Nyktos slipped from the room before I could say anything, and with how badly my head ached, I couldn’t even read into that or what he’d thought was impossible. Remembering where my robe was, I went to the wardrobe and managed to slip it on. On the way back to the bed, I did stop to pick up the broken wooden leg. There was blood on the end of it, and a guard stationed outside or not, I wasn’t taking any chances.

I climbed into bed, all but burying my face in the mound of pillows. I wasn’t alone for long. Nektas arrived shortly after the Primal had left. He didn’t say a word, and my head hammered too much to be bothered by his silence.

The draken was currently out on the balcony, having left the door half-open. Every so often, when I had my eyes open, I saw him pass in front of the door as if he were checking on me.

It wasn’t all that long before he entered the chamber and announced as he had before that Nyktos was arriving.

“Can you sense him?” I asked, half of my face still planted in the pillows. Nektas nodded and stopped in the middle of the room. “Is it…the bond?”

The question earned me another nod.

“Do you like being bonded to a Primal?”

He nodded once more. “For most of us, it is a choice.” Nektas looked at me then, his gaze unblinking. “We undertake the bond of our own free will, and because of that, we see it as an honor. As does the Primal.”

For most of us? “Did the bond transfer from his father to him?”

“No. It doesn’t work that way. When his father died, it severed the bond. Those who are bonded to Nyktos have done so by choice.”

“And the ones who don’t fall into the most of us category?” I asked, wincing as the throbbing in my head told me to be quiet.

Nektas didn’t answer right away. “The bond can be forced, as nearly all things can. Some draken aren’t given that choice.”

“What…what about the draken last night? The crimson-colored one?”

“I do not know if he chose the bond or not, but I do know that Kolis does not give a choice.”

The door opened before I could ask how Kolis or any Primal could force a bond. Nyktos stalked in, carrying a large tankard. His gaze immediately landed on me and didn’t stray. “Thank you,” he said to the draken. And then to me he said, “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“She lies,” Nektas advised.

“How do you know?” I muttered.

“Draken have an acute sense of smell.” Nyktos sat beside me. “Along with sight and hearing.”

“Pain has a smell?”

“Everything has a scent,” Nektas answered as I eyed him wryly. “Every person has a unique scent.”

“What do I smell like?” I asked.

“You smell of…” He inhaled deeply as my lip curled. “You smell of death.”

I stared at him from my pile of pillows, mouth hanging open. “That was rude.”

Nyktos cleared his throat as he lowered his chin. “He may be speaking of me.”

“I am,” the draken confirmed.

I glanced at Nyktos and then realized what he meant. Warmth crept up my throat. “I did bathe—”

“That will not wash away such a scent,” Nektas countered.

 I stared at them. “Well, that’s...even more rude to point out.”

Nektas tilted his head, and his nostrils flared when he inhaled once more. “You also smell of—”

“You can stop now,” I told him. “I changed my mind. I don’t need to know.”

He looked a bit disappointed.

“I brought you something to drink that I think might help with the headache,” Nyktos said. “It doesn’t taste the greatest, but it works.”

Pushing myself up, I reached for the tankard. “Is it some kind of tea?” I asked, curling my fingers around the warm cup. “Sir Holland made me some when I had a headache this bad before.”

“It is a tea, but I doubt it’s the same,” Nyktos answered. “This should bring you relief.”

“His tea made the headache go away.” I sniffed the dark liquid. “Smells the same.” I took a sip, recognizing the sweet and earthy, minty flavor. “Tastes the same. Chasteberry? Peppermint? And other herbs I can’t remember? And let me guess, I need to drink all of this while it’s still warm?”

Surprise flickered across Nyktos’ face. “Yes.”

“It’s the same, thank the gods.” I took a larger drink and then forced myself to down the remaining contents.

“That was…impressive,” Nektas murmured.

“It also hurt a little,” I rasped, eyes and throat stinging. “But it works, so it’s worth it.”

Nyktos took the empty tankard from me. “Are you positive that it’s the same tea?”

“Yes.” I snuggled back down onto my side. “It’s the same. Sir Holland had given me an extra pouch of the herbs in case the headache returned.”

“Did he say why he thought the tea would help?” Nektas asked.

“Not that I remember.” I shoved my hands under a pillow. “My mother has migraines, so maybe he thought I was experiencing the same and figured it would help.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Nyktos frowned as he placed the tankard on the nightstand. “There is no way a mortal would have knowledge of this type of tea.”

I raised a brow, already feeling the pounding lessening. “Is the tea special or something?”

“It would not be known in the mortal realm.” Nektas glanced at the Primal and then his gaze landed on me. “You’re sure this Sir Holland is mortal?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “He’s mortal.” I glanced between the two of them. “Maybe the tea is more well-known than you all realize.”

“Maybe you’re wrong about this Sir Holland being mortal,” Nektas returned.

“When exactly did the headaches start?” Nyktos cut in. “You said a couple of years ago?”

My gaze shifted back to him. “I don’t know. Maybe a year and a half ago? Close to two?”

“That’s not a couple of years ago,” Nyktos pointed out.

“Sorry. My head felt like it was being ripped in two when I was being interrogated about it earlier.”

Nyktos’ lips twisted as if he were fighting a smile. “And they weren’t always intense like the one today?”

“Right. Normally, I can ignore them, and they eventually go away. This is only the second time I got one this severe.”

Nyktos studied me closely, his gaze tracking over my face as if he were searching for answers. “And the bleeding when you brush your teeth?”

“Infrequent,” I told him. “Do you think it’s something to do with a tooth? My stepfather once—”

“It’s not a tooth infection,” Nektas cut in.

“Can you also smell infections?” I retorted.

“Actually, yes, I can,” he said.

“Oh.” I sank a little deeper into the pillows. “That sounds kind of gross.”

“It can be,” the draken confirmed.

“Whether or not an infection smells poorly isn’t important,” Nyktos said, and I narrowed my eyes. “What you’re experiencing also isn’t a migraine.”

“I didn’t realize the Primal of Death was also a Healer,” I muttered.

He shot me a bland look. “You’re already feeling better, aren’t you? Truly, this time.”

“I am.”

“That’s it then.” He glanced at Nektas, and the draken nodded. “I think what you’re experiencing is a symptom of the Culling.”

“What?” I jerked upright, wincing as the throbbing intensified for a moment and then faded. “That’s impossible. Both my parents are mortal. I’m not a godling—”

“I’m not suggesting that you are,” Nyktos cut in, a grin appearing and then disappearing. “I think the ember of life that was placed in you is giving you similar side effects as the Culling. You’re the right age for it.”

“A bit of a late bloomer,” Nektas added.

I frowned at the draken. “I don’t understand.”

“Godlings go through the Culling because they have eather in their blood. The ember that my father placed in you is eather. That’s what fuels your gift, and it would be powerful enough to evoke symptoms—ones that can be debilitating without the right combination of herbs that was discovered ages ago by a god who had a knack for mixing potions. Took hundreds of years, or at least that’s what my father told me. A potion born of necessity since no other known medicine worked to ease the headaches and other symptoms that came with the Culling,” Nyktos explained. “It’s given to every god when they begin to go through the Culling, and to every godling we’re aware of.” The corners of his lips pulled down. “Which is why I would love to know how a mortal knew of this potion.”