There was a whole lot of stuff there to process, starting with the fact that Kolis actually sounded as if he believed what he said: that he was creating life. And it seemed he truly cared about that life. There was also the idea that he thought of himself as the creator of these Ascended. But was he? He’d drained Jove, but Elias’s blood would ultimately Ascend him. However, what he said happened to those the Ascended fed upon and killed prompted my next question.

“How is an Ascended different than what you spoke of before? The Craven.”

“Well, one is still alive, and the other is not. They are like the Gryms,” he explained, and an image rose of the waxy-skinned once-mortals who had summoned a god and then offered their eternal lives in exchange for whatever they believed they needed so badly. “But one whose bite spreads a very different kind of toxin. An infection of sorts that will turn whomever they bite or scratch into the undead—if they survive the attack.”

My mouth dropped open. “That’s a pretty big drawback.”

“Yes, especially since those who are mortal—or more mortal than god—are susceptible to turning Craven.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Which means newly-turned Ascended are a danger to the Chosen.”

“If they are so dangerous, why was an Ascended left to feed on a Chosen?” I demanded.

Kolis’s eyes reverted to their cold, lifeless stare, sending a surge of alarm through me. “Well, because it’s not a danger we’re entirely unaccustomed to. What do you think happens if a god drains a mortal? Something similar. You could say it’s an even more virulent infection.”

I thought about the seamstress. Madis had left her place right before I found her dead. The problem was, she hadn’t stayed dead. And she also hadn’t looked like the one I’d seen here.

“And newly made Ascended are always under watch,” he continued in a tone that sounded like each word was chiseled out of stone. “However, a certain someone attempted to escape.”

Me.

He was totally talking about me.

“And those responsible for watching over the Ascended were drawn away,” he said. “Ironically, if they’d remained at their post, the Ascended wouldn’t have killed, and you still would’ve been captured. But they have been dealt with.”

I had a feeling being dealt with didn’t mean they’d simply been reprimanded. I should probably feel a little bad about that, but I couldn’t muster the energy when I still didn’t know how to process what had been done to Jove.

He wouldn’t die, but he hadn’t chosen to live as an Ascended either. It had been decided for him. Maybe he would’ve chosen to live no matter what, but he could’ve decided to die instead. I would never know. But what if he was one of those who couldn’t control his hunger? And were the Ascended good or bad? Somewhere in the middle?

My brows knitted as I thought of something. Ash could go longer than he probably should without feeding. Was it the same with these Ascended? “What…what if an Ascended chooses not to feed?”

“They will weaken over time, becoming akin to mortal once more.”

I felt a skipping motion in my chest. “So, in a way, this kind of Ascension can be undone?”

“No.” His head tilted as he frowned. “Being akin to mortal is not the same thing. If they take no blood, their bodies eventually give out. The process of that is…” His frown deepened. “Admittedly, quite disturbing.”

Clearly, it was something he’d seen before. “There have been Ascended who refused to feed?” I surmised, the ache increasing.

“There have.”

“Why?”

Deep grooves formed between his brows. “They were not grateful for the blessing bestowed upon them.”

I stared at him, somewhat dumbfounded.

He straightened, drawing his hand from the table. “What? It is clear you’re thinking something. I want to know.”

I really needed to learn how to control my facial features. “It’s just that… Well, I was thinking that maybe they weren’t grateful because they didn’t want to become something that could turn into an indiscriminate killer.”

He laughed under his breath. “All gods are capable of becoming thus, so’lis, and mortals are no different.” He sent me a long, knowing look. “And from what I know of your life this time in the mortal realm, you were no different.”

My shoulders stiffened at the truth of his words. He was right. I’d been no different.

I still wasn’t, which was kind of funny, considering the embers within me.

“Everything that is created or born has the potential to become an indiscriminate killer,” he tacked on.

I saw what he was trying to get at. “Okay.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s not okay.”

“I said it was.”

“I may not always be able to tell when you lie, but most of the time I know,” he remarked, and I stiffened. “While I am not the Great Conspirator spoken of in the prophecy, I am a Deceiver, a teller of lies. I recognize many of yours. This is one of them.”

He was the only being who could be the Great Conspirator, and maybe he could sense my lies, but as long as he didn’t recognize the really important one…whatever. My head hurt. “All right, then,” I said, taking a breath. I could deal with a headache. “I see what you mean about everyone having the potential to be a killer, but—”

“There is no but. I am right.”

I took a deep breath. “Never mind, then.”

He stared at me, his head lowering. “No, continue.”

“There is no point in continuing if you will automatically dismiss what I’m saying before I even finish saying it.” I took a breath. “Gods were born knowing they would Ascend one day. They have their entire lives to prepare for it. The Chosen do not.”

“They don’t?” His brows rose. “They are given to the Temples at birth and raised as Chosen. They spend their entire lives preparing to serve in Iliseeum and to Ascend. The only difference is they do not Ascend into godhood.”

First off, that wasn’t the only difference. But not all of them were being Ascended. Some were being killed or turned.

But I could argue until I was blue in the face, and it wouldn’t change what Kolis believed, nor would it answer what I wanted to know.

“And you have to do this because of balance,” I said. “What exactly is this balance?”

“The balance is everything, so’lis. Without it, there is nothing.”

“I know.” I beat back my rising frustration. “You said that. But you haven’t—”

“The balance is everything,” he repeated. “And there is balance in everything. Or that is what the Fates say, at least. I tend to think their idea of balance is a bit…unbalanced.” Anger crept into his features. “Did you know the Primal of Death is expected to remain distant from anyone whose soul may one day pass before them for judgment?”

My eyes widened.

“Of course, you wouldn’t know that. The Primal of Death is not to have friends, confidants, or lovers among anyone who may need to be judged. The Arae believe that forming close bonds could ultimately skew judgment,” Kolis stated. “That means any being that is not a Primal or a draken.”

I hadn’t known that. Did that also play a role in why Ash kept a wall up between him and Rhain, Saion, and all the others? Why hadn’t he shared this with me? Then again, there hadn’t been much time for me to learn the more intricate details of his duties when I spent half the time I’d been with him attempting to keep myself from growing close to him. It reminded me of when I’d asked him about his armies and plans. He hadn’t keyed me in on any of it because, at that point, I hadn’t expressed any real interest in becoming his Consort. Regret surged through me, joining what was sure to become a long list.

“And yet, this was not expected of the Primal of Life,” Kolis continued. “There were no limitations, as if being in the Primal of Life’s favor couldn’t lead to poor judgment, even though the Primal god’s abilities were a collection of the other Primals’—a medley of the others’ goodness that could be exploited. Do you know how?”