Page 94 of Born of Blood and Ash

The eather stirred restlessly asmy steps slowed. The sea of vibrant crimson thinned, and the twisted, bare,ashen trees appeared, scattered at first and then becoming more crowded as thewoods thickened.

I stopped at a parapet to scan the Dying Woods. A gloomclung to the trees where the forest was the thickest, obscuring everythingbelow the tops of the thin, gnarled branches. My gaze traveled to the thinnestpart of the Dying Woods. I could see the dull, lifeless ground through thestagnant fog gathered midway down the trees.

The Dying Woods hadn’t changed.

Movement drew my attention toward the heavier parts. Thegloom there had thickened, and it moved. Eather throbbed, pressingagainst my skin.

Shades.

I sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back. My handsspasmed and then fisted. Wispy gray forms slunk around tree trunks, creepingtoward the edges of the Dying Woods. I closed my eyes, pushing down the swellof eather as my fingers tingled. The Dying Woodsremained as it had always been. That was good news. A part of me had beenhalf-afraid that I’d brought all the Shades back to life.

And I was a little sad.

Not all the Shades were evil—well, now they were, but theyhadn’t all started out that way. Some had just been afraid when they came uponthe Pillars of Asphodel, terrified that they would be sentenced to the Abyssfor stealing, telling lies, forgery, or adultery. Bad things, but sometimesnecessary. Mistakes. Actions that hadn’t damned them.

Until now.

Now, they were lost.

And I knew why that bothered me. I’d spent the better partof my life fearing where I would end up after my death. Even after Ash, I hadbeen afraid. I didn’t know if the Fates would intervene, preventing Ash fromjudging me kindly. The worst part was that I knew where I deserved to go. Itwasn’t the Vale, yet I was the Agna Adice.

The Great Condemner.

And how messed up was that?

A lot. The answer was a lot.

But why hadn’t my will affected the Shades and the DyingWoods? Opening my eyes, I saw that the Shades were closer, gathering near theedge of the trees. The sensation of fingertips along the nape of my neck hit meas the answer to my question formed.

The Dying Woods belonged to Death, as did the Shades. Justlike they were mostly prevented from leaving the Dying Woods, I was blockedfrom bringing life to that stretch of land. But…

I frowned. But neither life nor death was absolute. Mythoughts raced. There was something about that. The wards that trapped the lostsouls in the woods sometimes weakened, and I had almost brought one back. I hadbeen in the Dying Woods then, touching the Shade. That was the difference.

Death couldn’t break the bond of Life’s touch. That kind ofpower? It was the same as I’d displayed last night.

I turned away from the Shades and knew that what I had donelast night had awakened Kolis.

After spending an ungodly amount of time trying todecide whether to wear my hair loose or in a braid, I finally decided to leavethe curls free. Ash liked it that way, and I loved that he did.

I stepped back so I could see myself in the mirror attachedto the wardrobe door. The tunic Aios had picked outwas fitted at the breasts, almost too tightly, like the measurements might havebeen off just a little bit, but the cut was flattering, and the stitchingErlina had done was beyond beautiful. I couldn’t remember if I had thanked herfor her hard work, and even if I had, I wanted to do so again.

I’d followed Aios’s suggestion andpaired the tunic with black leggings, and I didn’t think Rhain would have anyreason to complain.

I took a deep breath, nodded at myself, and then walkedthrough the bathing chamber. Tiny knots of anxiety bounced around in my stomachas I headed down the narrow hall to the antechamber. There, I found Reaver inhis mortal form, seated on the couch with a pad of parchment.

He looked up as I entered. “You look nice,” he said, and ahint of pink appeared on the cheeks I could actually see through his hair.

“Thank you.” I approached. “Hopefully, Rhain agrees.”

A grin appeared, but it quickly disappeared. “Are youfeeling okay?”

“I’m just anxious. That’s all.” I smiled, hoping it easedhis concerns as I glanced at the paper in his lap. “Are you drawing something?”

Pale hair flopped over his forehead as he looked down. Oneshoulder lifted. “I’m supposed to be working on my letters.”

My lips twitched. “And you’re not?”

Wordlessly, he lifted the parchment and showed me. There wereletters written in surprisingly fine, sophisticated lines. About half as manyas there should be. The rest of the page was filled with swirling ink strokes Iquickly recognized. “You’re drawing the design on the throne doors.”

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