A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  And it was yet another thing that didn’t matter. I didn’t need him to be open to the idea of Ascending me. I just needed him to love me.

  Nervous, I lifted my gaze to his. “Are there any more rules, Your Highness?”

  A half-grin appeared, stroking my temper. “Why do I find you referring to me as such arousing?”

  “Because you’re an arrogant, controlling misogynist?” I suggested before I could stop myself.

  Ash laughed, and I swore the corners of my vision started to turn red. “I am arrogant and can be somewhat controlling, but I feel no hatred for women, no more need to control them than I would a man.”

  I stared at him blandly. “Are there any more rules?” I repeated.

  “You’re angry—and no, I’m not reading your thoughts. It’s obvious.”

  “Yes, I’m angry.” I turned from him, once more walking the length of the shelves. “What you call agreements are rules, and I don’t like rules.”

  “I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked.

  “I don’t like that you think you can establish rules as if you have the…” Common sense finally seeped in, urging me into silence.

  Ash arched a brow. “The what, liessa? Like I have what? The authority? Is that what you were going to say? And did you stop yourself because you realized I have exactly that?”

  I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t why, but it also probably should’ve been.

  “I do have the authority. Over you. Over everyone here and every mortal in and outside of this realm, but that is not why I have these conditions,” he said as I came to the end of the shelves, near the portraits. “They are in place to help keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need that kind of help,” I said, my gaze lifting to the portraits. One was a man. The other a woman.

  “One of the bravest things to do is to accept the aid of others.”

  “Do you do that?” I asked, staring at the woman. She was beautiful. Deep red-wine hair, almost the same as Aios’s, framed an oval-shaped face, the skin painted a rosy pink. Her brows were strong, her silver-eyed gaze piercing. The cheekbones were high, and her mouth was full. “Do you often accept the aid of others?”

  “Not as often as I should.” His voice was closer.

  “Then maybe you don’t know if that is brave or not.” My attention shifted to the male, and even though I suspected I already knew who these people were, I still wasn’t prepared for how much he looked like the Primal standing behind me. Hair shoulder-length and black—a bit darker than Ash’s hair—he had the same bronzed tone of skin as Ash. The same features, really. Strong jaw and broad cheekbones. Straight nose and wide mouth. It was like looking at an older, less defined version of Ash, courtesy of the woman’s softer features. “These are your parents, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” He was directly behind me now. “That is my father. His name was Eythos,” he said, and I silently repeated the name. “And that is my mother.” He came to stand beside me, and a long moment passed. “I remember my father. His voice. The memories of it have faded over the years, but I can still see him in my mind. This is how I know what my mother looked like.”

  Fighting the burn in the back of my throat, I folded my arms over my waist once more. “It’s hard to see her…in your mind, isn’t it? When you’re not standing directly in front of this painting.”

  “Yes.”

  I could feel his gaze on me. “There is a portrait of my father in my mother’s private chambers. The only one that still remains. It’s strange because all the other Kings’ portraits line the banquet hall.” I took a deep breath, hoping to ease the burn in my throat. “I think it…pained my mother too much to see him. She loved him. Was in love with him. When he died, I think…I think he took part of her with him.”

  “I imagine it did.” Ash was quiet for a moment. “Love is an unnecessary and dangerous risk.”

  Heart turning over heavily, I looked at him. “You really think that?” I thought of Ezra and Marisol and what came out of my mouth was the truth—just not our truth. “I think love is beautiful.”

  “I know that.” Ash stared up at his parents. “My mother died because she loved my father, struck dead while I was still in her womb.”

  Every part of me froze upon hearing his words. Even my heart.

  “That is why I am called the Blessed One. No one knows how I survived that kind of birth,” he said, and pressure clamped down on my chest. “Love caused their deaths long before either had taken their final breaths. Before my father even met my mother. Love is a beautiful weapon, often wielded as a means to control another. It shouldn’t be a weakness, but that is what it becomes. And those most innocent always pay for it. I’ve never seen anything good come from love.”

  “You. You came from love.”

  “And do you truly believe I am something good? You have no knowledge of the things I’ve done. The things that are done to others because of me.” Ash turned his head to me. His eyes were a steely, sheltered shade of iron. “My father loved my mother more than anything in these realms. More than he should have. And still, he could not keep her safe. That is why I have these conditions. These rules as you like to call them. It’s not about me attempting to exert authority over you or control you. It’s about trying to do what my father failed at. It’s about making sure you do not meet the same fate as my mother.”

  Chapter 28

  Later that night, after I’d taken a quiet supper in my chambers alone, I picked up a soft throw blanket and went out onto the balcony.

  Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I stood beside the railing. The whole day had been a blur of me turning over what Ash had said about his parents—about love.

  I exhaled shakily as I stared out over the gray courtyard. His mother had been killed while he’d still been in her womb. I couldn’t…

  A knot returned to my throat. It took no leap of logic for me to consider that the one time the rules regarding Consorts had been broken, it had meant the death of his mother.

  Her murder.

  Grief rose, pressing down on my chest as I stared at the slowly darkening leaves of the Red Woods. Who had killed his mother? Was it the same person who’d killed his father? And was that how his father had become weak enough to be killed? Because he loved his wife more than anything in the realms? It had to be another Primal who’d done that. Which one, I couldn’t be sure. I only knew what had been written about them by their Priests and mortals, and what little information there was on them wasn’t enough to formulate any opinion.

  Was that why his father had asked for a Consort? But if his wife had already been killed, why would he then seek a mortal bride, one who would be even more vulnerable?

  Or one that he never had to fear falling in love with?

  But that didn’t make sense either because his love for his wife had already done its damage. Her being alive or dead would not change that.

  It didn’t make sense. There had to be a reason his father had done this, but did the reason matter?

  No, whispered the voice that sounded like a mix of my mother’s and mine.

  What did make sense was the very real possibility that Ash was…that he was incapable of love because of what had happened to his parents. No part of me doubted he believed every single word he’d said about love, and that was sad.

  And terrifying.

  Because if he couldn’t allow himself to love, what could I do to change that? Hell, I couldn’t even stop myself from being antagonistic for more than a handful of minutes.

  I never should’ve been the first daughter born after the deal had been made. Anyone or anything would be far better suited for this task than me. Possibly even a barrat.

  A keen sense of desperation invaded me as I sat on the edge of the daybed, facing the Red Woods. The leaves had turned to a deep shade of reddish-black, a signal that night had fallen. As I sat there, I allowed myself to think about what I had done the night before Ash had come for me. Before ever
ything had happened with Tavius.

  I’d helped Marisol because I loved Ezra. Obviously, not the same kind of love shared between Ash’s parents, but love…it truly made one do foolish things. How would Ash respond to my gift, to the knowledge that I could stop a soul from crossing over to the Shadowlands, returning them healthy and whole to their bodies?

  As the Primal of Death, I doubted he would be overjoyed to learn of it—

  Movement from the courtyard drew me from my thoughts. Once more, I recognized Ash’s tall form. Like the last time, he was alone as he disappeared into the crimson-tinted darkness of the Red Woods.

  Three days later, the dull ache had returned, settling in my temples. Along with the faint traces of blood when I brushed my teeth. The pain was nothing like the day Sir Holland had given me the tea he’d brewed, but as I stood in the deep shadows of the throne room, surrounded by the Primal’s guards, I worried that it would worsen. I couldn’t remember the herbs that had been in that pouch Sir Holland had left for me.

  Shifting from one foot to the other, my gaze traveled across the raised, shadowstone dais to the Primal sitting in one of the thrones. My body tightened upon seeing him. Dressed in black with the iron-hued brocade around the raised collar and a line of the richly woven fabric swirling in a thin, diagonal line across his chest, he looked as if he’d been conjured from the shadows of a star-kissed hour of night. He eyed a man striding down the center of the chamber toward the dais. He wore no crown as he held court, meeting with those from Lethe. No grand banners had been raised behind the thrones. There was no ceremonial grandeur. The guards lining the alcove wore no livery or finery, but they were armed to the teeth. Each had a short sword strapped to their hip and a longer sword sheathed down their backs, the hilts pointed downward and slanted to the side for easy access. Across their chests hung daggers with wicked curves. All of the blades were shadowstone.

  “Do you normally fidget this much?” a voice whispered to my right.

  I stilled, ceasing my endless shifting as I glanced at Saion. He stared ahead. “Maybe?” I said in a low voice.

  “I told you we should not have allowed her in here,” Ector commented from my left.

  Behind me, Rhain chuckled. “Are you worried Daddy Nyktos will be upset with you for allowing her in here and send you to bed without your supper?”

  I lifted my brows. Daddy Nyktos?

  “It will not be me who he will be irritated with,” Ector commented, watching the man as closely as Saion was. “It will be you two, as I was the only one to raise objections to this.”

  “Are we not a team?” Saion asked. “If one of us goes down, we all go down together.”

  Ector smirked. “I am part of no such team.”

  “Traitor,” Rhain murmured.

  I rolled my eyes. “No one can even see me. I doubt he even knows I’m here.”

  Saion looked down at me, one eyebrow raised. He, like the other two gods, were just as armed as the guards before us. “There is not a single part of Nyktos that doesn’t know exactly where you are.”

  A chill of apprehension swept through me as, at that very moment, the Primal on the throne turned his head in the direction of the darkened alcove. I could practically feel his stare piercing straight through the line of guards who stood outside the alcove. I held my breath until his focus left me.

  I had a feeling I would be in trouble for this later, even though I didn’t think I was breaking any rules. Holding court wasn’t the same as having an unexpected guest. At least, that was my reasoning as I watched the man stop before the Primal and bow deeply. I hadn’t known Ash would be holding court today. In my defense, I had thought Ash and his guards were once more disappearing into a chamber that was located behind the dais, something I’d caught him doing several times in the last three days.

  Which made me extremely curious about what went on in that chamber. What was discussed.

  I’d been roaming aimlessly through the silent and otherwise empty palace, as I had been doing for the last three days when I saw him entering the throne room with several of the guards yet again and decided to follow. I’d made it about two steps into the chamber before Saion appeared out of nowhere and blocked me. I’d half expected him to turn me away, but he didn’t.

  And so, here I was, the longest I’d been in Ash’s presence since the library. There had been no shared suppers or breakfasts. No surprise visits. He’d joined me briefly the day before when I stood under one of the outdoor stairwells watching Aios and Reaver. He’d stopped long enough to ask how I was and then left. A few minutes later, I’d seen him riding through the gates on Odin with several of the guards.

  Needless to say, I was not only restless, I was also irritated and a hundred other emotions. But mostly, I was frustrated. How was I supposed to seduce him when I never saw him?

  Of course, each night, I stared at those damn doors joining our rooms. On more than one occasion, I had stood in front of them, debating whether to knock. Every time I did, I thought about what he’d said about love and retreated to my bed.

  I didn’t think about why.

  Instead, I thought about what an absolute failure this was turning out to be.

  The dark-haired man rose from his knee to stand straight. “Your Highness,” he said.

  “Hamid,” Ash replied, and a sudden gust of wind whirled through the chamber, stirring the candles’ flames.

  My gaze flicked to the open ceiling to see a draken flying overhead. They’d been circling the entire time as people came before the Primal to speak about incoming shipments, arrivals from other Courts, and arguments between tenants. It was all surprisingly mundane.

  Except for the draken.

  “What can I do for you today?” Ash asked.

  “There’s…there’s nothing that I need of you, Your Highness.” Hamid clasped his hands together as he glanced nervously up at the Primal.

  “Is he mortal?” I asked.

  “He is.” Ector inclined his head. “How did you know?”

  I shrugged. It was hard to explain, but the man didn’t have the almost inherent sense of confidence or arrogance the gods and Primals seemed to have in how they moved.

  “There’s just something that I have grown concerned with,” Hamid continued, looking up through a sheet of dark hair. “And while I hope it turns out to be nothing, I’m afraid that it may not.”

  “What is it?” Ash’s fingers tapped on the arm of the throne.

  “There is a young woman who is new to Lethe. Her name is Gemma—”

  “Yes.” Ash’s fingers stilled. “I know who you mean. What about her?”

  “I’ve seen her each day for the last month. She comes into the bakery. Always asks for a slice of chocolate torte with strawberries,” Hamid explained, and for a moment, I imagined the deliciousness of such a treat. “Very quiet girl. Very polite. Doesn’t make a lot of eye contact, but I imagine—well, that doesn’t matter.” He inhaled deeply. “I haven’t seen her in a bit. Asked around. No one has.”

  Ash had gone completely still on the throne, as did the gods around me. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Four days ago, Your Highness.”

  “Have you noticed anyone with her, at any time? Or seen anyone who may have taken an interest in her?” Ash asked.

  The mortal shook his head. “I have not.”

  “I will have it looked into.” Ash sent a quick glance to the alcoves. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  Saion immediately stepped away from me. He looked over his shoulder at Rhain and then to me, “If you’ll excuse me?”

  Before I could say a word, both he and Rhain left the alcove, stalking toward the entryway to the chamber. I turned to Ector with a frown. “Who is this Gemma?”

  The line of Ector’s jaw was hard. “No one.”

  I didn’t think for one second she was no one. Not to incite that kind of reaction from Ash. My interest was more than just piqued as I watched Hamid leave the ch
amber and Theon enter.

  I hadn’t seen the god since the day I’d arrived. The easy grin and teasing air were gone as he strode quickly toward the dais. Like the other gods, he had a short sword strapped to his hip, and a long sword across his back. He went to the dais as Ash leaned forward. Whatever Theon said, he spoke too quietly for me to hear, but I knew that something was happening because Ash sent another quick look in the direction of the alcove.

  “Stay here,” Ector ordered before walking off.

  Antsy, I watched him part the line of guards and take the steps of the dais. Wind stirred the flames once more as another draken flew overhead, calling out in a shrill, staggered sound. Tiny bumps spread across my flesh as Ector bent his head to Ash’s. The god looked at Theon and then nodded. He pivoted quickly as Ash rose from the throne. I started to step forward as Ector hopped down from the dais and returned to my side.

  “Come,” he said, reaching for me but stopping short of touching me. “We must go.”

  Some things never changed it seemed. My frown deepened. “What is going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  No part of me wanted to follow, but I felt the sudden tension in the air. One that warned me I should obey.

  I went, noting that Ector walked to my left, forcing me between him and the wall. The moment we were out in the hall, I stopped. “What is going on, and don’t say nothing? Something is.”

  “There has been an unexpected…arrival.” The fair-haired god’s lip curled. “His Highness stated that you’re aware of what to do when there are guests.”

  I squeezed my hands into fists. “I am.”

  “Perfect.” He led me down the wide corridor. “Would you like to return to your chamber?”

  “Not really.”

  He raised a brow. “Then your only other option...” He stopped, stepping into the alcove and opening a set of doors. “Is the library.”

  I stared into the dimly lit space. The room was slightly better than my bedchamber, even though there was a heavy, haunting quality to it—a sadness that clung to the walls and coated the tomes lining the shelves, just as the fine layer of dust did, seeping into the floors and the air. My gaze fell on the candlelit portraits at the back of the chamber. Was it Ash who lit the candles each day, replacing them when they burned to the quick? Did he come in here often, so that his memory of his father remained fresh? So that he had a face to place with his mother’s name?