Page 21 of A War of Embers

“After that entrance you’re clearly not fit to behave in front of others,” a deep, rich voice sounds from behind me.

I twirl back around only to find the room empty. Narrowing my eyes, I scan every inch of the space looking for him but find nothing. “Lord of Shadows, I presume?”

“Little monster.”

My teeth grind together as I continue searching for the man I cannot see. “Like I told your pet, I’m not a monster.”

His voice is bored yet icy as he comments, “Contrary to your belief, you are. An immortal is a monster. That is what you are, so that is what you will be deemed as.”

Seems Lord Rowan has been keeping tabs on me. “So you know who I am.”

“The Blood Witch talks, though rarely. Still, she sent word of you through her channels into the Wraithlands. Nox gave me a brief rundown when I arrived. Keres from the land of Cinnabar, seeking death but not restitution. Wanting a favor but not a price tag to pay beforehand.”

I absolutely despise the mocking tone he’s using. If he was standing before me, I’d probably punch him just like I did to Zeke. “Don’t waste my time if you can’t help me. Tell me who can and I’ll gladly go there.”

“A foolish mission. If that were your real goal, you should have tried more on your side of the sea. The High Lords and Ladies dwell there.”

Why does everyone keep bringing them up? Those old gods won’t help anyone but themselves. Too insular in the way they choose to live. “They don’t speak to anyone who’s not a Lord or Lady,” I counter.

His mocking tone only grows thicker as he speaks. “How do you know? Did you try? Or did you make a rash decision and then declare demands when you realized how foolish you were?” He makes a sound as if he’s clicking his tongue in dismay. “Next time you threaten to use magic in my realm to weaken us to more attacks, I will bind you to the veil itself as a warning. Now go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until–”

“Until what?” Lord Rowan cuts me off. “What will you do that will make me bend to your will? Go back across the Blood Sea, back to your lands, and do not step foot in my realm until your body is nothing but a smoldering ember ready to cease living.”

Frustration rages inside of me. “I won’t go back,” I warn. Not to do more bidding for a woman I loathe. To create more embers for the eternal resting place I desperately wish to lay in. “The Blood Witch said–”

“She claims a lot of things,” he interrupts, “but she does not speak for me. I will not help you.”

The simmering rage heats my veins, making me feel as though I’m burning on the inside. I shove up the sleeves to my elbows trying to cool down so I can think of a rational response as to why this wretched Lord should help me instead of continuing to dismiss me without hearing my claims.

Suddenly a body slams into mine, shoving me backwards until I’m up against the wall with no door in sight to escape through. He’s large this close, caging me to the wall, as his inky hair, so black it’s shining an iridescent blue from the light, brushes against my face. His mossy green eyes are vibrant and dark as he looks down at me. A thick nose, slightly bent and crooked, mars his face. A pink scar line two inches long cuts through his left eyebrow. The harsh set of his full lips easily conveys the anger radiating off him. He looks ancient and young at the same time. His body appears to be in his early thirties, but his eyes hold in secrets the universe doesn’t want to let out.

He’s clad in the same clothes as his guards, but he’s taller and broader. Closer to Zeke’s physique but somehow more. The bands of tattoos wrapping around his biceps slither across his skin, alive as they disappear beneath the sleeve of his shirt and crawl up his neck until an intricate design settles across one side of his face. Another tattoo peaks out beneath the band of his shirt on his arm, gaining my attention as I stare dumbly at his olive skin.

His veins are burning blue.

My blue. The neon color that is now on display after showing my forearms. The rage leaks out slowly, dimming my core temperature until I feel icy on the inside.

The Lord of Shadows glares at me. “Keep your arms fucking covered.”

Well now. I flick up a brow at his harsh tone. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re glowing and I’ll cover them.”

“Because my fucking soul glows,” he spits as if I’m the obtuse one here for questioning such a thing.

My entire being pauses at his statement. I can’t help but repeat him like an idiot. “Your soul glows?”

“Very few people have glowing souls when they’re born. Others inherit them in dangerous ways.” He narrows his eyes. “Like when immortals are created using a specific soul they had no right to.”

“It’s not like I did this to myself,” I snark. I can’t help it. I hate being caged like this and the longer I’m in this body the more I feel my patience slipping and anger rising. Or maybe it’s the fact I can feel something at all that has me on edge. Ever since diving into the Blood Sea emotions are beginning to flood back in tidal wave moments. Coming fast and strong before ebbing away. Being this close to someone, feeling their breath stir against my skin, in a way other than during a fight, is discombobulating. I’ve never had a man affect me before, yet Lord Rowan is easily doing it now. Maybe by his magic perhaps? Luring me into a false sense of security so I’ll break away from my goal.

His dark eyes narrow sharply. “Didn’t you cheat an immortal for their life?”

“No, I didn’t,” I snap. “Lady Gwenyth made me this way. Didn’t one of your ruffians report that to you when they were gossiping about why I wanted to die?”

“I take everyone’s comments with a grain of salt. I don’t believe what I can’t verify.” Slowly he steps away from me, but it doesn’t dwindle his size. Lord Rowan is practically a giant, a full foot taller than me and spanning just as large. He looks more like a feral warrior than a god. “Lady Gwenyth made you?” he asks with clear doubt in his voice.

“A while ago, yes. She used me as her personal dispenser of justice. Whatever she deemed justified at the time.” Tugging down the sleeves of my shirt, I watch his gaze track my movements with a methodical approach in his eyes.

---