It is,” he said, smoothing the hair back from my face. “But I refuse to allow anger over what is already done and over with to rot inside me.” His gaze searched mine. “The deal I made doesn’t matter.”

We’d have to disagree on that.

“Please tell me you understand,” he said.

I did…and I didn’t, because his lack of regret didn’t change the fact that he had forfeited his autonomy to keep me hidden from Kolis. Still, I nodded.

But what he’d said struck something in me. If he could move past what Veses had done to him, then why not do the same with Kolis?

As soon as that thought formed, I realized how shortsighted it was. Veses’ actions paled in comparison to Kolis’s.

Either way, Veses would pay for her role. That was another vow I made to myself.

“Anyway,” I said, quickly kissing him, “these summonses can be felt?”

Ash was quiet for a few heartbeats. “Not like before. Only the strongest and truest pleas reach us now.”

I frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“Pleas made while feeling extreme emotion,” he explained, running his fingers up under the sleeve of the blouse I wore under my vest. “Those reach us.”

“How does it feel?”

“It’s hard to put into words.” His thumb swept over my elbow. “It feels like a calling—a pull that demands your attention. You feel it here.” He placed the palm of his other hand between my breasts. “The tugging sensation is very similar to what I feel when I am summoned to the Pillars. I imagine it’s sort of like your foresight demanding you do something.”

I drew a wavy line across his arm. “And what…what do you do then?”

“It is up to you.”

“Well, that’s not a helpful answer.”

He chuckled. “It’s the truth. You can…choose,” he said, and I rolled my eyes, “to answer or not.”

I turned my head to the side. “You do.”

A tight, icy smile appeared. “Only because anyone who summons a Primal of Death does so at their own risk.”

I remembered him telling me that before. Anyone summoning a Primal of Death usually wanted something terrible.

“There is no wrong or right way to handle it. Only what you’re comfortable with,” he added as my gaze lowered. “And you can change your mind at any time. You will, however, need to assign gods you trust to act on your behalf.”

I nodded, thinking things over. Obviously, the smartest thing to do would be to not answer the summons in person. That way, I could be more objective and…responsible.

And possibly prevent a Kolis-type situation down the road.

“It is rare for the summonses to reach us,” Ash added. “It does take the type of desperation most are lucky not to feel.” He looped his other arm around me. “I imagine you don’t have the highest opinion of my father after hearing that.”

“No, that’s not the case. I mean, I honestly don’t know what to think of any of that,” I admitted as I traced a circle on his forearm. “I can’t exactly judge him. It would be difficult to ignore the pleas of the mourning when you could do something to ease their pain.” Once more, I thought about my conversation with Aios. “And I was thinking earlier about how one decides when to grant life and when not to—like, obviously, the ability would not have been shared if the Ancients hadn’t wanted it to be used. And that can never be an easy decision to make.” I tipped my head back. “It was one I never wanted to be in charge of making.”

He kissed my brow. “Most would not want that responsibility.”

“I was also thinking that maybe how someone dies plays a role,” I told him. “Like if the death is unnatural or…unjust.”

“I don’t think my father ever figured out for sure when it was and wasn’t right to do so, but I don’t think you’ll struggle as much as he did.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you don’t have his ego.”

I snorted. “Really?”

“Let me rephrase that,” he said. “You don’t want to be worshipped.”

“You’re right about that, and also wrong.”

“You don’t want to be worshipped by anyone but me.”

“Exactly.”

He kissed my temple and then settled beside me. “Are you sure you’re ready to go in front of the people tomorrow?”

“I am.” My stomach tumbled a bit. “I mean, I’m nervous about it. I’ve never done anything like it. But I am ready.”

“Okay.” His fingers slid back down my arm. “I just don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”

“I know.” His consideration reminded me of something. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you.”

“For what?”

I smiled. “For starting the meeting when I couldn’t.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“Yes, I do,” I insisted. “You stopped me from looking more unprepared than necessary.”

“Liessa,” Ash began.

“I’m being serious.” I placed my hands on his chest, feeling his cold skin beneath his shirt. “Look, I’m not being too hard on myself. I panicked a little, which I’m sure you picked up on.”

Ash raised a brow.

“You jumped in without making it a big deal,” I continued. “And that gave me time to find my footing.”

“I get what you’re saying, but I only did what I needed to do for you,” he replied, tucking the hair that had fallen forward behind my ear. “I only did what I should do. That is never something you need to thank me for.”

My lips pursed. “I’m still going to thank you when you do things you ‘should’ have done.”

“Figured,” he stated blandly.

“Perhaps instead of vocalizing my thanks, I could show you?” I suggested.

Eather brightened in his eyes. “As long as you’re still using your mouth, I’ll have no complaints.”

A small, shocked giggle snuck free. “Pervert.”

“Been called worse.”

Laughing, I clasped his cheeks and kissed him. His cool breath mingled with mine, creating an intoxicating blend. A rush of desire surged, sending a current of pulsing pleasure through me that seemed to travel from my mouth to every inch of my body.

“How much time do you think we have before supper?” I asked.

“Not nearly long enough to do what I want.” The smoky arousal in his voice caused muscles low in my stomach to curl. “Which is to strip you down and fuck you on this table.”

My entire body flushed at the prospect. “That’s too bad.”

“Yes.” His lips coasted over mine.

“But I do think we have time for an appetizer.”

Ash drew back, his brows furrowing as I slid off the table and lowered myself to my knees in front of him. “I’m not sure what you on your knees has to do with an appetizer.”

One side of my lips curled up as my innuendo failed to land. It was easy to forget his lack of experience when he was such a quick, adept learner.

“You’ll see,” I said, sliding my hands up the front of his thighs and then inward.

He sucked in a ragged breath as my palm dragged over his rigid length. “I think I’m starting to understand.”

“Good.” I undid the flap of leather and then shoved his pants down, baring him to me. I took in the sight of him—thick, hard, and straining. I licked my lips. “Yum.”

“Fuck,” he groaned.

Grinning, I encircled him with my fingers, awed by how his entire body reacted, and then I took him into my mouth.

I carried through on what I’d said. I showed him my thanks with my mouth and tongue.

And there were no complaints.

I sat in the middle of the mattress, staring at the small wooden box as Ash readied himself for bed. I could hear the splashing of the fresh water that had been brought up after supper.

I was restless.

Again.

Every couple of moments, my muscles tensed as if I were about to leap to my feet and…do something. What? I had no idea.

I drew my legs to my chest, my gaze tracking the delicate carvings along the lid of the box. It felt like a sense of urgency, but I didn’t know what for.

I poked at a fang with my tongue, my brows furrowing. I thought I recognized the feeling. It was the same as the year I’d forgotten Ezra’s birthday. On and off throughout the day, I’d kept feeling like I was forgetting something, but the what had danced just out of my reach. This restless urgency was similar to that. There was something I needed to do or remember. Something important. And this wasn’t the first time I’d felt this since waking from stasis after my Ascension. It had steadily increased as the day passed, though.

Resting my chin on my knees, I closed my eyes. The only time I hadn’t felt the restlessness had been during our utterly perfect supper. I hadn’t said much during it. I’d just sat back and listened to the conversations around me. Honestly, doing something as simple as sharing dinner with Ash and the people I was beginning to consider family had been something I’d only dreamed of as a child.

But as soon as the meal and conversation ended and my mind quieted, restlessness surged through me. Exactly like when I’d been with Rhain and Aios earlier. It had nothing to do with Kolis. I didn’t think it had anything to do with tomorrow’s speech or Ash’s upcoming trip to Vathi. Or our plans to go to Keella. It wasn’t about us. Not really. Maybe it had something to do with Lethe or the Shadowlands in general. Perhaps it had to do with all the new arrivals to Lethe and how long it would be until crops—

Wait.

My eyes went wide as I lifted my head. When Saion had spoken during the meeting about surveying the land for crops, I’d been thinking about how I should be able to help speed that process along.

Not should…

The bathing chamber darkened as Ash strolled out. The sight of him was a distraction. My gaze eagerly tracked the drops of water coursing down the sculpted lines of his chest, and the nape of my neck tingled. A sudden sense of knowing seized me. Eather throbbed from deep within me as if it were waking up.

I could do something.

I shot to my knees, sending my hair falling over my shoulders. “I’m the true Primal of Life.”

Ash stopped at the side of the bed, his brow beginning to furrow and then smooth out as his gaze dropped. “I do hope you’re not just realizing that now. If so, I don’t think summoning the Primals tomorrow is a good idea.”

“Why would I just now be—?” I pressed my lips together. He was teasing. I squinted. “Anyway. I can restore life, and while water isn’t really something alive, it’s—” My thoughts were racing so fast I could barely make sense of them. I shook my head. “There is life to water and to everything.” My nose scrunched as I tried to grasp that piece of knowledge because I knew it was important and would lead to something even more so. But I shook my head, refocusing. “I was able to restore life with eather before. I was able to heal—are you even paying attention?”

Ash dragged his teeth over his lower lip and nodded. “Of course.”

“You are definitely not.” Leaning forward, I grasped his chin, guiding his attention away from my sheer nightgown. “You’re staring at my breasts.”

“You’re right. I am.” He pulled back, kissing the tip of my finger. “They’re beautiful.” His gaze dropped again. “But like this, with the gown and your hair spread across them?” The featherlight touch of his fingers between the strands of hair drew a shiver from me. “I cannot help myself, liessa. I’m eager for dessert.”

“I’m flattered.”

His gaze returned to mine, and he lifted a brow.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I’m really flattered. Thank you. And you can show me how beautiful you find them later.”

The tips of his fangs appeared. “Oh, I very much plan to do so.” His head dipped, and his lips glided over my cheek. “You had an appetizer earlier, but I haven’t had dessert yet.”

Muscles low in my stomach tightened, and it took a lot for me to ignore that, but I had to. “Ash.”

“Liessa?”

“We don’t have to wait for it to rain or for the snow to fall and then melt,” I told him. “I can restore the rivers and lakes in the Shadowlands.”

That got his attention.

He was no longer checking out my breasts. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Or at least I thought so. “I can do it.” Resolve filled me, and Ash either saw it in my stare or sensed it, because the line of his shoulders became rigid. “I can do it now.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ash and I rode through the Rise gates, leaving the guards there in stunned speculation. We both wore cloaks concealing our identities, but there was no way they hadn’t recognized the massive, sable-coated warhorse. No others were as large or handsome as Odin.

And the glimpse of my bare calf as Odin’s pace picked up, causing the cloaks to flutter around our legs, was likely also a dead giveaway.

Ash and I were fully dressed—at least, mostly—yet neither of us was in what one would consider appropriate attire beneath our cloaks. He wore pants. I wore my translucent nightgown. I’d been that eager to test out the feeling telling me I could do something. I didn’t know if Ash believed me or was simply humoring me, but he hadn’t even insisted we take a few moments to think things over.

Glancing back, I could still see the guards standing at the towers by the gate as if frozen. “I think they knew it was us.”

“There’s a good chance they did.”

“Do you think they’ll alert anyone?” I asked, petting Odin’s mane as the eather hummed beneath my skin, almost as if ramping up and preparing itself. “I really hope not. In case I’m wrong.”

“They won’t.”

An echo of awareness shuttled through me as I looked up to the star-strewn sky and spotted a draken in the distance. It didn’t feel like Nektas.

“It’s Ehthawn, isn’t it?” I asked.

“It is.” There was a pause. “He is still too far out for you to see which draken it is. You sensed who it was.”

“I did. Or at least I think I did. It feels like an echo or imprint of who they are.” I squinted, seeing another draken in the distance. “Is that what you feel?”

“I guess I would describe it as an echo that is felt instead of heard,” he said.

My heart clenched as I lowered my gaze to the unlit torches lining the road. “How is Ehthawn doing?” I wanted to smack myself the moment I stopped speaking. “That’s a foolish question. He’s obviously not doing well, having lost his sister.”

“It’s not a foolish question, liessa.” Ash’s arm tightened around my waist. “He mourns, but he’s not alone. Ehthawn still has family—his cousin and those not by blood.”

I nodded, my chest heavy as the last of the torches appeared on the small hill ahead. I didn’t think Orphine had considered me a friend, but I believed we’d been on the road to becoming that. And her quick, sharp-tongued responses amused me. “I…I’m going to miss Orphine.”

“As will I.” Ash shifted behind me. Farther out, another winged creature became visible in the sky. “Crolee flies with him.”

I’d briefly seen Ehthawn and Orphine’s cousin when we were in the Bonelands. Crolee had also been on this very road when Ash first brought me into the Shadowlands. I’d thought he and the other draken were hills, but I’d known very little about the draken then.

As we crested the hill, I forced a deep, even breath and focused on the land. At night, the skeletons of the bare, twisted trees beyond the dried-up river channels on either side of the road couldn’t look creepier, even with their budding leaves. I scanned the ground as Odin slowed. My improved vision allowed me to see the wide swaths of grass among the washed-out Rot. Not a lot, but still striking to see in a land that had once only been shades of gray.

“I think here will be fine,” I decided.

Ash guided Odin off to our right onto what I thought was once the banks of the river. We came to a stop, and Ash swung himself off Odin with enviable grace. I turned to where he now stood, his hood down. Silently, he lifted his hands to my hips. Grasping his arms, my stomach was a jumble of nerves as he helped me down.

Scanning the landscape, his hold lingered for a few heartbeats before he stepped back. “Do you know what needs to be done?”

I swallowed, looking around. “Would you believe me if I lied and said yes?”

“Not when you just admitted you’d be lying.” The faint curve to his mouth warmed the harsh, cold beauty of his face.

I snorted as I tugged the back of my hood down. “Then you know the answer. I’m really not sure.” Lips pursing, I turned back to the parched earth. Doubt began creeping in. “What if I was experiencing delusions of grandeur?”

His rich, smoky chuckle danced in the rapidly darkening sky. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

I probably should’ve stopped and thought about this, but I hadn’t been able to. Literally. Uneasy, my hands opened and closed as I walked forward. Dead grass crunched under the thin soles of my slippers. I stopped by a patch of green and knelt, running my fingers over the fragile blades. My brows knitted as I noticed something I hadn’t before. I lifted my head. “There’s no smell.” I rose, inhaling deeply. “I don’t smell the stale lilac scent of the Rot at all.”

“I haven’t smelled it since you Ascended.” Crossing his arms, he surveyed the ground. “The rest of the grass will come back without any intervention.”

I knew that, but water would obviously aid it along. Messing with one of my fangs with my tongue, I made my way to the edge of the riverbed. Should I instead attempt to bring back the grass? Regenerate new soil? No. We would have to spend the gods only knew how long traveling around the Shadowlands for me to place my hands on the ground, and I couldn’t wait for that.

We couldn’t wait.

Unnerved by the intrusive thought, I eyed the land. Either Ash had mentioned this before or my intuition had told me that these two riverbeds were fed by headwaters located in Mount Rhee, the place the draken called home. These waters didn’t connect to the Black Bay or the Red River, which started in the Abyss. Should we have gone to Mount Rhee instead? “There were animals here, right?”

“There were.”

Fresh, running water would bring them back. Eventually. “What kind?”

“Some were what you’d find in the mortal realm—deer, livestock, wolves, tree bears. All manner of birds.” He paused. “Serpents.”

My lip curled. “You didn’t need to tell me that.”

“Has it changed your mind?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” he replied. “There were also animals never seen by most mortals. Beasts both large and small.”

Curiosity rose as I rubbed my damp palms on my cloak. “Like what?”

“Too many to name. But the Shadowlands was once home to the lyrue.”

“The lyrue?” I repeated, the name tugging at the edges of my memory, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually heard the term before.

“They were one of my father’s lesser-known creations. Some would say they were a mistake,” he explained, and I glanced over at him. His features were highlighted under the brightening starlight. “They were originally mortal, and legend says that my father believed he could give mortals a dual life like he did for the draken. But this was different. For what he created were beings mortal by day that took the form of beasts similar to wolves but on two legs at night.”

My forehead creased. “I assume they were considered a mistake because…?”

“Because they had no control over their forms once night fell.”

Why would that be such a big deal when other creatures in Iliseeum weren’t exactly normal to look upon?

Ash cleared that up a moment later. “And because they would then dine on the flesh of others, from cattle to gods and everything in between.”

My mouth dropped open. “Them eating people should’ve been the first thing out of your mouth.”

A wry grin appeared as his head tilted. “You have a point there.”

“Yeah, just a small one,” I replied. “They ate people?” I shook my head. “And they couldn’t be asked to, like, not do that?”

“You could ask them all you wanted, but the moment the sun set, they became nothing but insatiable hunger.” Flat, silver eyes met mine. “It didn’t matter who they were when the sun was high or who they loved. Nor did their horror upon discovering what they’d done in the darkest hours of night when they became the most brutal, primitive versions of the wolf. They’d feast on their babes if left alone with them once the sun faded.”

My stomach hollowed. Eating people was bad enough, but chomping down on one’s own children? That was next level. “They’re gone now?”

Ash nodded.

I started to ask how, but the answer occurred to me. A new horror took root in my chest. “With it not being a true day or night in the Shadowlands…”

“The lyrue remained in their beast forms,” he answered, his jaw hardening. “They had to be hunted into extinction, and for most of them, it was a relief—a release from a life that had become a curse and one they never would’ve chosen for themselves.”

Good gods.

Wondering what could’ve gone so drastically wrong, I turned my attention back to the riverbed, unable to understand the difference between giving a creature a dual life and creating one from a mortal. But the line between them was thin. Eythos had given the dragons a dual life, creating the draken. Why had—?

I stiffened, my skin tingling. “He…he didn’t give them a choice.”

Ash’s head snapped in my direction. “How did you—?” He inhaled deeply, his chin lifting. “Foresight.”

Nodding, I swallowed hard. “Why didn’t he give them a choice?”

Ash held my stare for a moment before his gaze slid away. “I don’t know. All of that happened long before I was born, but my father wasn’t without flaws.”

A knot lodged in my chest. No, he was not. “Kolis believes that everyone saw his brother as flawless.”

“And Kolis is a fucking idiot,” he snarled, shadows appearing beneath his thinning flesh. “There were likely those who did believe that, but no one who knew my father could’ve possibly continued doing so. He made mistakes.”

“Like with Sotoria?” I blurted out.

His gaze swung back to mine. “You’re talking about what he did with her soul—the deal he made with your ancestor?”

Now, it was I who looked away. I nodded, but I wasn’t thinking about Eythos’s deal with King Roderick Mierel and how he’d placed Sotoria’s soul along with the embers of life in my bloodline. It was what Kolis had claimed Eythos had done to Sotoria. What I knew was true.

Eythos had been the one to end Sotoria’s second life.

“Even though whatever he planned didn’t work as intended, what he did can’t be a mistake,” Ash said quietly, but he was closer. I could feel him. “If he hadn’t done that, our paths may not have crossed.”

Slowly, I turned to him. The shadows had receded from his flesh, but the eather pulsed brightly in his eyes. I started to tell him that wasn’t what I’d meant, but that would open a door, and it wasn’t a good time to walk through it because that conversation would lead to another truth Kolis had spoken—albeit a partial one. The one about Ash’s mother.

So, I did what Ash normally did.

I got the subject back on track. “I know you said you don’t know why your father didn’t give them a choice, but do you have any guesses? Because it seems so out of character for him.”

Eyeing me for a moment, he shook his head. “If I had to guess? Ego. He thought he knew best.”

“And he learned quickly that he didn’t?” Sighing, I turned back to the riverbed. “I should probably stop delaying this.”

“You know, you don’t have to try this,” Ash countered as a shadow of one of the draken fell over us. “Since the Rot has lifted, it will eventually rain. Even with winter on the way.”

I nodded. “I know.”

A moment passed. “And neither of us has any idea how much energy something like this will take. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

But there was.

Parts of the Shadowlands had already fallen to the Rot by the time Ash had been born, but he’d said much of it resembled the Dark Elms of Lasania. Wild and lush. It hadn’t become this even when his father died.

Nearly twenty-one years ago, all the trees lost their leaves, and all the bodies of water, except for the Black Bay, dried up.

That had happened the night of my birth, signaling the start of the slow death of the embers.

Even though I knew it wasn’t my fault, I felt responsible for the final thing stolen from Ash and all those who resided in the Shadowlands.

I wanted to give it back to them. Now. Not later.

But again, it was more than that. Life needed to return to the Shadowlands. “I…I don’t know how to explain it, but I just have this feeling. Here.” I pressed my hand to my upper abdomen. “Like I have to do this. It’s an urge, and…” I glanced at him. “I don’t know if I can’t not try. I need to.”

Ash frowned. “Like you’re unable to stop yourself?”

I thought that over. “Not in the same sense as the lyrue being unable to stop themselves from eating people.”

“Well, that’s a relief to hear,” he said dryly.

I smiled. “But I don’t think I would be able to rest if I didn’t try. Like, I already feel a restlessness and an inexplicable sense of urgency.”

“Nektas mentioned something like this to you, didn’t he? When you asked him about my father’s abilities.”

I nodded. “I think this is like that.”

The draken dipped low then, blotting out the remaining rays of sun and starlight. The wind whipped, catching strands of my hair and tossing them across my face. Extending their wings, the draken slowed, landing on their forelegs first.

Odin snorted, shaking his mane and stomping his front hoof as he eyed the black-and-brown-scaled Crolee.

“You’re fine, Odin.” Ash sighed. “They’re nowhere near you.”

I grinned as Crolee turned his large head toward the warhorse and let out a huffing laugh as Odin slammed his hoof down again.

“What’s his problem?” I asked.

Ash looked over at me, his hair more of a deep brown in the starlight. “He feels upstaged.”

I laughed as I glanced at the other onyx-hued draken. Ehthawn was slightly larger than his cousin, and his horns were thicker but not as numerous as those on Nektas. He watched me curiously as if wondering what in the world I was doing.

Poking at my other fang, I refocused. The feeling I had probably wasn’t delusions of grandeur. It was foresight. The heightened intuition that told me life didn’t just exist in mortals and gods. Life was all around us, in the trees and the ground. I studied my hands, thinking about how I’d healed the wounded hawk in the Red Woods—the chora, an extension of a Primal that takes the form of their Primal notam. Unbeknownst to me, the hawk had belonged to Attes.