“It is.”
I swallowed, glancing down at the peacefully unaware Reaver. “Were the Primals ever truly benevolent?”
“I don’t think anyone is truly benevolent through the entirety of their life. Not even mortals,” he said, and I looked up at him. “But we didn’t expect that from Phanos, so it has to mean that he wasn’t always like that.”
“You think it’s simply because he lived too long?”
“I don’t think it’s that—or at least it’s not the sole reason. The Primals are old. Soon, they too will become Ancients. But Eythos, along with Kolis, was older than them all. And he never descended into that kind of heartless existence. A few other Primals haven’t,” he told me, and I thought of Attes. “If you ask Ector and other gods who were alive when Eythos was the true Primal of Life, they will tell you that there was a marked change in many of the Primals when Kolis stole his brother’s essence.”
I set the glass aside. “You think that act impacted their behavior? Caused them to become less benevolent?”
“That’s what Ector thinks.” Saion shrugged. “There’s no way to know for sure, but I think he’s onto something.”
If that were the case, could it mean that we could be successful at swaying at least a few Primals? “So, you ended up here, where there are no lakes or rivers beyond the Black Bay and Red River?”
A wry smile appeared. “Not at first. It was quite some time before we found our way to the Shadowlands or even came face-to-face with Nyktos.”
“How did that happen?”
He was quiet for several moments. “Gods cannot leave the Court they are born into without the permission of the Primal who oversees it. It’s not often that permission is granted. And if a god abandons their Court anyway, it’s considered an act of open rebellion, which is punishable by death—the final kind.”
I stiffened. “It doesn’t sound like you and Rhahar got permission.”
“We didn’t.” The half-grin returned. “Phanos sent others after those who left his Court following the incident with Phythe. Shortly after Eythos was killed, they eventually found us and brought us to the Court of Dalos, where gods are sentenced and punished. As we were being held there, waiting for Phanos’s arrival, Nyktos visited us. Asked why we’d left. We told him the truth, and then he left.”
My brows shot up. “He just left?”
“Yeah. At the time, we thought that was an asshole thing to do.” Saion chuckled. “We didn’t know much about him, only that he was young for a Primal—really young. But he had already become known as one of the last Primals anyone wanted to cross. Anyway…” He continued before I could ask exactly how Nyktos had gained that reputation. “Nyktos came to Court the next day when Phanos arrived, and just before we were sentenced, Nyktos intervened. Said that Phanos didn’t have the right to sentence us as we no longer served him but served the Primal of Death instead. I doubt anyone was more shocked than Rhahar and me at the announcement, but Nyktos, man, he is a tricky son of a bitch when he wants to be. You see, when he visited us the day before, he touched us both when he left. Reached through the bars and patted our shoulders. We didn’t think anything of it. The only thing we both thought afterwards was that the cell was colder—that we were colder. That was it. But when he touched us, he took our souls.”
Chapter 17
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Yeah.” Saion laughed again. “Fucking chaos erupted. We knew what that meant, especially Kolis. You see, Kolis supposedly pulled that shit all the time back when he was the true Primal of Death. Except he did it when someone pissed him off. But, either way, Nyktos had our souls. None of the other Primals could touch us. We belonged to him.”
Stunned, I rocked back. I knew that Nyktos could do that, summon a soul with a touch, but somehow, I’d forgotten just how deadly and dangerous he could be. “Can Kolis still do that?”
“I don’t believe so. If he could, I imagine he’d be doing it left and right.”
Thank the gods the bastard couldn’t. “What happened after he did that?”
“Well, Phanos was ticked off. Strangely, it amused Kolis. He saw it as Nyktos one-upping Phanos or something,” he said, and I thought about what Nektas had said about how Kolis believed Nyktos was loyal to him. “Either way, there was nothing to be done. Phanos went back to his Court super pissed, and we were taken into the Shadowlands.”
“He gave you back your souls, right?”
“If he did and Phanos ever found out, he could claim us once more.”
That wasn’t a direct answer, but I was willing to bet Nyktos returned them. Those who served the Shadowlands didn’t do so because they had to or because Nyktos had something as valuable as their soul. He would’ve returned it, and Saion and Rhahar were wise enough to keep that to themselves.
“He saved your lives,” I said, glancing up at him.
“We’re not the only lives he’s saved.”
I knew that, but still… Nyktos’s actions were a lot to comprehend. Even thinking what would have happened if I’d successfully killed him made my heart stop and my chest ache. I picked up the glass of juice, finishing it off, but it did nothing to ease the knot in my throat or fortify the sudden weakness around that crack in my chest. “I…I truly believed that my duty to kill Nyktos was the only way to save my kingdom.” I cleared my throat, my voice barely above a whisper. “No one—and I mean, no one—can hate me more for that than I do.”
“You know,” Saion said, “I actually believe that.”
The tips of my ears burning, I rose from my chair, suddenly needing the quiet I had fled not so long ago. “I think I will return to my chambers now.” I glanced at the young draken, who still slept. “Should we wake Reaver?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” It felt a little wrong to leave him while he slept.
Saion nodded as he stepped out into the hall, waiting for me. “If you wake him, he’ll likely get a bit…snappy. With his teeth, not his words.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then I think I’ll leave him be.”
“Wise choice.”
I walked to the back set of stairs similar to those at the end of the wing where Nyktos’s office was located and pushed open the door. The faint sounds of metal clashing with metal echoed in the stairwell. Saion showed no reaction to the sound, but curiosity sank its claws into me. I went to the exterior door.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.”
“It definitely looks like you’re going somewhere, and it’s not your bedchamber,” Saion muttered.
I cracked open the heavy door and peered outside. I immediately spotted Nyktos in the shadow of the Rise, lifting a broadsword. I told myself it was because he was taller than the dozen or so others with him as he met another’s blow. Or that it was the warming in my chest, the faint humming of the ember that belonged to him. I convinced myself it had nothing to do with the anticipation, the eagerness that sprang to life upon seeing him.
Saion moved in behind me, looking out over my head at the guards squaring off in pairs. “They’re training.”
“I figured,” I murmured, enraptured by how Nyktos moved. There was a predatory gracefulness in how he used his large body, springing forward and back as if he were light as air.
I watched, thinking of how he’d saved Saion and Rhahar through clever trickery. What price did he pay, though, once Kolis’s amusement faded? Because even though Kolis believed Nyktos was loyal to him, he had still impaled gods on the Rise.