“That is more important than anyone in this space, including you.” He held my stare. “Even me. Because without balance, there is nothing.”

What he said made little sense. I inhaled a mere wisp of air. “Can you…can you make it not hurt?”

The eather stilled in his eyes, and his skin thinned. Coldness drenched me.

Saying nothing, he let go of my wrist and thrust me away from him. I stumbled but caught myself as he turned his head back to Jove. A heartbeat passed, and then Kolis’s lips peeled back. I saw a flash of his fangs, and then he struck, piercing the flesh of Jove’s throat.

My body jerked at the exact moment Jove’s did. I tipped forward as the Chosen went rigid, his eyes and mouth opening wide. A tremor started in my legs. I knew what kind of excruciating agony he was likely enduring. Frantically, I swiveled around, scouring my surroundings for a weapon. My gaze landed on the swords of those who remained as the embers flared to life, reminding me that—

A moan swiftly yanked my attention back to Kolis and the Chosen. The sound… My gaze went to where the Primal fed deeply from Jove. The Chosen’s lips were now only parted, his features slack and slightly flushed. I hadn’t heard a moan of pain.

It was one of pleasure.

Breathing raggedly, I pressed my hand to my stomach. A spasm jolted Jove as he exhaled another heated groan. Kolis wasn’t causing pain.

I watched, caught between surprise and agitation, as the Chosen gradually grew limp in the false King’s arms. I had known Kolis was capable of feeding without pain, but I also knew he was not kind. He’d shown that over and over.

But the Chosen wasn’t in pain. Ecstasy soaked his features. Still, this… I swallowed down the bitterness of bile. This didn’t feel right. I took a step back, somehow even more disturbed by what I witnessed now than I would have been if Jove had been screaming.

I’d asked Kolis not to cause pain.

He’d done this for me, but all I could think about was what I’d thought when I first saw Orval and Malka and what I had been led to believe with the god from Keella’s Court and Jacinta. All I could think about was how the last thing I’d wanted to feel when Kolis bit me was pleasure.

Oh, gods.

I’d asked Kolis to do this, and I knew this wasn’t okay, even if my intentions had been in the right place. I just didn’t know how wrong it was. In this case, did the means justify the end? I couldn’t answer that.

Arms shaking, I backed up until I was nearly behind the pillow. My fingers curled against my stomach as my hands started to warm.

Jove was pale. He was dying.

Kolis jerked his head back without warning. “The process is fairly simple,” he said in a thickened voice that reminded me of the overbearing summers in Lasania and how he spoke of his need. “The blood must be taken from the Chosen right up to when the heart begins to falter.” He paused, catching a drop of blood from his lower lip with his tongue. “Then they must be given the blood of the gods.”

The act of Ascension for the Chosen was the same as Ash had spoken of. A transfer of blood.

“Your Majesty.”

Startled by Elias’s voice, I turned sideways.

“Come, Elias,” Kolis answered.

The guard passed me, not looking at me as he went to Kolis’s side. Without saying another word, he lifted his wrist to his mouth and bit into his vein, drawing shimmery blood.

My gaze flew to Kolis as understanding dawned. Kolis couldn’t give the Chosen his blood, which was what I’d figured when he took me to the ceeren instead of healing me himself.

But what I didn’t know was exactly why he couldn’t. Ash was a Primal of Death, and his blood healed. Could it be because Kolis was the Primal of Death?

I stood still as Elias placed his bleeding wrist over Jove’s mouth. The Chosen’s head was turned from me, but after a few moments, I saw his throat bob in a swallow.

Shivering, I folded my arms around myself, barely feeling the sore pull of my muscles. I didn’t know how much time passed, but at some point, Elias had lifted the limp Jove into his arms.

“That was and is how it is done,” Kolis said.

As if coming out of a daze, I blinked. Elias carried Jove toward the curtained archway.

“Come.” Kolis didn’t give me a chance to respond, just took my hand. “I’ll explain more.”

Every part of my being rebelled against his touch as he led us back through the doors. We returned the way we’d come in silence, arriving at the cage in what felt like heartbeats.

Kolis and I were alone.

“When my brother did the Ascensions, the Chosen Ascended into godhood.” Kolis’s upper lip curled, and then his expression smoothed out. “Without the embers of life, they simply become the Ascended, as I told you before.”

Raising my hand—my left hand—to his mouth, he pressed a dry kiss to the top. “Those who are like gods but not. Sickness no longer plagues them. They may consume food, but it is not necessary. And they will survive most mortal injuries, susceptible to only a few manners of death,” he told me, his voice carrying a hint of pride. “But I’ve been working on a few drawbacks.”

“Like…?” I trailed off as he began leading me across the chamber, my heart spasming as we neared the bed. We passed it. He sat me on the divan, and I cleared my throat. “Like what?”

“They can become as strong as a god if given time, but so far, they have not been able to harness the eather.” He walked over to the table. New glasses and fresh pitchers had been brought in during our absence. “They have a strong aversion to sunlight.”

I thought about how Gemma had said the Chosen who returned remained indoors during daylight hours. My gaze flicked to the doors. Was that why the part of the sanctuary I’d seen the last Ascended in had been so dark? “But the sun is still out, and Jove was—”

“The aversion is not immediate. It takes a few hours.” he cut in, running his fingers over the linen draped across the table. “While they do not need food, they do need blood, and their hunger is…insatiable in the beginning. It’s difficult for them to control. Some do not learn such restraint. Any blood will suffice, but that which carries even a few drops of eather is preferred. It can help them manage the hunger.”

The dull ache in my head returned, pulsing at my temples. “And if they cannot manage their hunger?”

From where he stood on the other side of the table, his gaze lifted to mine. “They are put down.”

The way he said that, without any emotion, was more than unsettling.

Gods.

“That bothers you.” He spread his fingers over the linen. “It shouldn’t. It is for the greater good.”

Gods, my two most hated words, but hearing Kolis speak of the greater good was, well, so absurd it was actually amusing.

“Gods have been unable to control their bloodlust, too. They were also put down under Eythos’s rule,” Kolis said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. “The only difference is that neither he nor those the god served bloodied their hands.”

“It was you?” I figured.

“I was the Primal of Death, after all,” he answered with a hollow smile. “Who else would carry out such distasteful deeds?”

He was still the true Primal of Death, and he knew it. But even I could admit that being tasked with such an act must have been terrible.

“Like Eythos, I’m creating life, not death. And an Ascended left uncontrolled is exactly that: Death. I give them a chance to restrain themselves. I do,” he repeated, his shoulders rising sharply. “But if they fail? They will glut themselves on blood. And once they’ve fallen into bloodlust, they are almost always lost. They will kill indiscriminately, draining their victims, and what becomes of them then is nothing more than the living dead…” He pursed his lips. “It is not an act I enjoy, contrary to what others may believe. But I do not pawn it off on others. An Ascended who has given in to bloodlust must be killed, and it should be done by their creator.”