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Callum smirked. “Well, we will see just how clever you are shortly.”
The tasty water soured in my stomach. “And how is that?”
“When Kolis discovers whether or not you are who you say you are.” Callum leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “If you’re not, I imagine your death will be a painful one.”
“And if I am?” I challenged. “Then what do you imagine?”
“You already know what I imagine.”
I did. “Eventually, Kolis will grow tired of me. Whether it takes weeks, months, or years.”
He nodded. “You’re only an inconvenience.”
“I’d rather be that than an ass-kisser.”
“Charming,” he murmured.
“Thank you.” I smiled at him in the way I did that used to irritate my mother, wide and brightly. Based on his stiffness, I knew it had the same impact on him. Hiding a grin, I leaned back in my chair, deciding I was in the mood to be annoying. “So, what’s up with the masks?”
“What about them?”
“Why is it always painted on your face and the other Revenants, those not as special as you?” Ash had told me the wings were silver when his father was the Primal of Life, but I hadn’t gotten the impression that everyone ran around with the masks painted on their faces when he ruled. “And on the guards.”
He stretched an arm over the back of the settee. “They are symbolic.”
“No shit,” I muttered, quickly swallowing. The tender beef tasted…different. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but yuck. I washed the lingering taste away with a gulp of water.
“It symbolizes that we serve the true King of Gods and are created in his image.” His fingers tapped.
“And who would that be?”
He chuckled. “Cute.”
I ignored that. “I’m guessing the golden wings are supposed to mimic Kolis when he is in his true form?”
Callum nodded.
“But I’ve seen him in his true form,” I said. “He’s nothing but bones.”
The Revenant’s fingers stilled.
“I’m also guessing that’s due to what remains of the last true embers of death in him,” I surmised.
“You’ve seen him like that?” Callum asked.
I nodded.
A slow smile spread across his lips, one that caused my skin to prickle with wariness. “Then you’ve seen death,” he said. “True death. No one sees that and lives very long afterward.”
My stomach twisted as our stares locked. “You don’t scare me.”
Callum laughed. “But he does.”
When Callum returned on what I could only assume was the following day, a bath had been prepared. Which was routine, but after I bathed, a Chosen entered the cage with a swath of sheer material that shimmered like liquid gold in the chandelier’s light.
The quiet Chosen had dressed me, then brushed my hair until it gleamed, sweeping it up with delicate pearl pins like my mother often wore in hers. Rouge was then applied to my cheeks and lips.
Then, she left.
