“You can do it,” Aios cheered, hands clasped together under her chin. “Just jump.”

The purplish-black draken teetered on the edge of the boulder, his leathery wings arced high. I held my breath as Reaver jumped into the air, lifting his wings. Below the boulder, Jadis wiggled her green-and-brown body in an excited circle. Reaver dipped precariously, and both Aios and I stepped forward until he swooped above our heads with a trill of victory.

“Thank gods,” I muttered, exhaling heavily as he rose and glided. I watched Reaver sweep through the air, half afraid that he would fall for no reason. “I don’t think I’ve been more stressed in my entire life.”

Aios laughed softly as she brushed a coppery strand of hair over a shoulder. “Same.” She glanced over at me. “How are you feeling today?”

 “I feel fine.” Jadis chirped, rushing across the ground of the courtyard, kicking up gray dust as she followed Reaver. I glanced down at my arm. “The scratches are barely even noticeable.”

“You’re lucky to have received the antidote when you did,” Aios noted, watching the draken. “A few more minutes, and it could’ve been too late.”

I nodded absently, my thoughts immediately finding their way to my bedchamber and to Ash. The emotions that pinged through me ran the gamut. Everything from that strange whirring sensation to a deep-rooted feeling of unease. I’d fallen asleep beside him the night before. I didn’t know exactly when it had happened. Silence had fallen between us as he continued toying with my braid. I wasn’t sure how long he remained at my side. He’d been gone when I woke, but his scent lingered on the pillows and sheets. I thought perhaps he’d spent the entire night with me.

And that was a good sign—a great one.

I nibbled on my lower lip as I turned back to Aios and the draken. The goddess had shown that morning with breakfast—one that she ate with me in my chambers. Afterward, she’d asked if I wanted to join her on a walk. Somehow, we’d ended up out here with the draken, and I wondered if Ash had something to do with that. If he had told Aios that I didn’t need space. I didn’t ask because that seemed like a rather awkward conversation. Besides, I still couldn’t believe I’d admitted to feeling as if I’d done something to deserve being alone.

Fucking whiskey.

Jadis took off across the courtyard, apparently attempting to gain enough speed to take flight, something she had already tried several times. Aios went after her as Reaver landed a bit roughly by the boulder. He watched me from several feet away, his eyes narrowed. There was a thoughtful look about him, an almost wary one. I extended a hand toward him as Jadis peeked at him from behind one of my legs. Reaver tilted his head to the side as he tucked his wings back.

“Not very trusting, are you?” I remarked, lowering my hand as my thoughts returned to yesterday.

 I flicked my gaze back to Aios. She had snagged Jadis by the arm, guiding the stomping draken away from the too-high boulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“It’s about the Primal, Veses,” I said, and Aios stiffened a bit as Reaver took flight again. “I got the impression that no one here likes her, and Ash said that she was the worst sort. Did she have anything to do with the gods on the wall?”

A breeze whirled through the courtyard, picking up and tossing the strands of her hair as she let go of Jadis’s arm and straightened. “No, she did not as far as I know, but she is…not well regarded by many in the Shadowlands. She can be rather vindictive when angered or ignored.” Aios laughed, but it was a tight sound. “Have you ever met someone who feels they are entitled to whatever they want? That is Veses. And that entitlement extends to people. Many gods or goddesses would enjoy being the object of her affections. And many do.” She turned to me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But she will fixate on what she perceives she cannot have. And if she is unsuccessful in achieving that, she can be very resentful.”

“And she wants Ash?” I surmised.

“Only because he has never shown her that type of attention,” she answered. “To her, it’s personal. Even though he’s never shown interest in anyone until you.”

Until you.

My stomach dipped at the exact moment my heart jumped. I ignored both reactions. “Has she hurt anyone because of his lack of interest in her?”

“I don’t think so, but she can make things…difficult for him. While she may not be liked by many, she is well-connected.” Her brow creased. “You know, I don’t think she has always been like this. At least, that is what I’ve heard. When I was young, Mycella told me stories about Veses—about how giving and kind she was, bestowing good fortune on gods and mortals, even to those who had not prayed to her for such. She’s very old. Far past the time for her to rest, so I don’t know if her nature is partly due to living such a long life or what.”

Two things really caught my attention. “Mycella? You mean Ash’s mother?”

She nodded as a faint, sad smile crossed her features. “We were distantly related. Cousins, as mortals would say. One of her aunts or uncles was from the Court of Kithreia. I was very young when she was killed.”

Was that why she felt safe here? Because of her relation to Ash? I glanced down as Jadis hopped onto one of my feet. “What do you mean by rest? Like go to sleep?”

“For some, yes. For others, it’s more like retiring. You see, Primals can be endless, and that kind of lifespan is even unfathomable to most gods. Though there have been a few who’ve become so powerful that they too are endless. And that amount of time…it can rot the mind.” Aios crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Reaver glide through the air. “To watch the world fall and be rebuilt around you, time after time. To see nothing new. To no longer be surprised and to become so accustomed to loss that even the idea of love is no longer a thrill.”

A wave of tiny bumps erupted along my skin under the black tunic I wore, and I tried to think of what that must be like. To live for so long you’d seen everything.

“The longer a Primal or a god lives, the greater the risk of them becoming more eather than person. Some can handle the endless time better than others, but eventually, it impacts all of us. There are ways to avoid it. One is to enter a deep stasis—to sleep. But very few have ever done that,” she said. “For those who do not wish to sleep, they can enter what we call Arcadia, a place very much like the Vale. A garden, so to speak. It allows for an Ascension of another and peace for the Primal.”

“Is that…another realm?” I asked as Jadis stretched, placing one talon on my other foot. I had no idea what the young draken was doing.

She nodded. “But Veses can’t do that. None of them can.”

I started to ask why when she looked past me, at the palace. A smile returned to her somber features. “Bele.”

Looking over my shoulder, I saw two figures crossing the courtyard, both dressed in black tunics with the fine silver stitching along the collar and across the chest.

The one I assumed was Bele was tall and lithe, her skin a light, golden brown, reminding me of the sparkling sand along the Stroud Sea. Hair the color of midnight lay over her shoulder in a thick braid. Her features were strikingly sharp, her eyes a shade of light, golden brown sparking with the glow of eather. She had a short sword strapped to one hip. I caught the curve of a bow visible over one shoulder.

Beside her was a man with rich, brown skin, his sleeveless tunic tailored to the broad width of his shoulders and chest. His dark hair was cropped close to his head. Something about his handsome features and the impassive set of his mouth was familiar.

Aios’s smile increased as they approached. The male glanced in my direction while Bele stepped forward to give Aios a quick, tight hug.