“You…you have four…draken protecting you?” I asked, my stomach sinking. It wasn’t like I’d forgotten who the Primals’ guards were. But seeing it was a shock.

Ash nudged Odin forward. “I do.”

I watched the three others join Nektas, their wings sweeping gracefully through the sky. “And they have names?”

“Orphine, Ehthawn, and Crolee,” he answered. “Orphine and Ehthawn are twins. I believe Crolee is their distant cousin.”

“You call them draken?” I asked. “How is that any different from a dragon?”

“Very different.”

I waited. “Please tell me you’re going to explain further.”

“I am. Just thinking of a way to make it less confusing,” he said, that thumb of his beginning to move again. “Dragons were very old creatures. Very powerful. Some believe they even existed in both realms long before gods and mortals did.”

“I…I didn’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “A long time ago, a very powerful Primal befriended the dragons, despite being unable to communicate with them. He wanted to learn their stories, their histories, and being quite young at the time, he was rather…impulsive in his actions. He knew one way he could talk to them was to give them a godly form—a dual life. One where they could shift between that of a dragon and a godly form.”

This young Primal he spoke of had to be Kolis. That was the only Primal who could create any form of life. “They can…they can look like you and me?”

“For the most part,” he confirmed. I really wanted to know what he meant by that. “Those who chose to take the dual life were called draken.”

“Are there any dragons left? Ones that don’t shift?”

“Sadly, no. Dragons and draken live for an extraordinarily long time, but their ancestors went extinct quite some time ago.” His thumb moved in that slow, idle circle again. “They weren’t the only ones this young Primal gave a dual life to.”

I thought of the creatures I’d once heard of that lived in the sea off the coast of Iliseeum. I had so many additional questions, but they fell to the wayside as I saw what the draken were flying towards.

 A torch-lit wall appeared below, tall as the inner wall of Wayfair, but the castle I had grown up in paled in comparison to what sat atop a gently rolling hill. A massive, sprawling structure that was as wide as it was tall. Turrets and towers stretched high into the sky, and the entire palace was star-kissed, glittering as if a thousand lamps had been lit. It reminded me of the Shadow Temple but was far larger.

A heavily wooded area pressed against the back of the palace walls and beyond them, as far as I could see, were specks of light too numerous to count. A city—there was a city.

My pulse galloped as we rode down the hill. Tiny balls of dread and anticipation formed in my stomach as we drew close to the gated wall. I was stuck in a chasm of apprehension and something akin to curiosity but stronger.

“That is…that is your home?” The air seemed thinner, and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not as I saw the draken circling the palace.

“It is known as the House of Haides. The wall surrounding it is called the Rise,” he told me. “It encompasses both Haides and the city of Lethe, up to the Black Bay.”

Ahead, the trees still encased the road, but more of the wall became visible, as did the gate. There was something on the wall—several somethings I couldn’t make out. We rounded a slight bend in the road. The wall also appeared to be made of shadowstone, the surface not nearly as glossy or smooth. Instead of reflecting the starlight, it seemed to swallow any and all light, which was what made those shapes so difficult to discern until the massive, iron gate silently began to open.

My gaze crept over the wall, over the shapes, and I started to feel lightheaded. The shapes on the wall were that of a cross. My breathing was too shallow, even though my chest heaved with each breath.

They were people.

People stripped bare and impaled on the wall with some sort of stakes through their hands and chests. Their heads hung limply, and the stench of death filled the air.

Bile climbed my throat as my grip tightened on the pommel. “Why?” I whispered. “Why are those people on the wall?”

“They are gods,” Ash answered, his voice flat and as cold as the waters of the lake. “And they serve as a reminder for all.”

“Of what?”

“That life for any being is as fragile as the flame of a candle—easily extinguished and stamped out.”

Two of the draken circling the palace descended on either side of the gate, stirring up a gust of wind. They landed on the Rise. Neither the shuddering impact nor the deep, rumbling sound they made penetrated the horror of what I’d seen on the Rise.

I sat in stunned silence as I saw men—men and women in black and gray armor—along the Rise, stop and bow deeply as Ash rode past. But I barely saw them. Barely saw the numerous balconies and spiraling outdoor staircases that seemed to connect every floor of the palace to the ground.

Ash had gods impaled to his wall.

The cruelty and inhumanity of that and his words left me numb and confused as we entered the brightly lit stables. For someone who’d once said that every death should leave a mark, his actions told a different story.

A man approached from one of the stables, bowing before taking Odin’s reins. If he spoke, I didn’t hear him. If he looked up at us, I didn’t see it.

I felt like I might be sick.

I didn’t protest when Ash dismounted first and lifted his hands to help me down. I barely felt the touch of his hand on my lower back or the soft straw under my feet as he led me outside and toward a side entrance to the castle, tucked behind a staircase.

The windowless door opened to reveal a man with golden-red hair and the same rich, wheatish skin tone. He looked at me with dark brown eyes—eyes that carried a silvery glow behind the pupils. A god. Those luminous eyes shifted to Ash and then back at me. “I have so many questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ash answered dryly, looking down at me. “This is Rhain. He’s one of my guards. Like Ector and Saion.”

I forced my lips to move as I looked up into Rhain’s dark eyes. “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Rhain said, startling me. He raised a brow at Ash. “Which is why I have so many questions. But I know. They have to wait.” He paused as Ash guided me into a shadowy interior stairwell. “Theon and Lailah are inside,” the god added quietly as he followed us.

Ash sighed. “Of course.” He stopped in the narrow space, facing me. “I’d hoped there’d be time before anyone realized you were here. Very few people have…known of you. The ones you’re about to meet, don’t. And I’m sure they will have questions, too.”

“Most definitely,” Rhain agreed.

“Questions that will mostly go unanswered,” Ash stressed, shooting the god a look. “You will be introduced as my Consort, and that is all. Okay?”

Any other time, I would have asked many questions. Instead, I nodded. My hands were trembling slightly as Ash reached around me and pushed open a second door.

The unexpected, intense light caused me to take a step back. I blinked until my eyes adjusted. The light was as bright as sunshine, and for a moment, I thought it had been Ash glowing again with power. But it wasn’t.

I looked up at a glittering chandelier of cascading glass candles hanging in the center of an entryway. There was no flame. The candles glowed a bright yellow, nonetheless, as did the sconces on black pillars that stretched upward onto the second floor.

“It’s Primal energy,” Ash explained, seeing what I stared at. “It powers the lighting throughout the palace and Lethe.”

Speechless, I dragged my eyes from the lights. A curved staircase sat on each side of the space, facing one another. Their railings and steps were carved from shadowstone. Beyond the staircases and through a wide, sharply pointed archway was an expansive room.