“Oh.” I bit down on my lip. “So they’re named after you?”
“I believe so.”
“He’s not a fan of that.”
Vikter smiled. “It makes communication somewhat difficult in Mount Lotho when so many of the other viktors are in residence, and someone calls your name,” he said. Behind him, Nyktos smirked. “It can take the others a while to forget who they become and remember who they were before they were reborn.”
“Others?” I watched him dip the brush into an ink bottle resting on his knee. How it stayed balanced there, I had no idea. “Do you remember the lives you’ve lived?”
“I remember everything.”
“Because he was the first,” Penellaphe added. “Before the Fates realized it would be easier for them not to recall the details of their lives.”
I stared at Vikter, somewhat dumbfounded. I couldn’t imagine living dozens or hundreds of lifetimes and remembering all those lives—all the experiences, and those I’d met, loved, and lost.
And, apparently, I had.
My chest rose sharply in an attempt to drag in a deeper breath. It barely worked.
Nyktos moved to Vikter’s side, his gaze on me, and I was sure I projected my feelings.
I cleared my throat. “How did you end up becoming the first?”
Vikter chuckled roughly. “That is a long, convoluted story not as interesting as you may think it is.”
“Vikter is far too humble,” Penellaphe jumped in. “He saved the life of someone very important and paid a very steep price for doing so. The Fates decided to reward him and, later, realized they could give aid without upsetting the balance.”
Vikter didn’t acknowledge any of that, and I wondered if he felt that what they’d done was a reward. Sure, he was kind of immortal, but to live and die repeatedly also meant experiencing endless loss.
“There,” Vikter said, lowering my hand to rest beside the other. His handwriting was truly beautiful, but it chilled my skin because of how much the designs looked like shackles. “Finished.”
No sooner had he spoken than a sharp, prickling sensation danced over my skin. A burst of light appeared. I gasped as silvery light flowed across my wrists, lighting up each letter until both bands glowed. The sheen pulsed twice and then faded.
My wrists were clear of ink.
I shifted my attention to Vikter and then to Nyktos. His eyes met mine. “I can’t see it. But I…I can feel it.”
“Perfect.” Vikter rose.
“Thank you,” I said, touching my skin and feeling nothing.
“Yes.” Nyktos moved to stand where Vikter had sat. “Thank you for your aid.”
“My pleasure.” Vikter bowed to Nyktos and then to me. “Be safe.”
“You, too,” I said.
The skin crinkled around Vikter’s eyes as he smiled. I watched him turn, placing the brush and ink into a pouch. “I’ll wait in the hall.”
Penellaphe nodded, rising as I watched Vikter leave. “We should not linger much longer.” She glanced up at the gray sky. “To do so…”
“Could be seen as interference,” Nyktos said, his shoulders straightening. “Thank you for answering the summons and taking the risks you have.”
Penellaphe inclined her chin as I slid off the dais and stood. “I wish there was more we could do.” She glanced at me, sympathy etched into the beautiful, delicate lines of her features. “I truly do.”
“What you have done is more than enough.” I crossed my arms. “Thank you.”
She stepped toward Nyktos, taking his hands into hers as she led him away. Sapphire eyes glimmered in the starlight as she looked up at him. A pinch of envy stung my skin. To be able to touch Nyktos so easily, so casually…
“Sera.”
Aware that Nyktos watched closely as Penellaphe spoke to him, I turned to Holland, who’d finally made his way back to me. My throat immediately thickened. Royal Guard or Fate, Holland was one of the few people in my life who…knew me.
Holland smiled, but it was small. Pained. “I hope you’re not too angry with me or feel that I deceived you. I couldn’t tell you the truth.”
“I understand.”
A look of doubt settled into a face that had never shown any true signs of aging. “Truly? You’re not angry?”
A short laugh escaped me. Holland knew me so well. “Am I annoyed that I didn’t know the truth? Sure. Am I mad?” I shrugged. “I have far bigger things to be angry about at the moment.”
“That you do.” A long moment passed. “Don’t give up, Sera.”
“I’m not.” And I wasn’t. Mainly because I wasn’t sure exactly what I would be giving up on at this point.
“Good.” His voice lowered then, and I had no idea if Nyktos heard what he said next, as Penellaphe had managed to draw him farther away toward the doors. “That thread that broke off from all the possible strings that chart the course of your life? It was unexpected. Unpredictable. Fate is never truly written in bone and blood. It can be as ever-changing as your thoughts. Your heart.” He paused, glancing at Nyktos. “His.”
I started to laugh again, but the sound withered. “Sure. Fate can be as erratic as the mind and heart.” The words scratched their way from my throat. “But not in this case. Not with his heart. You’ve known that.”
“Love is powerful, Seraphena.” Holland lifted his hand to my cheek, and the touch carried a ripple of energy that hadn’t been there before. “More so than even the Arae could imagine.”
My brows furrowed. I was sure love was just super-duper special, but Nyktos had physically removed the part of him capable of loving. So, I had no idea what he was talking about.
Which wasn’t entirely abnormal.
I exhaled shakily. “Will I see you again?”
“I can’t answer that,” he said. When I opened my mouth to reply, he quickly added, “But what I can tell you is something you already know. What you’ve spent your life preparing to become? What I trained you for? It wasn’t a waste.” Those dark, shining eyes held mine. “You are his weakness.”
Become his weakness.
Make him fall in love.
End him.
Not Nyktos.
Kolis.
I was a weapon meant to be used against Kolis. That was my true destiny. But what I didn’t know was if that meant Kolis would recognize me as Sotoria and that I was already his weakness, or if it meant that carrying Sotoria’s soul would make it easier for me to seduce him.
My stomach twisted and dipped sharply. The idea of seducing Kolis made me want to vomit. I didn’t…I didn’t want to have to go through with it.
“What are you thinking?”
I jolted at the sound of Nyktos’s voice. I was so caught up in my thoughts I hadn’t been aware of Nyktos guiding me to his office.
I really needed to be more aware of my surroundings.
Pushing limp strands of hair back from my face, I felt my stomach flip and flop for very different reasons as I faced him.
Nyktos stood in front of the closed doors, and dressed as he was in a loose, untucked white shirt and black breeches, he reminded me of…Ash. Rugged and still unearthly. A sense of wild brimming beneath the veneer of calm.
But he was Nyktos now. Not Ash. He’d never be Ash to me again.
“I’m thinking about a lot of things,” I admitted. And there was a lot to think about: Kolis. His creations. What he wanted. Nyktos. What he’d done to himself. Ezra and her marriage to Marisol and seizing the Crown. Me. The knowledge that I’d inadvertently caused my stepfather’s death. What was to come. Holland. What he’d shared before leaving.