A Light in the Flame (Flesh and Fire #2)(6)

I sucked in a sharp breath, my stomach hollowing. “The night I brought Lady Marisol back to life, my stepfather, the King of Lasania, died in his sleep.” I hadn’t even considered that it had anything to do with my actions. “Good gods. I killed my stepfather?”

“No,” Nyktos cut in, his eyes narrowing on the Fate. “You didn’t.”

I stared at Nyktos. How could he be so sure of that? Because it sure sounded like I had.

“It was not intentional,” Holland said. “But it was her time. You intervened, upset the balance, and it had to be righted.”

“By whom?” I demanded. “Who decides how balance is restored?”

Holland looked back at me.

I stiffened. “You?”

“Not him,” Nyktos answered. “The Arae in general. They are like…cosmic cleaners.”

I had no idea what to say to that. Or how to feel—well, other than guilty. And I should feel that because while King Ernald hadn’t exactly been the greatest leader, he hadn’t been bad. Except I really didn’t feel anything but passing shock and a touch of shame. Like when I killed and knew I would barely think of it later.

And that disturbed me.

I disturbed myself.

But I couldn’t dig deeper into that at the moment because that hadn’t been the only life I’d restored. “And if a god is brought back? Does balance demand the death of another god?”

“Luckily, no,” Nyktos said. “It has only ever applied to mortals.”

“That doesn’t sound entirely fair,” I muttered. It was a relief to know that I hadn’t killed another god, but I had sentenced a nameless, faceless mortal to death when I brought Gemma back. “Would have been good to know that.”

Holland eyed me. “Would that have changed your actions?”

I snapped my mouth shut. I couldn’t answer that.

“But now you know what you already knew. Some lessons will always be painful to learn.” His smile was sad and gentle. And, thankfully, brief. “Either way, if this Andreia had not been killed, she would’ve left her home and attacked the first person she came into contact with—man, woman, or child.”

“Did Madis do that to her?” Nyktos asked.

“I believe Madis was attempting to…rectify what one of Kolis’s creations left behind.” Holland tipped his chin slightly. “And that is all I can say about those matters. I do not know much more. But revealing anything else could be considered interference.”

“And he’s already walking a very fine line,” Penellaphe reminded us, but mostly Nyktos, whose glare had narrowed on the Fate. “But at this moment, what Kolis is doing isn’t our greatest concern, nor should it be yours.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with that.

“You asked what Kolis would do to get to the embers of life. He would find a way to obtain them. Perhaps he wouldn’t use his cruelest methods to do so”—her brilliant blue eyes dimmed, becoming haunted—“but if he were to realize who you once were, he would stop at nothing to have you.”

“Penellaphe,” Nyktos warned.

“It’s the truth,” she said, turning to him. “You cannot hide that from her. You may not be able to even try to do so.”

“You have no idea what I am capable of doing when necessary,” Nyktos told her.

“True,” she said, her voice gentling. “But you know exactly what Kolis is capable of. As do I. He would burn through the Shadowlands to obtain his graeca.”

In old Primal language, graeca meant life. But as Aios had said, it was also interchangeable with the word love.

Gemma had been the first I’d heard use the word graeca. She’d said that Kolis had often spoken of his graeca and that she believed it was related to whatever he was doing with the missing Chosen who returned as something different and not quite right. Something cold. Lifeless. Hungry.

I barely suppressed a shudder. “And what would he do to Nyktos if he attempted to shield me from Kolis?”

“You do not need to worry about that.” Nyktos twisted toward me.

“Are you serious?” I exclaimed. “We’re talking about the same person who killed your mother and father. Who impaled gods on the wall of your Rise to remind you that all life was fragile.”

“It’s not like I’ve forgotten that.” Bright wisps of eather flared in his eyes again. “Whatever he will or won’t do doesn’t change anything. I will handle Kolis.”

I shook my head, my frustration growing. “He could kill you—”

“No, he cannot,” Holland interrupted. My head swung to him. “As I’ve said, there must always be balance. In everything—even among the Primals. Life cannot exist without Death, and they should not be one and the same.”

“Wait.” I dropped my hands to my knees. “You mean like a…a Primal of both Life and Death? Is that possible? Because you said should not. You didn’t say could not.”

“Anything is possible,” Holland replied. “Even the impossible.”

Struggling for patience, I stared at him. “That was such a remarkably helpful statement. Thank you.”

Holland laughed.

“What he means to say is that such a thing, a Primal of both Life and Death, is not meant to exist,” Nyktos said. “It would be unthinkable for the embers of both to thrive in one being. But if they could?” He gave a short laugh with a raise of his dark brows. “The kind of power they’d wield? It would be truly absolute. They could unravel realms in the same breath they created new ones.”