Reaver cocked his head to the side, his eyes alert.

“The prophecy,” I told him, although I doubted he had any idea what I was talking about. I hadn’t thought about it, not even when I was with Aydun. “Kolis said there is a whole other part. Something about great powers stumbling and falling—” My eyes widened. “It was about the Primal of Life and Death.”

“No such Primal exists,” Reaver said.

“Right.” I ran my fingers down my braid. “I totally forgot about that supposedly unknown part of the prophecy. The third part—the end—that wasn’t seen by Penellaphe but dreamt by the Ancients.”

Was it true, though? Kolis could’ve been lying, but I didn’t think so. So, who did that part reference if he was speaking the truth? The one who would basically wipe out the other Primals. Because that was what Kolis had said he wanted to do—well, he’d claimed that initially.

And what had Aydun said? That a war among the Primals wouldn’t be won until there was blood and bone. What the Ancient had said and the prophecy felt related. How, though? My intuition was unsurprisingly quiet, but I knew who’d probably know. Who could likely shine some light on what Eythos had been thinking when he devised his plan and would also know what could be done about Sotoria’s soul and why Eythos had ended her second life.

“Holland,” I announced, smiling. “And being the true Primal of Life, I can summon a Fate.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Reaver asked, sounding nervous. “Summon a Fate?”

“It’ll be okay,” I promised. “Holland is…he’s like family. The kind who spends your entire life lying to you, but still, family.”

My words didn’t seem to reassure Reaver, but I wasn’t worried about Holland being a threat. He may be an Ancient, but he was still, well, Holland. And since he’d already talked openly about the prophecy with Ash and me, it had to be something the Fates didn’t consider overstepping.

The question was, how did I summon him? Just…call out to him? The skin behind my left ear tingled. It wasn’t just calling out to him. Doing so also involved using the essence. My will.

Stopping between the chair and the couch, I closed my eyes and focused on the faint thrum of eather. As an image of Holland formed in my mind, complete with the single crease between his brows, the essence pulsed intensely from my chest. “Holland,” I spoke, my stomach twisting sharply as the resonance of my voice reverberated with the intertwined strands of power. “I would—” I shook my head curtly. “I need to speak with you.” Pausing, I opened one eye. “Please.”

Letting go of the eather, I felt it calm as I opened my other eye.

“Did it work?” Reaver asked as he scooted forward so his feet touched the floor.

“I’m not sure.” I swept the tail of my braid over my chin. “I suppose we will need to wait and find out.”

So, that’s what we did.

We waited.

And waited some more.

Holland didn’t magically appear before me.

“Maybe I did it wrong.” I started to ask if I should try it again, but a sound came from the hall. A series of soft thuds.

My head swung to the closed doors, eyes narrowing. Wait, was my…?

A knock came.

“Aha!” I shouted, shoving a fist into the air. “My hearing is finally improving.”

Reaver stared at me.

Grinning, I turned back to the doors. “Come in.”

Reaver shifted forward as the doors opened, positioning himself so he stood half in front of me. It was a clear, protective move and made me want to hug him.

My two shadows, Rhahar and Kars, stood in the doorway. The latter shifted to the side. A guard with short, spiky dark hair and a complexion that reminded me of a smoky quartz appeared in the alcove of Ash’s office. I was sure I hadn’t met her before, but the name Iridessa came to mind. More information started to form, but I thought about Rhain’s request not to use the foresight on him and stopped myself.

She bowed her head. “Your Majesty.”

Rhahar raised a brow at me as I started to speak. “It’s either that or meyaah Liessa,” he informed me, and I snapped my mouth shut. “One or the other.”

“Does it really have to be one or the other?” I countered, glancing between the two. “Because I’m not like Kolis. I don’t need my ego repeatedly stroked.”

“Kolis is greeted as such out of fear.” Rhahar’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “And because he demands it. We address you as such because it is owed. Deserved.”

I started to argue that I hadn’t done anything as their Queen to deserve such, but Reaver tugged on the sleeve of my tunic.

“Yes?”

“You are respected,” he said in that quiet, far-too-wise voice for one as young as he was. “And Nek told me that acknowledging the thoughts and emotions of others is how you repay their respect with yours.”

I stared at the youngling, my lips pursing. The fact that a ten-year-old was giving me sage advice was probably a good indication that I had a lot of maturing to do.

“Okay,” I said, turning back to the two guards. “I won’t continue to complain.”

Rhahar ducked his chin, but not before I saw a look that said he didn’t quite believe that.

Couldn’t blame him.

I faced the other guard. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“No, we haven’t,” she said, her bright amber gaze meeting mine. “I’m Iridessa.”

“That’s a pretty name,” I said.

“Thank you.” Pink blossomed on her cheeks, spreading across the small bridge of her nose. She was clearly as good at accepting compliments as I was. “Some visitors are quite insistent that they speak with you.”

Rhahar’s expression hardened at once. “Who is it?” he asked before I could.

“It is the goddess Penellaphe,” answered Iridessa. “And a man named Ward.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

My summons had worked.

Kind of.

The goddess Penellaphe had not only spoken large portions of the prophecy, but she was also intimately involved with Holland, and Vikter Ward was, well, I wasn’t quite sure exactly what he was other than the first viktor—those who guarded someone the Fates believed would fulfill some purpose or bring about great change. Even mortals bound to commit terrible deeds could end up with a viktor, as messed up as that was, but the Arae used them to aid without upsetting their precious balance.

I still didn’t see how sending in a viktor didn’t upset the balance. Seemed like a loophole large enough that an entire kingdom could fall through it.

They weren’t Holland, but as Reaver—in his draken form—and I were led to a chamber in a wing of the palace opposite Ash’s office, I doubted their visit was coincidental.

Iridessa brought us to the space near the chamber that Jadis had almost burned down—one I doubted had been used in decades. I couldn’t help but think about how Ector used to keep them clean despite their lack of use so Eythos could be remembered.

I supposed hiring someone to keep them clean was a way we could honor Ector.

As Iridessa opened the double doors and then stepped aside, bowing toward me before taking her leave, I swallowed the knot of sadness before it could expand.

Two figures sat on the ivory-cushioned settee. The male viktor placed something dark and square onto the thin table behind him as they rose. I wasn’t sure what it was, but my gaze immediately went to the goddess. It was impossible for it not to.

Penellaphe stood out in stark contrast to the bare shadowstone walls and sterile white furniture. Everything about her was vibrant. The gown reminded me of the blades of grass now growing in the Shadowlands. She had long, honey-hued hair and bronzed skin, and her sea-blue eyes were nearly the same as the man’s who had traveled with her.

Ward appeared as he had when he placed the charm on me, like a mortal who had seen several decades. Sending Reaver, who had flown in behind me, a wary look, he moved to stand beside the goddess.