“Not very trusting, are you?” I remarked, lowering my hand as my thoughts returned to yesterday.
I flicked my gaze back to Aios. She had snagged Jadis by the arm, guiding the stomping draken away from the too-high boulder. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“It’s about the Primal, Veses,” I said, and Aios stiffened a bit as Reaver took flight again. “I got the impression that no one here likes her, and Ash said that she was the worst sort. Did she have anything to do with the gods on the wall?”
A breeze whirled through the courtyard, picking up and tossing the strands of her hair as she let go of Jadis’s arm and straightened. “No, she did not as far as I know, but she is…not well regarded by many in the Shadowlands. She can be rather vindictive when angered or ignored.” Aios laughed, but it was a tight sound. “Have you ever met someone who feels they are entitled to whatever they want? That is Veses. And that entitlement extends to people. Many gods or goddesses would enjoy being the object of her affections. And many do.” She turned to me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But she will fixate on what she perceives she cannot have. And if she is unsuccessful in achieving that, she can be very resentful.”
“And she wants Ash?” I surmised.
“Only because he has never shown her that type of attention,” she answered. “To her, it’s personal. Even though he’s never shown interest in anyone until you.”
Until you.
My stomach dipped at the exact moment my heart jumped. I ignored both reactions. “Has she hurt anyone because of his lack of interest in her?”
“I don’t think so, but she can make things…difficult for him. While she may not be liked by many, she is well-connected.” Her brow creased. “You know, I don’t think she has always been like this. At least, that is what I’ve heard. When I was young, Mycella told me stories about Veses—about how giving and kind she was, bestowing good fortune on gods and mortals, even to those who had not prayed to her for such. She’s very old. Far past the time for her to rest, so I don’t know if her nature is partly due to living such a long life or what.”
Two things really caught my attention. “Mycella? You mean Ash’s mother?”
She nodded as a faint, sad smile crossed her features. “We were distantly related. Cousins, as mortals would say. One of her aunts or uncles was from the Court of Kithreia. I was very young when she was killed.”
Was that why she felt safe here? Because of her relation to Ash? I glanced down as Jadis hopped onto one of my feet. “What do you mean by rest? Like go to sleep?”
“For some, yes. For others, it’s more like retiring. You see, Primals can be endless, and that kind of lifespan is even unfathomable to most gods. Though there have been a few who’ve become so powerful that they too are endless. And that amount of time…it can rot the mind.” Aios crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Reaver glide through the air. “To watch the world fall and be rebuilt around you, time after time. To see nothing new. To no longer be surprised and to become so accustomed to loss that even the idea of love is no longer a thrill.”
A wave of tiny bumps erupted along my skin under the black tunic I wore, and I tried to think of what that must be like. To live for so long you’d seen everything.
“The longer a Primal or a god lives, the greater the risk of them becoming more eather than person. Some can handle the endless time better than others, but eventually, it impacts all of us. There are ways to avoid it. One is to enter a deep stasis—to sleep. But very few have ever done that,” she said. “For those who do not wish to sleep, they can enter what we call Arcadia, a place very much like the Vale. A garden, so to speak. It allows for an Ascension of another and peace for the Primal.”
“Is that…another realm?” I asked as Jadis stretched, placing one talon on my other foot. I had no idea what the young draken was doing.
She nodded. “But Veses can’t do that. None of them can.”
I started to ask why when she looked past me, at the palace. A smile returned to her somber features. “Bele.”
Looking over my shoulder, I saw two figures crossing the courtyard, both dressed in black tunics with the fine silver stitching along the collar and across the chest.
The one I assumed was Bele was tall and lithe, her skin a light, golden brown, reminding me of the sparkling sand along the Stroud Sea. Hair the color of midnight lay over her shoulder in a thick braid. Her features were strikingly sharp, her eyes a shade of light, golden brown sparking with the glow of eather. She had a short sword strapped to one hip. I caught the curve of a bow visible over one shoulder.
Beside her was a man with rich, brown skin, his sleeveless tunic tailored to the broad width of his shoulders and chest. His dark hair was cropped close to his head. Something about his handsome features and the impassive set of his mouth was familiar.
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.”