“I knew I would be fine,” I denied.

Both of Bele’s brows rose. “Sure,” she said, and I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, you’re impulsive.”

Knee-jerk reactions. Ash would agree with her.

“You’re easily distracted.” Bele’s words snapped my attention back to her. She smirked. “Hot-tempered. Violent if provoked. And, sometimes, even when you’re not all that provoked.”

“I feel attacked,” I muttered.

Streaks of eather flared in Bele’s eyes. “You’re wild and reckless in a way that borders on having a death wish,” she continued, her voice carrying a hum of power. “You have a vengeful nature.”

My nose scrunched. “You can stop now.”

“Good luck with that,” Aios murmured, leaning into Bele. “She’s in the zone.”

She was definitely somewhere…creepy. Her stare was unblinking, and a faint luminous glow filled the veins of her cheeks as she fixated on me—or looked into me. “You don’t think enough, yet you’re an overthinker. You can switch from joy to rage in a snap. The only thing predictable about you is that you’re unpredictable.”

Our gazes met. The silky threads of power in her voice and the swirling wisps of eather were eerily mesmerizing.

“But you’re also loyal and dedicated. Caring. You have a strong sense of what is wrong and what is right, even if you operate in the middle.” Bele blinked, and the eather dimmed. When she spoke again, the tendrils of power were gone. “Your nature is in juxtaposition with itself. A certain brand of absurdity just like mine—poor people skills included.” She winked before nipping at Aios’s neck, causing the goddess to squeak. “But as I said before, you’ve got a lot of that leashed right now.”

I honestly had no idea what to say to any of that. What she said felt really spot-on, but for some reason, I was uncomfortable with what she’d sensed. She’d missed an adjective in her long list. Monstrous. But maybe that was the part I had leashed. And if so, shouldn’t that make me happy? I should be less impulsive, or in Bele’s words, less my own personal brand of absurd—

I stopped myself. “Why am I even standing here talking about this with you?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Bele said.

“Gods, you’re annoying.” I smiled at Aios. “You are not.”

The goddess grinned.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Bele shouted. “You don’t look half-dead anymore.”

I flipped her off and walked past the empty pedestal—I really needed to put something on that thing.

Ignoring the new Primal’s laughter, I made my way down the hall. My stomach had stopped turning over. Maybe Bele’s caustic attitude had an oddly calming effect on me.

The doors to Ash’s office were open, and my gaze, like always, immediately connected with his. He sat with his booted feet resting on the edge of the desk and one hand on the dark surface. Long fingers tapped slowly as his eyes narrowed slightly. I hoped I didn’t still look pale or, according to Bele, like death warmed over.

Pulling my gaze from Ash’s, I took stock of the office. The items I’d requested the day before now occupied some of the space. Two dove-gray chairs had been placed across from the settee, and Saion sat on one. But that wasn’t all. Another end table, this one round, had been positioned between the chairs. And they weren’t the only new additions. A table had been brought in and put behind the settee, where Rhain sat. Two pitchers and several glasses were on the narrow stand.

I mouthed thank you to Rhain as I walked through the pillared alcove. He gave me a quick nod in return as Ash motioned me to him with a curled finger.

I walked around the desk, spying a slender black box almost the length of my forearm on the credenza.

“Attes said he had some news to share.” Ash dropped his other foot to the floor and took my hand. He tugged me down until I sat in his lap. “We were waiting for you to join us.”

My stomach flipped unsteadily, and the response had nothing to do with my earlier nausea. Still, I breathed in deeply. Fresh citrus and clean air surrounded me—not choking, stale lilacs.

Ash leaned in, speaking low as Rhain rose and retrieved the pitcher from the stand, pouring two glasses of water. “Are you feeling well?”

So I still looked like death warmed over. Great.

Sighing, I nodded.

He kissed my temple before leaning back and turning his focus to Attes. “What is your news?” Ash asked, his hand curving over my hip.

“I still have eyes in Dalos,” Attes began. “And I know that Kolis hasn’t been seen at court as much as usual.”

Attes still had a spy in Dalos? It wasn’t Elias, who had become one of Kolis’s trusted guards. He was now in Attes’s Court. So, who was it?

The skin beneath my left ear tingled, and an image of a goddess with long, dark hair and rich, brown skin formed in my mind. “Dametria.”

Attes stiffened. “How did you—?” His shoulders relaxed. “Vadentia.”

I nodded. “I met her briefly and thought she acted different than the other gods who visited Kolis. She didn’t…” I trailed off as memories of how Kolis had put me on display threatened to surface. I didn’t want to think about any of that. I didn’t need to.

“She didn’t what?” Ash asked quietly.

“She didn’t act like an asshole,” I told him, which was true. “She’s safe there?”

“For now,” Attes said. That wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Word is his favorite golden fuck has been running interference for him, along with Varus.”

I knew the golden fuck was Callum, but the second one was unfamiliar.

“Varus of Kithreia?” Ash stiffened behind me as Attes nodded. “My father entombed him.”

“I know. I aided him in doing so, along with…my brother.” Attes picked up his glass and drank deeply. “I believe he must’ve escaped when Veses had her draken attack the Red Woods.”

Rhahar cursed. “We checked and double-checked to make sure we got all those who were entombed.”

“We must’ve assumed he was one of the ones killed without much left behind,” Rhain said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We should—”

“It’s okay.” Ash lifted a hand. “It would be impossible to know for sure that all who escaped were recaptured. The blame for this does not lay at the feet of anyone in this room.”

It was Veses’ fault.

Anger sparked, causing eather to throb hotly through me. A charge of energy stroked the air, drawing the Primals’ gazes to me.

Attes raised a brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

A quick grin appeared on Attes’s face. “While Callum and Varus have been speaking for Kolis, one particular visitor has spent a lot of time with him, in what I can only assume is an attempt to ensure he has their support.” Attes shifted back in his chair. “Phanos.”

“First off,” I began, “it pisses me off that he is having meetings. And secondly, there is no way Phanos will give him support.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Saion stated.

“Seriously?” Shock filled my voice. “Kolis made Phanos sacrifice so many of the ceeren—something he obviously wasn’t thrilled with. I saw the sorrow in his eyes.”

A muscle ticked in Saion’s jaw. “Phanos doesn’t like to make waves.”

“Nice pun,” Attes noted.

“Thank you.” Saion then continued. “Look, Phanos doesn’t particularly like Kolis. I don’t think any of the Primals do.”

“Except his brother,” Rhain pointed out with a nod at Attes.

“Clearly, I was the twin born with intelligence and good looks,” Attes said, but his usual humor was missing from his voice.

Saion smirked at that. “But Phanos can be very…self-involved.”

“Name one Primal who isn’t self-involved,” I said, and when Attes opened his mouth, I added, “Besides Nyktos.”

Attes pressed a palm to his chest as if he were wounded. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, I’m self-involved,” Ash said, his arm briefly tightening around me. “And I am just as selfish.” His eyes met mine when I looked over my shoulder. “And you know that.”