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“I imagine it did.” Ash was quiet for a moment. “Love is an unnecessary and dangerous risk.”
Heart turning over heavily, I looked at him. “You really think that?” I thought of Ezra and Marisol and what came out of my mouth was the truth—just not our truth. “I think love is beautiful.”
“I know that.” Ash stared up at his parents. “My mother died because she loved my father, struck dead while I was still in her womb.”
Every part of me froze upon hearing his words. Even my heart.
“That is why I am called the Blessed One. No one knows how I survived that kind of birth,” he said, and pressure clamped down on my chest. “Love caused their deaths long before either had taken their final breaths. Before my father even met my mother. Love is a beautiful weapon, often wielded as a means to control another. It shouldn’t be a weakness, but that is what it becomes. And those most innocent always pay for it. I’ve never seen anything good come from love.”
“You. You came from love.”
“And do you truly believe I am something good? You have no knowledge of the things I’ve done. The things that are done to others because of me.” Ash turned his head to me. His eyes were a steely, sheltered shade of iron. “My father loved my mother more than anything in these realms. More than he should have. And still, he could not keep her safe. That is why I have these conditions. These rules as you like to call them. It’s not about me attempting to exert authority over you or control you. It’s about trying to do what my father failed at. It’s about making sure you do not meet the same fate as my mother.”
Chapter 28
Later that night, after I’d taken a quiet supper in my chambers alone, I picked up a soft throw blanket and went out onto the balcony.
Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I stood beside the railing. The whole day had been a blur of me turning over what Ash had said about his parents—about love.
I exhaled shakily as I stared out over the gray courtyard. His mother had been killed while he’d still been in her womb. I couldn’t…
A knot returned to my throat. It took no leap of logic for me to consider that the one time the rules regarding Consorts had been broken, it had meant the death of his mother.
Her murder.
Grief rose, pressing down on my chest as I stared at the slowly darkening leaves of the Red Woods. Who had killed his mother? Was it the same person who’d killed his father? And was that how his father had become weak enough to be killed? Because he loved his wife more than anything in the realms? It had to be another Primal who’d done that. Which one, I couldn’t be sure. I only knew what had been written about them by their Priests and mortals, and what little information there was on them wasn’t enough to formulate any opinion.
Was that why his father had asked for a Consort? But if his wife had already been killed, why would he then seek a mortal bride, one who would be even more vulnerable?
Or one that he never had to fear falling in love with?
But that didn’t make sense either because his love for his wife had already done its damage. Her being alive or dead would not change that.
It didn’t make sense. There had to be a reason his father had done this, but did the reason matter?
No, whispered the voice that sounded like a mix of my mother’s and mine.
What did make sense was the very real possibility that Ash was…that he was incapable of love because of what had happened to his parents. No part of me doubted he believed every single word he’d said about love, and that was sad.
And terrifying.
Because if he couldn’t allow himself to love, what could I do to change that? Hell, I couldn’t even stop myself from being antagonistic for more than a handful of minutes.
I never should’ve been the first daughter born after the deal had been made. Anyone or anything would be far better suited for this task than me. Possibly even a barrat.
A keen sense of desperation invaded me as I sat on the edge of the daybed, facing the Red Woods. The leaves had turned to a deep shade of reddish-black, a signal that night had fallen. As I sat there, I allowed myself to think about what I had done the night before Ash had come for me. Before everything had happened with Tavius.
I’d helped Marisol because I loved Ezra. Obviously, not the same kind of love shared between Ash’s parents, but love…it truly made one do foolish things. How would Ash respond to my gift, to the knowledge that I could stop a soul from crossing over to the Shadowlands, returning them healthy and whole to their bodies?
