A_Shadow_in_the_Ember_Amazon

by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

  I stepped inside, surrounded by the scent of books and frankincense, and welcomed by the sadness. I faced Ector. “Am I supposed to stay in here until I’m allowed to return to roaming aimlessly?”

  “Pretty much. I doubt she will have any interest in a library,” he replied, and I went completely and utterly still. “Someone will let you know when you’re free to resume roaming around aimlessly.”

  My heart was suddenly pounding. She. “Who…who is the guest?”

  “A friend of Nyktos’,” he replied flatly, and it didn’t sound like this was someone Ector was fond of. Then again, I didn’t think Ector was too fond of me. His luminous eyes met mine. “Remember what you agreed to.”

  “I remember.”

  Ector eyed me as he slowly closed the library doors. The moment I heard them snick into place, I went to them and waited.

  Who was she?

  Better yet, who was she that Ash didn’t want me around? A sour sensation pooled in my stomach, one that couldn’t be jealousy. More like…indignant anger. For someone who claimed to think of how I tasted at the most inappropriate times, he sure hadn’t shown any interest over the last three days. Nor had he shown any interest in receiving pleasure, something males generally always wanted. Could it be because he’d been finding pleasure elsewhere despite the impression I’d gotten regarding his experience?

  The last thing I needed was competition when it wasn’t like I could win his heart with my sparkling personality. My options were limited.

  And not only that, I was to be his Consort. If he were going to be interested in others, he could at least do it elsewhere.

  Cracking open the door, I peered out into the hall, half surprised not to find Ector standing there. I didn’t waste a second. I quietly closed the doors behind me and crept out into the hall. I only made it to the area of Ash’s office when I heard voices.

  “You’ve been particularly difficult to obtain an audience with lately.” A velvet-wrapped voice filled the hall.

  “Have I been?” came Ash’s response.

  I cursed under my breath, quickly scanning the hall. I darted into an alcove and pressed my back against the cool stone wall.

  “You have,” the woman replied. “I was beginning to take it personally.”

  “Nothing personal, Veses. I’ve just been busy.”

  Veses? The Primal of Rites and Prosperity? My throat dried as I leaned toward the thin slit of a gap between the thick pillar and the wall. She was heavily celebrated during the weeks leading up to the Rite, in rituals only known to the Chosen. Many prayed to her for good luck but doing so came with risks. Veses could be vengeful, dishing out misfortune to those she found unworthy of blessings.

  “Too busy for me?” Veses asked, a sharpness edging into the softness of her tone. Was she one of the Primals that pushed Ash?

  “Even you,” Ash said.

  “Now, I’m a little offended.” That sharpness had become a blade, just as they entered my narrow line of sight. “I’m sure it’s unintentional.”

  Ash moved into view first. He was unarmed, as he had been in the throne room. But considering what he was capable of, I didn’t know if that meant he didn’t view this Veses as a threat or not. “You should know by now that I never cause unintended offense.”

  The Primal laughed, and I gritted my teeth at the honey-coated sound. A second later, she stepped into the narrow opening. If Ash was midnight personified, she was sunlight manifested.

  Golden-blonde hair cascaded over slim shoulders in thick, perfectly coiled ringlets, reaching an impossibly narrow waist cinched by a gown a shade or so paler than her hair. The gossamer fabric clung to a lithe body. I glanced down at the breeches I wore, thinking that one of my legs was probably the size of both of hers.

  I looked back up as she turned to Ash, and I wished I’d continued staring at my leg as none of the many paintings and renderings I’d seen of her had done her justice. Her creamy complexion was smooth and pink, clear of freckles. The line of her nose and the shape of her brow were delicate, as if she had been constructed of the same handblown glass as the figurines that had lined my stepfather’s office. And her mouth was full, a perfect pout the shade of apricots. She was incredibly beautiful.

  I didn’t like this Primal.

  I didn’t like her, knowing damn well my reasons were…well, quite petty.

  “No,” Veses remarked, lifting a bare arm. She wore a similar silver band around her slender biceps. Her hand coasted up his arm. “You just offend intentionally.”

  “You know me all too well.” Ash opened the door to his office.

  Now, I really disliked her.

  And him.

  And everyone.

  “Do I? If so, I wouldn’t have been so blindsided by the rumor I heard.” Her slender fingers reached the silver band around his upper arm.

  For one of the incredibly rare moments in my life, I heeded caution and stayed where I was. She was a Primal. One that could bestow bad luck with a graze of her fingers. And the gods knew I already had enough of that in my life. Still, it took everything in me to remain hidden.

  He looked at her. She was nearly his height, so they were almost eye to eye. “What is this rumor you heard?”

  She toyed with the band while I wondered exactly how badly a shadowstone dagger to the chest would sting a Primal. “I heard that you have taken a Consort.”

  My lips parted as I pressed against the pillar.

  A half-smile appeared and curved Ash’s lips. “News does travel fast.”

  Veses’ fingers stilled as she stared at him. A faint, silvery glow rippled over her skin. The delicate features hardened. “So, it’s true?” she asked, and I didn’t think she sounded happy at all.

  “It is.”

  She didn’t speak for a long moment. “That is…very intriguing.”

  “Is it?” His blasé tone irked me.

  “Yes.” Veses’ smile was tight-lipped. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who will find that intriguing, Nyktos.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as she slid her hand from his arm and brushed it across him, stepping into the darkness of the office. Ash followed, hand still on one of the doors. He stopped in the doorway, turning…

  He looked directly at the alcove.

  Eyes widening, I jerked back against the wall. He knew I was here. What in the hell? Heart thumping, I waited until I heard the door close before I peeked between the pillar and the wall. The hall was empty.

  A whole new wave of irritation surged through me as I stepped out from under the alcove. Ash had been so busy the last several days that I’d barely seen him, but he was making time for this Veses? Who was a Primal, but whatever.

  I hurried past the library to the back stairs I’d discovered a few days ago and stalked out the side door near the kitchen, into the gray world of the Shadowlands. There was no breeze today. The air was stagnant, unchanging. I looked up, noting that there were no clouds. There were never clouds, but the stars were shining, blanketing the sky.

  Crossing the courtyard, I looked up at the tall, imposing Rise. As I expected, there were no guards. I had never seen them on this side. Normally, they patrolled the western portion, the front, and the northern part of the Red Woods, which faced Lethe.

  The gray grass crunched under my boots as I continued forward. I really had no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I couldn’t spend another moment in the dusty, sad library, my chambers, or in the bare, empty palace where I felt as unseen as I did in Wayfair.

  And that was silly. I only needed to be seen by Ash, but I was still a ghost. Nothing.

  I hadn’t realized how close I’d come to the Red Woods until I found myself mere feet from one of the blood leaves. My steps slowed as I took them in, curious. I’d never seen a leaf such a vibrant shade of red before. Nor iron-hued bark. What could have turned them this color? I walked forward, just a few feet into where I was forbidden to travel. I remembered Ash’s warning, but how dangerous could they b
e when no gate or wall separated the woods from Haides?

  I looked over my shoulder, seeing no sign of Ector. With Saion and Rhain checking on the missing woman in Lethe, there was no one who would run back and tell on me.

  And it wasn’t like I couldn’t take care of myself while Ash was busy with Veses, doing the gods’ only knew what.

  A faint ache threatened to return to my temples as I reached up, touching a leaf on a low-hanging branch. The texture was smooth and soft, reminding me of velvet. I dragged my thumb over the supple leaf, my mind conjuring the image of Ash doing the same with a strand of my hair.

  Was Ash as fascinated with Veses’ hair as he so often appeared to be with mine? I imagined he would be. Her curls were thick and bouncy and didn’t resemble a nest of tangles.

  “I’m the worst,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I lowered my hand and drifted forward.

  I shouldn’t be surprised that he was expressing his interest in that office with Veses. I’d obviously been wrong in my perception of what he’d said about his experience. The way he’d kissed and touched me should’ve been enough evidence that he had quite a bit of skill—skill I was betting Veses also knew all too well. My lip curled—

  A shrill shriek of pain stopped me dead in my tracks. I looked up as something winged and silver crashed through the red leaves, plummeting to the ground with a heavy thud. A hawk. It was a large, silver hawk. Another swooped down from above, veering off when it spotted me. I didn’t even know these types of hawks were in Iliseeum, let alone the Shadowlands. I’d only ever caught rare glimpses of them circling the very tips of the Dark Elms.

  With wide eyes, I watched the hawk try to lift a clearly broken wing. Red streaked its throat and belly as it flailed on the gray grass. It squawked pitifully, dark talons thrashing and digging into the soil.

  What was it with wounded animals and me? How did I always—?

  Warmth pulsed in my chest, sudden and intense. The tingling rush of eather flooding my veins followed, stunning me. It was very much like when I was around something that’d died, but this hawk…it was still alive.

  Confused, I looked down at my hands as a faint aura appeared, the light flickering softly between my fingers and over my skin. It was just like when I touched Marisol.

  But Marisol had been dead.

  “What the hell?” I looked over at the hawk as my chest throbbed, and this…urge swept through me. A demand that hummed, driving me forward. I was kneeling beside the hawk before I realized what I was doing. The whites of its eyes were stark as its wild gaze rolled from the sky to me.

  The hawk stilled. I knew it was still alive, even though I couldn’t tell if it breathed. It was the gift. It knew. Somehow, I knew the hawk still lived, even though it didn’t strike with talons that could easily tear into my flesh.

  Static danced over my hands as the heat gathered in my palms. I didn’t know what was happening, nor did I understand this powerful instinct, but it felt old. Ancient. Just like that dark and oily feeling had when I’d been forced to my knees in front of the statue of Kolis and stared at Tavius. It was undeniable, and there was nothing I could do but obey. I placed a hand on the exposed belly of the hawk, hoping that it remained still.

  The hum flared intensely in my chest, and the light around my hands brightened for a heartbeat before the glow swept over the hawk and onto the soil, sparking and crackling as it seeped into and crawled across the ground.

  I sucked in a stuttered breath as the hawk twitched, emitting a sharp cry. Panic crowded the edges of my mind. I couldn’t see the hawk under the glow. What if I had done something wrong? What if I killed the bird? If I did, I would never touch another thing—

  A coarse, heavy wing straightened and swept down, brushing over my hand. Startled, I jerked back my arm and fell on my ass. The aura receded, and the hawk…

  It stood, tentatively lifting both wings. The hawk’s wingspan was enormous, and I thought of the old stories Odetta had told me about these types of birds of prey. How they could pick up small animals and even children. I hadn’t believed her.

  Seeing one this close, I now did.

  The hawk’s head swiveled toward me. I ensured I made no sudden movements as it eyed me with flat, black eyes full of intelligence. The hawk chirped softly, a staggering call that reminded me of what the draken had done.

  Then it took flight.

  And I remained there, on my ass, absolutely dumbfounded. My touch… It healed? It had never done that before, but I also hadn’t tried. My stunned gaze fell to my hands as that heady warmth trickled through me, easing the tension in my neck and shoulders. Was my gift changing? Evolving? I didn’t think it had always been like that because I’d been around wounded animals and people before. I hadn’t felt like this when Tavius had been whipping his horse and I intervened, but I could…sense that it still lived. Just like I could sense when something had passed. And what about Odetta? My gift had come alive while she had been sleeping. I had chalked it up to fear igniting it, but maybe I had been wrong. Perhaps my gift had been urging me to heal her? I lowered my hands to the grass, curling them—

  The grass.

  I looked down. The grass was gray like…like the Rot but soft. I inhaled deeply, recognizing the stale scent of lilacs. My gaze rose, traveling over the thin, wispy weeds that ran along the floor of the Red Woods. The memory of the trees I’d seen when I first entered the Shadowlands formed in my mind. The Dying Woods. Their branches had been gnarled and leafless, and the bark was also gray, a deeper shade of steel, just like these.

  Just like those in Lasania infected by the Rot.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  How had I not noticed that until now? Was this the Rot? A possible consequence of the deal not being fulfilled? Or was this something else?

  A twig snapped, and immediately, I knew it wasn’t Ash or any of his guards. None of them would’ve made a sound. Another crack came, and the smell of stale flowers intensified.

  My hand went to where the dagger was sheathed to my thigh as I pushed off the ground and turned around.

  The space between the red-leafed trees didn’t look right. I squinted. The shadows there…they were thicker, and they moved forward into the fractured beams of starlight. Dark pants. Waxy skin. Bare skulls and mouths stretched too wide yet stitched closed.

  I recognized them immediately.

  Hunters.

  Chapter 29

  My stomach lurched as I darted under a low-hanging, thickly leafed branch. I remained under the limb, hoping they hadn’t seen me, and quickly counted. Five of them. Gods. I stayed completely still as they drifted forward in a vee formation.

  What were they doing in the Shadowlands?

  Ash had insinuated that they’d been in the mortal realm looking for him. Were they searching for him again? Obviously, they’d found him, but why would they be here?

  I made sure I made no sound as I unsheathed the shadowstone dagger. I didn’t want to draw their attention since I never wanted to see their mouths split open ever again.

  Reminding myself that Ash had struck against them first, there was a good chance they would keep going even if they had seen me. Not even daring to take a too-deep breath, I watched them move closer. Keep going. Just keep on creepily walking—

  The closest Hunter’s head snapped in my direction. The others stopped in unison and turned toward me.

  “Shit,” I whispered, straightening. The Hunter who stopped first tilted its head. “Hi…?”

  The other four cocked their heads.

  “I’m just out for a…stroll,” I continued, grip tightening on the branch. “That’s all. You do whatever it is that you all are doing and—”

  The first Hunter stepped forward, reaching for the hilt of the sword strapped across his back. Dammit.

  I yanked the limb back and then let go. The branch snapped forward, smacking the Hunter in the face. Staggering back, the creature let out a muffled grunt. I didn’t waste a second. Not after knowing wha
t could come out of the thing’s mouth. I recalled Ash’s instructions. Head or heart. I went for the heart because I didn’t want to be anywhere near that mouth. I darted out from under the branches. Or tried to. My foot snagged on something—an exposed root or rock.

  “Dammit!” I stumbled, losing my balance. Throwing out my hand, I planted my palm against the Hunter’s chest to steady myself. His skin felt cold and bloodless, like modeling clay. I shuddered. My touch seemed to affect the creature. His eyes flared wide, and a muffled moan reverberated from him. The others made that same sound as I slammed the dagger deep into the Hunter’s chest. It jerked, making no sound this time. Yanking the dagger free, I turned to the others as the first began to shrivel, collapsing into a fine layer of dust that smelled of stale lilacs.

  Four more Hunters. The odds didn’t look great, but I didn’t let panic take hold as I thrust the dagger into the next Hunter’s chest. I whipped around, muscles tensing. None of the creatures reached for their swords now, but they did come at me, and a wild feeling swept through me as adrenaline surged, welcoming the fight. The expenditure of energy. Maybe even the killing. I didn’t know.

  But I smiled. “Come on.”

  Two advanced, and I shot between them. Twisting, I kicked out, catching one in the chest. The Hunter stumbled as I turned, shoving the dagger into its chest. A cold hand clamped down on my arm. Cringing at the feel of it, I spun sharply, stepping into the Hunter. Its surprisingly sharp fingernails cut into the skin of my arm, drawing blood. I hissed through the sting and slammed my elbow into its chin, knocking its head back. The creature let go, and I stabbed it through the chest extra hard.