I peeked at Ash. He’d drawn that bottom lip of his between his teeth as he watched me. My heart started thumping, and all I could think was that today had been so very…weird.
“Why are you interested enough to stay?” I asked.
Dark eyebrows rose. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why would a mortal be of interest to someone from Iliseeum?”
He tilted his head. “I am beginning to think you don’t know much about us.”
I shrugged.
A breeze picked up a strand of his hair, tossing it across his face. “We find mortals to be very interesting beings—the way you all choose to live, the rules you create to govern and sometimes limit yourselves. How fiercely you all live—love and hate. Mortals are uniquely interesting to us.” He lifted a shoulder. “And you? You interest me because there seems to be little time between what occurs in your head and what comes out of your mouth. And there seems to be little regard for the consequences.”
My brows knitted. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”
He chuckled. “It is.”
“I’m going to have to take your word for that.”
That soft half-smile made another appearance, and that was all he said for a little while. “You asked earlier if I killed a lot,” he said, surprising me. “Only when I had to. Has it been a lot? I’m sure to some it has been. To others? Probably not something they’d blink an eye at, but I haven’t enjoyed any.” His voice was heavy. “Not a single one.”
Even though his answer caught me off guard, it was clear this was something he didn’t like to talk about. I shifted, pressing my knees together. “I’m sorry.”
“An apology?”
“I…I shouldn’t have asked that question in the first place. It’s not any of my business.”
Ash stared at me.
“What?”
“You are entirely contradictory,” he said. His gaze met mine and then flicked away. Several long moments passed. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and maybe that was because I was used to the quiet. “I remember the first time I had to kill someone. I remember how the sword felt in my hand—how it felt as if it weighed double. I can still see the look on his face. I will never forget what he said. ‘Do it.’ Those were his words. Do it.”
I squeezed my knees together even tighter.
“No death has been easy, but that one?” His hand opened and closed as if he were trying to work feeling back into his fingers. “That one will always leave the deepest mark. He was a friend.”
I pressed my palm to my chest. “You…you killed your friend?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He stared at the lake. “That’s not an excuse or justification. It was just something that had to be done.”
I couldn’t understand how he could do that, and I needed to. “Why would it need to be done? What would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”
A muscle throbbed along his jaw. “Dozens, if not more, would’ve died if I hadn’t taken his life.”
“Oh,” I whispered, feeling a little sick to my stomach. Had his friend been hurting people, forcing his intervention? If so, then I could understand that. Do it. Had his friend known that he needed to be stopped? I didn’t ask if that was the case. I wanted to. The question practically burned my tongue, but it didn’t feel right. And it didn’t feel right knowing that he’d been forced to do that and had also lost another friend to those three gods. “Then I’m sorry you had to do that.”
Ash’s head jerked toward mine, his stare searching. “I…” He fell quiet for several breaths. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I gathered my damp hair and began twisting it, wishing I could share something so intimate, but I didn’t know how to do that. How to make myself comfortable enough to do so. The only other thing that came to mind and unfortunately spilled from my lips was utterly ridiculous. “I hate gowns.”
There was a beat of silence. “What?”
Perhaps I needed to have my lips sewn shut. “I just find gowns to be…cumbersome.” And I also hated for my thighs to rub together, but that was not something I would discuss with him.
He watched me. Being the focus of those steely eyes was unnerving. “I imagine they would be.”
I nodded, face feeling too warm as I stared at the gently rolling waters of the lake. I knew I shouldn’t say anything, especially to a god who served a Primal, but what I’d done was something I never talked about. Not even with Sir Holland. And I hadn’t realized until that moment how much weight those unsaid words carried.
But I couldn’t voice them. They revealed too much. They were too much of a burden.
Staring at the lake, I sought to change the subject. “Have you found out anything more about why those gods are killing mortals?”
“Unfortunately, not. The three gods have been hard to track.” He sighed. “And I can only pry so much without drawing unwanted attention. If I do, then I won’t discover why they’re doing this.”
“Your friend, the one Cressa and the others killed?” I asked. “What was his name?”
“Lathan,” he answered. “You would’ve liked him, I think. He never listened to me either.”
A small grin tugged on my lips but faded quickly. “Was his body left or was he…?”
“His body was left, soul intact. He didn’t become whatever it was that woman became last night.”
“Oh,” I whispered, watching the light of the moon ripple over the black waters. “It doesn’t make his death any easier, I’m sure, but at least he wasn’t destroyed.”
Ash was quiet for a long moment. “You know what you remind me of?”
I looked over at him again, and his gaze snared mine. Warmth hit my skin once more, seeping into my veins. There was no sting of embarrassment. This was different, a more languid and sultry type of heat. “I’m half afraid to ask.”
He was silent for a moment. “There was this flower that once grew in the Shadowlands.”
Every part of my being zeroed in on him. Where he lived… He was talking about Iliseeum. One of the things I was looking forward to as the Consort was the chance to see the realm. I couldn’t listen harder if I tried.
“The petals were the color of blood in the moonlight and remained folded in on themselves until someone approached. When they opened, they appeared incredibly delicate, as if they would shatter in the softest wind, but they grew wild and fiercely, any place there was even a hint of soil. They even grew between the cracks of stone, and they were incredibly unpredictable.”
Did I really remind him of a delicate, beautiful flower? I wasn’t sure what part of me could be considered delicate. A fingernail? “How are flowers unpredictable?”
“Because these were quite temperamental.”
A laugh burst out of me. The wisps of white pulsed behind his pupil once more, churning slowly. His gaze shifted back to the lake. “Is that the part that makes you think of them?”
“Possibly.”
“I’m curious to learn how a flower is temperamental, especially such a delicate one.”
“The thing is, they only appeared delicate.” He was closer now, having lowered his arm from the rock. “In truth, they were quite resilient and deadly.”
“Deadly?”
He nodded. “When they opened, it revealed the center. And in that center were several spiky needles that carried a rather poisonous toxin. Depending on their mood, they released them. One needle could take down a god for a week.”
“Sounds like an amazing flower.” And slightly horrifying. “I’m not sure if it’s a compliment to know that I remind you of a murderous plant.”
“If you’d ever seen them, you would know that it is.”