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“What you must think of me…” he said, causing my focus to snap back to him. “I don’t blame you for it. I’m sure you’ve been told many half-truths.”

I took a sip to stop myself from saying something ill-advised. The liquor turned out to be some kind of mulled whiskey, but the hints of apple and cinnamon did very little to ease the burn of the alcohol hitting my stomach.

“The Chosen do have opportunities here,” he continued. “They are offered the choice to shed their veils and serve those within Dalos and in other Courts.”

My brows knitted. “Versus what?”

“Versus Ascending,” he said. Before I could jump on that, he went on. “Her name is Malka, by the way. And his name is Orval.” As he spoke, my focus shifted back to the two. The male lifted his head from her neck, licking blood from his lips. “They are known to each other.”

This Orval leaned into her, speaking into her ear. Malka smiled and looked as if she laughed.

“Known to each other quite well,” Kolis added as I watched the Chosen swat at the god’s arm.

Orval kissed her cheek and then released her. Standing, she straightened her gown.

I exhaled roughly, unsure if I could believe what I saw and heard. Though even if it were true, did servants have a choice? In the mortal realm, they did in some households. In others, even if it appeared they did, they really didn’t.

“And if they weren’t known to each other?” I asked as Malka slipped out the door. I caught sight of a long, darker hall.

“Does it matter?”

I looked at Kolis over my shoulder. “Yes.”

He didn’t respond for a few moments. And, honestly, I’d heard the stories. I knew the answer. Anger still burned through my veins as I turned to gaze at the floor. “What would you do?” he asked. “If her consent was not obtained?”

I looked at him again, saying, “I would make sure it was the last time someone failed to gain another’s consent.”

“And how exactly would you do that?”

“I’d shove a blade straight through their heart.”

Behind Kolis, one of Callum’s painted wings rose, but the false King showed no reaction. “Look to your left, so’lis. Past Naberius.”

“Naberius?”

“The apparently very tired draken,” Kolis replied dryly, and I arched a brow at that. “In the alcove behind him, you will see an occupied ivory chair.”

Frowning, I did as he instructed, searching past Phanos, who spoke with a god, the two draken in their mortal forms, and of course, the sleeping Naberius. I found the ivory chair Kolis spoke of and saw it occupied by an alabaster-skinned god with a servant on his lap—

I lowered the chalice to the floor beside me, my heart kicking against my ribs.

“Her name is Jacinta. She was taken in a Rite two years ago,” Kolis said as I stared at the hand clamped down on her mouth and her wide, frightened eyes. “The one who holds her is Evander. He is several hundred years old and knows how to feed and give pleasure. But that is not what pleases him.”

Kolis tipped forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Pain does.”

Disgust knotted in my throat.

“So now you know,” Kolis said, sitting back.

Slowly, I twisted toward him, our gazes colliding.

“What did you say you’d do?” he said, the golden flecks a strange light in his eyes. “You would shove a blade through their heart?”

“I did.”

“Then you have a choice,” Kolis ordered. “Do as you said and kill him.”

I blinked. “What?”