Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
“Did you smell that on me, too?” I asked with a sigh.
Nektas snorted. “I saw it when you couldn’t answer if you would’ve followed through on your plan if you had learned it wouldn’t save your people.”
The breath I took was thin. That question had left me as uncomfortable then as it did now. “I still can’t answer that,” I admitted hoarsely. “Part of me says yes because I would do anything to save Lasania. Anything. But the other part says no. But if I had, there would’ve been no need to kill me. I think that…that would’ve done the job for you.”
I could feel Nektas’s stare on me. “If that is the case, then I’m more right than I even realized.”
I shot him a quick look, but he was now staring ahead, his brows a dark slash across his forehead.
“You know,” he began after a couple of moments of silence, “I also took you to him that night because I knew he wouldn’t hurt you.”
My stomach gave another tumble. “But you thought he would hurt me the night in the Dying Woods.”
“That was different. When the Primal takes their true form in anger, they are not themselves. They become anger and power and can lash out. And while I knew he wouldn’t harm you in anger as he is usually, I didn’t know what he’d do in that form.” His gaze touched mine. “But now I do. He stopped himself. Not because I was there. He could’ve fucked me up. He stopped himself. Now, I know.”
“Know what?”
“That what he feels for you goes beyond fondness. He cares for you.”
“I…I know that, too.”
He was quiet for a bit. “You know what he did to himself? And why?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “He had his kardia removed because he didn’t want love to become a weakness or to be weaponized.”
“You’d think it’s because Ash doesn’t want to become his father,” he said after a moment. “Eythos changed after he lost Mycella. He was still good, but he lost most of his joy when Mycella died. If it hadn’t been for Ash, I think he would’ve wasted away until he slipped into stasis.”
I wondered if that was the same for Nektas. If it weren’t for Jadis, would he too waste away?
“Ash grew up seeing that loss and sadness every time he looked in his father’s eyes. He felt that himself, never knowing his mother’s touch or hearing her voice,” Nektas said. “But Ash doesn’t fear becoming his father. He fears becoming his uncle.”
I jerked. “He could never become Kolis.”
“I don’t think so, either, but even I never expected Kolis to go to such extremes.” There was a pause. “He was never like Eythos. A bit more reserved. Colder. Preferred solitude. Part of that was because of what Primal essence coursed through his veins. He is Death, and Death does not want for company. And as Ash grows older, I see a bit of that in him already,” he said, and my heart seized. “Life and death are not very different. Both are natural, a necessary cycle, for there cannot be life without death, but where Eythos was celebrated and welcomed, Kolis was feared and dreaded. That would foster jealousy in the best of us, and he was jealous of his brother. Still is, even now.”
Nektas laughed without mirth, shaking his head. “But it wasn’t until Kolis experienced love and loss that he changed. That he began to become what he is today. Love can breathe life and inspiration into one, and the loss of it can rot and taint the mind of another. That is what Ash fears most.” His gaze found mine again. “Loving someone. Losing them. Then becoming something even worse than Kolis.”
I swallowed, finding those reasons even sadder. “But we’re talking about caring for another. Not loving. Those are two different things. And I know it’s impossible for him to feel such a thing.”
“Are they that different?” Nektas questioned. “Because we’re talking about the kind of caring that allows you to put yourself in harm’s way for the one you care for. That doesn’t stop you from feeling, even if you believe those emotions won’t be returned. Even if you know the risks. Yet, you can still find peace.”
“He cannot love me.”
“I’m not talking about him.”
I jerked again. “I-I don’t love him,” I denied, but the words rang a little hollow. “I don’t even know what that feels like.”
“Then how do you know?”
I snapped my mouth shut. A strange, heady mix of emotions swept through me, and I felt like I was falling and flying at the same time. “I can’t think about this.”
“Why? Because you fear that you love him, and he can’t feel the same?”
“No. It’s not even that. I don’t want to think about it because it terrifies me,” I admitted without shame.