Page 33

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

Oralia

“I think I have lost something…”

The words were quiet, barely audible over the crackling fire. Sidero sat beside me on the window seat of Ren and my room, both of us staring in companionable silence out into the darkened grounds.

I spent most of the evening with Thorne and Horace, questioning Caston’s soldiers. Though Horace lacked Caston’s power to see truth within the words someone spoke, he could weigh the weight upon someone’s soul. When taking the measure of their character, he had seen nothing within the thirty-two humans and demigods to raise concerns. Only wariness and hesitation along with a desperation to do good .

After Caston’s soldiers had been housed and fed, I’d all but retreated to my rooms where Sidero had found me. I was relieved they did not speak but were merely content to sit beside me as a weak sunset turned into twilight and twilight into night.

“What is it you think you have lost?” Sidero murmured when I did not continue.

“I did not hesitate to kill,” I breathed, fingers flexing around the lining of my dressing gown. “And when Caston asked me to spare one of his men… When he begged me to take him to Thorne…I could not find an ounce of compassion inside myself.”

I looked at Sidero, their mouth thinned into a line. When their eyes met mine, it was not wariness I saw, but the emotion I could no longer find.

“Instead of rushing to heal him, I weighed the cost of bringing him to Infernis—of saving him. Someone who I have never met, one whose allegiance had been assumed and yet not proven.” I turned back to the window, resting my head against the cool glass. “Even now, I cannot find regret, only a…calm acceptance of what took place. As if it was nothing more than a conversation instead of gazing down at a man’s innards spilled across the floor.”

Sidero shifted in the corner of my eye, their mouth tensing, then relaxing. “I understand what you are saying. It is common to lose one’s…” They paused, searching for the word. “ Humanity, though I do not know if the word can truly apply to a god. But I know all too well what it is like to weigh a life in your hand as if it were fruit, ripe for the taking. It is hard not to lose a piece of yourself when your life is nothing but killing, nothing but endless war and bloodshed.”

“How did you find it again? The compassion?”

They rolled their lips together as they thought, head tilting to the side. “Time. It is the greatest balm on a wound, even if it feels like torture in the beginning.”

Recently, it was as though time was the answer to everything. Like if only I could be patient, then the questions I had would be answered. But I did not have time—not to wait for Ren to be resurrected nor for this wound within me to heal.

“Ren would understand,” Sidero murmured. “He would not blame you for such things.”

I nodded. “I wish for his comfort above all else.”

Their warm hand covered mine, squeezing once. Early on I’d discovered they were immune to my power and the way it threaded through souls. The happiness and contentment my touch brought did not reach them, and I could only guess it was because they were already content. Sidero had faced their crimes centuries upon centuries ago for the wars they’d fought and forgiven themselves long before I ever crossed these shores.

In fact, they could have ascended centuries before I was ever born but chose not to. Their loyalty to Ren and this kingdom was too great.

“Tell him, speak to him, and perhaps, he will hear.”

I did not answer. I had not told anyone about my visits to the in-between, nor had Samarah. It was too intimate to reveal I’d seen Ren, spoken to him, held him, in the strange place between worlds. But they were right—perhaps speaking to Ren would assuage the fear I had.

They did not press further or question what else happened that morning in the Western Reaches. It was a long time later when I sighed, rubbing my fingertips to my lids while I asked if they would find Samarah and bring her to me.

The God of Nightmares slid through the room like a shadow and bent to press a kiss to the top of my hair.

“I thought you would kill me that day in the swamplands,” I murmured, unable to tear my gaze from the rocky plains of Isthil.

Samarah hummed, gathering her skirts with a click of bones to settle beside me, one hand reaching out to wrap around my ankle. “I would have, sweetling. In a heartbeat.”

“What made you change your mind?” The question was passionless. I did not truly care, and it was a mere preamble to the request I would make of her.

But her lips pursed in thought, violet eyes glittering in my peripheral vision. “Why does anyone change their mind? Because I saw in you what I thought would never come. There, nestled in the mud and muck of my lands, was a fire I could not snuff out, snarling and screeching at the mere mention of the absurd last name Typhon gave you and his heir like an illness. Solis , ridiculous.” She sighed as if the memory was a sweet one.

“And now you call me little queen and press your lips to the hem of my cloak,” I muttered.

The hand on my ankle tightened before disappearing, nails sliding over my chin to pull my face to hers. “Yes, I do. You are myhn latska lathira, myhn Lathira na Thurath. And you are what I have been begging the universe to provide for longer than you can fathom.”

But I did not get to ask what it was before she drew her claws across my cheeks, the sting of pain flashing across my skin. And then she pressed two fingers to her lips, licking my blood from the tips.

“The light and the dark. Sunrise and sunset. The first breath and the last and each in between. Made by the universe and chosen for your circumstance, you have basked within the light of a realm most will never see. Life. Death. Fire. Rain. Ice. Shadow. You are ih rhyonath .”

I dipped my head to brush my cheek against the shoulder of my dressing gown to wipe away the dried blood. “I do not know that word.”

Samarah pressed a finger to the space between my brows, smoothing them with a gentle touch. And her face was so solemn, so filled with feeling, she was unrecognizable as her hand dropped away to hover between us, palm up.

“You are the reckoning.”

* * *

Samarah sent me to the in-between with a light kiss to my temple and words of comfort.

I will be here when you wake. You will not be alone.

Ren’s wings were the first thing I saw, flexing as he walked up the mountain. He stumbled when he caught sight of me on the path, reaching out at once to pull me to him. “What has happened? I saw—”

“I almost killed a man today.” The words spilled from my lips like blood from a wound, and it was a relief to see warmth there as I told him everything I’d told Sidero. “I cannot find remorse within myself, Ren. I cannot find the compassion I used to set my soul upon. Caston asked me: Where is your heart? And I do not know. I can find yours, but I cannot find my own.”

The last words broke with the tears burning in the corners of my eyes. I pressed my face to his neck, breathing in the scent of him, though this was not his true body. But his magic smelled like him, like us , our bond. It soothed the panic twisting through my belly.

“I do not blame you,” he whispered.

A muscle in my jaw twitched, and I burrowed my face deeper into his neck. “You do not?”

His hand smoothed over the back of my head, his lips brushing across my temple. “If our roles were reversed, that boy would be dead right now, and if it had meant getting you back, I would not have blinked an eye—even if it meant I grieved for him later.”

When I drew back to search Ren’s face, it was to find it set in hollow lines of grief, so ancient in his despair I experienced the weight of his timelessness I did not often feel. His thumb traced the curve of my lower lip before he pressed his brow to mine.

“I do not care if it makes me monstrous. I do not blame you for what you did or did not do, and you should not for a second blame yourself.”

I gripped his wrists tightly, struggling to find the words to reply.

Ren hummed, filling the quiet space between us with the sound of his understanding before brushing his lips against my cheek, offering me comfort even when there was none to have. “You are close. I can feel it.”

My laugh was hollow, merely an approximation of humor. It did not feel close—it was as though we had miles and miles to travel before we could rest. Ren had been gone for a month, perhaps more, and yet, it was an eternity etched across my soul.

“What is next?” he asked.

Blowing out a breath, I slid my hand up his chest, palm pressing over his heart. “We travel to find the final piece of you. Though Typhon grows restless, according to Caston, I do not know how long we have until he tries to invade our shores.”

His expression darkened. “Use his recklessness to your advantage, eshara. Make him believe he has a chance to destroy you and then cut him down.”

“Do you think he does?” When his brows drew together, I clarified, “Have a chance to destroy me?”

Ren smiled softly and shook his head. “No, my heart. It would be easier to bring down the entire universe than destroy you.”