Page 90 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

My hand brushed against the softness of leather, and I wrapped my fingers around a dagger’s smooth, tapered hilt.

A bone dagger.

Letting the pouch fall back into the chest, I stared at the blade that could’ve killed Casteel.

That had.

I stiffened at the whisper that sounded an awful lot like my voice. I had no idea why I’d thought that. He hadn’t died. The shimmering, golden imprint on my hand was proof of that. But…

Shaking the thought from my mind, I caressed the smooth side of the blade. The tips of my fingers tingled at the contact as I reached the deadly point. Part of me wanted to destroy the weapon, but I knew we’d need it.

It was one of the only things that could kill a Primal.

Ancient bone and eather, but…there were stipulations to that.

Primal gods had few weaknesses once they matured—a process that could take months or even years, depending on the god.

But once that happened? I thought about how only a Primal carrying the true essence of Life or Death—or a Primal like me—could strike down another Primal. But there was one other weakness.

That was all the vadentia would tell me, though. It went silent then—because, of course, it did.

I returned the dagger to its pouch and laid it back in the chest. Closing the lid, I grabbed the items I’d placed on the floor.

After draping the harness over a rod, I put the daggers on the small table outside.

Eyeing the last door in the room, I muttered, “This had better not be a disappointment.”

I immediately walked toward a privacy screen with adjustable, sleek black blinds standing in the center of the semicircular chamber. A wooden stool was near the tub, and stone shelves held folded towels, various soaps, and bathing salts. But the real centerpiece of the chamber was the tub itself.

And I was so not disappointed by what I saw.

It was big enough for two—possibly even three—people, but the two pipes running out of the floor and curving over the foot of the tub sent a bolt of surprise through me.

If I hadn’t been to Atlantia, I wouldn’t have known that one of them carried heated water.

I’d had no idea Wayfair had anything like this—or that the Blood Crown was even capable of such infrastructure.

But it made sense. After all, Isbeth had once lived in Atlantia.

She would’ve seen mundane things there that most would consider an opulent luxury here.

While I was happy to see that we didn’t have to force someone to haul buckets of steaming water up several floors, it infuriated me—despite not surprising me—that, once again, the Blood Crown had possessed the knowledge to improve others’ lives but instead chose to use it only for themselves.

We could change that.

That bit of realization caused my stomach to flip as my gaze traveled over the gold-veined marble.

Opposite the tub, a wide vanity stretched along the curved wall, the countertops gleaming in the dim light.

Dual mirrors with brushed-gold frames hung above, and a wall partially extended across the chamber, providing privacy for someone to take care of their personal needs.

As I turned, I caught my reflection in one of the mirrors and slowly approached it.

The shock of seeing my eyes earlier had prevented me from taking a closer look at myself.

The scars were still present, though I thought they might have faded just a hair more, and the edges of the torn skin didn’t appear quite as jagged.

If someone stood at a distance…and had poor vision, perhaps they wouldn’t even see them.

The other half a nightmare.

A tremor coursed down my arms as Duke Teerman’s words resurfaced.

Not because of what he’d said. I no longer felt shame when I thought about how he spoke about me.

It was how he took…liberties. And allowed Lord Mazeen to do the same.

How he looked at me with those cold, black eyes that often reflected a glint that terrified me even when I first met him, and he still pretended to be kind and caring.

How many times had it been Kolis staring back at me?

Had he been the one who lifted the cane? Who wanted to see it strike bare flesh?

My fingers pressed into the cool marble.

I hadn’t always left the Duke’s office conscious—the times when the pain of the caning had ended only when my body gave up.

I had forbidden myself from even thinking about what could’ve occurred between the time my vision turned black and when I woke to find myself in my bed.

I had convinced myself that it was just something that happened.

And I was glad I had. Because now that I allowed myself to think about it, I needed to know what’d happened. Had that been when I was given blood?

Gods. I had his blood in me. Technically, I supposed it was Teerman’s and Kolis’s blood.

My lip curled.

Why had I even thought of that? Now, I wanted to vomit. I also wanted to scrub my skin until it turned bright pink.

But the idea that this could’ve happened—no, not an idea, not a could’ve …the blood exchange had happened. Because how else was there a bond between Kolis and me? The knowledge that it had happened, even if I had no memory of it, made me want to scream, shed my skin, let loose—

Drawing in a deep breath, I closed my eyes. There was no point in allowing it to affect me. It was in the past—one I didn’t even remember. It wasn’t like I had memories of it to haunt me. I had no reason to feel like I…

Like I what?

Had been mistreated? Abused? I had been. And I hadn’t let it shape who I was. So, I had no reason to feel like I had been…

Forced.

Assaulted.

But, gods, I had been. Even if it was just the blood. Still, I had no recollection of it. I was lucky.

My fingers started to ache from how much force I pressed down with. I eased up and straightened them. There was no reason to think about the Duke. Casteel had ensured that he was no longer a concern. Reopening my eyes, I stared directly into them in the mirror.

What would people think when they saw me?

Surely, not everyone would respond as well as Casteel and Kieran had.

Would my eyes unsettle the Atlantians—as my mere presence did with Generals Aylard and La’Sere? At least the dark-haired female Atlantian had seemed to warm up to me a little. Maybe.

Would the changes in me terrify them?

Did mortals believe I had been Chosen and blessed by the gods? Or did they think I was a false god like the Blood Crown—my mother—had tried to convince the realm once it was clear that I wouldn’t fall in line? And if they did still think that, how would we gain their trust?

Pressure settled on my shoulders, but as I stared at my reflection, I reminded myself of what I already knew. We would have to convince them with our words and actions.

Pushing away from the counter, I walked back into the bedchamber. My gaze moved past the bed to the glass wall.

I was walking before I realized it and stopped in front of it. The windows only faced the Peaks and the steep, jagged rise of the Cliffs of Sorrow.

The blood in my veins hummed, and my pulse picked up.

I lifted my arms and placed my palms against the cool pane.

As I stood there, an inexplicable impulse to go to the Cliffs built within me.

The urge settled deep in my chest, heavy and insistent, the pull tugging at me as my breath fogged the window, demanding that I…

That I do what?

Blinking, I jerked my hands away from the glass and stepped back. My heart pounded harder as I swallowed. I had no idea why I would feel such a need to go to the Cliffs. It made no sense. Shaking my head, I turned to the bed.

It really did look soft.

I toed off my boots and approached it. Holding on to one of the posts, I stepped onto the platform, then crawled to the center of the bed, where I plopped onto my back.

It was soft.

Lying there in the quiet, I stared up at the opaque curtains as I toyed with the buttons on the robe, my thoughts roaming right to a topic I really didn’t want to think about.

The realm that was now in ruins.

What was happening there? Was the land still splitting apart or being consumed by flames? Were people still dying, though in smaller numbers since I didn’t feel the horrifying pain again?

“Stop,” I whispered. No good could come of me dwelling on that.

Though no good came from not doing so.

And that made me feel no better than the Arae.

Blowing out a ragged breath, I forced my thoughts to how we could ensure that we actually improved the mortals’ lives.

I needed to talk to Casteel about my feelings regarding us ruling the mortals.

But before we could do anything to improve the lives of those in Solis, we needed to deal with Kolis.

And he was either…floating around somewhere unseen while doing only the gods knew what or had already taken corporeal form.

The latter was oddly the better option. At least he wouldn’t be moving about without us knowing.

I knew I should get up. Casteel would return soon, and I should bathe and put on actual clothing before he did.

But I remained sprawled across the bed as the seconds ticked into minutes.

I had no idea how much time had passed before I felt a featherlight brush of lips against mine, and the cool graze of fingertips trailing down my throat and lower.

My body responded, my back arching as the barely-there caress drifted over the swell of my breast, hardening the peak. My eyes fluttered open to…

Nothing.

Sitting up, I slowly glanced around the chamber.

My gaze landed on the windows. The chamber was dimmer, the sky beyond clouded over.

I slipped off the bed and stepped down from the platform.

My feet carried me toward the glass, but each step was slow, as if I were walking through thick slush.

The elms were darker than I’d ever seen them.