“When it wants to.” I glanced at Ward. “I feel like I should thank you.”

A faint smile appeared on his weathered face. “There is also no need for that. It’s not like I knew what would come of the act. I just did what I felt was right.”

“So few people do that,” I murmured, thinking about…well, myself.

Penellaphe smiled. “You may wonder why we’ve come, but I must say something first. Before you tried to summon Holland, I felt…a ripple of power. Of life.” She clasped a hand over her wrist. “I knew it had come from here, from you, so I expected something upon arriving. But I was still unprepared for what I saw here. I’m sure most people expect the Court ruled by death to be a dark and gloomy place, but that was never what the Shadowlands was. It’s not what death is supposed to be. It has always been a place of beauty, even in its darkest corners. Part of me feared I would never see the Shadowlands as it was before.” Her eyes glimmered, and her voice thickened. “But you restored it.”

I didn’t know what to say as I glanced between the two. Saying ‘thank you’ felt weird. I shifted uncomfortably as Reaver watched me. “I just did what I felt I needed to,” I finally said, clearing my throat. “And I didn’t even know everything that would happen. I just wanted to restore the river.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I assume Holland sent you?”

Penellaphe nodded. “He was unable to answer but hoped we may be of aid.”

It was hard to extinguish the spark of annoyance and disappointment that Holland hadn’t come himself, but Rhain would be proud to hear that I managed to find my manners. “Would either of you like something to drink?”

“That would be much appreciated,” Penellaphe answered. “Shadowstepping always makes me quite thirsty.”

“And me nauseous,” Ward remarked.

“I will make sure refreshments are sent,” Rhahar announced and bowed curtly.

“Thank you.”

The god turned, looping an arm around Kars. The godling was immobile, staring wide-eyed at Ward. Sending me a wink, Rhahar all but dragged Kars from the chamber as I wondered about Kars’ reaction to Ward. It was a little odd.

As the doors clicked closed behind us, I faced the two. Both remained standing. I swallowed a sigh. “You can sit if you want.”

“Thank you.” Penellaphe returned to the settee, and Ward joined her. “I know there must be something you wish to know, but I need to ask how you are doing first.”

“Other than being slightly unprepared for my new…place in things?” I said as I moved to the settee situated across from them. Sitting, I patted the cushion beside me. “I am well.”

“That’s a relief,” she said, the corners of her mouth tightening. “I heard you met with Kolis.”

“News travels fast,” I drawled.

“Well, I overheard Embris speaking of it,” she said, and as Reaver hopped over to the settee, I saw the shadows in her gaze. The same haunted look I saw in Aios’s eyes when she spoke about Kolis. “I do not imagine that was easy to do.”

“It isn’t something I care to repeat,” I said. “Did Embris tell you the details of my meeting with Kolis?”

“Only that he was confident Kolis could quell any notion of an uprising.”

I arched a brow at that. “He offered me a deal,” I told her, then shared what I’d offered in exchange. It felt right. Kolis had also held Penellaphe. She was another who likely wanted vengeance. “Negotiating with Kolis is the last thing I want to do, but if there’s a small chance we can prevent a war…”

“Then it is a chance that needs to be taken,” Penellaphe finished. “An attempt for peace must always be tried.”

Relieved, I nodded. “By the way, did you know this was possible? My Ascension?”

“I’d hoped Nyktos would find a way to ensure you lived while also keeping Kolis from achieving what he wanted. But did I know? No. There has never been a Primal who was born mortal,” she answered. “I still hoped, even after learning that Nyktos had his kardia removed, that you two were destined. Fated.”

“Heartmates,” I said as Reaver settled onto his belly.

“Yes. It is the only way any of this is possible.” She smoothed a strand of hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “And if Holland knew, it’s not something he shared with me. He wouldn’t have been able to, even if he wanted to.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. “I know what the Fates are. They’re Ancients,” I said, scratching Reaver under the chin as I watched both Penellaphe and Ward closely. Neither showed even a flicker of surprise upon hearing that. “They made the rules.”

“That doesn’t mean they can break them, Your Majesty,” Penellaphe countered quietly.

“And who would punish them for doing so? Who could stop them from changing the rules?” I countered. “And please, call me Sera.”

Ward cracked a grin as he leaned back. “If you only knew how many times I have asked these same questions.”

“Likely as many as I did when I first got to know Holland,” Penellaphe said. “It took many years for me to understand what truly occurred when they created the Primals to establish the balance of power. In doing so, certain rules were established. Ones forged in the very essence that fills the realms. Rules that became the air that is breathed, the water that is drunk, and the fruits of the soil that is harvested. When those rules are broken, the realms know. I had to see that for myself to understand.”

I thought of what Aydun had said about the realms restoring balance, and a sense of knowing filled me. “When Kolis stole the embers…”

She nodded. “It wasn’t the Arae who acted to restore balance. The very essence itself did.”

The thought of the air around us consciously acting on its own sent a chill skating down my spine as I heard footsteps approaching the doors, ones carrying an uneven gait. A moment later, a soft knock followed.

“Come in,” I called.

One side of the door inched open as Pax entered with a tray held tightly between his hands.

“Paxton.” I rose, a smile spreading across my lips.

“Your Majesty,” he said quietly, his voice carrying notes of the most northeastern kingdoms in the mortal realm. He halted to give me a quick bow. “I have refreshments.”

I started to move toward him and take the tray, but Reaver nudged my hip. When I glanced down at him, he shook his scaled head.

Paxton approached. “Arik put some sugar and creamer in the little jars,” he told us as he carefully placed the tray on the table, referencing one of the cooks who came to the palace during the day. “And added some soft biscuits he thought you all might like.”

“Thank you.” I sat.

He nodded. “Do you need anything else?”

“I think we’re fine.”

There was another quick jerk of his head, then Paxton straightened. He halted, lifting his chin just enough that I caught a glimpse of his brown eyes. “I didn’t get a chance to speak to you this morning, but it’s good to see…” Pink crept across his lower jaw, and his head dipped once more. “That you are well.”

“It’s good to see you again,” I said, hoping he knew I meant it as I lowered my voice. “I can’t wait to see if I can heat water with just a touch of my fingers now. I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Through the thick strands of hair, I saw his lips curve. “Okay.”

Grinning, I watched him make his way out to where Iridessa and Rhahar waited. As the doors closed, I saw Iridessa tousle the boy’s already messy hair.

“He’s mortal,” Ward noted.

“He is.” I picked up the pitcher and poured the steaming liquid into three cups.

Curiosity filled Ward’s features as he helped himself to some plain tea. No sugar. No cream. He seemed like the type. “How did he end up working in the home of a Primal of Death?”

“He was orphaned and living on the streets, pickpocketing to survive.” Lifting one of the lids, I used the small spoon to scoop up some sugar. “Which was how he met Nyktos.”