A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

I’d taken a step from the docks when a rough shout ended in a deep groan, and a peal of husky laughter drew my gaze to one of the nearby ships. The outline of two figures was visible in the glow of the streetlamps. One was nearly bent all the way over the railing of the ship, and the other was pressed tightly to their back. Based on how they moved, they were as close as two people could get.

  My gaze flicked to where silhouettes leaned across the front of a den across the street. I wasn’t the only one watching.

  Goodness.

  In many parts of Carsodonia, people would be aghast by the behavior of those on the deck. But here in Lower Town, anyone could be as openly improper as they desired. It wasn’t the only place debauchery was welcomed.

  One side of my lips tugged up, but the smile quickly faded as a bitter, piercing ache went through my chest. The emptiness opened, and I looked down at myself, a little disgusted at the sight of the dried blood on my arms. I didn’t have to go to the lake. In reality, I didn’t have to do anything now that I’d done what my mother wanted. I was mostly…free. That was one of the small blessings of failing. I was no longer cloistered away, forbidden to travel beyond Wayfair grounds or the Dark Elms. Another blessing was the knowledge that my purity was no longer a commodity, a part of the beautifully crafted package. An innocent with a seductress’s touch. My lip curled once more. No one else knew that the Primal of Death would not be coming for me, but I did. And there had been no reason for me to guard what shouldn’t even be valued.

  My gaze flicked back to the couple on the ship. A man had the other pinned to the railing, moving fiercely, his hips plunging with rather…impressive force. Based on the sounds, rather pleasurably.

  My thoughts immediately wandered to The Luxe.

  Sir Holland had once bemoaned my lack of interaction with my parents, claiming it made me prone to great acts of impulsivity and recklessness over the last three years. And he said this, not even knowing half of my most ill-advised life choices. I didn’t know if lack of attention from my mother and stepfather was of any consequence, but I couldn’t exactly argue with the knight’s perception.

  I was impulsive.

  I was also very curious.

  Which was why it had taken me nearly two out of the past three years to work up the nerve to explore things forbidden to me as the Maiden. To experience what I’d read about in those improper books stored on the shelves of the city Atheneum, too high up for little fingers and curious minds to reach. To find a way to stop from always feeling so hollow.

  “Oh, gods,” a sharp cry of release echoed from the ship’s deck.

  The Jade had bathing rooms where I could wash away the blood. The Jade had many things to offer, even to me.

  Mind made up, I lifted my hood and quickly crossed the street and headed for the Golden Bridge. In the last three years, I had discovered countless shortcuts, and that was the quickest way to cross the Nye River that separated the Garden District from other less fortunate quarters like Croft’s Cross. Where only one to two families occupied freshly painted manors and grand townhomes, and the inhabitants spent coin on luxe material, shared food and drink in rose-filled courtyards, and easily pretended that Lasania wasn’t dying. On the other side of the Nye River, people couldn’t forget for a minute that the kingdom was doomed, where the only taste of an easier life was for those who crossed the Nye to work in the grand homes there.

  Thinking of the bath and other activities awaiting me, I hurried along the narrow alleys and roads and finally made the steep walk up the hill, catching sight of the bridge. Gas streetlamps lined the Golden Bridge, casting a buttery glow across the jacaranda trees running along the riverbank. Before I crossed the river, I entered one of the many shadowy pathways that connected the many corners of the District.

  Vines heavy with purple and white sweet pea blossoms covered the sides and tops of the arbors, spreading from one to another and another, forming long tunnels. Only the thinnest bit of moonlight led the way.

  I didn’t let my mind wander. I refused to think about any of the Lords. If I did, I’d have to think about the nine that’d come before them, which would lead me back to the night I’d failed. And then I’d have to think about how no one would ever be as close to me as the two on the ship had been if they knew who I once was and what I had now become. I only allowed myself to think about washing away the blood and the scent of smoke. Of stealing some time where I could forget and become someone else.

  A shrill cry stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t sure how far I’d traveled, but that was nothing like the cries that had come from the deck of the ship.

  Wheeling toward the source of the sound, I found the closest exit and hurried out from under the vine tunnels onto an eerily quiet street. Scanning the darkened buildings, I saw the lit stone bridge that joined the two sides of the Garden District and knew exactly where I was.

  The Luxe.

  The narrow lane didn’t come by that moniker because of the stately townhomes. It was the things secreted away in the lush gardens. The establishments with black doors and shutters that promised…well, all different types of splendor and, ironically, exactly where I’d been heading.

  I wouldn’t have expected The Luxe to be so sedate at this time of night. The gardens were almost always full of people. Tiny bumps prickled my skin as I walked down the stone sidewalk, staying close to the hedges that obscured the gardens.

  A man suddenly darted out onto the path several feet ahead of me. I jerked back a step. All I could make out in the glow of the streetlamp was that he wore light-colored breeches, and his white shirt was untucked. He shot past me, seemingly unaware that I was there. I twisted at the waist, watching him disappear into the night.

  The sound came again, this time shorter and hoarser. Slowly, I turned around and crept forward, passing a townhome where curtains billowed out from windows, stirred by the warm breeze. My hand drifted inside the slit of my gown to my dagger.

  “Do it,” the raspy voice broke the silence. “I will never—”

  A flash of bright, silvery light spilled out onto the sidewalk and into the empty lane as I reached the corner of the townhome. What in the…?

  Telling myself that I needed to mind my business, I did the exact opposite and peered around the side of the building.

  My lips parted, but I made no sound. Only because I knew better. But I wished I had minded my business.

  In the courtyard of the darkened townhome next door, a man was on his knees, his arms outstretched, and his body bent backward at an angle that wasn’t natural. The tendons in his neck stood out in stark relief, and his skin…it looked lit from within. A whiteish light filled the veins of his face, the inside of his throat, and ran down into his chest and stomach.

  Standing before him was a…it was a goddess. Under the moonlight, her pale blue gown was nearly as translucent as my wedding gown. The dress gathered low over the swells of her breasts and was cinched tightly at the waist and hips, ending in a pool of shimmering fabric around her feet. A glittering sapphire brooch pinned the diaphanous material over one shoulder. Her skin was the color of smooth ivory. Her hair glossy and jet-black.

  Spotting a god or goddess in the capital wasn’t exactly a shock. They often found their way into the mortal realm, usually out of what I imagined was extreme boredom or the need to carry out some business on behalf of the Primal they served—who rarely, if ever, crossed over.

  From what I’d been taught about Iliseeum, their hierarchy was similar to that of the mortal one. Instead of kingdoms, each Primal ruled over a Court, and in place of noble titles, they had gods who answered to their Courts. Ten Primals held Court in Iliseeum. Ten that ruled over everything that lay between the skies and the seas, from love to birth, war and peace, life, and…yes, even death.

  But what shocked me was that this goddess had her hand on the man’s forehead. She was the source of the white light inside his veins.

  The man’s mouth stretched open, but no sound came from his throat. O
nly silvery-white light. It poured from his mouth and eyes, crackling and spitting as it shot up into the sky, stretching higher than the townhome.

  Dear gods, it was eather, the very essence of the gods and the Primals. I’d never seen one use it like this, nor did I think it would ever be necessary to kill a mortal in this way. It simply wasn’t needed.

  The goddess lowered her hand, and the eather vanished, casting the courtyard once more into shadows and fractured moonlight. The man…he didn’t make a sound as he fell forward. The goddess stepped out of his way, letting him fall upon the grass face-first as she looked down at her hand, her full lips curling in distaste.

  I knew the man was dead. I knew the eather had done that, even if I hadn’t known it was possible to use eather in such a manner. Warmth gathered under my skin, and it took everything in me to push the urge down.

  The goddess’s head swung toward the open door of the townhome. A god walked out, his skin the same pearlescent shade, though his hair was nearly as long as hers, falling down his back like liquid night. He carried something in his hand as he walked down the short set of steps, something small and pale, lifeless and…

  Horror turned my skin to ice, even in the heat of Carsodonia’s summer. The god carried a…a swaddled babe by its feet. Nausea rose so swiftly, it clogged my throat.

  I needed to turn around and truly start minding my business. I did not need the goddess or god to notice me. I had nothing to do with the nightmare happening here. I didn’t need to see more than I already had.

  The god tossed the babe so it landed beside the male mortal at the edge of the goddess’s shimmering gown.

  None of this concerned me. None of what the gods chose to do concerned any mortal. We all knew that while the gods could be benevolent and giving, many could be cruel, and they could be vicious when offended. Every mortal was taught that from birth. The mortal man could’ve done something to earn their wrath, but that was a baby—an innocent that the god had tossed like a piece of trash.

  Still, the last thing I should be doing was curling my fingers around the hilt of my shadowstone dagger—a blade that could very well kill a god. But the horror had given way to scalding fury. I was no longer empty and hollow. I was full, brimming with dark rage. I doubted I would be able to take out both of them, but I was confident that I could get him before I finally came face to face once more with the Primal of Death. No part of me doubted that my life would end tonight.

  And another tiny, hidden part of me, one born the moment my mother’s slap had stung my cheek, had stopped caring if I lived or died.

  I stepped out from around the building—

  The only warning was the stir of air around me—a breeze that smelled of something clean and citrusy.

  A hand clamped down on my mouth, and a strange jolt went through me at the exact moment an arm folded around me, pinning my arms to my sides. The shock of the contact—the jolt of someone touching me, touching my skin with theirs—cost me the split second I had to break the hold. I was jerked back against the hard wall of a chest.

  “I wouldn’t make a sound if I were you.”

  Chapter 2

  The warning came from a male voice, spoken barely above a whisper directly into my ear as he lifted me off my feet. Shock blasted through me. He carried me back from the courtyard with stunning ease, as if I were nothing more than a small child. And I was not small, not in height nor weight, but the male was also extraordinarily fast. In one heartbeat, he’d taken me into one of the nearby vine tunnels.

  “I’m not sure what you planned to do back there,” the male spoke again. Alarm rang through me as clear and loud as the bells that rang every morning from the Sun Temple. “But I can assure you, it would’ve ended disastrously for you.”

  The moment he let me go, things would end disastrously for him.

  My heart thumped heavily, and I tried to wiggle free. His hold around my waist only tightened as he stepped farther into the tunnel where only thin streaks of moonlight slipped between the thick trailing plants, and the bushy, sweetly scented blossoms. Stretching my fingers, I reached for the hilt of my dagger as I twisted my head to the side, attempting to dislodge his hand. I was unsuccessful in both endeavors.

  Panic-laced frustration burned through me. I wasn’t used to being handled like this outside of training or fighting. Not even during my time at The Jade. The sensations of his hand over my mouth, his fingers resting against my cheek, and being held so tightly—being held at all—was nearly as overwhelming as the realization that I was trapped.

  I curled my legs up and kicked out into nothing but air. I did it again and again, swinging my legs back and forward until the muscles in my stomach protested.

  “And whatever you’re planning to do now…” he continued, standing completely still—my movements hadn’t rocked him even an inch. He almost sounded bored. “Also won’t end well for you.”

  Breathing heavily against his hand, I allowed my body to go limp so I could think. The man was strong, able to hold my dead weight with ease. I wasn’t going to break free by struggling like a wild animal.

  Be smart, Sera. Think. I focused on the feel of him, trying to gauge his height. The chest pressed against my back was broad and hard…and cold. As was the hand against my mouth. It reminded me of how my skin felt after entering the lake. I shifted, drawing a leg up to run my booted foot down his leg to find where his knee was.

  “On second thought…” His voice was full of smoke, a decadent drawl as I drew my foot up the side of his leg. There was something odd about his voice. It had a shadowy lilt that struck a chord of familiarity— “I am thoroughly interested in exactly what you’re attempting to do.”

  My eyes narrowed as fury eroded the panic. I found the curve of his knee and then jerked my leg up to gain enough space to deliver a brutal—

  He chuckled darkly, sidestepping my kick. “No, thank you.”

  The smothered sound I made against his palm was one born of pure, unfettered rage.

  That midnight laugh came again, quieter, but I felt it along every inch of my back and hips. “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

  Feisty? Little? Thing?

  I was neither little nor a thing, but I was feeling all kinds of feisty.

  “Also, a bit ungrateful,” he added, his cool breath against my cheek. My cheek. Air stilled in my throat. My hood had slipped back in my struggle, not nearly covering as much of my face as it normally would. “They would’ve killed you before you had a chance to do whatever ill-advised idea sprang into your head. I saved your life, and you’re trying to kick me?”

  My hands balled into fists as I twisted my head again. He suddenly stiffened against me, his body crackling with tension.

  “Is that all, Madis?” a voice reached us from outside the tunnel, distant and feminine.

  “Yes, Cressa,” came the answer, spoken in a deep voice laden with power.

  It was the god and goddess. I stilled completely against my captor.

  “For now.” Annoyance dripped from those two words spoken by this Cressa.

  “We must be close,” Madis answered.

  There was a beat of silence, and then Cressa said, “Taric, you know what to do with them.”

  “Of course,” a second male answered.

  “Since we’re here, we might as well enjoy ourselves,” Madis remarked. Enjoy themselves? After he’d just slaughtered a babe?

  “Whatever,” the goddess muttered, and then there was quiet.

  Three of them. Taric. Madis. Cressa. I repeated those names over and over as silence fell around us. I wasn’t familiar with them and I had no idea what Court they belonged to, but I would not forget their names.

  The male that held me shifted his stance, and then his breath touched my cheek once more. “If I remove my hand, you promise you won’t do something silly like scream?”

  I nodded against his chest. Screaming was never on my priority list.

  He hesitated. “I have
a feeling I’m going to regret this,” he said with a sigh that caused me to grit my teeth. “But I guess I’ll add this to the ever-growing list of things I end up regretting.”

  His hand lifted from my mouth, but it didn’t stray far, sliding down so that his fingers curled around my chin. I dragged in deep breaths as I tried to ignore the sensation of his chilled flesh against mine. I waited for him to release me.

  He didn’t.

  “You were going to go after those gods,” he stated after a moment. “What were you thinking?”

  That was a good question since mortals were forbidden from interfering in the actions of gods. To do so was considered an insult against the Primal they served. But I had an answer. “They slaughtered a babe.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “That is none of your concern.”

  I tensed at his words. “The slaughter of an innocent child should be of everyone’s concern.”

  “You’d think,” he replied, and I frowned. “But it is not. You knew what they were when you saw them. You know what you should’ve done.”

  I did, and I didn’t care. “Do you also believe we’re supposed to leave the bodies there?”

  “I doubt they left them,” he answered.

  Whenever gods killed a mortal, they left the bodies behind, usually to serve as a warning. If they didn’t, where did they take them? And why? Why had they done this? Could anyone else have been in that home?

  I straightened my head. His hand followed. “Are you going to let me go?” I demanded in a quiet voice.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “I’m not sure I’m ready for whatever it is that you’re about to do.”

  I stared at the mass of dark vines above me. “Let me go.”

  “So you can run back out there and get yourself killed?” he countered.

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “You’re right.” A pause. “And you’re also wrong. But since saving your life is still interfering with my evening plans, I want to make sure my generous and benevolent actions are worth what I lost by coming to your aid.”