Ash eyed me over the rim of his glass. “For example?”

“For example, he stated clearly that he didn’t want a war. That was why he didn’t attack the Shadowlands’ forces. He knew that doing so would escalate the situation.”

“And you believed him?” Saion demanded, all amusement gone from his tone.

“I didn’t. Not at first. But when Kyn wanted to level the Shadowlands to make an example out of this Court, Kolis denied him.” I looked around the table. “And again, that was before he believed I was Sotoria. He had no reason not to allow Kyn to do as he pleased other than knowing what would come of it.”

“And he had no reason not to kill me, let alone release me,” Rhain stated, and my heart felt like it hit the floor. “But she was able to convince him that killing me—someone loyal to the Primal they served—wouldn’t inspire loyalty to him in others. It was a straw-man argument, but one Kolis was willing to accept.”

I relaxed. A little.

“I’m still not over the fact that Kolis released you.” Saion looked at Rhain. “Don’t get me wrong, we all thought you were gone, and we’re fucking ecstatic that we were wrong, but none of us expected that.”

Rhahar nodded. “I have to hear this straw-man argument of yours.”

My relief vanished as Ash’s jaw flexed. His stare was on the open doors as he took a drink, his lips peeling back.

Did he…did he know? About the deal? What Kolis had asked for? If so, he would think it meant more—

I couldn’t think about that right now. Drawing my gaze from Ash, I cleared my throat. “I don’t think it was such a straw-man argument. He agreed because he knew killing Rhain would further escalate tensions,” I lied smoothly. “And when I challenged him about what he said before regarding killing the other Primals, Kolis admitted that he wouldn’t start a war he couldn’t win or one that would leave the realms a mess. But he still planned to rise as the Primal of Life and Death. Who would really refuse to bow to him then? His rising to such a powerful being would prevent a war.” I met Ash’s stare as his attention returned to me. “And here’s the thing. He’s not going to get his hands on me again.”

“No,” Ash growled, streaks of eather piercing his eyes. “He will not.”

“And that means he’s not going to Ascend to that.”

“I see what you’re saying about Kolis,” Ash said, “but I think we see different end results.”

“How so?”

“You see him being more cautious, possibly more reserved in his actions. And perhaps even reasonable since he seemed to understand that he couldn’t win a war without rising as the Primal of Life and Death.” His fingers returned to their soft tapping, drawing a sleepy Jadis’s attention. “But I see a far more unpredictable Kolis. One who is on the verge of losing what power he has and won’t be as careful about when and where he strikes.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

My gaze shifted to the doors behind the twins. What Ash saw was a far scarier outcome and could be the likelier one. I’d known Kolis for a far shorter time than everyone else in the chamber. And I did understand that my experience was heavily prejudiced by who he thought I was and how he behaved because of that. Even before Ione confirmed it, he was desperate to believe I was Sotoria. Now, he had to realize he’d been lied to. That I wasn’t Sotoria. And he would likely revert to the Kolis who would only accept fealty or death.

“Whether Kolis is more cautious or not, we’re still in the same position,” Theon stated.

“And we cannot sit by and do nothing while we wait to see how Kolis will respond,” his twin finished.

“I agree with that.” My gaze met Ash’s. I took a deep breath and then looked at those sitting at the table with us. “I wasn’t ready for this—being Queen, let alone planning a war. I’m not a strategist, and I’m far better suited to fighting than this.” Anxiety rose, but I focused on what Ash had said yesterday. I wasn’t alone in this. “So, I’m going to be honest here. I don’t know the correct answer, nor will I pretend I do. I’m sure that’s not very reassuring, but it’s the truth.”

“That is reassuring,” Theon said, relaxing into his chair.

“Really?”

Lailah nodded. “Yes. I’d rather have someone acknowledge a lack of experience than pretend, thus needlessly risking lives in the process.”

“Knowing when to rely on others is a strength,” Rhain added. “One that inspires confidence instead of worry.”

“There’s just one thing I have to say.” Bele started to toss her dagger once more but stopped as she finally noticed how close Jadis was. “I’m somewhat disturbed that you, of all people, are being logical.” Bele sheathed the dagger, sending Jadis a playful scowl as the youngling reached for the blade. “I expected better from you.”

“Sorry to fail you,” I replied dryly, glancing at Ash. He nodded for me to continue. “Nyktos and I have spoken about the importance of showing the others that we will be significantly better rulers than Kolis.”

“I would be a significantly better ruler than Kolis,” Bele chimed in. “And that isn’t saying much.”

“A dakkai would probably be better,” Saion suggested, his elbow resting on the arm of his chair.

Lailah sighed and ran a hand across her brow. My lip curled. A picture of the beasts the size of horses with featureless faces except for gaping mouths full of jagged teeth filled my mind. I still couldn’t believe one had sat on the dais at Kolis’s feet, snacking on what I really believed was someone’s leg bone.

I shook the image from my mind. “We want to summon the Primals, excluding Veses and Kyn. They can fuck right off.”

That brought a savage smile to Bele’s face.

“To the Shadowlands?” Saion clarified, and I nodded. “That’s a huge risk.”

“We know.” My heart kicked against my ribs as I noted the unease on several of their faces. “Those who answer the summons will likely support our claim to the throne of Iliseeum.”

“But those who may not support us could send spies in their place—gods of their Court,” Theon warned.

Ash shook his head. “We won’t allow any god to show in their Primal’s place.”

Theon nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I doubt Kolis loyalists would risk angering him by responding, even if to spy.”

“That is not all,” I said, glancing toward Ash. His smile was small but filled with so much warmth and pride. A little more of the pressure lifted from my shoulders. “Speaking to them won’t prove anything.”

“Correct,” Bele murmured.

“That’s why we discussed changing how things have been done,” I continued. “Instead of one or two making all the decisions, each Primal will have a vote in what is decided. So, basically, we would form a council.”

All of them stared at me.

I swallowed and forced myself not to start second-guessing my decisions. “The draken would also have a vote. Not only would that create checks and balances of sorts, but we would all have more of a vested interest in whatever is decided, and it stops any of us from having too much authority.” I paused and took a long, slow breath. “Of course, we want your support first.”

There were several exchanged glances. Lailah was the first to break the silence. “I think summoning the Primals is smart. We need to know who is on our side before we decide anything.”

Rhain nodded. “And this council you speak of? Nothing like it has been tried in Iliseeum. That is something new. And it should be very appealing.”

“And if the Primal of a Court is on board with real change, it will make getting their Court under control far easier,” Lailah noted.

That piqued my curiosity. “Other than a few things shared here and there, and what I’ve picked up myself, I don’t know much about the other Courts or how they’re ruled.” I paused. “Or not ruled. But they can’t all be bad.”