Nyktos’s eyes met mine. “And if it does?”

My stomach dropped. “I would be exchanging my life for the lives of others.” I saw the guards falling from the Rise, swamped in flames. I thought of Davina. “I can’t do that.”

Nyktos’s head tilted. “No, I didn’t think you would.”

“It’s a good thing neither of us believes such an event will occur then,” Nektas said, and my gaze whipped between the two. “That happened because Eythos was the true Primal of Life. You would not yet be a Primal. The act wouldn’t have the same catastrophic consequences.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” I demanded.

“I wanted to see if I was right about what you would choose,” Nyktos said.

I resisted the urge to throw my glass at him. “So, what would happen to the embers? Would they go into someone else?” My eyes went wide, the hope now becoming a wildfire. “Could you take them? They belong to you, don’t they? The Primal of Life was your destiny.”

“It was my destiny.” Nyktos’s eyes glimmered faintly. “And if this works, it will be mine again.”

Chapter 10

I watched Nektas carry a sleeping Jadis out of the office. The little draken was sprawled over one broad shoulder, limbs and wings limp but tangled in her father’s hair. He was taking her to one of the bedchambers on the second floor that I’d learned had been converted into a nursery of sorts.

Apparently, while sleeping, Jadis had a habit of unconsciously slipping into her mortal form, and as Nektas had put it, no one needed to see her naked as a jaybird.

Though I wasn’t sure what that even meant. As far as I knew, jaybirds didn’t wear clothing.

“You really got her to eat with a fork?” Nyktos asked.

Slowly, I twisted around in my chair to face him. He still leaned against the desk. “I did.”

Nyktos smiled. It was close-lipped and faint, but it still had a transformative effect, warming the cold beauty of his features. “I’ve tried to get her to do it on more than one occasion. Usually end up with her knocking the fork from my hands or throwing herself on the floor. Sometimes simultaneously.”

I grinned at that. “Nektas said I might remind Jadis of her mother—the color of my hair or something like that—and thinks that helped.”

“Possibly.” His gaze met mine and then flickered away. “Halayna’s hair was on the lighter side. Not as fair as yours, though.”

Not like moonlight? Thank the gods and the Fates everywhere I didn’t ask that. “How did…how did she die?”

Nyktos didn’t answer for a long moment. “She was murdered.” He dragged a hand over his chest. “She was summoned to Dalos, and Kolis murdered her.”

I sucked in a shuddering breath. “Why?”

“Kolis loathes Nektas. He wanted to make him pay for being loyal to my father and then to me since he believes that Nektas should’ve been honored to serve him after he became the Primal of Life.”

Heart aching, I shook my head. “So he killed Halayna to punish Nektas?”

“Kolis would’ve preferred to kill Nektas, but he knows better than to do that without a really good reason.” Nyktos lowered his hand. “Unless Kolis killed Nektas in self-defense, many of the other draken throughout Iliseeum would have taken the act personally. They would have gone after Kolis and any who defended him.”

My brows shot up. “And the other draken didn’t take him killing Halayna personally? And why couldn’t the draken just take Kolis on themselves?”

“A draken can gravely wound a Primal, but they cannot kill one,” he reminded me. “And many of the draken did take what Kolis did personally. But with Nektas, it’s…different. He’s old.”

“How old?”

His gaze drifted back to mine. “He was the first dragon given mortal form.”

I nearly choked on my breath. “You mean…?”

That smile of his returned, a little broader and warmer, and even more startling in its impact. “My father befriended him when he was a dragon. Nektas was the first to become a draken. He was the draken who gave his fire to the flesh my father lent to create the first mortal.”

“Good gods, he would have to be…” I couldn’t even do the math in my head, especially when all I could think about was that I’d been in the presence of the draken who’d helped to create the mortal race. “How long can draken live?”

“As long as a Primal if they are not killed.”

I sucked in a shallow breath. “So, they are immortal?”

“Not even a Primal is immortal, Sera. Nothing that can be killed truly is, no matter how long we live.”

“Is anything immortal?”

“The Arae. And before you ask, I don’t know how old your Holland is,” he said. And I had been about to ask that. “The viktors are also immortal, but in a different way.”

It made sense since the viktors died but didn’t stay dead, instead returning to Mount Lotho to await being born again. Sort of like Sotoria—

Clearing my thoughts of her, I refocused. “Does anyone other than Nektas know about this plan?”

“Only a few I spoke to this morning,” he said.

“And who are those few?” I asked. Nyktos rattled off names of those who either watched over me or were seen with him often. The usual suspects. “And how much do they know about what is inside me?”

“They know you have more than one ember and that you’re in the Culling—something they didn’t need to be told since they know what those embers mean, and they’ve already seen you experience the symptoms. They know what those embers will do if they remain inside you. They support the plan.”

I doubted the desire to see me live was the reason they supported it. “All of it? Including you Ascending me?”

“They don’t have a say in that.” He studied me. “But none voiced any concerns.”

I also doubted that, even with his speech. “And what about Sotoria’s soul?”

“No one here but Nektas knows that,” he said. “Having that knowledge could endanger them—and you—if they were to be captured and questioned.”

My smile of relief was part grimace. I didn’t think any of his trusted guards would betray Nyktos. His unwillingness to share that little piece of knowledge was likely due to the fact that it could change the way his trusted guards viewed how things should be handled. But I let that go, switching to other questions. “If this plan of yours works, and you become the true Primal of Life, could you Ascend the Chosen?”

Nyktos nodded.

“Would you continue with the Rite?” I asked, curious.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure.” His brows pinched. “I think I would prefer for it to be more of a choice. Not a requirement.”

I liked the sound of that. “But couldn’t you just do away with the Rite altogether?”

“That could be done, but the Rite was started for a reason. The Chosen once had a real purpose. They were needed to replenish Iliseeum by bringing younger, newer gods into the fold—gods who knew what it was like to be mortal. It’s a balance in a way, one designed to offset those who would live such long lives they’d forget just how fragile and precious mortal life is.” Nyktos watched me. “You seem…conflicted about that.”

I was. Which was why I wasn’t all that irritated about him clearly reading my emotions. None of the Chosen given over to the Rite had Ascended in centuries. Most were killed within days of entering Dalos. Others became something else entirely. But my distaste for the tradition had started before I learned of their true fates. “I understand their purpose. It makes sense. But the Chosen…while they may have everything provided for them in the mortal realm, they don’t really live, you know? Their faces can’t be looked upon. They cannot be touched or spoken to by anyone other than another Chosen or the Priests.”

“None of that is necessary.” Nyktos frowned. “We didn’t start that. The mortals did.”