A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

Ash’s head jerked toward mine, his stare searching. “I…” He fell quiet for several breaths. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I gathered my damp hair and began twisting it, wishing I could share something so intimate, but I didn’t know how to do that. How to make myself comfortable enough to do so. The only other thing that came to mind and unfortunately spilled from my lips was utterly ridiculous. “I hate gowns.”

There was a beat of silence. “What?”

Perhaps I needed to have my lips sewn shut. “I just find gowns to be…cumbersome.” And I also hated for my thighs to rub together, but that was not something I would discuss with him.

He watched me. Being the focus of those steely eyes was unnerving. “I imagine they would be.”

I nodded, face feeling too warm as I stared at the gently rolling waters of the lake. I knew I shouldn’t say anything, especially to a god who served a Primal, but what I’d done was something I never talked about. Not even with Sir Holland. And I hadn’t realized until that moment how much weight those unsaid words carried.

But I couldn’t voice them. They revealed too much. They were too much of a burden.

Staring at the lake, I sought to change the subject. “Have you found out anything more about why those gods are killing mortals?”

“Unfortunately, not. The three gods have been hard to track.” He sighed. “And I can only pry so much without drawing unwanted attention. If I do, then I won’t discover why they’re doing this.”

“Your friend, the one Cressa and the others killed?” I asked. “What was his name?”

“Lathan,” he answered. “You would’ve liked him, I think. He never listened to me either.”

A small grin tugged on my lips but faded quickly. “Was his body left or was he…?”

“His body was left, soul intact. He didn’t become whatever it was that woman became last night.”

“Oh,” I whispered, watching the light of the moon ripple over the black waters. “It doesn’t make his death any easier, I’m sure, but at least he wasn’t destroyed.”

Ash was quiet for a long moment. “You know what you remind me of?”

I looked over at him again, and his gaze snared mine. Warmth hit my skin once more, seeping into my veins. There was no sting of embarrassment. This was different, a more languid and sultry type of heat. “I’m half afraid to ask.”

He was silent for a moment. “There was this flower that once grew in the Shadowlands.”

Every part of my being zeroed in on him. Where he lived… He was talking about Iliseeum. One of the things I was looking forward to as the Consort was the chance to see the realm. I couldn’t listen harder if I tried.

“The petals were the color of blood in the moonlight and remained folded in on themselves until someone approached. When they opened, they appeared incredibly delicate, as if they would shatter in the softest wind, but they grew wild and fiercely, any place there was even a hint of soil. They even grew between the cracks of stone, and they were incredibly unpredictable.”

Did I really remind him of a delicate, beautiful flower? I wasn’t sure what part of me could be considered delicate. A fingernail? “How are flowers unpredictable?”

“Because these were quite temperamental.”

A laugh burst out of me. The wisps of white pulsed behind his pupil once more, churning slowly. His gaze shifted back to the lake. “Is that the part that makes you think of them?”

“Possibly.”

“I’m curious to learn how a flower is temperamental, especially such a delicate one.”

“The thing is, they only appeared delicate.” He was closer now, having lowered his arm from the rock. “In truth, they were quite resilient and deadly.”

“Deadly?”

He nodded. “When they opened, it revealed the center. And in that center were several spiky needles that carried a rather poisonous toxin. Depending on their mood, they released them. One needle could take down a god for a week.”

“Sounds like an amazing flower.” And slightly horrifying. “I’m not sure if it’s a compliment to know that I remind you of a murderous plant.”

“If you’d ever seen them, you would know that it is.”

I smiled, flattered despite it all, and imagined that it must not take much to flatter me.

“I have a question for you now,” he said.

“Ask away.”

“Why are you here by a lake? I imagine a Princess has access to a large tub filled with steaming hot water.”

I stiffened, having forgotten that, in my anger, I had revealed that I was a Princess. “I like it here. It’s…”

“Calming?” he finished for me, and I nodded. “With the exception of the Hunters,” he added. “How often do you come here?”

“As much as I can,” I admitted, studying his profile. It was all so strange. Him. Me. Us. This conversation. How at ease I felt around him. Everything.