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At first, the only thing that entered my mind was how in the world someone roughly my height and slimmer than me could transform into something the size of the draken I’d seen. Then again, I couldn’t imagine her shifting into something even the size of Reaver, which was much smaller. But still.
Then I realized I was still gaping at her. Heat crept into my face. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to ask that. I just…” I didn’t really have a response.
She nodded, and I wasn’t sure if that was in acceptance of my apology or not.
My gaze dropped to the dagger at her thigh. “What does…meyaah Liessa mean?”
That eyebrow seemed to climb even higher. “It means my Queen.”
My entire body jolted. “Your Queen?”
“Yes,” she drew out the word. “You are the Consort, are you not? That would make you like a queen.”
I understood that, though it seemed weird to even acknowledge. But Ash… Another jolt ran through me. Ash had said liessa meant many things, all something beautiful and powerful.
A Queen would be powerful.
A Consort was.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dav asked.
“I think so.” Giving a small shake of my head, I shoved the covers aside. “Where is—?” I started to call him Ash but then remembered Ector’s reaction. “Where is the Primal?” I hadn’t seen him since I’d caught a glimpse of him entering those strangely colored woods.
“Busy.”
My spine stiffened. “Still?”
“Still.”
I told myself to take a deep breath and to remain calm. I did not know this woman. She was also a draken, and most likely not someone I wanted to anger. So, I forced my voice to remain level. “What is he busy with?”
For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t be any more detailed than Ector, but then she said, “He was in the Red Woods, dealing with Shades.”
Dying Woods? Shades? “I have a distinct feeling that you probably won’t appreciate the fact that I have more questions,” I started, and a faint trace of humor crept into her otherwise stoic features. “But what is the Dying Woods, and what are Shades?”
She studied me for a long moment. “The Dying Woods are the…dying woods. Dead trees. Dead grass.” She paused. “Dead everything.”
My lips thinned, even though I supposed I’d walked right into that one. “Then perhaps they should be called the Dead Woods.”
That glint of humor moved in her blue eyes. “I have said that myself many times.”
Relaxing a fraction, the robe fell around my legs as I stood. “And the Shades?”
“Souls who have entered the Shadowlands but refuse to cross through the Pillars of Asphodel to face judgement for the deeds committed while alive. They can’t return to the mortal realm. They can’t enter the Vale. So, they remain trapped in the Dying Woods. They become…lost, wanting to live but unable to gain that life.
“Oh,” I whispered, swallowing. “That sounds terrible.”
“It is,” she answered. “Especially since they are driven mad by unending hunger and thirst. They tend to get a bit bitey.”
My brows shot up. Bitey?
“Normally, they don’t cause that many problems, but sometimes, they find their way out of the Dying Woods and into Lethe,” she explained. “Then, Nyktos must round them up. Fun times had by all.”
“Fun times,” I repeated.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much to do.” Dav started for the door. “None of which involves answering questions. No offense meant.” She stopped at the door and bowed. “Good day, meyaah Liessa.”
Dav left the room, closing the doors behind her.
“Wow,” I murmured, my gaze drifting to the table. A short laugh left me. Despite the general unfriendliness of the draken, I kind of liked her.
Hours passed with no sign of Ash. It was Ector who brought a light lunch and then supper. He didn’t linger, flat-out ignoring my questions. Just as he had each time I opened the door and found him standing in the hallway.
Night had fallen once more, and when I stepped out onto the balcony and looked up, the sky had turned a deeper shade of iron, the stars and the lights from the city beyond brighter. The leaves from the woods below had become a deep crimson, almost a red-black.
I’d gone to bed slightly annoyed two nights ago, and more than slightly last night. When I woke again this morning, no less than thirty minutes ago, to find Ector standing outside yet again, I went from irritated to furious.
The god, on the other hand, had given me a rather jaunty wave.
Only a tiny part of me wondered exactly what Ector had done to earn his spot standing outside my door. He had to be going stir-crazy. I knew I was. The only thing that kept me somewhat sane and stopped me from breaking random things in the too quiet, too large room was the pacing—the pacing and the plotting.
