“Beg and pray all you want. It matters not to me.” The Primal’s voice turned guttural as the shadow wings swept high, stirring the air once more. “He has proven what little significance and value he has to this realm.”

“Don’t do this,” my mother cried, holding out her hands. I squeezed my eyes shut. Not wanting to hear her beg for him… “Please.”

“He’s a monster. He’s always been a monster.” Ezra’s steady voice cut through the room, and I opened my eyes. She hadn’t risen from where she knelt. “Our…our father knew that. Everyone knows that. He is, as you said, of little significance.”

“But he is the future King,” my mother said as Tavius’s eyes bulged, and veins protruded from his temple. “He will never do something like this again. I can promise you that.”

I stared at my mother, my chest rising and falling rapidly as she continued pleading for his life. That icy fire returned, washing away the shock and the disbelief. It dulled the pain in my shoulders and upper back. It dulled everything. I pulled away from Saion and pushed to my feet. I stood on surprisingly steady legs, my gaze never leaving my mother, even though she had not looked at me.

“Let him go,” I said. “Please.”

“You would beg for his life?” The Primal’s voice was barely recognizable. The limestone of the statue cracked behind Tavius. “He hurt you. He forced you onto your knees and whipped you.”

“I don’t beg for his life,” I said, that throbbing icy hotness taking root in my chest as I turned to the Primal.

A long moment passed, and then the Primal looked down at me. His eyes… The silver was radiant, almost blinding, the wisps of eather nearly obscuring the pupils. The glow seeped out of his eyes, crackling and spitting. Power charged the air, and behind him—all around him—a darkness continued to gather, pulling from all the nooks and shadowy areas of the Great Hall. Shadows also moved under his skin.

“As you wish, liessa.” The Primal dropped my stepbrother. He fell forward onto his knees, and then rolled to his side as he tore the whip free of his throat, tossing it aside as he wheezed. The whip slid across the petals and cracked flooring, coming to a stop before me.

I looked down at it. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me for that,” he bit out. The shadows collapsed back into the Primal’s skin and were released to the hidden corners of the room. The luminous glow was the last thing to fade. His eyes met mine. “Do not allow this to leave a mark.” He then turned back to Tavius, kneeling beside him. “You will not die by my hands, but I will have your soul for an eternity to do with as I see fit. And I have a lot of ideas.” He winked as he patted the mortal’s cheek. “Something to look forward to. For both of us.”

Saion laughed under his breath. “He’s giving like that.”

“Thank you,” my mother whispered. “Thank you for your—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Nyktos snarled as he stepped over Tavius’s trembling body.

My mother did just that, and I turned to her. Finally, finally she looked at me. Her eyes were wide, red, and swollen, and I felt nothing as I faced the Primal. He shifted an arm to the side, revealing the hilt of a sword strapped to his lower back as Tavius righted himself, leaning against the statue of Kolis. The redness had eased from his face as he tilted his head back. The mark the whip had left behind on his throat was clearly visible.

Grasping the hilt of the Primal’s sword, I pulled it free. Ector stepped to the side. The shadowstone was heavier than I was accustomed to, but it was a welcome weight in my hands as I turned to my stepbrother. Tavius looked up at me.

“What did I promise you?” I asked.

His watery eyes widened with realization. He threw up an arm as if he could somehow ward off what was to come.

I swung the shadowstone sword down, across his right forearm. The blade met no resistance, cleaving smoothly through tissue and bone. Tavius howled a sound I’d never heard a mortal make before as he scrambled against the statue, blood spraying and spurting. Someone screamed. Probably my mother as I brought the sword down on his left arm, just below the shoulder. His shrieks rang across the glass ceiling.

 I thrust the sword through Tavius’s right chest in a most dishonorable manner, impaling him to the statue of the Primal of Life. He flailed and jerked, wide eyes rolling as blood sprayed the length of my night rail. I stepped toward him.

“I think that’s enough,” the Primal said.

“No, it’s not.” I picked up the whip and snapped forward, grasping Tavius’s blood-and-sweat-soaked hair. I jerked his head back. Wide, panicked eyes met mine as I shoved the handle of the whip into his mouth, pushing it down as hard as I could.

“Okay.” Saion cleared his throat. “Got to admit, I was not expecting that.”

The light was quick to go out of Tavius’s eyes then. The icy heat in my chest throbbed in response, but I let go of his head before my gift could undo all my hard work. I stepped back, wiping his blood on my night rail. Blood now trickled from his ragged wounds.

I didn’t carve out his heart or set him on fire, but what I had done…it would do, and it would not leave a mark.

Taking another step back, I looked around the room. My mother had stopped screaming. The faces were a blur as I looked at Ezra. “Take the throne,” I said hoarsely, and she stiffened. “You are next in line.”

Ezra shook her head. “The throne belongs to—”

“The throne belongs to you,” I cut her off.

Her gaze darted to the presence behind me and then to where my mother had collapsed in a pool of white skirts, one hand clutching her chest as she looked at me—as she saw what I was, what she had helped to mold.

A monster just like Tavius, only of a different sort.

I turned to the Primal, to the other who had helped to shape me into this thing, and slowly lifted my gaze to his face. He stared down at me, his expression unreadable as Tavius’s blood seeped across the floor, cool against my bare feet.

A roar replaced the nothingness as I stood there, staring up at him.

The Primal of Death.

My would-be husband.

Nyktos.

The very key to stopping the slow, painful destruction of my kingdom.

 Suddenly, that feeling of familiarity made sense. I had heard his voice before.

I have no need of a Consort.

The Primal inhaled sharply as emotions rolled through me, wave after wave, crashing into a rising tide of so many feelings that I choked on them—the disbelief, the hope, the dread, and the anger. So much anger.

“You,” I croaked.

“Get everyone out of here,” the Primal ordered. “Get everyone out of here, including yourselves.”

The gods hesitated. “Are you sure?” Ector asked.

“Go.” The Primal didn’t take his eyes off me.

I heard the gods walking away, heard them rounding up those still alive—heard Saion asking, “You have whiskey? I’m in the mood for whiskey.”

A shudder worked its way through me as the Primal continued staring down at me. Did he…did he now just realize who I was? Three years had passed since he’d last seen me. A lot had changed in that time. Whatever softness of youth had lingered in my features had faded. I was a little taller and fuller, a little harder, but I wasn’t unrecognizable. Apparently, I was just forgettable while my entire life had only ever been about him. And because of him, the last three years of my life had been…well, they had been nothing but pain, disappointment, and unfulfilled duty.

Every part of my being centered on him as my chest continued to rise and fall rapidly.

His head tilted again, the slash of dark brows lowering. Reddish-brown hair slid against his cheek, and something…something deep inside me began to rattle and crack open. I tasted rage, a hot and acidic rage so potent and consuming, my throat burned with it.