“So?” Seraphena looked back at me, her brows raised. “Which one pissed you off that much?”

  “Just one?” I replied, pushing the weirdness of the statues aside. “It wasn’t Holland—well, I am irritated with him, but not to that level.”

  Her lips curled up. “I should talk you out of whatever you’re thinking.”

  “But you’re not going to,” Reaver cast over his shoulder.

  Her smile widened. “Nope.”

  Now, my brows shot up. “Really? You’re the true Primal of Life.”

  “I’m also extremely petty and prone to acts of violence when angered,” she replied.

  “Well, now we know where you got that from,” Casteel murmured.

  I shot him a glare as we neared the end of the hall.

  Seraphena’s eyes glimmered as long, icy-blond hair fell across her shoulder. “No, I’m not the one to go to if you need to be talked out of committing violence. Ash, on the other hand? He is far more…”

  “Calm? Thoughtful?” Reaver suggested. “Less vindictive?”

  Seraphena’s lips pursed. “Thank you for all the helpful examples, Reaver. But yes, Ash is more likely to talk you out of it.”

  “That seems backward,” I admitted.

  She snorted. “I can’t argue with that. But I don’t know the answer to the question either.”

  Damn it.

  “By the way,” she said to Reaver, “I’m not that vindictive.”

  “Uh-huh,” Reaver hummed.

  Casteel’s mark brushed against my mind like a gentle caress of pine and winter. We will be talking more about this interest in the Fates later.

  I didn’t answer. I’d hoped he’d forget about that interest, as I doubted even he would be on board with me wanting to kill a Fate.

  “Earlier,” Seraphena said, “when I spoke of my sons, you felt my emotions.”

  “I did.”

  “And you wanted to…ease them?”

  “Yes.” Wind rattled the windows. “It’s an urge that’s hard for me to ignore.”

  She nodded. “You got that from Ash’s side of the family,” she told me, and my curiosity piqued. “He can sense emotions. As could his mother. She could also do more.”

  Captivated by the little details, a smile spread across my face. There was so much I didn’t know about where I came from. “I can…taste emotions—well, now I kind of just sense them,” I told her. “Is it like that for him? The tasting part?”

  “Taste them?” Her nose scrunched. “Now, I’m curious to know what something tastes like. But no, he can just read what another is feeling.”

  “That’s probably why they changed,” Casteel noted.

  “You’re likely to see an increase in your abilities as time passes,” Seraphena said. “A sharpening of your senses. It doesn’t happen all at once.”

  “You said Nyktos’s mother could also do more?” I asked.

  “She passed long before I came to be,” she said, “but from what I know, she could influence someone’s emotions.”

  I thought about what I’d done at the Chamber of Nyktos and how Alastir had claimed the Atlantians would see me as a Soul Eater. It used to bother me to even consider that. Now? I didn’t worry if some out there still believed that. I had bigger things to be concerned with.

  “She shared lineage with the Gods of Sleep,” Seraphena continued. “They can do something similar—invade one’s dreams to discover their secrets and manipulate what they see.”

  My eyes widened at that.

  “Sounds like a fun time,” Casteel remarked.

  Seraphena snorted, but her humor quickly vanished. “There’s only one left.” Her voice tightened. “When Kolis stole Eythos’s embers, it caused a…catastrophic shockwave. Many gods were lost. Entombing Kolis had a more minor impact, but there was still one. Nothing comes without a cost.” She saw that Reaver had stopped in front of the door. “Kolis can do something similar. He can root out someone’s worst fears and insecurities, amplify those emotions, and then make them live through it. It’s an ability unique to a true Primal of Death so they can ensure those sentenced to the Abyss are punished…effectively.”

  “Gods,” I muttered. I remembered Kieran mentioning that Attes had said as much, but I was still somewhat horrified by the idea that the ability even existed.

  “You may develop something like it.” She glanced at Casteel. “Both of you may. But be wary. Being newly Ascended Primals, you’re both susceptible to such tactics.”

  My stomach hollowed. Kolis had done just that while I was in stasis. The memory was still fuzzy around the edges, but that was how he’d gotten inside my head.

  Casteel’s jaw tensed. “Any way to not be so susceptible?”

  “Unfortunately, not.” A rush of cool, musty air filled the hall as Reaver opened the heavy iron door. “All you can do is be aware of it and fight against it. Block it out.”

  “Creating a…mental shield is something I’ve never been that great at,” I said.

  “Actually, you have been doing it,” Casteel said as I followed Seraphena into the stairwell.

  “I have?”

  “Yeah. I figured you weren’t exactly aware of it.”

  “I had a hard time with that myself,” Seraphena shared. “I honestly didn’t realize I was even doing it until Ash pointed it out to me. It took a long time for me to realize that it was tied to the essence inside me. I had to will the shields instead of picturing them.” She looked over her shoulder as Casteel closed the door behind us. “You should try that.”

  “I will,” I murmured, thinking it sounded too simple. But if I was doing it without knowing it, then it probably was just that easy. If there were any moments when I was myself while under Kolis’s influence, then I must have put up shields to push him out, at least temporarily.

  “Have you been here before?” Seraphena asked.

  “No—well, I mean, not before the last time. Though it’s possible I was here as a child before I was sent to Masadonia and don’t remember.”

  “How…?” Ducking her head, she tucked several strands of hair behind her ear. “How was your childhood?”

  “It was…. It wasn’t bad.”

  “Is that the truth?” she pressed.

  I could feel Casteel’s stare drilling into the back of my head. “Yes. I mean, it could’ve been worse. I don’t remember much before my mo—before Coralena and Leopold tried to take me away. After, I was…” Seeing Seraphena’s shoulders stiffen, I pressed my lips together and winced when I scraped them with my fangs. I wasn’t sure how honest I should be. Suddenly, Seraphena’s pace slowed.

  “Watch out for the last step,” Reaver advised as he had the last time, then disappeared around the bend. “It’s steep.”

  I felt Casteel’s hand on my lower back. “I’d been injured, and that time is kind of a blur, but I was taken care of.”

  “By Isbeth?” Seraphena asked as we entered a shorter hall that widened out.

  “Yes.”

  She slowed so that I walked beside her. “Were you happy? As a child?”

  Gods, that was a hard question to answer. “I don’t know,” I admitted, laughing awkwardly. “I was taken care of, and I had my brother—” I stopped when Seraphena halted mid-step. “I mean, Ian,” I clarified.

  “He will always be your brother,” Seraphena said, walking once more.

  Yes. He would.

  I breathed through the pain that always accompanied thoughts of him. A heartbeat later, I felt Casteel’s fingers curling around mine. “How did you know about Ian?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. “Vikter.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He had spoken about Seraphena as if he were familiar with her.

  “You were saying?” she pressed.

  “I was Chosen by the Gods,” I continued with an eye roll. “So, I was treated well.”

  “But?”

  I peeked at Seraphena. Her gaze was trained on Reaver as she twisted her fingers. “But that was when they first placed me in the veil, and no one but Ian was allowed to speak to or touch me. He spent as much time with me as he could, but he had his schooling, so I was often alone.” I exhaled long and slow as Casteel squeezed my hand. “I thought I was happy, but I…I was lonely.”

  She remained silent as we trailed behind Reaver. “We have far too much in common, Poppy. I imagine it is the same with Millicent.”

  My heart turned over heavily.

  “You mentioned a Coralena? I do not know her.”

  “I…I was told she was Isbeth’s Handmaiden and had fallen in love with a merchant’s son,” I told her.

  “Leopold?” she said, the skin at the corners of her mouth tightening. “And you were told they were your and Ian’s parents?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t sure how much I should tell her, but I decided to be upfront. “I was told Leopold was a viktor. I don’t know how much of that is true because Coralena…well, she was a Revenant.”

  Seraphena’s features sharpened.

  “But she wasn’t like the other Handmaidens. She couldn’t have been,” I quickly added, remembering how Isbeth had told me that Coralena used magic to conceal her lifeless blue eyes from me. “She knew some or all of what Isbeth planned, and with Leopold’s help, she took Ian and me away. She went against Isbeth and… She died because of it.”

  Seraphena’s brow furrowed. “That is unusual. Are you sure she was a Revenant?”

  “That’s what Isbeth said, and Millicent confirmed it,” I said. “But I was told that Ian was their son.”

  Seraphena inhaled sharply. “Revenants cannot reproduce.” She swallowed and picked up a strand of her hair again. “But it’s possible she conceived Ian before she became a Revenant. That doesn’t explain how she maintained a sense of self, though.”

  It didn’t.

  “Is it possible Coralena wasn’t entirely mortal?” Casteel questioned. “Like Millicent? Or perhaps she descended more directly from a god—one who perhaps woke before you?”

  “Is it possible? Yes.” Her expression smoothed out. “I will ask Ires.”

  She spoke again as we passed narrow, arched openings dimly lit from within. “I grew up in Wayfair when the capital you know today was larger and its own kingdom. I, too, was Chosen. Not by the gods but for a god.”

  “Nyktos?”

  She nodded. “I spent most of my childhood alone. Except for Holland.”

  My brows rose. “The same Holland I know?”

  “I knew him simply as a knight tasked with my training.” She glanced at me. “Like you knew Vikter as a Royal Guard. Except I was trained to kill Nyktos,” she added, and I nearly tripped.

  Casteel’s head swung toward her. “Come again?”

  Her lips tipped up. “It’s quite a long, convoluted tale.” She looked over at us. “I will tell you about it someday.”

  This time, when my heart skipped, it did so with hope—hope for a real, true familial bond not weighed down by deceit. “I’d like that.”

  Her smile widened. “As would I.” She let go of her hair, and it slowly unraveled. “And Ires. He would like to see you and your sister once he’s well enough.”

  The shadowy hall ahead blurred. I wanted to say that I’d love to do that but could only nod since I didn’t trust myself to speak. This was my first time meeting Seraphena in the flesh. I didn’t want to sob all over her.

  A moment passed. “I wasn’t surprised when I learned of your name.”

  My heart kicked up for some reason. “Isbeth named me after the goddess Penellaphe.”

  Her nostrils flared as eather coursed through her eyes. “Is that what she said?”

  “Yes…” A strange tingling sensation swept up the back of my neck and head as Casteel’s steps slowed. The narrowing hall ahead disappeared for a moment, replaced by walls of aged wood that carried the scent of smoke.

  Your name wasn’t chosen by her.

  I sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of Leopold’s voice, and I blinked rapidly.

  “The goddess Penellaphe and I are very close,” Seraphena said. “And both your father and his brother spent a lot of time in her company. I think he may have had a boyhood crush on her.” She laughed softly, the sound light yet heavy. “She is your namesake, but he chose your name.”

  You were not named by the Queen. I named you after my…mother’s dear friend.

  A tremor coursed up my arms as Leopold’s voice echoed faintly in my head. But that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t have known about Seraphena’s friendship with Penellaphe. And he wouldn’t have named me. He wasn’t my father.

  “Are you okay?” Casteel asked quietly.

  I didn’t know the answer to that as I tried to see Ires’s face, but I only kept seeing Leopold, which was strange because, as the years passed, I’d struggled to recall his features at all. But now? I could easily see the proud lines of his jaw and how his chin ended in a slight point. His broad and high cheekbones and pine-green eyes. I’d been told I was a replica of Coralena when she was younger, but that had been an obvious lie. I looked like Isbeth and, inexplicably, Leopold. Confusion swirled through me as I stared ahead. Perhaps it was because I didn’t remember seeing Ires before I went into stasis, and his features had transposed onto my memories of Leopold. But that also didn’t feel right. And why would Isbeth lie about being the one to name me? I almost laughed. Did she need a reason?

  Something occurred to me then. Did Seraphena and Nyktos know about Malec and Isbeth’s son—the one Alastir had killed on Eloana’s orders? She had to. They were still awake then.

  Casteel reached over as we walked and pressed his fingers under my chin. “Poppy?”

  “Y-yes,” I said. “I’m fine. Just thinking about everything.”

  Doubt joined the concern etched into his features. He started to speak when Reaver stopped at the mouth of the sunken chamber and turned to Seraphena. “She’s not in—”

  “I remember what you said.” Seraphena cupped his cheek. “I’m ready.”

  Feeling the low hum of eather, I wondered if Sera and Reaver were communicating with each other through the notam—something I couldn’t do with the draken. They could sense my will, but it wasn’t like how I could communicate with the wolven—and Cas. Either way, I took his hand and stepped into the sunken chamber, wanting to give them some space. Pushing aside thoughts of Malec and Isbeth’s son, I glanced around. The first thing I noticed was that the packed earth was now clear of the tattered clothing, broken bones, and debris. I lifted my gaze to Jadis’s misshapen form. An ache blossomed in my chest.

  Reaver entered first, walking to the wall to lift a torch. He turned, casting light toward where Jadis rested. “Where is—?” Seraphena jerked to a stop with a ragged cry. “Dear gods, my poor girl.”

  My throat tightened as I watched her stagger forward and drop to her knees at Jadis’s entombed form.

  Tears burned my eyes. Sorrow and anger radiated from Seraphena as she shook her head.

  “Jadis has always been small.” Firelight glanced off Seraphena’s cheeks, catching the glisten of crimson tears. “Like her mother. That’s what Nektas told me once. But…” She wiped furiously at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “But she should be larger by now, even in her rest. She should’ve grown if…”

  Seraphena couldn’t seem to finish. She didn’t need to. Jadis would’ve grown if she’d been in a physical state to be able to. And knowing Isbeth—knowing what she did to those she held captive—the draken had likely been starved and wounded.

  Reaver remained standing but moved back several feet from them. He stayed quiet as he stared at Jadis. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how long he’d spent doing only that since he found her.

  I slipped my hand free of Casteel’s, wanting to go to Seraphena, wishing I knew her well enough to offer comfort. I held myself back and folded my arms tightly. The same anger I’d felt the first time I came here swelled, coating my insides with an icy rage. The eather stirred but I willed it to settle. This wasn’t about me and my anger and disgust.

  Casteel shoved a hand through his hair. “How long do you think she was entombed?”

  “I really don’t know,” Seraphena mumbled. “Decades?” She placed a trembling hand near the two growths atop Jadis’s stone head. “Over a century? Maybe longer.”

  “Ires came to look for Malec two centuries ago,” I said. “But I don’t believe she was entombed for that long.”

  Seraphena’s head cut to me. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Isbeth used her to kill Revenants. That was how Coralena died, and that was less than twenty years ago.”

  Seraphena nodded as she turned her attention back to Jadis. “Isbeth will answer for this. She will answer for all her crimes. That, I promise you.” Heat traveled with Seraphena’s words, searing her vow into the earthen walls. “And she will pay gravely for them.”

  My breath snagged. “Her soul…?”

  “Is in the Abyss.”

  “Good,” I said, feeling Casteel’s eyes on me.

  Seraphena’s head lowered. “She is still your mother.”

  “And she was a horrible monster,” I said. Seraphena looked over her shoulder at me. Words bubbled up, and for once, I didn’t stop them. “I used to struggle with who she was to me, how she treated me, and who she actually was. I no longer do.”

  The moment I said that, I realized how true it was. It felt like an immeasurable weight had been lifted from my chest. She was my mother. She had been kind to me once, and maybe, on some level, she loved me. But she was also a cruel creature who had killed Ian in a fit of anger. Who’d tormented Casteel and Malik. Who’d overseen the torture of Preela and so many others. I truly hoped her soul spent an eternity drenched in nightmares of her own making.

  “I’m glad you have come to terms with that,” Seraphena said quietly. “Though I also wish you never had to.”

  Nodding, I drew in a shallow breath and glanced at Casteel. He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Unfolding my arms, I walked forward, and he followed close behind. As I approached, I heard Seraphena whispering to Jadis. I knelt on her other side.

  “When you touched Nektas and woke him, it’s because you carry the embers of life and death in you,” Seraphena said, running her hand over the bumpy stone. “A draken feels that kind of power, even at rest, and even if they don’t fully understand what they are feeling.”