I cleared my throat. “There is something else I need to tell you about him.”

He inhaled sharply, his eyes flashing pure silver for a heartbeat. “Did he do something to you? Before Kolis believed you were Sotoria?”

I recoiled, taking a step back. “No. Gods, no. Why would—? Never mind. I know why you would ask that.” My voice was low as my stomach churned. “You know exactly who your brother is.”

“I know exactly who he has become,” Attes corrected softly.

I wanted to apologize again, but I didn’t think it would make anything easier. “I didn’t get a chance to say something before, but I swore an oath that Kyn would face justice for what he did to the people here.”

Attes stopped near the main hall, his eyes closing.

“Is that why you didn’t stop Nyktos?” he asked quietly.

I considered lying. “No. I simply wanted to see Kyn hurt.”

His chin lowered. “I get that.”

“I won’t try to carry through on that oath during the eirini.”

He glanced over at me. “But you will eventually.”

“I will.” I crossed my arms. “I felt like I needed to tell you that.”

Attes’s chest rose with a heavy breath. “I can understand such an oath being made, Seraphena.”

“That’s why I’m sorry,” I said. “And you can call me Sera.”

His jaw worked as he nodded. Swallowing, he opened his eyes. Only a faint glow of eather pulsed behind his pupils. “Is telling me this why you’re currently risking getting my balls cut off?”

I arched a brow. “Yes, but there are other reasons. I wanted to ask you about Sotoria.”

It seemed impossible, but Attes stiffened further. “What about her?”

“I assume you have The Star somewhere safe?”

“I do.” He was silent for a moment. “And I assume you want to be in possession of it.”

I nodded. “But I think it’s better if you keep her. I’m sure Kolis believes I have The Star, so she’s safer with you. I know you will protect her.”

Something flickered across his face, too fast for me to read. “I will.”

I glanced back toward the chambers. “When I was in Dalos, the Star diamond was above me. It looked different then,” I said, even though Attes knew. “But I often saw this light moving around inside it. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but it was Eythos’s soul. He was…active. Aware. I was wondering if it’s the same with Sotoria.”

“Does the vadentia not tell you?”

I shook my head. “I think it’s because her soul was in me.”

Two lines formed between his brows. “I cannot say for sure, but there is a light—her soul—inside the diamond. It doesn’t move around, though.”

“I hope that means she’s like…asleep,” I said. “That’s how she was most of the time she was inside me.”

“I hope that, too.” He cleared his throat. “At least, that is what I tell myself.”

Neither of us liked the idea of her being trapped in The Star, but that was better than her being reborn and Kolis getting his hands on her.

“There is also something else Kolis said,” I continued. “And I think he spoke the truth, but I don’t understand why.”

Attes folded his arms across his chest. “What was it?”

I glanced down the hall. It was empty, but I still lowered my voice. “Kolis said it was Eythos who caused Sotoria’s second death.”

Attes’s gaze flew to mine. A moment passed. “Your suspicions regarding that are true.”

I knew they were. But hearing Attes confirm it still felt like a gut punch. “Why?

“Because it was what she wanted,” Attes stated flatly. “Sotoria asked him to do it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A fortnight had passed since Ash and I spoke with Keella. In that time, Saion had found the caverns. Even now, he was there with Crolee and the gods Attes had sent, excavating to get as deep as the celastite would allow. As we’d said when we talked to Attes, we didn’t want Kolis entombed anywhere near the surface.

I still couldn’t shake what Ash had said when we spoke about the prophecy. That the key to fully understanding it was right in front of us. Every so often, it felt like it was on the tip of my tongue, but the knowledge slipped away when I tried to voice it.

Thankfully, things had been calm in the last two weeks. Almost normal. Crops were growing faster than expected, the framework for the insulas had been built, and evenings were spent sharing dinners with the others. Ash and I trained together, working on controlling the eather and swordplay. There was lots of laughter and even some quiet moments where it was just us. It was a beautiful taste of what we could expect from life once we dealt with Kolis.

But I kept finding myself back in Dalos when I slept. Not every night, but enough that I wanted to pray that my screams wouldn’t wake Ash. But they did.

A giggle drew me from my thoughts. Jadis walked—or perhaps bounced—a floppy doll across the floor toward Reaver.

He looked at her and the doll as if he was half-afraid. And, honestly, I couldn’t blame him. The doll looked like half its leg had been chewed off, and what remained of its yellow yarn hair stuck out in every direction, charred at the ends.

The doll was disturbing.

But the little girl was adorable.

I rarely saw her in her mortal form while awake, but she’d arrived this morning as Ash and I finished breakfast, wearing a simple deep blue cotton gown, her hand held tightly in Reaver’s, and that doll dangling from her other hand.

I glanced at the door, wondering how long Ash would be gone. Shortly after he had finished writing the names of the recently deceased in the Book of the Dead, he’d been summoned to the Pillars of Asphodel. We’d planned to do more training today, and I looked forward to it. I needed the exhaustion—the brain drain—that came from doing something physical.

“I don’t want to comb its hair,” Reaver said. When I looked, a beautiful comb with green and black jewels down its spine lay on the floor between them.

It was a bit too fancy for a child, and I had a feeling it had probably belonged to her mother.

“Brush!” she demanded excitedly, thumping the doll’s head off the floor.

Reaver curled his lip. “I’m not touching that thing. It’ll fall apart, and you’ll blame me.”

“Nuh-uh.” She bopped the doll’s head off Reaver’s leg.

Reaver moved his leg away. “You were supposed to comb your hair. Not your doll’s.”

I arched a brow as I eyed Jadis. Clearly, she had not.

Her hair reminded me of mine. It looked like it had been caught in a cyclone. The long, waist-length brown locks were tangled and most definitely knotted.

She stopped banging the doll off Reaver’s knee. “No.”

“Nek told you to brush your hair.” Reaver picked up the comb and handed it to her. Leaning back against the base of the settee, he folded his thin arms. “If you don’t, you’re gonna get in trouble.”

Her chin dipped, and her eyes narrowed until only a thin slit of those vertical pupils was visible.

Oh, no.

I recognized that look, even if she was in her mortal form.

The hand that held the comb cocked back, and like a girl after my own heart, she threw it without an ounce of hesitation.

Snapping forward, I caught the comb before it smacked into Reaver’s face. “Let’s not do that.”

Jadis’s head swung in my direction, and I saw big, fat tears welling up in her diamond-bright eyes.

“How about I get the knots out?” I suggested, patting the spot on the floor before me. “I promise I won’t pull on your hair.”

The little draken glanced between me and her doll and then crawled over, sitting cross-legged in front of me. I guessed that was the go-ahead since Jadis was far less talkative in this form and much clearer when using the te’lepe—which I supposed made sense since it was more about communicating her thoughts instead of finding the right words to go with them.