I jumped at the sound of the door clicking shut. Only then did I realize that Saion had left us. I snapped out of whatever spell I had fallen into. “Did you have your lackey lock the door, or was that unnecessary since you are here?”
“I do hope you don’t call Saion that to his face,” Ash replied smoothly. “I’ll get little peace if you do.”
“Have I given you the impression that I would care if things were peaceful for you or not?” I snapped. The moment those words left my mouth, I cursed myself. I shouldn’t show my irritation. I should let it go. Be malleable. Understanding. Whatever. Any of those things would help me.
“You’re angry with me.”
“Are you surprised? You kept me in my chambers as if I were your prisoner.”
“Keeping you in your chambers was a necessary evil.”
I took a deep breath. It did no good. “There is nothing necessary about becoming your captive.”
His eyes turned to steel. “You are not my captive.”
“That’s not what it felt like.”
“If you think being kept in your chambers for a day or two is equal to being a prisoner, then you have no idea what being held against your will feels like,” he replied coolly.
“And you do?”
His skin thinned, features honing to an edge. “I am well acquainted with what that feels like.”
My mouth clamped shut. I hadn’t expected that.
Ash’s expression smoothed as he broke eye contact with me. “The food is growing cold.” He strode forward, pulling out the chair to the right. “Have a seat,” he said. “Please.”
I peeled away from the chair and took the seat he offered, replaying what he’d said over and over. Had he been held captive? Even though he was young compared to others, he was still powerful. Who could’ve done that?
Ash moved to my side and reached over my shoulder, beginning to lift the lids while I refused to allow myself to acknowledge how nice he smelled. An array of food was revealed under each lid. Bacon. Sausage. Eggs. Bread. Fruits. “Water? Tea? Lemonade?” he offered, extending his hand toward a cluster of pitchers. “Whiskey?”
“Lemonade,” I answered absently. I watched him pour the juice into a glass and then set about placing a little bit of everything on a plate—bacon, the sausage, the eggs, the fruit, and two rolls. Then he placed that plate in front of me.
The Primal of Death was serving me. Apparently, he believed I needed to eat for five. A nearly hysterical giggle climbed up my throat, but I squelched it as he poured himself what appeared to be whiskey and took the seat at the head of the table to my immediate left. The positioning surprised me. My mother and stepfather had sat at opposite ends of the table. The seat to the right of a King or, in some cases, the Queen, was usually reserved for an Advisor or other position of authority.
He reached over, picking up something that had been folded in a cloth. My breath snagged as he unwrapped it, revealing a sheathed shadowstone dagger—the one he’d gifted me with.
“I forgot to give you this when I saw you last.” He handed it over. “The sheath and strap are adjustable. It should fit.”
I stared at the dagger, my heart thundering. He was handing me a weapon that I could use to end his life. The blade he’d given to me.
Doing everything in my power to ignore the pressure clamping down on my chest, I reached over and took it. The brush of our skin sent a soft wave of energy over my fingers. Hands trembling slightly, I lifted my right leg and slid the strap around my thigh, securing the sheath.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the words tasting like soot on my tongue.
There was no response for several long moments, and then Ash said, “I hadn’t planned on leaving you alone in your room for so long. That wasn’t intentional.”
My gaze shot to his. “Then what did you intend?”
“Not to make you feel as if you were my prisoner. You’re not my captive. You never will be my captive.” His gaze shifted to his glass. “Something came up.”
He sounded genuine. “And you didn’t trust me to have free rein of the palace?”
Ash arched a brow. “Is that a serious question?” I pressed my lips together, and I thought he might smile, but he said, “Making sure you were safe in one place while I was occupied was all I could come up with at the moment. Either way, I wanted to…” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for upsetting you.”
My brows lifted. “That apology sounded like it pained you.”
“It did.”
I narrowed my eyes.
His gaze slid back to mine. “I am sorry, Seraphena.”
The way he said my name, my full name… He made it sound like a sin. I looked away so quickly, several curls slid over my shoulders and fell against my cheek. I’d left my hair down, figuring it could help since he seemed to enjoy it. “I don’t like being locked in. Kept somewhere, hidden and—” Forgotten. Hidden and forgotten. “I just don’t like it.”
“I heard,” he finally said, and I exhaled softly. “According to Ector, you were quite vocal in expressing your dislike.”
“Don’t do it again.” The word please went unspoken, but I could feel it in every bone. Wait… “You can read my emotions, but can you read my mind?”
His brows lifted. “Thank the Fates, I cannot read your thoughts.”
Relief crashed through me—thank the Fates? I eyed him, letting that comment slide. “You said your ability to read emotions came from your mother’s bloodline?”
“Yes,” he said, picking up his glass. “Her family descended from the Court of Lotho—the Primal Embris’ Court.”
Interest sparked. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Mycella.”
“That’s pretty.”
“It was.”
My gaze lowered to my plate. “It has to be hard not having known your mother. I didn’t know my father, so…” I pressed my lips together. “Do you get to visit her?” I asked, assuming that she’d passed onto the Vale.
“No.”
I peeked over at him, thinking of my father. “Is there some kind of rule against that? Visiting loved ones who’ve passed on?”
“As the Primal of Death, I risk destroying the mortal’s soul if they’re in my presence for any extended period of time, at least for those who have passed through judgement. That is a balance to prevent the Primal of Death from creating his or her version of life. There is no exact rule against it for gods or other mortals, but it wouldn’t be wise. Visiting loved ones who have moved on can cause both the one living and the one who has passed to become stuck—to want what neither can have, whether that be to continue seeing their loved one or to return to the living. It can even cause them to leave the Vale, and that does not end well.”
I thought of the spirits in the Dark Elms. Those who had refused to enter the Shadowlands altogether. They never sounded happy. Just sad and lost. Would those who left the Vale become the Shades that Dav had spoken of? Either way, I wouldn’t want that for the father I’d never met. I wouldn’t want that for anyone.
Except Tavius.
I’d be fine with him finding that fate.
Ash leaned forward. I hadn’t heard him move. I didn’t see him move. It was as if I’d sensed that he’d moved closer, and that made no sense. But when I looked over at him, I’d been right. He lifted a hand, curling his fingers around the strands of hair that had fallen forward. He brushed them back over my shoulder. “The food is getting cold.”
I nodded as he sat back. I didn’t even know why. Feeling foolish, I watched him place nearly the same amount on his plate but he went far heavier on the bacon.