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When Kolis spoke about it, I hadn’t thought it was fair, and that hadn’t changed. “And none of the other Primals are subject to those rules? Say if Maia were to become close with a mortal, would she no longer be able to interfere in matters of love or fertility?”

Ash frowned. “The others are subject to the same rules. Once they form bonds with mortals or gods, they cannot influence their lives in positive or negative ways.”

Irritation rose. “Kolis made it sound like only he was subject to that.”

“Of course, he did,” Ash said with a sneer. “He believes he is the only one who has been punished or suffered.” Another swirl of eather appeared in his eyes. “But my father—the true Primal of Life? As far as I know, he wasn’t held to those standards.”

My thoughts flashed to the anger I’d seen in Kolis’s features when he spoke about all the ways Eythos could influence the lives of those he came to care for.

“Nektas once told me it was simply because the Primal of Life was held to a higher standard, tasked with the duty to know when and when not to impact the lives of others. Or to learn when. To me, it sounded more like being constantly taunted with the ability to improve one’s fate and having to choose not to.”

“Gods,” I muttered. “Who would want that kind of choice?”

“Kolis,” he suggested. “And he only wanted it because he never had to make it.”

I nodded slowly. Kolis had left out that he wasn’t the only one who had to operate by those rules, but I wasn’t surprised to learn that. Kolis didn’t care about the other Primals. He only cared about what his brother could and couldn’t do.

Settling back against Ash’s chest, I returned to what had started this conversation. “Then who judged Lathan?”

“If the Pillars could not judge him, then the Arae would have.”

Which meant they would likely judge me because I doubted the Pillars would know what to do with me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing or if Holland would have any say in it.

“How does the water feel?”

“Amazing.” All the soreness had faded away. It had to be the heat of the water and maybe even a little of the magic of this hidden-away cavern.

Ash tucked the back of my head against his shoulder. “Better than your lake?”

“Yeah, it is.” I sighed, squeezing the arm that banded my waist. As I’d noticed before, his skin was even cool under the water, which probably stopped me from overheating. “But in a different way.”

His thumb moved along the flare of my hip under the water’s surface, sweeping back and forth. “How so?”

My gaze flickered over the softly churning hot springs. The fractured beams of sunlight glinted off the surface as wisps of steam rose, tangling with the hanging lilacs. “My lake is…it’s refreshing, but this is relaxing. Like I could fall asleep.”

“Yeah. I think I could do that myself.” There was a heaviness to his voice as he dipped, kissing my temple. “I wish we could.”

I wished for so many things.

A knot threatened to lodge itself in my throat. I drew in a deep breath, hoping to alleviate it.

“We will come back here.” Ash’s lips brushed the curve of my cheek. “I promise.”

My eyes shut as that damn knot expanded. It was sweet of him to promise, but we would never come back here. I hoped he did, though, as I opened my eyes. I looked over the glistening outcropping of rocks and the lilac-covered walls as I thought about what I wanted for him when this was all over. A life. A future. Love. I hoped he made more good memories here.

Ash’s thumb stilled against my hip. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie. My stomach remained settled, and I didn’t feel like I would fall over, but I was tired. Though I didn’t think the warm water had much to do with that.

Ash was quiet for a moment. “Did I ever tell you what anguish tastes like?”

My eyes narrowed.

“It’s tangy, almost bitter,” he continued, straightening a delicate link on Aios’s necklace.

“Stop reading my emotions.”

“It’s one of the hardest emotions to block out. Sometimes, it’s even louder than joy, but it’s almost impossible to shield from yours.”