His promise.
“I’d like that,” I whispered.
We said nothing more as Odin navigated the thick clusters of trees. The Dark Elms were quiet, not even the faint moan or wail of a lost spirit could be heard. The breeze didn’t even penetrate the woods. When we neared the edges, and the walls of Wayfair Castle came into view, a strange sense of nervousness filled me.
“We should walk the remaining distance,” I suggested. “Any guards who spot us will already be suspicious of two people coming out of the Dark Elms. Odin will draw even more attention.”
Odin huffed.
“It’s because you’re rather large,” I said to the top of Odin’s head. “And very beautiful.”
He gave another huff.
I sighed.
Nyktos drew the horse to a halt. “He appreciates the compliments.”
“Doubtful.”
“He does.” Nyktos swung himself off the horse with ease. “He just likes being dramatic.”
Odin turned his head to Nyktos as he puffed out another aggravated-sounding breath. I gripped Nyktos’s arms, accepting his aid as he lifted me by the waist. He was close, and as he lowered me to the ground, I was treated to a full-body slide that sent a rush of pleasure through me.
His hands lingered on my hips, the weight and feel of them igniting a pleasant hum in my blood and chest, where the embers wiggled. I lifted my gaze to his. The eather in his eyes had faded to a faint pulse behind his pupils.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
Nyktos didn’t move. Neither did I, and the hue of his eyes heated to quicksilver. I thought he might kiss me just to kiss me, even though we didn’t have time for that. Something about seeing him in the mortal realm made him seem more reckless, impulsive. More like…
Ash.
His jaw tightened as his hands left my hips and found the hood of my cloak. I didn’t understand the small burst of disappointment. Kissing simply for the sake of kissing felt like something…more.
And while what we were now felt like something different than before, and definitely not like those hasty bids for pleasure I’d experienced in the Luxe, we were not more.
Nyktos lifted the hood of my cloak and then his. Pulling myself out of the somewhat-troubling direction my mind had gone, I turned to the wall and got myself moving.
“The guards who normally patrol this section of the wall aren’t the most…astute,” I told him, enjoying the feel and sound of the crunch of fallen branches under my boots. “They will likely assume that we’re a part of the staff since the Dark Elms—”
“Are private property?” He grinned as I shot him a look from beneath the cowl of my hood.
“Nice of you to acknowledge that now.”
Nyktos chuckled.
“But I was going to say since everyone avoids the Dark Elms, and they can’t be accessed from outside the Wayfair grounds,” I continued, “they’ll probably think we didn’t actually enter them…” I trailed off as we cleared the last of the heavily branched elms.
My mouth dropped open at what I saw.
Nyktos stopped. “Is something amiss?”
“The gates to Wayfair are open.” I stared. “And there are…people.”
There were people everywhere. Not nobles but the people of Lasania. They milled about the wall, their faces glistening with a sheen of sweat as some carried baskets and others armfuls of sacks.
“I’m guessing that’s not normal?”
“No.” I shook my head in confusion. “This isn’t normal at all.”
I started walking, half-afraid there had been some sort of uprising. If so, I couldn’t blame the people for fighting back, but that likely wouldn’t have ended well for any ruling party.
A fine drizzle began to fall, and many of those in the courtyard lifted the cowls sewn into their shirts and vests. I picked up my pace as we crossed the uneven, rocky soil and passed through the gates. Guards were stationed inside the easternmost part of the courtyard, but none in the ridiculous plum-puffed waistcoats and pantaloons of the Royal Guard. I squinted, searching the many entrances of Wayfair’s east wing for them.
The doors there were open, unguarded.
I almost tripped over myself when I saw a young mother and her two red-haired children sitting beneath one of the purplish-pink jacaranda trees. Their plain linen shirts and gowns made it clear that they weren’t nobles.
Shocked by what I was seeing, it wasn’t until we were close to the entrances near the kitchens that I noticed those around us had become aware of our presence.
Steps slowed. Some stopped completely. A guard rubbed at the nape of his neck, frowning as he glanced around. A father holding the hand of a young girl toddling beside him pulled her closer as he carried a sack in his other arm. Others looked up at the sky as if searching for an explanation for the sudden drop in temperature.
The air had cooled.
Not by a lot, but enough that people noticed as nervous gazes bounced over us and then darted back.
“They feel me,” Nyktos explained under his breath. “They don’t know what they feel, but they know something is among them.”
I frowned. “Does this happen every time you visit the mortal realm?”
“No, but I normally avoid large crowds for this reason,” he said. “A handful of mortals has little impact. But this many? It gets the essence pumping, and it becomes almost like a tangible entity—not seen but felt. And what they feel unsettles them.”
Because what they felt was death.
I glanced up at Nyktos as we entered the hall, but his features were hidden beneath the hood. “Does it bother you?” I asked quietly. “Their reaction?”
“What they feel is natural,” he replied. “It does not bother me.”
I stepped to the side to make way for a maid hurrying into the kitchens, her arms full of dishes. Her face blanched as she crossed before us, but she didn’t look at us as she disappeared into the castle. “Honestly?”
“Honestly.” Nyktos’s fingers brushed mine, creating a faint zap of energy. “What they’re feeling is instinct, and that instinct is telling them not to loiter near me. And they shouldn’t.”
Because all Primals impacted mortals simply by being in their company. The length of time before a mortal felt a Primal’s effect varied. Some mortals would be more susceptible to violence or lust, and some Primals would likely ensure their presence was felt, but Nyktos was a Primal of Death. His presence could kill if he wasn’t careful.
“How can I be bothered by their sense of self-perseveration?” Nyktos finished.
But Kolis had been.
It was part of what had driven his jealousy toward his brother—the fear that even I could sense in those who passed as we walked the hall mostly used by servants.
I nibbled on my lip as my steps slowed. Unease grew, having much to do with the fact that no one had stopped to question us. It caused my fear regarding some sort of uprising to grow, but it was also because the last time I’d walked this hall was the last day I’d spent in the mortal realm.
My instinct guided me to the one place I did not want to revisit.
The Great Hall.
Nyktos’s hand brushed mine once more. “You okay?”
Stomach churning like the fans overhead, I nodded. “Yeah. Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m just concerned about Ezra.”
I could feel Nyktos’s gaze on me as I forced myself through the marble pillars carved with golden scrollwork. Breathe in, I reminded myself as my chest tightened.
The Great Hall was as I remembered. Mostly.