Okay. Plotting wasn’t the best word for what I’d been doing. But plotting the many different blunt objects I could use to strike Ash over the head as I paced, filled me with a disturbing amount of satisfaction. None of those fantasies would do anything to aid in my seduction of the Primal, but how in the hell could I even begin to make him fall in love with me when he kept me locked in my chambers?
Then there were the glimpses of the young draken they called Reaver. Every so often, I caught sight of him in the courtyard, usually with Aios or one of the unknown guards, hopping on the ground and attempting to take flight with his thin wings. I watched from the shadows of the balcony, utterly enthralled.
A knock on the door whipped me around. I rushed forward, throwing it open. And came to a sudden halt. The god who stood in the threshold was neither Ash nor Ector.
“Hi there.” The god bowed deeply. “I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Saion,” I said. “You were there, in the Great Hall.”
“I was. How are you feeling?” he asked rather politely. “I hope better than I last saw you.”
He’d last seen me shoving a whip down someone’s throat. “Much better,” I answered truthfully. The marks the whip had left behind were no longer raised welts but faint red streaks that no longer ached.
“Glad to hear that.” The smooth brown skin of his head glinted richly in the hallway light. “Would you like breakfast?”
“I would like to leave this room.”
“The offer for breakfast, if you accept, would require you to leave.” He stepped back into the hall and to the side. “Yes, or no?”
There was a moment of hesitation. I didn’t know Saion, but I did know that I had to get out of this chamber before I started tying bedsheets together and attempting to scale the building from the balcony.
“Yes.”
“Perfect.” Saion waited until I was in the hall and then closed the door. “Please. Follow me.”
Wary, I did as he requested, wishing I had any weapon at this point as I followed him, continuously scanning my surroundings. We made our way down the wide hall and toward the staircase. Saion didn’t speak, and never one good with small talk, I was more than fine with the silence.
A jittery energy descended as we reached the first level. The brightly lit entryway was empty. I glanced at the double, windowless, wooden doors painted black.
“I hope you’re not planning to make a run for it,” Saion observed.
My head whipped in his direction. “I wasn’t.”
“Good. I’m feeling a bit too lazy to chase you down,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up. The smile was charming and as perfect as the rest of his features, but the sharpness in his gaze left me doubting the sincerity of that smile. He motioned for me to follow him through the archway. “And Nyktos would be quite irritated with me if he learned you’d managed to evade me on my watch.”
Why would he think I’d run off? “If he is so worried about me running off, then perhaps he should be the one watching over me.”
“Interestingly enough, I said the same thing.”
“Really?” I asked doubtfully, taking in the space beyond the sharply pointed archway. There were doors on either side, but the walls were black and bare. The only thing in the space was a white pedestal in the center of the room, but nothing sat on it.
“Really.”
I glanced at him. “How did he take that?”
The smile was easier now, but no less charming as we entered another hall. “He grumbled something about feeding me to Nektas.”
My eyes widened. I hoped he was joking. “What…what do draken eat?”
“Not me, that’s for sure,” he replied. “And this was said in front of Nektas, who claimed to have no interest in eating me, thank the gods.”
The hall split into two, going in opposite directions. Ahead, two doors were spaced so far apart, each room could belong in a different home. But it was what rested in the center, between the two doors, that caught my attention. My steps slowed. Two thick, black pillars framed a short hall that opened into a circular chamber lit by hundreds of candles. Reminded of the Shadow Temple, a shiver curled down my spine as we drew closer. The golden candlelight broke apart the shadows in the chamber, casting a glow of fire over the massive blocks of shadowstone seated upon a dais. It was the throne. Thrones, actually. Two of them sat side by side, their backs carved into large and widespread wings that touched at the tips.
The Primal’s and Consort’s thrones.
They were hauntingly beautiful.
I looked up to see that the ceiling was open to the sky. No glass. Nothing. Did it never rain here?