Aios’s smile increased as they approached. The male glanced in my direction while Bele stepped forward to give Aios a quick, tight hug.
“It’s so good to see you,” Aios said, stepping back and clasping Bele’s arms. “You’ve been gone so long, I was starting to worry.”
The dark-haired goddess laughed. “You should know better than to worry about me.”
“I worry about all of you when you’re gone.” A bit of the joy faded from Aios’s tone, giving me the impression that was true.
“Do I get a hug?” the man asked as Bele stepped back, his dark brown eyes aglow with eather.
“I just saw you this morning, Rhahar.” Aios arched a brow, and I immediately recognized the name. He was one of the gods who’d checked the tombs with Ash. “But do you actually want one?”
“Not really.”
Laughing, Aios sprang forward anyway, giving the god an equally tight hug. I didn’t think the god could look more uncomfortable with his arms pinned straight to his sides, and I couldn’t help but grin as Jadis finally hopped off my feet and ambled toward Bele.
“Hey Jadis-bug.” Bele bent, rubbing the draken under her chin.
“Holy shit, is that Reaver flying?” Rhahar squinted, looking up at the faint star-strewn sky.
“Yes.” Aios glanced over her shoulder as Reaver flew in circles along the edges of the Rise. “He finally got the hang of it today.”
“You must be her,” Bele stated. Pulling my eyes from Reaver, I looked at her. She studied me with open curiosity. “Our soon-to-be Consort.”
There was a snag in my breath, but I nodded. “Apparently.”
Bele’s grin was brief as she placed her right hand over her chest and bowed at the waist. The gesture threw me off. None had done that before.
“You don’t have to do that,” I blurted out as she straightened. “I mean, I’m not really the Consort yet. You can call me Sera.”
“Just because it’s not official doesn’t mean you are not due the respect of your position,” Bele stated and then turned slowly to Rhahar.
Rhahar frowned at her. “What?”
She raised her brows as she pointed one glossy black-painted fingernail at me.
I stiffened, feeling warmth creep into my cheeks. “It’s really not necessary—”
“Yes. It is,” Bele interrupted, looking at me. “If we do not show you the respect of your position, then none of the other Courts will. And if they do not respect you, it is unlikely you’ll survive the coronation, Consort to the Primal or not.”
I opened my mouth, but I honestly hadn’t a clue how to respond to that less-than-reassuring statement.
“You know, she has a point,” Rhahar mused, eyeing me. “News of you has already traveled far and wide. Many are very curious…and confused as to why Ash would choose a mortal as a Consort.”
I still had no idea what to say.
“Okay,” Aios said with a sigh. “This first meeting couldn’t be more awkward.”
“But it’s true. Some of the gods are taking bets on how long she’ll live,” Bele said.
I blinked slowly. “Really?”
She nodded as her gaze dropped to where the shadowstone dagger was strapped to my thigh. “But Rhahar tells me you’re a fighter.”
My attention shifted to him, and I caught sight of Jadis hopping after Reaver, nipping at his tail. I didn’t think I’d ever seen something stranger…or more adorable.
“Heard about how you held your own with the entombed gods,” he remarked. “She can fight.”
“Good.” Bele smiled, crossing her arms.
“Well,” I said, shaking my head. “This coronation sounds as if it will be fun.”
Rhahar’s laugh was rough and dry. “It’s definitely going to be something.”
His laughter struck that chord of familiarity again. I looked at him closer. The proud set of his features and the curve of his eyes resembled… “Are you related to Saion?”
A faint grin appeared. “Saion is my cousin. That is, when I claim him,” he answered, his dark eyes sharp. “By the way, he told me what you did with a whip.”
My eyes widened.
Bele’s head cocked to the side. “What did you do with a whip?” She looked at Aios. “Do you know?”
Aios shook her head.
“She shoved the handle of a whip down some asshole’s throat,” Rhahar answered, and Aios turned to me.
“Really?” Bele’s eyes glimmered.
I shifted my weight. “Yeah, I sort of did that, but he deserved it.”
The smile on Bele’s face grew as Jadis gave a pitiful squawk due to Reaver once more swooping up into the air. There was something else in Bele’s stare, though. Something I couldn’t quite place. “Strange that a Consort would have such a violent streak.”
I stiffened. “Do you know many Consorts?”
“I do.”
“Mortal ones?”
She flashed me a tight grin. “No.”
“So…” I cleared my throat. “Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about Iliseeum and the innerworkings of the Courts, so should I be concerned about this coronation?”
Aios’s lips pursed. “Well—”
A cry of warning jerked my attention back to the draken. Reaver was flapping wildly, attempting to lower himself. My stomach plummeted. Jadis teetered on the edge of the boulder, her nearly translucent wings lifting weakly as she tipped forward off the edge.
“Gods.” I shot forward, managing to grasp her tail as I curled an arm under her belly. Heart thumping heavily, I held her to my chest as she chirped madly. “You can’t fly yet,” I told her, having no idea if she understood me or not. “You would’ve broken a wing.”
Bele smacked a hand over her chest. “Oh, Fates, I about had a heart attack.”
“A heart attack? I just saw my life flash before my eyes.” Rhahar looked shaken as Reaver made an unsteady landing near the boulder. “Nektas would’ve had our necks. That’s after charbroiling us.”
My lip curled at the imagery that statement provided, and I bent to put the squirming draken on the ground. Reaver was right there, squawking away. I don’t know what he was communicating to her, but it did not sound pretty. The moment I let her go, she barreled into the larger draken.
“I think that’s enough outdoor fun times for you.” Aios stalked after Jadis.
My heart was still thumping heavily when Bele said, “To answer your question about the coronation… Should you be concerned? The answer is yes,” she advised, and I turned to her. “And if I may give you a piece of advice? No matter what happens, do not show fear.”
The piece of advice Bele had imparted lingered with me as I stood in my bedchamber, wearing only a slip as a woman I’d never met circled me with a cloth tape in hand.
Her name was Erlina. She was mortal, and I thought perhaps in the third or so decade of her life. A seamstress from Lethe. And she was here to take my measurements. Not just for the coronation gown but also so I actually had a wardrobe that went beyond borrowed, scattered pieces.
“Will you lift your arm, Your Highness?” Erlina asked softly.
Recalling what Bele had said, I bit back the urge to tell her she didn’t have to address me so formally. I planned on staying alive long enough to fulfill my duty, so I lifted my arm.
I watched her step onto a small stool she’d brought with her and stretch the tape along the length of my arm, the flowing sleeves of her vibrant blue blouse fluttering. Then she turned, scribbling the measurements on a thick, leather-bound journal.
My gaze flicked to the closed chamber doors, where I knew Ector most likely stood. He had brought me to my chambers, letting me know that the seamstress had arrived. I hadn’t seen Ash yet, and when I asked where he was, I’d been told that he was at the Pillars.
Was he judging souls? If so, what did that even feel like, that kind of responsibility? Pressure. I imagined it was a lot like deciding to use my gift.
“Your other arm,” Erlina
instructed. When I raised an eyebrow, a small grin crept across her delicate, almost impish features. “Believe it or not, some people do have arms and legs that are not equal. It’s rare, and usually due to some injury, but I figure it’s best to check.”
“Learn something new every day,” I murmured.
“Same length.” Erlina nodded as she quickly measured my arm. She moved onto my shoulders, which I already knew were probably far wider than most ladies. And definitely broader than hers. She was tiny. “Did you know that your foot is roughly the same length as your forearm?”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
She peeked up at me through a fringe of lashes. “Yes.”
“Huh.” I looked down at my forearm. “Now I want to test that.”
“Most do when they first hear it.” She hopped down from the stool and went to the journal. Her dark brown hair she had twisted into a high bun slipped a little as she turned to me. “I was told that you prefer pants over gowns.”
A wave of surprise flickered through me that it appeared Ash had, yet again, remembered what I’d said. “I do. Did—?” I caught myself before I referred to the Primal as Ash. “Did Nyktos tell you that?”
“He did when he stopped by the shop last week,” she answered, and my stomach tumbled. Last week. It felt like I’d been here longer, and yet it still felt like yesterday when I knelt in the carriage before Marisol. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I was really backed up on designs.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her.
Another brief smile appeared. “I will work on the gown first, along with some blouses and vests for you as they are far quicker to tailor than pants.” She started to put the journal down on the table when she halted. “Do you prefer breeches or tights? But before you answer, I am currently wearing tights.” She plucked out the black material. “They are almost as thick as breeches and as durable, but far more comfortable and soft. Feel them for yourself.”
I reached out, brushing my fingers across the surprisingly supple feel. “I would’ve thought they were breeches. The tights I’m accustomed to are far thinner.”
“And questionably opaque,” she added, and I nodded. “Which is why I spent an obscene amount of time going through fabrics to find something as efficient as breeches. You would think with all the tailors and seamstresses in all the kingdoms, they would’ve improved the functionality of tights. Not that there is anything wrong with breeches, but I, myself, prefer a waistband that doesn’t leave marks in my skin.”
I grinned. “Tights then.”
“Perfect.” She hopped onto the stool once more.
As she slid the tape beneath my arms to measure my chest, I once again thought of what Rhahar and Bele had shared. If word of Ash choosing a mortal as his Consort had spread to the other Courts, wouldn’t the people of Lethe have heard?
And what did they think?
I told myself I didn’t care because it wouldn’t matter. I would be no true Consort. My responsibilities lay with Lasania. I was their Queen, even if I never wore the crown. But I asked anyway because I…well, I couldn’t help myself.
“They have heard of you.” Erlina left the stool to write the numbers down. “Of course, many are curious. I do not think anyone expected His Highness to take a mortal as his Consort.”
“Understandable.”
“But they are excited. Thrilled may be a better word. And honored,” Erlina quickly added, a faint hint of pink staining her sandy, golden-brown cheeks. She held the book to her chest. “There are a lot of mortals in Lethe,” she explained, surprising me yet again. “For His Highness to take a mortal feels like…an acknowledgment to many of us. Like even though he is a Primal, he sees us as his equals, and there…well, there are not many like him. Many cannot wait to officially meet you.”
I felt a strange flip in my chest and nodded. I didn’t want to think about Ash viewing mortals as his equals. Not because it seemed ridiculous but because I thought that it was true.
I cleared my throat. “And they’re thrilled that he is marrying?”
“Of course.” A wider smile raced across her features. “We want to see him living—see him happy.”
My stomach plummeted fast as I stood there. “The people of the Shadowlands…they respect him?”
There was a pinch to the slash of her brows and then a flash of understanding. “It must be hard believing that we have grown quite fond of the Primal of Death. Before I came to the Shadowlands, I would’ve laughed at the idea of such a thing, but…” A shadow crossed her features as she ducked her chin, coming to stand beside me. “But there were a lot of things I didn’t know then. Anyway, His Highness is loyal to us.” Her deep brown eyes met mine. “And we are loyal to him.”
Many questions rose in response to what she shared, as did the bubbling sense of unease that settled in the center of my chest. “Where…where I am from, not many respected the Crown. They didn’t have reason to.”
She drew the tape around my waist. “Where are you from?” I asked.
She shifted the tape to my hips. “Terra.”
I didn’t know much about Terra except that it consisted mostly of farmlands with not nearly as many cities as Lasania. “Have you lived here long?”
“I suppose it depends on what one considers long,” she answered, moving away to capture the measurements. “I left the mortal realm when I was eighteen, but I did not come to the Shadowlands until I was closer to nineteen. I’ve been here ever since, so that would be...thirteen years.”
“Where were you before you came here?”
She knelt, stretching the tape the length of my leg. “The Court of Dalos.”
My eyes widened. “You were at the City of the Gods? With the Primal of Life? I didn’t know there were mortals there—I mean, besides the Chosen.”
“There aren’t,” she stated, stilling for a moment. “At least, not when I was there.”
Confusion swirled through me as the cool tape pressed against the inside of my thigh. “Then how did you…?” I trailed off.
“I was Chosen.”
I stared down at her, struck silent for a moment. “Was?”
Erlina nodded.
“And you’re not anymore? You didn’t Ascend?”
A twist of a tight smile appeared. “I did not Ascend, thank the gods.”
My lips parted, and immediately, I thought of Ash’s reaction when I mentioned the Chosen’s Ascension. He hadn’t shared something then, that much was clear. “I have so many questions.”
She halted, looking up at me, her eyes wide. For a brief second, I thought I saw fear in her gaze. Terror. A long moment passed, and then she moved on to my other leg, measuring the inseam. She said nothing more as she finished up and only spoke again to ask what colors I preferred. Erlina left shortly after, hurrying from the chamber as if it were filled with spirits.
I slid my arms through the robe, absolutely bewildered by what she’d shared—what she obviously wouldn’t elaborate on. I’d just finished tying the sash when a knock sounded on the bedchamber door. “Yes?” I called out.
The door opened to reveal Ash. That odd whooshing sensation swept through my chest again at the sight of him. He wore the dark clothing with the silver trim as he’d done while holding court. His reddish-brown hair was pulled back to the nape of his neck, giving the harsh beauty of his features a blade-sharp edge.
I hadn’t seen him since I’d fallen asleep. Beside him. Was that why I felt a flush invading my skin?
Ash had halted just inside the door, his silver gaze fixed on me—on where my fingers were still twisted around the sash. I saw a quick swirl of eather in his eyes, and then he moved, closing the door behind him. “I saw that Erlina just left. I thought I’d check on you, see how things went.”
Check on me?
Why would he do that? Or was that just something normal people did? I had no idea, and I also didn’t know why him doing that made my chest feel funny. I snapped out of my stupor. “Everything went fin
e.”
“Good.”
I nodded.
Ash stood there, and so did I, neither of us speaking. In the back of my mind, I knew that this was the perfect opportunity to strengthen his attraction to me. I wore nothing but scraps of lace under the robe. I could loosen the tie, let it fall open. Asking about what Erlina had shared would do very little to further my cause.
But I wanted to understand how a Chosen had ended up in the Shadowlands. “Erlina was a Chosen.”
The change in his features was swift and striking. His jaw hardened, and his lips thinned.
“She didn’t tell me much beyond that,” I said quickly, not wanting her to possibly get into trouble. “Why didn’t she Ascend?”
Tension bracketed his mouth. “Is that what mortals believe still happens to the Chosen?”
I stiffened. “Yes. That’s what we’ve been taught. That’s what the Chosen spend their lives preparing for—their Rite and Ascension. They serve the gods for all time.”
“They don’t,” Ash stated flatly. “What you know of the Rite and the Chosen is nothing but a lie.” A muscle ticked along Ash’s jaw. “The Rite you celebrate—the one you hold feasts and parties in honor of? You’re celebrating what will ultimately be the death of most of them. It wasn’t always that way. At one time, the Chosen were Ascended. They did serve the gods. But that is not what it is now, and it hasn’t been for a very long time.”
A coldness seeped into my skin. “I don’t understand.”
“No Chosen has been Ascended in several hundred years.” Ash’s eyes were the color of the Shadowlands sky. “From the moment a Chosen arrives in Iliseeum, they are treated as objects to be used and given away, toyed with and eventually broken.”
Horror swept through me as I stared at him. A huge part of me simply dove into denial. I couldn’t believe it.
I couldn’t…gods, I couldn’t comprehend that. Couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that these men and women who’d spent their lives in the mortal realm, veiled and groomed to serve the gods in one form or another, were taken from the mortal realm only to be killed. The smile of the young male Chosen formed in my mind. It had been so wide. Real and eager.
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