Anniliese didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all.
Kol leaned back. Something in his expression was contemplative—tired, even. He faced the flames, the reflections flickering in his eyes.
“I have always felt a certain kinship with fire,” he began, his voice low. “After all, I am the physical embodiment of the sun. What is the sun if not light and fire and warmth?
“But after I was betrayed by Zadione, when they captured and banished me to Enfara, any connection I might’ve had to the flames was lost. Qhohena, as the bringer of life, manifested her earthly gifts as control and manipulation of fire. But I am a god of will and compulsion and control. I forced the creation of my own powers and gifts. Shadows are cast by the sun, and while I loved the flames, the darkness always sang for me.” Some of those shadows drifted from his shoulders as if to emphasize his words, twisting and dancing in the crackling firelight.
“This world has been fed so many lies by those goddesses,” he murmured. Anniliese swore she could hear true pain and regret in his voice, something that had spent thousands of years building and festering. “I never meant to be so cruel. But sometimes the hope of a better world justifies any means necessary to accomplish it.”
“What does your better world look like?” The question slipped past Anniliese’s lips without a thought. It was only when it had rung into the air between them that she went still with fear.
Stupid. She was a lady. A lady did not ask questions out of turn.
But she wasn’t truly much of a lady; not anymore.
Kol swung his burning gaze back to her. “I only want to eradicate the greatest lie the moon goddesses have fed humanity. Have fed the other gods, in truth. I remain the only one who is willing to see reason.”
Anniliese cocked her head slightly, fidgeting again with her robes. “What was the lie?”
Kol’s eyes flickered. “Free will, Lady Anniliese. The idea that people are better off with the ability to think and decide what is best for themselves on their own. The other gods forget that I wasmadeto be a damper on the will of mortals. Free will has caused more pain, more strife, more heartbreak and war and loss than any action I could ever take.
“Free will is the death of happiness. Free will is what broke Zadione’s heart, and why she chose to betray me. Free will is why the gods rejected my truth and my divine purpose of leading the world to something better.” He sighed again, running a hand through his night-black hair.
“Free will is the reason the moons must fall. It is why when Andrian Laurent inevitably tries to escape, I will let him. And it is why, Lady Anniliese, that when the time is right, when my son has unwittingly delivered her to the palm of my hand and she has returned what she stole from me, Mariah Salis must die.”
Chapter 11
Ciana hadmagic, and it was beautiful.
That was Sebastian’s only thought as Ciana’s breathing slowed, as her body relaxed against his. The image of her—kneeling in the sands, tears falling freely down her freckled cheeks, golden curls lifted on a twisting, violent breeze—was emblazoned in his mind. An incarnate image of soft power and broken pain.
He’d always suspected she had a gift. Too many times, when she was angry or frustrated or terrified, the winds would stir around her.
For some reason, though, she’d always kept it tightly shackled, forcing it back down whenever it threatened to emerge. Even when she’d stopped wearing hersautoire, that little ring made ofdeistair, she hadn’t let it out. Sebastian knew she didn’t fear Mariah; he was beyond sure that his queen would shield her from the priestesses if they dared try to take Ciana.
Still, her whispered words to him echoed:I don’t want to talk about it.
There was something else that made Ciana hide her strength—even from herself.
She nuzzled deeper into his chest. His arms tightened instinctively around her.
Dangerous. All of this was dangerous. He was a weak fool for giving in. He couldn’t be what she needed; not right now, not after all the ways he’d failed.
But as her sweet honeysuckle scent wrapped around him, as her hair tickled his chin and her soft curves fit so perfectly against him, he struggled to remember why it all mattered.
No. He knew why. Visions of blood—both red and black—flashed through his mind. Screams of innocents rang in his ears. The scent of burned flesh and dragonfire and pain drowned out Ciana’s sweetness.
Sebastian didn’t deserve this. Not with someone as bright and golden as her. Even if he did, he wouldn’t risk losing his best friend—not if fate later decided this wasn’t their path. The thought was enough to drive the stake of resolve into his chest.
Slowly, reluctantly, he untangled himself from her. She mumbled softly in her sleep as he gently pushed away, rising to his knees. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders, making sure she was settled comfortably on the pallet.
He raised his gaze to the flaps of the tent. The night beyond sang, and the distant murmured voices from the Onitan campsite could be heard amongst the insects of the oasis.
Alarm quickened Sebastian’s heartbeat as he listened to the night.
Closer than the sounds of the dying camp, footsteps stomped through the sandy underbrush. No one should be coming this way; not this late; not unless they were either lost or moved with a darker intent.
They were a dead man’s footsteps.
