“It is,” I said. “We will not be using Sotoria’s soul.”

His head swung toward me so fast he probably gave himself whiplash. “What?”

“I can’t do it. I can’t force Sotoria to be reborn and used.” As I told him what I’d said to Ash earlier, it was like witnessing a man finding a small slice of peace as disbelief gave way to relief. Attes’s left hand dropped to his lap, and his right followed as I promised him that Sotoria would not be forced to live yet another life she didn’t choose for herself. Tension eased out of his neck and shoulders when he understood that she would find rest. He slouched a little in his chair as I told him that Kolis would never see Sotoria again.

“He will remain entombed, and we will do everything to make sure of that. And Sotoria will have a choice.”

“That is…” Attes’s eyes closed as he tipped his head back, raising his arms. He dragged his palms down his face, then up and through his hair. Turning his head toward us, tears glimmered in his eyes. His voice was rough and thick when he spoke just three words. “That is everything.”

I inhaled swiftly, fighting back a rush of my own freaking tears. Ash folded an arm around my waist from behind. He hauled me out of the chair and into his lap as he said, “You do love her.”

Attes’s laugh was shaky as he shook his head. “Sotoria could’ve killed two Primals if she had the chance.”

Gods…

I squeezed Ash’s arm, biting my lip.

“I’ve always known she would never be mine. I was okay with that. I could live with it. All I’ve ever wanted was for her to have peace.” Clearing his throat, he smiled a little. “I guess that’s the purest kind of love.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, blinking rapidly. “I believe so.”

His eyes met mine and then Ash’s. “Thank you.”

“There is no need for thanks,” Ash said. “None at all.”

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “I was thinking it would be best to wait to release her until after Kolis is entombed.”

“Agreed.” He rubbed his palm over his chest. “I want to be there when we do it.”

“Of course. You would be there even if you didn’t have The Star,” I told him.

He nodded again and cleared his throat once more, appearing to rein in his feelings. “You said something earlier, Sera. About the plans being brutal. You’re wrong.”

“I am?”

He was quiet for what felt like a small eternity. “When people think of war, they imagine endless, grand battles fought across many landscapes. They think it’s nonstop violence stretching from one kingdom to the next the moment conflict erupts, leaving hallowed ground behind. In their minds, they see cities sacked and burned, left to rot along with the corpses of those who would’ve died for peace but perished for being in the way. One speaks of war, and mortals hear the pounding of warhorses’ hooves, the clash of swords, the cries of the wounded and dying, and the whistle of arrows piercing the air. They picture men who were once loving fathers and sons, gentle husbands and tender lovers, becoming blood-hungry beasts, knowing that no one, neither King nor servant, will return without pieces of them forever lost. That’s the kind of war mortals expect—that the young, in their naïvety, romanticize. Bloody, brutal, and unforgiving in its indiscriminate slaughter. That’s not the kind of war Primals and gods were meant to engage in,” he said, causing small bumps to rise along my arms. “However, that is the kind of war Kolis has started.”

Attes’s voice lowered, and he held my stare. “But what mortals and even some Primals don’t realize is that there is rarely a distinct winner in that kind of war. The victor is simply the one who still stands. Not because of sheer willpower or even the greater strength in their values. The victor stands simply because of their brutality.” One side of his lips curved up, hinting at a deep dimple in his scarred cheek. “But they never stand for long. Because despite every life they took, every city they burned, and every family that was simply in the way as they destroyed things to reach their target, twice that will inevitably rise to raise swords against the victor. That kind of war can never be won because it never ends. There are only reprieves.” Eather streaked across his eyes. “But what you seek is how wars are won. Through cunning and precise actions before a single piece of armor is pierced on the battlefield. It is no less harsh, but it is not brutal. What is, is the morality of fools. The choice to make war instead of going after only those who have made the decisions that created the conflict. That is brutality.”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Releasing my death grip on the porcelain sides of the toilet, I rocked back.

By some miracle, I’d made it—barely—to the bathing chamber before what felt like everything I’d eaten at breakfast made a reappearance.

Thankfully, Attes and Ash were at the Black Bay, speaking with Lailah. Ash hadn’t wanted to leave my side since…well, since everything. But as soon as we’d finished speaking with Attes, my stomach had started churning. I was supposed to be downstairs with Rhain, but right now, my thoughts were on whatever the hell was going on with my body.

I’d felt fine one moment and not the very next second. Was it a lingering consequence of my fight with Kolis? Or did it have more to do with all the mental and emotional stuff? The grief? Like what I’d finally shared with Ash and the promise I’d made him make? Trauma did weird things to the body. Or was it seeing the raw emotion Attes struggled to control when speaking of both Sotoria and his brother?

Honestly, I didn’t think it was any of those things. Or even my anxiety. I had been nauseous off and on since I Ascended, but I was past the point where I should be feeling any lasting effects.

Come to think of it, I had been nauseous while in Dalos. Granted, there was a realm of reasons to explain that, but…

Muscles in my sides aching and my throat stinging, I rose and went to the vanity. I rinsed my mouth and splashed cool water on my face. My temples throbbed, likely from the retching. It had been quite…vigorous. I winced, really regretting the extra helping of spiced sausage. Another wave of nausea swelled. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gripped the edges of the vanity. Skin clammy and stomach in knots, I focused on breathing through my nose until the sensation passed. I still didn’t move for several minutes, half-afraid I would find myself on my knees once again. Though I wasn’t sure what was left inside me at this point.

I pried my fingers from the vanity and stepped back gingerly. My reflection stared back at me. The bruises on my neck were faint, a gross bluish-green shade, but they were still there.

Shouldn’t they have completely healed by now? The answer was yes, and I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking that. I’d caught Ash staring at my throat several times this morning, his jaw clenched and ticking.

Pressing a palm to my unsettled stomach, I shuffled into the bedchamber and made a beeline for the bed. I lay down on my back and closed my eyes. Hopefully, whatever this was would pass in a few minutes. We had things to do today.

A war to start and end.

And our first move was summoning the Primals.

I swallowed, grateful the sour bitterness was gone and the pounding in my temples had begun to ease.

Gods, I felt like a mess.

A gross, tired mess.

Why was I still so damn tired? I had fallen back to sleep, and we’d slept in. Despite all that had led up to it, it had been a deep, restful sleep…

The corners of my lips turned down. The fatigue wasn’t anything new. Before the attack on Lasania, I had been really tired in the evenings, and I’d slept deep and long. Even with the nightmares, that was something new for me. In the past, I’d rarely reach a level of sleep deep enough to dream. And if I did, I didn’t remember them.