Unnerved, I didn’t realize that Ash had stopped until I walked straight into his back. I gasped. “Sorry—”
Ash jerked, air hissing between his teeth. That sound. My gaze flew to his face. Tension bracketed his mouth—his eyes had darkened to a steel gray, and the white aura had brightened behind his pupils. Instinct urged that I take a step back because the sound he’d made reminded me of a wounded animal. Was he hurt?
I reached for him out of a different kind of instinct, like I had when I’d come upon the kiyou wolf. Immediately, I thought of the Shades. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t,” he snapped.
I froze, my hand inches from him. Heat stung my cheeks as I pulled my hand back. The sting of embarrassment went deeper, sharpening into a bitter slice of rejection. It was a silly feeling. I told myself that. I didn’t care if he suddenly had no interest in my touch. I just needed him to want it, and there was a world of difference there.
“I’m fine.” His jaw flexed as he turned his head to the side. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be more aware of your surroundings.”
“And I would’ve expected you to be less jumpy,” I retorted. “I can already tell it was wise of you to remove me from the dining hall. And very unwise to give me back my dagger.”
He arched a brow. “Why? Should I suddenly be worried about a sharp instrument being plunged into my chest?”
“Among other things,” I muttered.
His head tilted. I saw it as it happened, then—his eyes changing. It wasn’t so much the color as it was the shadows gathering behind them. They retracted until they became the color of a thundercloud. “I have to admit, I’m interested in the among other things part of your statement.”
A shivery wave of irritation and heat rippled through me, stirring that reckless, impulsive side of me that should have everything to do with my duty but instead felt as if it had very little to do with it. I met his stare as I stepped into him, close enough that I felt the chill of his body. “Well, you have no chance of ever finding out what those things are if you jump away from contact with me.”
A tendril of eather flickered across those eyes. His lashes then lowered to half-mast. “Now, I’m very interested.”
“Doubtful.”
Ash had become still again, like he had in the lake and when I’d risen from the tub. Nothing about him moved. Not even his chest. “You don’t think I am?” he asked quietly.
My skin tingled with a heightened sense of awareness. The urge to step back hit me again. It was the way he stared at me, like a predator that had sighted its prey. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but the burn of his words still scalded my skin, and my mouth had an entirely different idea of what to do. “I think you’re a lot of talk. You seem to have no real interest in anything beyond touching me, no matter what you claim you do with your hand and—”
Ash moved as quick as a strike of lightning, blocking my path. “I want to make one thing clear.”
My eyes flew to his. The wisps of eather had seeped out into the irises. He took a step toward me. This time, I moved back.
One side of his lips curled up as his chin lowered. “Actually, I need to make one thing clear.”
“Okay?” I swallowed as he stalked forward. I didn’t realize I’d continued to move away from him until my back pressed into the cold stone of the bare wall behind me.
Lifting an arm, Ash placed his hand beside my head. He leaned in close enough that the air I breathed tasted of citrus. “My interest in you is the furthest thing from just talk.”
A tremor of energy coursed through me as the tips of his fingers grazed my cheek. My tongue became tied. He was so incredibly tall that when he stood this close, there was only him and nothing beyond.
“My interest in you is a very real, very potent need.” His fingers skimmed the curve of my jaw and then the line of my throat. They stopped over my wildly beating pulse. “It’s almost as if it’s become its own thing. A tangible entity. I find myself thinking about it at the most inconvenient moments,” he said, his breath dancing over my lips. Against my better judgement, anticipation sank into my muscles, tightening them. “I find myself recalling the taste of you on my fingers a little too frequently.”
I sucked in a heady breath as tiny shivers hit every part of me. My palms flattened against the wall.
“I try not to,” he continued, tilting his head as his voice lowered to barely above a whisper. “Things are already complicated enough between us, aren’t they?”
I said nothing, just remained there, heart thrumming and waiting.
“But when I’m around you, the last thing I want is to be uncomplicated.” Ash’s lips coasted over my cheek, dragging a ragged gasp from me as they neared my ear. “Or in control. Or decent,” he said, and I shuddered at the decadent, wet flick of his tongue across my skin. “What I want is your taste on my tongue again. What I want is to be so deep inside you that I forget my own fucking name.” His sharp teeth closed around my earlobe. My entire body jerked, and nothing about it was forced. “And I don’t even need to read your emotions to know how much you want that, too.”
A shameless ache settled in me, and I didn’t even bother trying to muster up the idea of not enjoying this—him and his touch.
“So, keep that in mind the next time you doubt the realness of my interest,” he warned. “Because I won’t have you up against a wall. I will have you on your back, under me, and neither of us will remember our fucking names.” He pressed a kiss to my pounding pulse. “Are we clear, liessa?”
It took effort for me to find my voice. “Yes.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page,” Ash drawled and then stepped back. “Now, I thought I should also give you a quick tour.”
I remained against the wall, knees feeling oddly weak as my pulse pounded.
The curve of Ash’s lips was smug. “That is, if you’re up to it.”
I stiffened, my eyes flashing to his. His smile had deepened. Forgetting myself, I pushed off the wall. “I do not like you.”
“It’s better that way,” he said as he turned from me. I frowned at his back. “Most of the chambers on this floor aren’t in use.” He strode forward, and I was left to follow him. “The kitchens are at the end of this hall, and at the end of the other is the Great Hall. That, like most of the chambers, is not in use.”
I finally managed to pull myself together. “What about your offices?”
“They are located through there.” Ash gestured at a set of doors inside a shadowy alcove. “And it’s just an office.”
Interest sparked as Ash continued forward. “Does it just contain a desk and a few chairs?”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Are you prophetic?”
I snorted.
A faint smile returned as he focused ahead. “It has what it needs.”
A desk and chairs were all that was needed. But if he were anything like a mortal ruler, I knew a lot of his time was likely spent in such chambers. I thought of the glass figurines lining my stepfather’s office walls. Or had. Were they still there, or had Mother removed them?
Ash continued on to another alcove and opened the double doors. “This is the library.”
A light turned on as Ash walked inside the large chamber, casting a buttery glow across the rows and rows of books lining the walls. They went from the floor to the ceiling, the top shelves only accessible by a rolling ladder that traveled across some sort of track along the top shelves. In the center of the room I saw the only hint of real color I’d seen so far in the palace. Two long couches were situated across from each other, each the color of deep crimson. There appeared to be two portraits above several lit candles along the back wall, but they were too far away for me to make out any detail.
“That is a lot of books.” I drifted to the left. Many of the spines were covered in a fine layer of dust.
“Most belonged to my father. Some my mother.” Ash had moved to the center of the room, watching me as I made
my way around the shelves. “There’s not a lot of…stimulating reading material. Most are ledgers, but toward the back, there are a few novels I believe my mother collected.” There was a pause. “Do you like to read?”
I nodded, glancing over at him. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you?”
“When I was younger, yes.”
“But not now?” I pulled my gaze away from him. Some of the spines had language on them that I couldn’t even begin to decipher.
“The escape that reading once provided has sadly faded,” he said, and I turned to him, about to ask what he sought to escape, when he spoke again. “You may help yourself to the library whenever you’d like.”
I nodded, eyeing him. “I’m not sure what part of that made you believe I would throw sharp objects at you.”
That half-smile returned. “It’s this part. You’re free to move about the palace and its grounds as you wish, but there are conditions.”
“Rules?” I clarified.
“Agreements,” he amended.
“I do not know how you can call them agreements when I haven’t agreed to anything,” I pointed out.
“True. I suppose I hope they will become that.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I guess they will be rules that you won’t enjoy.”
My eyes narrowed. “What are these conditions?”
“The first hopeful agreement is that you’re free to go anyplace within the palace and on the grounds, as I said, but you are not to enter the Red Woods without me with you.”
That surprised me. “I would’ve assumed you would tell me not to enter the Dying Woods because of the Shades.”
An eyebrow rose. “I see someone has been talking.”
I shrugged.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Sometimes, Shades find their way into the Red Woods. It is not often,” he explained.
I was glad to hear that since there appeared to be no wall between the Red Woods and the palace. “So, why can I only enter them with you? Does your presence keep the Shades away?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Once again, I thought about his reaction when I’d walked into his back. “Were you injured when you were wrangling them? I’ve heard they can bite.”
“Someone really has been talking,” he remarked. “They do bite, and they do claw.”
A shiver crawled down my spine. “Can their bites pierce your skin?”
“My skin is not impenetrable, as you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was a shadowstone dagger.”
“Sharp objects, whether they be teeth or daggers, can pierce my skin and the skin of a god.”
“Is that what happened to your back?” I drifted closer.
He didn’t answer for a long moment. “It was.”
“And why hasn’t it healed?”
“You have a lot of questions.”
“So?”
A faint smile appeared. “Do we have an agreement?” Ash countered.
“You haven’t told me why I cannot enter them without you.”
His eyes met mine. “Because you’d likely die if you did.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “What else is in—?”
“The second agreement is that you can enter the city if you wish,” he went on, and I snapped my mouth shut. “But only after I have introduced you as my Consort. And if you have an escort.”
“I have more questions.”
Ash’s stare was bland. “Of course, you do.”
“Why must I wait until I am introduced as your Consort?”
“All mortals who call the Shadowlands and Lethe their home have my protection. But even the protection of a Primal can only go so far. Gods from other Courts can and do enter Lethe. As my Consort, any god or Primal would be extremely foolish to mess with you. Even those who like to push,” he explained. “But until then, you will only be seen as another mortal.”
I did not remotely like the sound of that. “Because mortals are at the bottom of the pecking order?”
“You know the answer to that.”
My lips thinned. “Nice.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And I hope you know that I also don’t believe that—not as some do.”
I did and I wished I didn’t because if he truly viewed mortals as beneath him, it would make what I had to do easier. “Why, as a grown woman who has been introduced as your Consort, would I need an escort?” I questioned.
“Why, as a grown woman, would you enter residences without making sure they were empty first?” he countered.
My hands curled into fists. “You bring that up as if it were some sort of habit.”
“Is it not?”
“No.”
The look he sent me said that he greatly doubted that. “Whether or not that is a dangerous, reckless habit of yours, you are not familiar with the city or its inhabitants, and they are not familiar with you. And while most Primals and gods know better than to harm a Consort, some simply do not follow the rules or have common decency.”
“Is it a rule? To not harm a Consort?”
He nodded. “It is.”
“And has that rule been broken?”
“Only once,” he answered. I started to ask who, but he continued. “The next agreement—”
“There’s more?” I snapped.
“Oh, yes, there are more,” he replied.
I glared at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“There are times when I may have…visitors. Guests who I would not want to be around you,” he said. “Those times can be unexpected.”
My jaw began to ache from how tightly I clenched it.
“But when they occur, you are to return to your chambers and remain there until one of my guards or I retrieve you.”
I stiffened. None of his rules should bother me. My mother would insist that this was one of the moments that called for complete submission. And, surely, if I simply went along with these rules, it would aid me in my duty. But my skin tightened in a way that wasn’t at all pleasant. I’d spent a lifetime living behind a veil, even when I was no longer required to wear one. Hidden away, seemingly ashamed of. Forgotten.
“Why does this make you…sad?” Ash asked.
My head snapped toward him as I whispered, “What?”
His chin had tilted again. “You feel sad.”
“I feel annoyed—”
“Yes, that, too. But you also feel—”
“I don’t.” My stomach dipped. “You’re not reading my emotions, are you?” When he said nothing, anger shot through me like an arrow. “I thought you said you don’t do that.”
“I try not to. But, apparently, my guard was down, and what you felt was like a…” He appeared to search for a word as I silently screamed. “I couldn’t block it out.”
The breath I sucked in was shrill. I didn’t want him knowing that what he said had made me sad. I didn’t want anyone to know that. “There are more rules?”
“Not exactly a rule,” he said after a long moment. “But we must discuss your coronation as Consort.”
My stomach tumbled a bit. I didn’t know why it made me nervous, but it did. “When will that take place?”
“In a fortnight.”
Two weeks. Gods. I swallowed as I crossed my arms over my waist. “And what does that entail?”
“It will be like a celebration,” he said. “High-ranking gods will come from other Courts. Possibly even Primals. You will be crowned before them.” His gaze flickered over me. “I will have a seamstress from Lethe come to fit you for an appropriate gown.”
I tensed. “It’d better look nothing like that wedding gown.”
“I have no intention of displaying you to the entirety of my Court and all others within Iliseeum,” he replied, and there was no denying the relief I felt. “And she will also be able to outfit you with a wardrobe.”
Nodding, my thoughts raced forward. “Will I…?” I took a deep breath an
d then exhaled slowly. “Will I be Ascended like the Chosen are upon being found worthy?”
Shadows rippled just beneath his skin. It happened so fast that I thought I’d imagined it. “What do you know about the act of Ascension, liessa?”
I lifted my shoulder. “Not much beyond the Primal of Life granting the Chosen eternal life.”
His features tightened and then smoothed out. “And how do you think one Ascends?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The secret of the act is highly guarded.”
Faint wisps of eather seeped into his eyes. “The act of Ascension requires a mortal’s blood to be drained from their body and replaced by that of a Primal or god. It is not always a successful transition,” he said, and I thought of what I had learned of the godlings and their Culling. “But those who are Chosen are born in a shroud. They already carry some mark—some essence of the gods—in their blood. It allows them to complete the Ascension if it were to occur.”
My gaze immediately went to his mouth. What did a mortal become once Ascended? I knew they did not become a god, but that wasn’t my most important question. “Will my Ascension take place then?”
The eather in his eyes flared intensely. “You will not be Ascended. You will remain mortal.”
Surprise rolled through me as I looked up at him. Even though I knew that it didn’t matter whether or not I Ascended. I didn’t plan for either of us to be around long enough to even begin comprehending something akin to immortality. But he didn’t know that. “How can you have a mortal Consort? Has there ever been one?” I asked. If so, it had never been documented.
“There has never been a mortal Consort. But this was never your choice. It wasn’t mine, either,” he stated, and the twinge of rejection was so utterly ridiculous, I wanted to smack myself. “And I would never force someone into a near eternity of this.”
Of this.
He spat those words as if he spoke of the Abyss. For a moment, I didn’t understand, but there was so much I didn’t know about Iliseeum and their politics—the gods and Primals that pushed the limits of others, and what exactly that often entailed beyond what I’d seen on the way into the palace.
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