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It wasn’t anywhere in his perfect features.

“So’lis is the language of the Ancients and Primals,” he said, the Ancients being the first Primals, the ones who prophesied a being that would wield the supreme power of both life and death. “It means one thing.”

If that were true, it would be a first.

“And I’m sure you’ve noticed that it is similar to my name.”

I had.

“Ko’ in the old language can be translated to the word our. Lis is soul,” he explained as my muscles began to lock up. “Ko’lis would translate to our soul. That is what my name symbolizes.”

“How sweet,” I remarked. “What does So’ translate to?”

The gold slowed in his eyes. “My.”

My chest hollowed.

My soul.

I paced the length of the cage, hands fisted at my sides as I waited for Callum’s return. I’d been doing that since Kolis left.

My thoughts kept switching from what I’d seen in the darkened part of the palace to the future. I should’ve asked him about the Chosen I’d seen. It was important for Ash to know what Kolis was doing here.

Except how in the realm would I get that information to Ash?

I’d tried to kill Kolis.

And failed.

I’d tried to escape.

And failed again.

That left me with the reality of the situation. The only option.

That was always the only option. That annoying voice that sounded like mine had returned. Great.

My fists tightened as I picked up my pace, the stained gown snapping at my ankles. But I couldn’t go through with it. I’d already decided that much. Just as I’d decided that I didn’t care about the greater good. I wouldn’t be a person who sacrificed everything.

But I was that person.

And I did care.

I couldn’t fool myself into believing otherwise, no matter how desperate I was. If I weren’t that kind of person, I wouldn’t have stopped to aid the Chosen. I might not have escaped, but I would’ve made it farther.

What Holland had told me once resurfaced. It had been something he’d said in the years after Ash rejected me as his Consort. I couldn’t remember exactly what had caused Holland to say what he did. I’d likely been bitching about not wanting to do something—that was common at the time.

“I know you feel like you’ve been given no choices in life,” he’d said in that gentle way of his when he told me something he knew I didn’t want to hear. “But every day, there is a choice to keep going, to face the future head-on or not. Every day, there is a choice to be honest with yourself or to lie. One will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the other the easiest, but there is always the opportunity for choice if you don’t take the easiest path.”

He’d said that when he was Sir Holland, a Royal Knight trained to prepare me to complete my duty and defend myself. One who often liked to spout what I’d fondly considered nonsensical, philosophical bullshit. But he’d never been just Sir Holland. He hadn’t even been mortal. He was an Arae. A Fate. His philosophical ramblings were never bullshit.

They were still mostly nonsensical, though.

However, I did get what he’d been saying. Maybe. But I felt what he’d meant…like there was no choice. I’d lived in that state since I could remember, and it was like that now.

But he was right.

There were many choices. To do nothing and let fate determine what happened to you. Or to face reality and make it hard for the Fates to dictate your path. There was also the choice to keep going. Once before, I hadn’t made that choice. Either the Fates, luck, or possibly even the embers had prevented that decision from becoming my last, but it had been a choice. One I regretted to this day because it had been the wrong one.