Hoping I was half as good as Ash at doing this, I separated her hair into three sections and carefully began combing the tangles free. There were a lot of things I could be doing right now. I needed to practice shadowstepping and work on using the essence for more precise, delicate tasks since I still struggled with moving a glass without shattering it. I could have handed the young draken over to Aios and went to train with Bele since she was around, but gods, it wasn’t that long ago that I had feared I would never see the younglings again. Spending time with them was just as important as anything else.

As I worked on Jadis’s hair, she let out these little peals of giggles that tugged at my lips. It took me far longer than it should have to get the knots out, but as Reaver distracted her with the creepy doll, wagging it back and forth, my thoughts wandered. I wasn’t sure how I ended up thinking about the father I’d never known. It sort of snuck up on me and then struck me that I could visit him.

My soul felt like it left my body at the mere thought.

I didn’t need the vadentia to warn me that going into the Vale to find him—an act far too easy for me to do so as the true Primal of Life—was something the Fates would frown upon.

The dead were dead.

The living were alive.

Any interaction would upset the balance. But could I at least see him? Not speak to him, but just discover if the portrait of him was accurate? Maybe even hear his voice? I imagined it would be the same as it had been while he was alive. I didn’t see any harm in that.

I pressed my lips together as I ran the comb through Jadis’s hair. Either way, it wasn’t something I could do now. It would have to keep for later.

“Thank you,” Jadis said in her singsong, little-girl voice.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Her face broke out in a wide, beautiful smile, and then she planted the wettest, sweetest kiss on me. Gods, I melted right there, and even more when she scrambled toward Reaver and curled up in his lap. He didn’t shove her away. Instead, he moved the doll in tune with the melody she hummed under her breath. It was just as rare to see the two of them like this as it was to see her in her mortal form.

I placed the comb on the desk, my gaze falling on the Book of the Dead. Ash had forgotten to put it away when he was summoned. Three glasses of juice, all of them somehow belonging to Jadis, were next to it, and I picked them up in case the moment of tranquility ended. I turned and scanned the chamber. Other than an end table, which wasn’t exactly a large surface, there were only the shelves.

It was once more clear how rarely Ash had used his office—or any of the spaces in the palace, for that matter—for any length of time that required refreshments.

But that was changing.

So, there needed to be more furniture in here.

And knickknacks.

I placed the glasses on a nearby shelf and then turned, my gaze returning to the Book of the Dead. I returned to the desk.

Curiosity swelled, and I reached for the book, even though I was unsure if I should pry. Just as my fingers brushed it, I stopped. The back of my neck tingled as I heard my voice in my mind as clearly as if I had spoken out loud. The Book of the Dead is for the dead. Not the living. I pulled my hand back, my fingers curling inward. I had an innate feeling that I would cross an invisible line if I opened the book that Ash wrote the names of the dead in—in his blood.

True Primal of Life or not, I still found that unbelievably creepy, but their souls couldn’t cross through the Pillars until Ash wrote their names. Or, technically, Kolis could now be the one to write their names, but that obviously wasn’t happening. The only reason Ash could continue doing so was because of the true embers of Death inside him.

All of this made me wonder what had happened when he was held prisoner. Did no souls cross over? Intuition told me they did, but I didn’t understand how.

I did know who often took Ash’s place at the Pillars. It was the same god standing outside the office right now. I spun toward the office doors and shouted, “Rhahar!”

The god opened the door a moment later, his starlit dark brown gaze darting between the young draken and me. “Yes, mey—” He caught himself, his hand firming on the hilt of his sword. “Yes, Seraphena?”

“Sera is just fine,” I told him. “I have a random question for you.”

“I hope it doesn’t end in you shadowstepping somewhere,” he remarked. “Or asking me to train with you.”

Reaver let out a little laugh and then ducked his head, whispering something to Jadis.

“No,” I sighed. “And I’m sorry about that.”

“You already apologized three times,” he replied. “You don’t need to keep doing so. Just take one of us with you next time. So, what’s your question?”

I grinned. “Did any souls pass through the Pillars while Nyktos was held in Dalos?”

An eyebrow rose. “That really is a random question, but yes, souls crossed over.”

“How?” Picking up the tail of my braid, I leaned against the desk. “From what I understand, souls can’t cross between the Pillars unless Nyktos writes their names in the book.”

“That was the case. Souls would get stuck waiting outside the Pillars if Nyktos was…unavailable.” He shifted, widening his stance. “Sometimes, for a few days. The longest was a couple of weeks.”

If Ash couldn’t write the names for days or weeks, it was because of Kolis. My gaze landed on the couch. Or possibly even Veses. The anger that always occupied my thoughts of her was stronger now that I’d seen her in Dalos. Knew what she went through.

Reaver’s head lifted, his alert gaze swinging toward me. The notam. It wasn’t just my anxiety he could feel. Instinct told me it was any extreme emotion. I checked on Jadis, but she was still humming, thankfully oblivious to what I felt.

I breathed deeply through my nose and then exhaled slowly, tamping down the anger the best I could. “Did he come up with some sort of bypass?”

“He did a few years ago so the souls wouldn’t have to dwell in a state of purgatory.” Rhahar leaned against the doorframe. “When Nyktos is…unable to write the names, I do it for him.”

Surprise flickered through me as I curled my arm back, cupping the back of Reaver’s neck. “How is that…?” I trailed off as the answer to my question rapidly formed. “Because he took your soul when Phanos wanted to punish you and your cousin, and then…he did release it back to you.”

Rhahar’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

“Foresight.” I tapped my finger off my temple. “Or something like that. Supposedly, Eythos had something similar.”

“I’d heard that he had keen foresight. Something close to precognition.” Rhahar swallowed. “If you could figure it out, why did you ask?”

“This intuition thing is really hit or miss,” I said. “And by that, I mean it’s mostly a miss.”

His lips pinched, and then he blinked several times. “Yes, he did release Saion’s and my soul back to us.”

“Knew it,” I murmured. “Because your soul was held by him, it allows you to know the names of the deceased.”

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason. I had to take his blood, and it only works when I’m holding the Book of the Dead. Rhain can also do it.” He idly scratched his chin. “Just in case something should happen while we’re both out of pocket.”

“That was very smart of him,” I said.

Rhahar’s chin lifted. “Nyktos is one of the smartest beings I know.”

I smiled, affected by Rhahar’s loyalty and moved by his willingness to share this information with me. It hadn’t always been this way. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he said, inclining his head. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, but this was…nice.” Warmth crept into my cheeks. “I mean, talking with you. About Ash and stuff,” I stammered as Reaver slowly turned his head toward me once more. My neck continued to heat. “I know we really haven’t had the time in the past, and, well…things are different now.”