Watched over me? “The one who was killed?”
“He was a…trusted guard,” he said, and I caught that he did not refer to him as a friend then. “He knew about the deal my father made, and he knew I had no intention of fulfilling it. But that didn’t mean that others wouldn’t learn that a mortal had been promised as my Consort. Either because of your family speaking about the deal, or because you were marked at birth, born in a shroud because of the deal.”
My breath caught as a shiver danced along the nape of my neck.
“And that mark, while unseen by mortals and most, can be felt at times. That would make some curious about you.” Ash drew his booted foot off the table. “It was Lathan who noticed the gods’ activity in Lasania—the ones we saw that night.”
“The ones that killed the Kazin siblings and the child? Andreia?”
“There was some concern that they may have felt this mark and were searching for it.”
My stomach hollowed. “You think they died because of me? Because they were looking for me?”
“At first, possibly.” He tapped his fingers on his knee. “But who they killed never really made sense or fit a pattern, other than the possibility that they all might’ve had a god perched somewhere on their family trees. That’s the only thing I could figure out. They weren’t true godlings, but they could’ve been descendants of a god.”
“Godlings?” I repeated, brows pinching.
“The offspring of a mortal and a god,” he explained. “If a godling then has a child with a mortal, that child would carry some mark upon them, too, but they would not be a godling.”
I understood then. Children could be born of a mortal and a god but it was rare—or at least that was what I’d believed. “I haven’t heard them called that before.”
“It is a term we use. Some of them will have certain godly abilities, depending on how powerful the parentage is. Most godlings live in Iliseeum,” he continued, his lips pursed. “Only the seamstress was someone you seemed to have had any contact with. And as far as we know, what was done to her wasn’t done to the others.”
There was a little relief there. I didn’t want their blood on my hands. There was already enough. “The Kazin siblings? Magus? Apparently, he was a guard, but I don’t know if I ever saw him or if he was even stationed at Wayfair.”
A thoughtful look crept into Ash’s face. “Still, if you did not know him nor the seamstress well, I don’t see how their deaths are related to you.”
I didn’t either. But it also seemed…too close to me. “Have you found out anything more related to what was done to Andreia?”
“Nothing. No one has heard of such a thing, even a mortal with the possibility of a god somewhere in their family line. And, yes, I find the lack of information to be beyond frustrating.”
It must not be often that a Primal couldn’t figure something out. Another thought rose. “Was Lathan mortal?”
The breath Ash let out was long. “He was a godling. I should’ve corrected your assumption.”
But would it have been necessary? Godling or mortal, a life was a life. “How did he die?”
“He tried to stop them.” His features were unreadable as he stared out the balcony doors. “He was overpowered and outnumbered. He knew better, but he did it anyway.” Ash finished his drink. “Either way, I didn’t come to you because I didn’t want to risk revealing you to those who would seek to use you.”
“Your enemies?” I asked. “Do those gods serve the Court of a Primal who likes to push you?”
“They do.”
“But why would any Primal or god believe that what happens to me would sway you?”
“Why wouldn’t they? They would not have known my intentions regarding you, especially if they had no knowledge of the deal my father made.” His gaze cut to me. “They would have no reason not to believe you were important to me.”
He was right.
I realized in that moment that I’d spent a lifetime believing that the Primal of Death was a cold, apathetic being because of what he represented. I’d been wrong. Ash wasn’t either of those things. He knew that each death left a mark. He understood the power of choice. I even thought of what Aios had said. That there had to be a reason she felt safe with him and trusted him. Ash cared, and I was willing to bet there was more than one decent bone in his body.
And none of that helped.
At all.
My duty was bigger than me—than what I felt. But it hadn’t been him who’d forced that duty upon me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and the words still felt strange on my lips. They hurt a little this time.
His gaze returned to me. “For what?”
I let out a short laugh. “For having that one decent bone in your body.”
A faint smiled appeared. “Are you hungry? I know the cooks sent up some soup, but I can have more of whatever you want made.”
I wished he’d refuse me food. “I’m fine.” I dragged my finger over the beveled edges of the glass. Another question rose from the endless cyclone of them. “Are there any…consequences for you?” A surprising, unwanted and wholly hypocritical dose of concern blossomed within me. “I mean, from what I understand of the deals, they require fulfillment from all parties involved.”
“There are no consequences, Sera.”
I eyed him. He’d answered without hesitation. Maybe even too quickly, but that wasn’t a concern of mine. At all. “How long had Lathan been keeping an eye on me?”
“It wasn’t until the last three years, when you were more…active,” he told me. “Does it make you angry to know that?”
It was really weird to know that someone had been keeping an eye on me without my knowledge. Of course, I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t that simple. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I should feel angry or not.” However, it did make me think of all the weird and dumb things Lathan could have witnessed. But it made sense that there would’ve been no need to keep an eye on me before the night of my seventeenth birthday. Before then, I’d only ever left Wayfair to travel into the Dark Elms outside of a few, rare occasions. “Why did you have him do that? You didn’t know me. You didn’t make the deal. You have no obligation to me.”
“That’s a good question.” Ash’s thundercloud-hued eyes drilled into mine. “Maybe if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been there that night to stop you from attacking those gods. They would’ve killed you. And, perhaps, that would’ve been a better fate for you.”
Ice drenched my skin as he continued holding my stare. Air thinned in my chest.
“Because now here we are. You’re in the Shadowlands. And soon, you will be known as the Consort,” Ash said. “My enemies will become yours.”
Sleep came surprisingly easy after Ash left, leaving me with even more questions. I expected to do nothing but lay in bed and dwell on everything he’d shared, but either I was exhausted, or I simply wanted to escape everything I’d discovered. I slept deeply, and it felt like a long time before I woke. I had no idea how many hours had passed. The sky was the same shade of gray, still full of stars, but a dull twinge had taken up residence in my upper shoulders. When I checked them in the standing mirror, the wounds appeared significantly less red and swollen. Whatever was in that balm Ash had used was a miracle.
Cinching the sash on my robe, I walked to the balcony doors and opened them. The gray sky was full of stars and no clouds as I walked to the railing overlooking the canopy of blood-colored leaves and the twinkling lights of the city beyond.
I’d learned so much that my thoughts raced from one thing to the next, but they kept coming back around.