“There are times when I may have…visitors. Guests who I would not want to be around you,” he said. “Those times can be unexpected.”

My jaw began to ache from how tightly I clenched it.

“But when they occur, you are to return to your chambers and remain there until one of my guards or I retrieve you.”

I stiffened. None of his rules should bother me. My mother would insist that this was one of the moments that called for complete submission. And, surely, if I simply went along with these rules, it would aid me in my duty. But my skin tightened in a way that wasn’t at all pleasant. I’d spent a lifetime living behind a veil, even when I was no longer required to wear one. Hidden away, seemingly ashamed of. Forgotten.

“Why does this make you…sad?” Ash asked.

My head snapped toward him as I whispered, “What?”

His chin had tilted again. “You feel sad.”

“I feel annoyed—”

“Yes, that, too. But you also feel—”

“I don’t.” My stomach dipped. “You’re not reading my emotions, are you?” When he said nothing, anger shot through me like an arrow. “I thought you said you don’t do that.”

“I try not to. But, apparently, my guard was down, and what you felt was like a…” He appeared to search for a word as I silently screamed. “I couldn’t block it out.”

The breath I sucked in was shrill. I didn’t want him knowing that what he said had made me sad. I didn’t want anyone to know that. “There are more rules?”

“Not exactly a rule,” he said after a long moment. “But we must discuss your coronation as Consort.”

My stomach tumbled a bit. I didn’t know why it made me nervous, but it did. “When will that take place?”

“In a fortnight.”

Two weeks. Gods. I swallowed as I crossed my arms over my waist. “And what does that entail?”

“It will be like a celebration,” he said. “High-ranking gods will come from other Courts. Possibly even Primals. You will be crowned before them.” His gaze flickered over me. “I will have a seamstress from Lethe come to fit you for an appropriate gown.”

I tensed. “It’d better look nothing like that wedding gown.”

“I have no intention of displaying you to the entirety of my Court and all others within Iliseeum,” he replied, and there was no denying the relief I felt. “And she will also be able to outfit you with a wardrobe.”

Nodding, my thoughts raced forward. “Will I…?” I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Will I be Ascended like the Chosen are upon being found worthy?”

Shadows rippled just beneath his skin. It happened so fast that I thought I’d imagined it. “What do you know about the act of Ascension, liessa?”

I lifted my shoulder. “Not much beyond the Primal of Life granting the Chosen eternal life.”

His features tightened and then smoothed out. “And how do you think one Ascends?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The secret of the act is highly guarded.”

Faint wisps of eather seeped into his eyes. “The act of Ascension requires a mortal’s blood to be drained from their body and replaced by that of a Primal or god. It is not always a successful transition,” he said, and I thought of what I had learned of the godlings and their Culling. “But those who are Chosen are born in a shroud. They already carry some mark—some essence of the gods—in their blood. It allows them to complete the Ascension if it were to occur.”

My gaze immediately went to his mouth. What did a mortal become once Ascended? I knew they did not become a god, but that wasn’t my most important question. “Will my Ascension take place then?”

The eather in his eyes flared intensely. “You will not be Ascended. You will remain mortal.”

Surprise rolled through me as I looked up at him. Even though I knew that it didn’t matter whether or not I Ascended. I didn’t plan for either of us to be around long enough to even begin comprehending something akin to immortality. But he didn’t know that. “How can you have a mortal Consort? Has there ever been one?” I asked. If so, it had never been documented.

“There has never been a mortal Consort. But this was never your choice. It wasn’t mine, either,” he stated, and the twinge of rejection was so utterly ridiculous, I wanted to smack myself. “And I would never force someone into a near eternity of this.”

Ofthis.

He spat those words as if he spoke of the Abyss. For a moment, I didn’t understand, but there was so much I didn’t know about Iliseeum and their politics—the gods and Primals that pushed the limits of others, and what exactly that often entailed beyond what I’d seen on the way into the palace.

And it was yet another thing that didn’t matter. I didn’t need him to be open to the idea of Ascending me. I just needed him to love me.

Nervous, I lifted my gaze to his. “Are there any more rules, Your Highness?”

A half-grin appeared, stroking my temper. “Why do I find you referring to me as such arousing?”

“Because you’re an arrogant, controlling misogynist?” I suggested before I could stop myself.

Ash laughed, and I swore the corners of my vision started to turn red. “I am arrogant and can be somewhat controlling, but I feel no hatred for women, no more need to control them than I would a man.”

I stared at him blandly. “Are there any more rules?” I repeated.

“You’re angry—and no, I’m not reading your thoughts. It’s obvious.”

“Yes, I’m angry.” I turned from him, once more walking the length of the shelves. “What you call agreements are rules, and I don’t like rules.”

“I never would’ve guessed that,” he remarked.

“I don’t like that you think you can establish rules as if you have the…” Common sense finally seeped in, urging me into silence.

Ash arched a brow. “The what, liessa? Like I have what? The authority? Is that what you were going to say? And did you stop yourself because you realized I have exactly that?”

I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t why, but it also probably should’ve been.

“I do have the authority. Over you. Over everyone here and every mortal in and outside of this realm, but that is not why I have these conditions,” he said as I came to the end of the shelves, near the portraits. “They are in place to help keep you safe.”

“I don’t need that kind of help,” I said, my gaze lifting to the portraits. One was a man. The other a woman.

“One of the bravest things to do is to accept the aid of others.”

“Do you do that?” I asked, staring at the woman. She was beautiful. Deep red-wine hair, almost the same as Aios’s, framed an oval-shaped face, the skin painted a rosy pink. Her brows were strong, her silver-eyed gaze piercing. The cheekbones were high, and her mouth was full. “Do you often accept the aid of others?”

“Not as often as I should.” His voice was closer.

“Then maybe you don’t know if that is brave or not.” My attention shifted to the male, and even though I suspected I already knew who these people were, I still wasn’t prepared for how much he looked like the Primal standing behind me. Hair shoulder-length and black—a bit darker than Ash’s hair—he had the same bronzed tone of skin as Ash. The same features, really. Strong jaw and broad cheekbones. Straight nose and wide mouth. It was like looking at an older, less defined version of Ash, courtesy of the woman’s softer features. “These are your parents, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” He was directly behind me now. “That is my father. His name was Eythos,” he said, and I silently repeated the name. “And that is my mother.” He came to stand beside me, and a long moment passed. “I remember my father. His voice. The memories of it have faded over the years, but I can still see him in my mind. This is how I know what my mother looked like.”

Fighting the burn in the back of my throat, I folded my arms over my waist once more. “It’s hard to see her…in your mind, isn’t it? When you’re not standing directly in front of this painting.”