I imagined that wasn’t the case toward the end of the time when the Ancients ruled. He was likely speaking about when Eythos reigned as the true Primal of Life.

“Crossing paths with gods usually doesn’t end well,” I said, thinking about what the gods had done in the Garden District the night I’d been with Ash. Even if gods were in the mortal realm for different reasons, they tended to do as they pleased. “It shouldn’t be this way.”

“No, it shouldn’t,” Nektas agreed.

This wasn’t the first time I’d thought that, but I’d never been in a position to do a damn thing about it before.

Now, I could.

“It’s all right. You have not shown disrespect,” I assured them.

“Debatable,” Nektas murmured.

I shot him a look as neither man moved.

Nektas crossed his arms.

“Ignore him,” I said, turning to them again. Tovar was trembling. “It’s all right. I promise.” I ventured forward, doing something I rarely did in the mortal realm. I reached out and touched the man’s warm cheek.

Tovar’s head jerked up, his eyes widening even more.

“You may rise,” I insisted. “Both of you.”

The guard’s chest rose sharply as he inhaled. For a moment, neither of us moved. Tovar didn’t even exhale as he stared. My senses snapped open, and before I could stop myself, I…connected with the man.

I wasn’t sure what was happening. I didn’t see into his mind or his soul, and I wasn’t reading him, but I did sense…something. Pain. A sickness that had been spreading, eating him up from the inside…long before he felt the first twinges in his gut. An ache that eventually stole his appetite.

Only seconds had passed, but I knew the man was dying slowly and painfully. And my touch…

The tips of my fingers glowed faintly with eather.

Oh, shit.

Before I could pull my hand away, the essence seeped into the man’s skin.

“What the…?” Jamison rasped, having risen.

Golden light lit up Tovar’s veins, all along his throat and down his chest, arms, and stomach. Tovar stiffened as if strings had been attached to his tendons and pulled. His gaze was unfocused for a heartbeat, and then it cleared. The tension that had drawn the color from the corners of his mouth loosened. The aching hollowness of his face eased as my touch…

Healed him.

I’d never healed anyone from a sickness before.

But I was the true Primal of Life now. Emphasis on life. I pulled my hand away.

Tovar’s eyes glistened as he shook, but this time, it wasn’t from fear or pain. It was from relief. “Thank you,” he uttered hoarsely, tears filling those dark eyes and spilling over to course down his cheeks. “I prayed each night in the Temple, but there was no relief. I stopped praying. Thinking, you know, maybe I…I wasn’t worthy. That I’d done something to deserve it—”

“You haven’t,” I said, even though I hadn’t allowed myself to see anything about him. But I didn’t think many deserved the kind of sickness that was a different type of rot.

His eyes shuttered closed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” I stepped back and glanced at Nektas.

The draken stared at me blandly.

“Whoops.”

“Whoops, indeed,” he replied dryly.

“I have no idea what is happening.” Jamison scratched his head, his gaze bouncing back and forth between Tovar and us. And Tovar, he was…

Well, he was just rocking back and forth, thanking me over and over.

There was a good chance I probably shouldn’t have done that. Actually, I had no idea if I should’ve done that or not, but I doubted healing him would cause any cosmic imbalance.

Or at least I hoped it wouldn’t.

Either way, I couldn’t regret it after seeing the relief on the man’s face.

Nektas touched my arm, reminding me that we had a reason for being here, and this wasn’t it.

I pulled my gaze from Tovar. “I need to speak with the Queen.”

“Her Majesty is in the dining hall,” Jamison answered.

“Thank you.” I gave Tovar one last look and felt compelled to say something. “Make your life a worthy one.”

“Of course. Yes. I will.” Tovar folded his hands together beneath his chin. “I swear to you.”

Nodding, I entered the hall adorned with mauve banners bearing the insignia of the Mierel family, a crown with a sword slicing through it.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I said after a moment.

There was no answer, but I knew Nektas had followed me. I stopped and turned.

He stood in front of one of the banners, his brow pinched.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“The crest. It’s an odd symbol.”

“It is.” I glanced down the empty hall. “It’s supposed to represent strength and leadership. Except it looks like someone getting stabbed through the head.”

“Strength and leadership? That’s not what it means. Not originally,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “The leaves? Those are not laurel. They’re elm.”

My brows lifted. “I’ll have to take your word for that.”

“Do you know the significance of elm trees to the Ancients?”

The nape of my neck tingled. “Life.”

“Yes. And the sword? It symbolizes many things—power, strength, courage.” Nektas paused. “Truth.”

A fine shiver broke out over my skin. If the crown represented life and the sword could be truth, then… “True Life? True Primal of Life?” I laughed. “No. That has to be a coincidence and a stretch.”

“I do not believe in coincidences, nor do I believe that is all this insignia represents. Look at the positioning of the sword.” Nektas pointed. “It’s slanted. Not entirely straight.” He looked at me. “That should be familiar to you.”

I stared at the crest, frowning. All I could see was someone being stabbed in the head and dying…

Dying.

My lips parted as I staggered back, just as the guards had moments ago. I’d seen a similar symbol in the Shadow Temple. “Death. That is the symbol for death.”

“No. That,” Nektas said, pointing again, “is a symbol representing both life and death, on the crest of the same bloodline that eventually birthed a mortal who became the true Primal of Life. Who also happens to be the mate of a Primal of Death.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t seem like a coincidence, but…”

But that damn prophecy.

While the Fates couldn’t see the entirety of the future, they could see the many possibilities that lay in wait.

“The Mierel Crest is only a few hundred years old. It started with…” My eyes narrowed. “Motherfucker.”

“That’s who it started with?”

“It started with Roderick Mierel.” My head whipped toward him. “He only became the recognized King of Lasania after the deal.”

Nektas turned his attention back to the crest.

“None of this means Eythos gave Roderick the design, but…” A strangled laugh left me. “He must have.”

Nektas exhaled slowly. “This is not the symbol that represents the inevitability of life and death and the importance of both.”

“The crescent moon,” I murmured, my skin pimpling. “‘A Maiden as the Fates promised.’”

Nektas’s head cut toward me.

“‘And you shall leave this realm touched by life and death.’” My voice was hoarse when I spoke. “That was something my old nursemaid Odetta said to me.” I reached back and touched the back of my left shoulder. “I have a birthmark that’s kind of shaped like a crescent moon.”

“Fate marked you at birth,” he said, mirroring Odetta’s claim. “With the symbol of the equal power of life and death.”

Unsettled, I slid my hand away.

“But if Eythos left some sort of hint behind, it would be the symbol of life. This insignia could represent something other than you and Ash. It could be—”

“Life and Death not joined,” I cut in. “But one and the same.”

A silver beast with blood seeping from its jaws of fire, bathed in the flames of the brightest moon to ever be birthed, will become one.