A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

“It wasn’t me. I was not the Primal of Death then.” A tightness settled into his features. “My father was. He made the deal with Roderick Mierel. It was he who demanded the first female of the bloodline as a Consort.”

Chapter 25

All I could do was stare at Ash as what he said echoed over and over in my head. Denial immediately rose because of what it meant. I wanted to latch onto that denial, but Ash had said at the lake that not all Primals had been the first.

I’d just never thought he was referring to the Primal of Death.

My thoughts whirled. “Your…your father was the Primal of Death? He made the deal?”

“He did.” Ash stared down at his nearly empty glass. “My father was many things.”

Was.

“And he died?”

“It is not often that a Primal dies. The loss of a being so powerful can create a ripple effect that can even be felt in the mortal realm. Could even set in motion an event that has the potential to unravel the fabric that binds our realms together.” He swished the remaining liquid in his glass. “The only way to prevent that from occurring is having their power—their eather—transferred to another who can withstand it.” His hand stilled. “That is what happened when my father died. All that was his transferred to me. The Shadowlands. The Court. His responsibilities.”

“And me?” I asked hoarsely.

“And the deal he made with Roderick Mierel.”

I exhaled roughly as the strangest burst of emotions blasted through me. There was definitely relief because if that deal hadn’t transferred to Ash, there would be no way to stop the Rot. But then I realized that if it hadn’t transferred, the deal would’ve been severed in favor of Lasania at the time of the Primal’s death. It hadn’t. Obviously, it had moved to Ash. And what I felt wasn’t relief. It was an emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge—and couldn’t.

He hooked one leg over the other. “Drink, liessa. You look like you need it.”

I needed an entire bottle of whiskey to get through this conversation, but I took a healthy swallow. I was surprised that I actually did it. Something occurred to me as I placed the glass on the table. “You said there were Primals younger than some of the gods. You were talking about you, weren’t you?” When he nodded, my grip tightened. “Were you…were you even alive when he made the deal?” Immediately, I wished I hadn’t asked because if he hadn’t been, and he now had to die for something his father did…it made it all the worse.

“I had just gone through the Culling—a certain point in our lives where our body begins to go into maturity, slowing our aging and intensifying our eather. I was…” His lips pursed. “Probably a year or so younger than you are now.”

Hearing that he had at least been alive didn’t make it better at all. He’d been my age. What he’d said in the Great Hall came back to me. Choice ends today, and for that, I am sorry. Gods. It wasn’t just the loss of my choice but his, too. He hadn’t chosen this. I felt like I would be sick.

His head tilted. “You’re surprised?”

I tensed. “Are you reading my emotions?”

“A bit of your shock got through my walls, but they’re up.” His gaze met mine. “I swear.”

I believed him because staying out of my emotions would be a kind and decent thing to do.

I took another drink. “Of course, I’m surprised. By a lot. You’re really not as old as I thought you were.”

A dark eyebrow rose. “Is there a difference between two hundred years and two thousand to a mortal?”

Had he not asked the same while we’d been at the lake? “Yes. As bizarre as that may sound, there is a difference. Two hundred years is a long time, but two thousand is unfathomable.”

Ash didn’t respond to that, which allowed me time to try and make sense of all of this—of why his father would do this. “Your mother…?”

That eyebrow climbed more. “You say that as if you’re not sure that I had one.”

“I figured you did.”

“Good. I was afraid for a moment that you might believe I was hatched from an egg.”

“I really don’t know how to respond to that,” I muttered. “Were your parents not together?”

“They were.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it before trying again. “And did they…like each other?”

His chin lowered. “They loved each other very much, from what I recall.”

“Then I’m sure you understand why I’m even more confused that your father would’ve asked for a Consort when he already had one.”

“He no longer had one when he made that deal,” Ash corrected quietly. “My mother…she died during the birthing.”

My lips parted as sorrow rose within me—sadness I didn’t want to feel for him. I tried to shut it down, but I couldn’t. It sat on my chest like a boulder.