A lot of responsibilities that I had no experience with.
I looked around the kitchens, trying to imagine what the space looked like with cooks at the counter, steam rolling off the stoves, and people rushing to and fro. And then that made me wonder if the servants had any clue about the Ascended. Had they been completely blindsided? Or had some helped ferry in mortals, preparing them instead of roasted ham?
Gods, that was a dark thought.
“Does it not make you feel odd to be eating in here—eating their food? Like we took their city and now we’re taking their food?”
Sitting beside me on the counter, Reaver cocked his head. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”
“Oh.” I stared at a chunk of ham. Perhaps that wasn’t an entirely normal concern to have. It probably wasn’t. But I knew why I was thinking about that instead of where my mind wanted to go. I stopped fighting. “I can’t stop thinking about the girls under here and those children. I can’t unsee either thing. I can’t understand how those who served in the Temple were at peace—how anyone, mortal or Ascended or whatever, can do those kinds of things.”
“Maybe we’re not supposed to,” Reaver said, and I glanced at him. “Maybe that’s what truly separates us from them.”
“Maybe,” I murmured. “Framont—the Priest—spoke of a True King of the Realms, as if the children had been killed in service to him.”
“The True King of the Realms is Nyktos, and he would not approve of such a thing.”
“Didn’t think so.” I finished off the piece of ham and reached for a linen. “I don’t think he was talking about Nyktos, though. But maybe…Malec?”
Reaver’s brows shot up. “That would be unfortunate if he believed that.”
I grinned, but it quickly faded. Several moments of quiet passed between us, and in that time, I saw Arden and Effie. The soldiers and mortals whose names I didn’t know. “People died today,” I whispered.
“People always die.” He reached over and picked up an apple from the bushel. “Especially in war.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“It just makes it what it is.”
“Yeah.” I wiped my hands. “Arden died today.”
He lowered the apple. “I know.”
“I tried to bring him back to life.”
“I told you it wouldn’t work on anyone of two worlds.”
“I had to—”
“You had to try anyway,” he finished for me, and I nodded. He took a bite. “She doesn’t like limitations either.”
“Who?”
“The Consort.” Turning the apple, he went to work on the other side.
“I have no problem with limitations.”
Reaver slid me a long look. “I haven’t known you for long, but I know you don’t like limitations. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone on and tried to restore life to another wolven, even after knowing you couldn’t.”
He had me there.
Reaching for the tankard, I took a drink. “I’m guessing the Primal of Life probably isn’t thrilled with me restoring life, huh?”
He laughed, the sound hoarse and untried.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Reaver lowered the apple. “Nyktos would be conflicted over your actions. On one hand, he would never not be happy about a renewal of life. On the other, he would worry about the nature of things. The course of life and death and how such an intervention alters the balance—the fairness.” The corner of his lips tilted up, softening the sharp features. “When it comes to the Consort and choice to act or not, she would weigh the concerns, toss them aside, hope no one was paying attention, and just do it.” Dusky lashes lifted as he gave me a sideways glance. “Sound familiar?”
“No,” I muttered, and Reaver chuckled, the sound just as rough as the laugh. “Why does the Consort sleep so deeply when Nyktos doesn’t?”
Reaver looked down at his apple, not speaking for several long moments. “It’s the only way to stop her.”
Chapter 17
My brows flew up. “Stop her from what?”
“From doing something she’d regret,” Reaver said, and my stomach lurched. “Both of her sons were taken from her. Neither may be dead, but neither are really alive, are they?”
No. They really weren’t.
“She’s angry. Furious enough to forget who she is. Enough to cause the kind of harm that cannot be undone.”