A Light in the Flame, page 59
Meanwhile, Aios sat with several masked guests behind the dais. I would’ve preferred that.
“I’m not trying to rub it off,” I said, watching Kyn once more. What had Attes told him about the young draken, Thad? I’d learned that morning that he’d been brought to the Shadowlands and was currently in the mountains. “I just can’t stop touching it.”
“Hopefully, you’ll get used to it,” he told me. “The only way it fades is upon death, and I don’t plan on that occurring.”
I blinked as I closed my hand. “What if we decided to no longer continue this union?”
“Honestly?” He looked over at me, his brows pinched. A moment passed. “Not sure. None who’ve borne the imprint chose to separate.”
I wondered if he was thinking about the deal I’d struck with him—the bid for my freedom. But that was before I realized that I was…in love with him. Now, I wasn’t sure what to think about the deal we’d struck. Being done with him didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like a different kind of prison. I shook my head, telling myself there would be time later to dwell on all of that. “Are others with the imprint still alive?”
Ash shook his head. “Those my father blessed no longer live.”
A chill crawled down my spine. I didn’t have to ask. I knew. Kolis. Killing those his brother had favored for whatever reason sounded like Kolis’s particular brand of childish cruelty for the sake of cruelty.
But didn’t that make the imprint feel like a bit of an omen? I slipped my inked hand beneath the table to my lap as I looked out over the revelers. Ash had already pointed out the Primals I hadn’t recognized.
Maia. The Primal Goddess of Love, Beauty, and Fertility was just as she’d always been depicted. Full-figured and utterly stunning, her warm blond hair cascaded down her back in thick curls and framed yellowish-brown skin. Her pearl crown was one of roses and scalloped shells. She was fascinating to watch. Every move she made, every smile and flicker of her gaze, carried an air of softness and a hint of spice. I couldn’t see her now, as she was almost constantly surrounded.
I’d recognized Phanos, but it would be hard to miss him in the crowd. He was taller than all other Primals, possibly even Ash, and bore a crown shaped like a trident. He stood at least half a foot above all others, his bald head a burnt umber under the glow of the string lights. I’d tensed when I saw him briefly speaking to Saion and Rhahar, but no one else seemed that concerned, and he’d eventually walked off with the Primal of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty.
Embris reminded me of a hawk—a quiet, watchful man despite the mop of curly brown hair lending a boyish quality to his features. His bronze crown… disturbed me, having been molded into olive branches and what appeared to be serpents. Embris had left. Or at least I thought he had, as I hadn’t seen him or Phanos in a while. Ash didn’t seem surprised by their quick departure as, according to him, they had done what was expected of them by showing and had no reason to linger.
My heart skipped as my attention shifted to the Primal who had smiled at me. I hadn’t seen the striking Primal in the crowd again until then. “Who is that?”
Ash followed my gaze. “Keella.”
The Primal of Rebirth, who had helped Eythos. I watched her as she sat quietly while several attendees spoke with her, a welcoming—if reserved—smile on her face. Out of all the Primals here, she was the one I wanted to speak to.
But she hadn’t approached the dais. None of the Primals or anyone other than those who worked closely with Ash had. I figured that had something to do with Nektas, who remained in his draken form and took up nearly all the space on the dais as he watched those below as if he wasn’t above biting off an arm or two.
“Do you think she knows?” I murmured. Ash leaned in closer to me. “About me—about what your father eventually did with the soul?”
Ash didn’t answer for a long moment. “Did you know that when a babe dies, their soul is reborn?”
I turned my head to him. “No.”
He nodded, his gaze flicking to Keella. “They’re the only souls that do not pass into the Shadowlands. Keella captures them and sends them back.”
My stare drifted back to her. “So, they are reincarnated?”
“No.” He shook his head as his fingers drummed the surface of the table. “Not in the sense of how reincarnation is understood. You see, a babe who dies as their first breath is taken hasn’t truly lived. They have no past or present to relive. Keella gives them a rebirth. A chance to truly live.”
“Oh,” I whispered, my throat thickening at the fairness of the act.
“She can see the soul of all those she captures. My father once said she sees them as her children and then often follows them throughout their lives.”
“Like a …” Air whooshed out of my lungs. “She captured her soul.”
He nodded. “I do not know if she could still follow that soul since it wasn’t a rebirth, but it is possible,” he told me, and I thought of her smile. “Kolis thought it was, but she never told him who carried Sotoria’s soul. If she had, Kolis wouldn’t still be looking for it.”
My chest ached. Holland had said Keella had paid dearly for intervening with Sotoria’s soul. I stopped my imagination from filling in all the terrible ways that Kolis could’ve ensured that Keella was punished. “Why wouldn’t she have?”
“Keella’s not much younger than Kolis, but she is one of the few Primals who still believes in right and wrong and a balance that shouldn’t be adjusted to fit one’s wants or narratives.” A warm smile appeared, faint but real, and my heart skipped for a totally different reason. “She tries to be good.”
“Sounds like she is good.”
Ash lifted a shoulder as I took another sip, recognizing the honey-haired goddess swathed in white approaching the empty seat next to Keella. It was Penellaphe. Her stare lifted to the dais as she sat. Penellaphe smiled as she bowed her head to Keella, speaking. I looked away from her, searching for a familiar, ageless face I knew I wouldn’t find but was still disappointed when I didn’t.
Penellaphe’s appearance made me think of something else.
“The title.”
I paused while Paxton refilled my chalice. “Thank you,” I said to him.
The boy grinned and nodded, then hurried off, careful to avoid Nektas.
“What about the title?” Ash said, stare fixed on the crowd much like Nektas. His wine remained untouched.
“I like it,” I shared, feeling a bit foolish as my cheeks warmed.
“You do?” Ash asked, turning to me. I nodded. “I’m glad.”
Hoping my face didn’t look as hot as it felt, I refocused on the crowd. I found Keella and Penellaphe once more, their heads tipped together as they continued chatting. “There was a little bit of Penellaphe’s prophecy in there.”
“Not enough that it should raise any alarms,” he assured. “It was the only thing that kept coming to my mind. Your hair. Moonlight.” The center of his cheeks were the ones that flushed now. He cleared his throat. “And you do look like the brightest moon tonight.”
The buzzing warmth of happiness in my chest rivaled that of the embers, and the feeling was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. “And the blood and ash part?”
“It is something the draken like to say,” he answered. “It has different meanings. Strength of the blood and bravery of the ash is one of them. Some believe it symbolizes balance and represents life and death.” Starlight glinted off his crown as he tilted his head back. “It just all seemed fitting for you.”
“It…it is a beautiful title,” I said.
The smile he gave me was warm and real, and it wrapped its way around my heart and made me even more desperate to see Veses burn.
My gaze roamed over the faces of those below and beyond us as I shoved thoughts of her aside. There were more masked faces than bare ones. I saw many smiles, but not from most of the Primals. I imagined that if I could sense emotions as Ash could, I would likely be drowning in agitation.
I saw Saion and Rhahar step aside to allow Attes to ascend the dais stairs. I didn’t think I could’ve been more grateful to see the Primal. “I think we’re about to have company.”
“Appears so.” Ash’s fingers stilled.
Attes nodded at Nektas as he passed the draken and then stopped before the table, bowing deeply. The crown covered half the scar slicing across his nose and left cheek, but the combination of the two made him appear all the more dangerous, even though he bore no weapons—none of the Primals did. He rose. “I thought I’d be the first to give my congratulations and well wishes as I will be taking my leave soon.”
“Appreciated,” Ash remarked coolly.
The less-than-friendly greeting didn’t go unnoticed. A dimple appeared in Attes’s right cheek as he turned luminous eyes on me. “The crown suits you, Consort.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“As does the imprint,” he added. “That was an…unexpected development.”
I kept my expression the same, even as trepidation skittered through me.
“I feel as if I now truly must make time to visit the lakes in the mortal realm,” he said. “Maybe the Arae will bless me with a beauty such as you and an imprint.”
“Now is a better time than ever to do so.” Ash’s fingers slid over the table, curling inwards against his palm as I fought my grin and lost.
That divot deepened as Attes’s lips tipped up farther.
“I’m assuming there have been no…events in your Court since the last time we spoke,” Ash said.
“Nothing but a few dakkais sniffing around. They left without causing much trouble,” Attes confirmed, sending a bolt of relief through me. But also wariness. Kolis must have felt my use of the embers. Why hadn’t he come at Attes harder? The Primal tipped his head in Ash’s direction. “We need to make some time to speak,” Attes reminded him. “The three of us.”
An emotion I wasn’t quite familiar with surged through me, leaving me a little confused as Ash said, “That can be arranged.”
“I look forward to it.” Attes bowed deeply. “May your union be a blessing upon the Shadowlands and beyond.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, reaching for my wine glass as I watched Attes walk toward Nektas. He stopped to speak to the draken.
“Reminds me of a cool iced drink.” Ash leaned back, glancing at me. “Your surprise.”
I arched a brow. “Was I projecting?”
“You were,” he confirmed. “It wasn’t the only thing you felt just now.”
“Well, I’m hoping you can shine some light on that.” I sipped the wine. “Because I have no idea what I was just feeling.”
“Satisfaction.”
My head cut to him.
“Care to share what that jackass said to make you feel that?” he asked, a teasing glint in his gray eyes. “Because that is something I’ve only felt from you on a few occasions. One of them not quite fit for public conversation.”
I snorted. “I can assure you that is not the only time I’ve been satisfied.”
“I know. You projected an indecent amount of satisfaction when you stabbed me in Stonehill.”
A short laugh burst from me.
“As you do whenever you hold a weapon to me or manage to nick my skin or hair,” he went on. “I could continue.”
“Not necessary,” I said, my amusement fading as I tried to figure out why I had felt satisfaction. The answer was all too easy to discover. Acknowledging it was something else entirely. “I…I guess I’m not used to being included in discussions of importance, even ones that involve me, so I was surprised to be included.”
“And then satisfied with knowing that you were?”
I shrugged, feeling a bit of warmth creep up my throat. “I know it sounds silly.”
“It doesn’t.”
Peeking over at him, I saw that he watched me intently. I refocused on the crowd below, drawing in a deep breath. “I was never included in any type of conversation, whether it be about the weather or something of importance like the growing tensions between Lasania and other kingdoms. I suppose that doesn’t bother many, but for me, it made me feel like anything I may have thought or had to say didn’t matter. I…I didn’t count. You know, like I wasn’t a person, but a…”
“A ghost?”
I nodded, squinting. “Like I was there, but no one actually saw me—interacted with me. It’s the only way I can describe it. And being included makes me feel seen. Accepted.” Wondering how I allowed the conversation to wander to this point, I cleared my throat. “Anyway, do you know what Attes could want to speak to us about? I feel as if the possibilities are endless at this point.”
When Ash didn’t respond, I looked at him. He still watched me, his gaze intense, but his stare had softened. “What?” I whispered.
“I hate that you spent so long being made to feel that way. And I loathe that I likely added to that feeling. For that, I do not think I could apologize enough. You are seen and heard, liessa.”
The embers wiggled and vibrated along with my heart as his comments struck me silent. Liessa.
“And you matter. Always.” Ash bent, pressing his lips to my temple. The chaste, sweet kiss was as shocking as his words. I melted like butter left in the sun. He withdrew, glancing forward. “Keella approaches.”
I blinked, rocked out of what had honestly begun to feel like a swoon. I followed his gaze to where Keella had paused to greet Nektas. The draken nudged her arm in response to whatever the Primal had said, and she placed her hand against his cheek, stroking the scaled flesh.
I couldn’t recall anyone doing that to Nektas.
Eyes wide, I set my glass down before I dropped it. Awe battled with a nervous jolt of energy as the Primal of Rebirth approached us, her flowing gown the same pale blue of her quartz crown.
“Nyktos,” Keella spoke, her voice reminding me of the winds in Stonehill. Silver eyes flicked to mine. Lingered. “Consort.”
“Hello,” I croaked, managing to stumble over the one word.
Ash greeted her with far more grace and confidence. “It is a pleasure and honor to see you, Keella. I hope you are well.”
She inclined her head in a regal way that had nothing to do with the crown she wore. “I am.” A faint smile appeared as she glanced down at his hand—his left hand. “It has been far too many years since I’ve seen a benada. An imprimen. It is truly a blessing. A beautiful one. May I?”
It took me a moment to realize that she was speaking to me. I lifted my right hand. Ash didn’t blink as Keella took my hand between hers. A charge of energy skittered up my arm, but she didn’t react as she drew a warm finger over the golden swirls on the center of my palm.
Russet curls bounced as she gave a slight shake of her head. “I honestly didn’t believe I would see such a thing again.”
“Neither did I,” Ash stated smoothly, even as my heart tripped all over itself. If there were any two Primals in this entire coliseum who might not believe it was the Arae, it would be Embris—who’d left—and Keella.
“I am glad that I have.” Her eyes, a whirlpool of silver, lifted to mine.
My throat tightened as so many questions rose—things I could not ask at the coronation and risk being overheard. But it took great effort for me not to ask if she knew it was I—the one who Eythos, with her aid, had placed Sotoria’s soul in. Could she see Sotoria even now? Inside me? Could she tell if one soul existed or two?
“Truly.” Keella patted my hand before releasing it. Her smile mirrored the earlier one she had given me…
And I…I begin to think that she did know. “As am I.”
The Primal’s attention shifted to Ash. “The title you bestowed on your Consort is also beautiful. Perhaps even…another blessing. May I ask what inspired such wording?”
The question was politely asked, but there was an edge to it—not one of anger but something different.
“You will likely be disappointed to learn that I was simply inspired by my Consort’s hair.”
I nearly choked on my breath at his honest answer.
“Not at all. More like…enthralled to learn that. Hopeful,” she said, and my gaze flew to her. “I do not wish to take more of your time. May your union be a blessing.” Her gaze met mine again, and then she turned.
Jolted out of my shock, I said, “Thank you.”
The Primal of Rebirth faced us once more, and that smile returned. An old smile. Knowing. Clever. The embers in my chest hummed. She inclined her head and then looked at Ash. “Your father would be so proud of you.”
Chapter 42
There wasn’t time to speak privately with Ash or to take more than a few moments to make use of the privy as celebrators descended upon the dais. The elaborate crowns of the Primals, their reserved, wry greetings blurred into masked faces and looser, warmer smiles as they flooded the shield-lined aisle to where Ash and I sat.
Shouts echoed above the music every couple of minutes, jarring me as one well-wisher replaced another.
“Should I be concerned?” I asked Ector, who had come to stand at my side.
“No.” Ector smiled down at me. “They are cheers for their new Consort.”
A little thrown by the declaration, I glanced at Ash. He smiled at what a masked male said, but at some point during the greetings, he’d lowered his hand to where mine rested on my thigh. No one, except possibly Ector and Rhahar, who stood at Ash’s side, could see where his hand was, but it was a shock to me, nonetheless. The touch wasn’t for display, and the weight of his hand against mine was grounding, comforting as I…as I was seen by so many.
Only Kyn and Hanan didn’t approach, and I lost sight of them in the throng of people who continued forward in a wave. I’d been growing tired, my neck starting to ache from the weight of the crown, but the shouts—the cheers—had beaten back the exhaustion. It was…nice to be welcomed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother had ever been welcomed by her people. Or my father before he died. I couldn’t remember. King Ernald and my mother had grown so distant from the people they were supposed to care for, but Ezra was different. She wasn’t ruling from a tower behind a wall.
