As the doors closed behind Nektas, I slowly turned to the Primal. He was still leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping slowly on his desk as he eyed me. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Good.” I felt that damn warmth hitting my face again. “You?”
He lifted the hand from the arm of his chair, resting those fingers against his jaw and chin. “Perfect.”
Silence ticked by. “Did you sleep well last night?”
Nyktos went completely still. I don’t think he even breathed. “Like a babe.”
I stared at him. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.” Wisps of eather appeared in his eyes as disbelief crept in.
Was he really going to act as if he hadn’t been in my bedchamber the night before, watching me? Touching me?
“It appears you’ve had a rather eventful morning,” he said.
Hewastotally going to act like last night hadn’t happened. I tamped down my frustration. “That is one way of putting it.”
“Hopefully, for the sake of furniture everywhere, Reaver no longer shelters in places Jadis cannot yet reach.”
“I think that will be unlikely.”
“Probably. We went through this when Reaver was her age. I’m quite confident we lost at least two chambers’ worth of items to his temper tantrums.”
I had a hard time picturing Reaver having a tantrum in either form. “What…what happened to Reaver’s parents?” I asked, realizing that all I knew was that they were no longer alive.
“They died defending the Shadowlands. Before he was old enough to even shift into mortal form,” he answered, and several beats of silence followed. “Kolis grew annoyed when I didn’t answer his summons immediately. He sent several of his draken and, after that, I learned that I could only delay answering his summons for so long.”
My chest squeezed. “My…my sister? Ezra? She believes you can’t hate someone you’ve never met. She’s wrong. I’ve never met Kolis, and I hate him.”
Nyktos was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think you have to know someone to feel a certain way toward them. I don’t even think you have to truly know someone to miss them.”
“Really?”
“I miss many I barely know. The experiences never shared. The history never made.” His fingers stilled on the desk. “The memories never created.”
“The past that’s never mourned.” I thought of the mother I’d never been close to. The father I hadn’t met. The friends I’d never made.Hisheart. That thought was like a kick to the chest—both the realization that I wanted his affection, something I desperately couldn’t acknowledge, and that it would never belong to me. “And the future that’s never anticipated.”
“Then you understand.”
“I…I think so.” I blinked back the sudden wetness in my eyes, thinking about the guards who had fallen yesterday. “I’m sorry about those who were lost yesterday. I don’t think I said that.”
Nyktos nodded. “As am I.”
I curled my fingers around the edges of my sleeves. In the silence, I remembered what Saion had said on the Rise. “The Cimmerian? The one called Dorcan. He mentioned you had an army.”
“I do,” he said.
“Is that something all Primals have?”
He shook his head.
My mind started racing. “How many do you have?”
“The army is substantial.” His gaze hadn’t left me. Not once since Nektas had left with the younglings. “They’re stationed at the Shadowlands’ borders.”
“Why didn’t they give aid when the dakkais attacked?”