A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

“She’s awake,” a female spoke. “You obviously didn’t hit her all that hard.”

Cressa.

I flipped onto my back, ignoring the flare of pain radiating down my spine.

“Well, I did drop her onto the floor.” Madis leaned against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest. “You should be grateful I didn’t accidentally kill her, considering how weak mortals are.”

“But is she really all that mortal?” Cressa countered. My stomach twisted as she was suddenly before me, thick black hair cascading over her shoulders. “Are you?”

I gingerly sat up, curling my right leg toward me. I swallowed hard, trying to ease the dryness in my throat. “Last time I checked, I was mortal.”

Cressa smiled just enough to reveal the tips of her fangs. “No. If it’s you we’ve been looking for, I’m not so sure about that.”

A wave of unease shuttled through me as she rose and drifted back several steps.

“But if you’re not? Well, our bad.” Cressa looked down at me with pitiless golden eyes. “We’ll find out soon enough if you were what the viktors were protecting.”

“Viktors?” I glanced over at Bele and Aios. Was there a way I could get to them—to Bele, at least, to remove the dagger? I would have a far better chance doing that than attempting to make it to the chamber behind the thrones.

Cressa arched a brow.

“He needs to get here soon.” Madis looked at the mouth of the throne room. “Nyktos and the others will only be distracted for so long.”

My heart turned over heavily. “What did you do?”

“Led a couple of dozen Shades into the city,” Cressa said, and I felt my stomach pitch. “That escalated far quicker than I thought it would. He’ll be busy for some time, cleaning up that mess.”

Good gods, I didn’t even want to think about the kind of horror the Shades would bring down on the people. But Nyktos had to know—he had to feel my emotions, wouldn’t he? Had I felt anything extreme? I didn’t think so, and for the first time, I cursed my inability to feel true terror easily. I glanced at Bele again.

“Don’t even think it, mortal,” Cressa warned.

My gaze shot up to her. “I have a name.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“Do I look like I give a fuck that you don’t?” I shot back.

Her head tilted, and her eyes narrowed. She took a step forward.

Madis unfolded his arms, and I tensed as he pushed off the pillar. “Careful. If it’s her, and you kill her, you’re going to wish you were dead.”

“Gods, I hope it’s not you,” Cressa sneered, but I wasn’t paying attention to her.

They didn’t want me dead. I thought about what Gemma had said about Kolis and the missing Chosen that had come back different. “Why does it matter if I live or die?” I asked, drawing my other leg up. I shifted forward. If they couldn’t kill me, then I could make a run for Bele.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Madis replied. “But trust me when I say you better hope it’s not you. Whatever Cressa wants to do with you—and she has a very active imagination…”

“I do,” Cressa confirmed.

“Will pale in comparison to what awaits you,” Madis finished.

“Did you all plan to say that?” I said. “I bet you two spent eons waiting for the perfect moment to be embarrassingly cliché.”

Cressa’s lips thinned. “You’re going to test me, aren’t you?” Her gaze flicked up, beyond me. “Finally.”

I looked over my shoulder to the entrance of the throne room and saw gold. Hair and skin like sunlight, eyes like two citrine jewels.

It was a tall god with golden hair and eyes that matched. He strode into the throne room, his long legs encased in black, the white shirt he wore left untied at the neck. A smile appeared as he spotted me. “Well, hello,” he drawled, and I tensed. The god knelt in front of me. His gaze swept over my features.

“What do you think, Taric?” Cressa demanded.

This was the third god. They were all here.

“I think you finally succeeded.” He stared, reaching for me. “Hell, just like he described. This has—”

I reacted without thought, unsheathing the butter knife when he gripped my arm. Twisting into Taric, I thrust the knife as hard as I could—

The impact of the knife meeting the flesh of his chest rattled the bones in my hand and arm. The knife snapped in two. My mouth dropped open as I jerked the ruined blade back. I’d known it wouldn’t do much damage, but I hadn’t thought it would do that. Good gods… I lifted my gaze to Taric’s.

“Was that a butter knife? Really?” A fair brow arched. “Did that make you feel better?”

I swung again, aiming the broken end at his eye.

Taric caught my wrist, twisting sharply. I gritted my teeth at the bite of pain. My fingers spasmed open. The useless knife slipped from my hand.