Page 303 of Born of Blood and Ash

I wasn’t hungry.

Nektas seemed to sense the meaningbehind my lack of response. “Okay. We’ll try again later.”

He stayed with me, continuing to run his fingers through myfur. My eyes closed when the sunlight began creeping over the shadowstone. I didn’t sleep. Instead, I played everydecision I’d made since rising as a Primal over in my mind. Every choice that’dled me to this moment. Where had things gone so terribly wrong? Because I hadplayed a role in what’d happened. I hadn’t listened to my instincts when itcame to Kolis. I’d been too determined to be different. To be more like…likehow I thought a Queen should be. How I thought Eythoswould handle himself, even though I knew that, in the end, that had sealed hisfate. Since I’d awakened, I’d tried to have…less knee-jerk reactions. I’d triedto be less impulsive. Less reckless. Less absurd. Less like who I was.

Less like a monster.

Less like…less like Kolis.

But as the day wore on, I…I accepted what I had alwaysknown. What even Nektas had known when he said themonstrous side of me could one day save me.

The truth was, I was like Kolis.

Maybe it was the embers I’d been born with. How I’d beenraised. Maybe it was the training and the grooming. Maybe it was all thechoices I’d made in my life that allowed me to act with cold violence on onehand and heal with the next. Or maybe it was because I’d been touched by lifeand death at birth. Perhaps that ensured I wouldn’t end up like Eythos. Too forgiving. Too hopeful. Too loyal. Becausethose things were just as bad as being too harsh and too unforgiving. Bothblinded you in different ways.

The why didn’t matter.

Because, all along, I’d fought my instincts instead oflearning when to listen to them and when to heed the counsel of others. Ihadn’t truly had faith in myself.

And Ezra had paid that price. So did Marisol. My mother.Those Kyn and Embris had killed on Kolis’s orders.

And those I slaughtered when I tipped over that line betweenjustice and vengeance—when I let myself be consumed by rage and sorrow that hadbuilt inside me for days, weeks, months, and years.

What happened wasn’t just the end result of Kolis’s actions.Or me trying to be better. What had Holland said? Maybe if you hadn’t heldin all your pain, you wouldn’t have given in to it now. He’d never trainedme to be a cold killer. He’d trained me to always be compassionate, even indeath. I owed a part of what I’d done to all that anger—the fury, panic, anddesperation I’d bottled up inside me.

This…this was as much Kolis’s fault as it was mine.

How would I live with that? I didn’t know.

At some point, I heard a quiet knock on the door. It wasRhain. He told us things were still quiet, before sharing that the Primalgoddess Maia had entered the mortal realm to check on the state of things.That surprised me. It also bothered me. I should be there. The…how did Rhainput it? The event had subsided. He’d asked if I would eat. If heshould try to bring the Healer in now. My body hurt, but I’d stopped bleeding,and there was no reason to send for the Healer, especially since I was still inmy nota state. Aios came by. She sat with Nektas, petting my side. Like him, she didn’t talk. Shedidn’t leave until night fell and Rhain returned. I smelled food.

“Any word from the Pillars?” Nektasasked, keeping his voice low, even though I doubted he believed I was asleep.

“No,” Rhain answered. “I’ve never known it to take thislong, but he shouldn’t be much longer.”

Nektas didn’t respond. We bothknew why it had never taken this long. A Primal had never been killed in themortal realm before. The death toll was…high.

It was Attes who delivered bothrelief and heartbreak.

He knelt beside Nektas and me,gently touching my jaw. “I went to Wayfair,” he said, fingers sinking into myfur. “I didn’t know which ones were your family, but I made sure all who wereon the grounds were given burial rites.”

I nosed his hand, unable to even huff my gratitude. The painand relief were too great. I slipped further into my nota, returningto the last time I’d seen them. How they’d looked. Ezra’s questions. Marisol’ssmiles. My last conversation with my mother. The fragile hope that we couldmaybe repair our relationship. I stayed there with the future that should’vebeen.

Nektas tried to get me to eatseveral times. I wasn’t hungry. He let it go, and silence reigned until thedoors opened again. This time, it was small footsteps that neared us but thenstopped.

“It’s okay,” Nektas said. “You cancome closer. It will do some good.”

There was one set of footsteps, then another, much lighterpair.

“Sera?” Reaver called in a small voice. I lifted a paw. Hetook it and sat beside me. “Is…is she okay?”

Tiny hands landed near Nektas’spalm, fisting my fur. The smell of peaches and sugar reached me. “Sad,” Jadiswhispered.

“Yes, she is sad,” Nektasanswered.

I felt Jadis move closer and then her lips against thebridge of my nose. “There. Better.”

“I don’t think that works,” Reaver said solemnly.

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