Nyktos eyed me as he walked past the empty bookshelves along the wall. I wondered if there had ever been items on those shelves. Keepsakes. Mementos. He sat on the edge of the settee, his gaze never leaving me. It was odd to be in a position where I was standing over him.
“I cannot imagine what must be going on in your head,” he said finally. “But you went from anger…to sadness. Tangy, bitter sorrow.”
Shoulders tensing, I glared at him. “Don’t read my emotions.”
“It’s hard not to. You project a lot,” he reminded me. “And often. You were really projecting in the throne room.”
“Sounds like you need to figure out how to block them then.”
A ghost of a half-smile appeared but vanished quickly, and my heart seized again as I thought of what he’d done.
“When did you have this…kardia removed?” I asked.
“A while ago.”
I eyed him. “Exactly what do you consider a while?”
“A while,” he repeated.
“That’s evasive.”
“It’s more like it doesn’t matter when I had it done. Just that I did.”
I stared at him, unsure why he was being so cagey about it. “No one else knows? Just Maia?”
He nodded. “Only she and Nektas know. Neither will speak a word of it.”
I’d never met the Primal Goddess, but based on how close Nektas and Nyktos were, I didn’t doubt the draken would stay silent on such a thing. “Did it hurt? And don’t say it was barely an inconvenience. Obviously, that’s not true.”
Nyktos was silent for several moments. “The kardia is just a tiny part of the soul. Intangible. You would think that something unseen couldn’t cause much pain, but it felt like my entire chest had been cracked open, and my heart dug out by a dakkai’s claws and teeth,” he stated dispassionately. “I nearly lost consciousness, and if I had been weak, I likely would’ve slipped into stasis—the deep sleep of the gods and Primals.”
Horrified, I pressed my fist to my chest. “Why did you do it?” I asked, even though I already knew.
“I saw what the loss of love did to my father, and what love turned my uncle into,” he said. “And I refused to repeat either of those mistakes or endanger another because of what I felt for them.”
A knot lodged in my throat, and it took a moment for me to speak around it. “I’m sorry.”
He stretched his neck from one side to the other. “You shouldn’t be. I care more because I cannot love, and I believe caring for others is far more important than loving just one.”
“You… You are right,” I whispered. In a way, caring and kindness were purer without love. But I was still saddened. Shouldn’t everyone have the chance to feel love for another, whatever it felt like?
Except Kolis.
Or Tavius.
Neither of them deserved that.
“What was Holland speaking to you about?” Nyktos asked.
“Nothing important.” There was no way I would repeat any of that. I glanced at the desk as I rubbed my wrists, still not feeling the charm. A slender lamp cast a glow over the bare surface. Several moments ticked by, and I could feel his gaze on me—watching and likely seeing too much. “What are we going to do?”
“That’s a loaded question,” he remarked, exhaling deeply. “We’ll continue as planned. In the meantime, I’m positive there will be guests.”
“Unwanted visitors?”
He nodded. “Gods. Possibly even Primals. They’ll be curious about what they felt when you Ascended Bele.”
My lips tightened, and I started to pace in front of the bare shelves. “And I guess I’m supposed to remain hidden?”
“I know you don’t like hiding.”
I snorted. “What gave that away?”
“I don’t like it either,” he said, and I shot him a doubtful look. His eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together. “But, inevitably, they will see you, and even with the charm, we want to make it to the coronation before that happens.”
“And if we don’t?”
“None of them will think your arrival in the Shadowlands as my Consort, and the ripples of power they felt, are coincidental. Especially not when that unknown power was first felt in the mortal realm,” he said, speaking of when I’d brought Marisol back to life. “And not when they meet you. They’ll sense the aura of eather in you. If it hadn’t been for Bele’s Ascension, they might have assumed you were a godling. Now, they will question exactly what you are.”
Chapter 3
What you are.
Not who you are.
“And becoming your Consort will somehow stop them from questioning that?” I asked, rubbing my temple.
“No, but it will stop them from acting without concern for the consequences,” Nyktos said. “Is your head hurting? I can have the tea made for you, if so.”
“It’s not that.” At least, I hoped the dull ache had nothing to do with the Culling. The herbal mixture that helped with the Culling’s side effects hadn’t worn off this quickly before. “Wouldn’t everything be easier if we canceled the coronation? There’s really no point in holding it.”
“In case you weren’t listening in the throne room or to anything I said before that, you will be afforded a level of protection as my Consort—”
“I was listening, and I remember everything you’ve said to me,” I snapped. Wisps of eather spilled into his irises as our eyes met. “But that doesn’t explain the point behind doing it. You know what’s going to happen in five months or less. Becoming your Consort won’t stop that. I’m not going to survive the Culling. It is what it is. So, why would we welcome such a risk with a pointless coronation?”
Nyktos’s fingers began tapping his knee. “Does the idea of your death not bother you at all?”
“Why don’t you just read my emotions and find out?” I shot back.
A tight smile appeared. “You asked me not to. And contrary to what you may believe, I respect that request as much as possible.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“It’s not whatever.” His fingers continued drumming. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you not bothered at all by the thought of your death?”
I crossed my arms, having no idea why we were even discussing this. “Dying from the Culling doesn’t sound fun at all. So, yeah, it’s bothersome.”
Nyktos didn’t even blink. “But?”
“But it is what it is,” I repeated, returning to my pacing. “It’s reality. I have to deal with it. So, I’m dealing with it. Like I’m dealing with the fact that I’ve spent my life planning to kill an innocent Primal. Just like I’m dealing with the fact that I’ve apparently lived the gods only know how many lives, all because I got scared in one of them and ran off a stupid cliff.” My skin prickled. “Like how did I run off a cliff? It’s not like it would’ve jumped out and surprised me. I had to know the edge was there, but I just kept running? What the hell?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s possible to deal with that as quickly as you’d have me believe,” he said. “And you didn’t live all the lives because you fell from a cliff—whether you knew the edge was there or not. You lived them because of Kolis’s obsession with Sotoria, and my father’s potentially problematic method of intervention.”
“Yeah, well, here I am, the end result of your father’s potentially problematic method of intervention…dealing with it,” I stated. “And no part of dealing with it has anything to do with how I feel about it.”