Her own flames, the ones that lived inside her soul, tremored in response.
“I received the finest education. I was taught to read and sing and dance and speak, how to be surrounded by powerful menand abide by their council. I was taught how to address a nation, how to negotiate with merchants. But most importantly, I was taught how to be quiet and let those who knew more than me—who would always know more than me, regardless of how long my life spanned—take control.”
Anniliese took a breath, steeling herself. “Of course, when the Choosing came and went and I wasn’t Chosen, none of that training and schooling mattered. The Goddess decided to name a common-born girl from Andburgh as next in line to the throne, and I was sent back to Ettervan with nothing except the disappointment of my entire family.”
“You are the only heir to your house, are you not?” Kol asked quietly. “If you’d been Chosen as queen, your family’s line would’ve ended. Qhohena’s Queen cannot bear children.”
“I know.” Anniliese nodded “But that was something my family was willing to accept. After all, there would be no greater honor than knowing your house went extinct only because its last surviving member was sitting on the throne.” She looked at her hands. “But with that honor no longer a possibility, my usefulness to my father was reduced to my ability to produce a viable heir.”
Kol was silent for a beat, fidgeting with the suede of the couch. “Could he not remarry?”
Anniliese shrugged. “I suppose. But marrying me to a powerful ally was easier.”
“But now that is not a possibility for him, either.”
“No. It’s not.” Anniliese almost chuckled at it all, a surge of grim humor washing through her. She’d never been one to laugh at the darker parts of life; it was not proper, not polite.
But with all that had happened, she found it easier to seek amusement from painful things. There was no other source of happiness around her now, anyway.
“I suppose that’s why he hasn’t spoken to me since…this happened.” She gestured at her robes. “He knows I’m still here. He knows Ksee claimed me. But I failed him a second time, and in his mind he would rather let his house die with him than acknowledge a priestess as a daughter.”
The silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of the flames. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but it did grow heavy as Kol watched her, his lips parted and his deep red eyes soft with his thoughts.
“Tell me about the night you got your magic,” he finally said.
Anniliese tensed. She’d witnessed the confrontation between him and Mariah. Had seen his demon henchman slice the throat of her mother, had watched the callous way he’d mentioned her sacrifice.
But he’d asked her for honesty, so she would give it. She was already trapped in hell; how much worse could it get?
So much worse, and you know it.
She ignored the nagging voice in her mind.
“It was the night of your return,” she began quietly. His eyes blazed for a moment then dulled again. “I was scared. Something drew me to the gardens, even though they were nothing more than a smoking ruin.” They still were, but efforts to restore them were well underway.
“Everything was ash and blood. Some embers still burned, the dragonfire not quite gone out. I walked through the rubble until I came upon the platform. The one where the Salis family was held.”
A muscle flickered in Kol’s jaw. Anniliese forged ahead.
“Lisabel—Mariah’s mother—her body was still just lying on the ground by the platform. I have no affection for the queen; trust me on that. But seeing her mother there, so empty, so broken, so lifeless…” She swallowed. “I’m not sure why, but I think it reminded me of my own mother. Of seeing her lyingin her birthing bed, blood spread all around her. I couldn’t just leave her like that.
“So, I removed my cloak and draped it around her. Even though I didn’t know her, I whispered the final rite, hoping it would be enough to send her soul home to the stars. Then, I cried. I cried not just for her, but for my own mother, all the grief and heartache I had never been allowed to feel. Because a lady does not cry; a lady does not mourn. A lady is perfect, always, no matter the pain that finds her.”
Kol had fallen utterly still. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Anniliese would have thought him nothing more than a statue.
“As I cried, I felt…something. Like a match striking flint. A heat filled me, and when I opened my eyes, there it was. Flame.Myflame.” The corners of her lips tilted up at the memory. At the heady rush of power, the initial swell of fear, then the overwhelming awe that this beautiful, wild creation was hers.
“I told the flame to take Lisabel. To burn her body away, to build her a funeral pyre fit for a Royal. They obeyed, and it was beautiful.” Her smile faded. “That was how Ksee found me. Kneeling before Lisabel Salis’s funeral pyre, my golden flames licking the night sky.”
Kol uncrossed his legs, leaning forward with clasped hands.
Anniliese expected anger, disgust—anything. But what she saw had her blinking with shock.
In his ageless expression wascompassion.
She didn’t know what to make of it.
“You are incredibly brave, Anniliese Hareth. To risk everything you’ve ever known to give a stranger the honor of a funeral.” He sighed, a heavy sound that sounded far too human to come from a god. “I wish I had a soul as pure as yours.”
