and numbness fogged her thoughts, but she was no longer unbearably cold.
She managed to push herself upright.
Only the stone floor, walls, and ceiling remained. All the wooden dividing walls and storage closets were burned away, and a pile of cinders that must have been the carriage lay in the middle of the room—next to four bodies.
“You killed the centurions.” Ash’s voice was gravelly.
Ignitus huffed but said nothing.
She looked at her god. He sat with his hands limp on his thighs, jaw working and eyes distant in a way that said he was calculating.
Even weak and spent, she found that she no longer feared him. Maybe because there was nothing left that he could take, and far worse creatures than him had shattered her.
Ignitus didn’t look at her. “Anathrasa did this to you.” It was a question she didn’t have to answer. “I can’t give your igneia back to you,” he continued. “Putting energeia straight into a mortal could kill you.”
Ash was too numb to even feel disappointed. “You knew she was alive. You’ve known all this time.”
Ignitus stiffened. “I suspected a lot of things that I could never prove, and neither of my so-called peaceful siblings could ever just take me at my word.” He grunted. “I knew Geoxus wanted something else out of these wars—he’s been such an aggressive pain in recent years, and he got Aera and Biotus to turn against me too.” He cut his eyes to Ash, his jaw twitching with contained rage. “She’s working with Geoxus. Isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And that gladiator? Madoc. He saved you by using anathreia.”
Ash was silent too long.
Ignitus frowned. “Have you sided with her, then? Anathrasa? Even after—” He motioned at Ash, referring to her lack of igneia.
“No,” Ash instantly said. “I didn’t side with her. And neither did Madoc.”
“Intriguing. I suspect that will really inconvenience her and my brother.”
Ash wilted. “Why didn’t you side with her?” The question gathered others as it came out. “Why has Geoxus targeted Kula—it’s because of her, isn’t it? But why aren’t you on his side? Aera and Biotus are part of it. Aren’t they?”
Why, she wanted to scream. Why Kula, why us, why—
Ignitus was quiet a long moment. “I first told Geoxus my fears about Anathrasa not being dead. It was right after we’d defeated her. I kept asking him about it over the years. He’s always known how I felt about her and that I would never side with her. So he’s been whittling Kula away to nothing, making sure I won’t have any resources to fight back with, it would seem.” He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek. “But you should know that I didn’t want this for any of my children.”
“Didn’t want what?” Ash asked with more bite than she had ever given to her god. “Death and pain? You may not be on the side of a deranged goddess, but that doesn’t absolve you of the suffering you’ve inflicted on us.”
Ignitus closed his eyes.
“You sent my mother to her death.” She said this because she had to. Because she wanted this monster to feel it. “You waited to tell Rook about Lynx’s death. You—”
Ignitus’s eyes flashed open. “I told Rook about Lynx’s death as soon as I got word of it. The infirmary staff didn’t tell me through fire—they sent a letter, and that letter took days to reach me. I reprimanded them for that slight, you know. I told them from now on—”
A growl built in Ash’s throat. She didn’t want his excuses. “You still told Rook about Lynx before our fight. And then you killed him.”
Ignitus gave her an offended look. “Rook stabbed me.”
“You’re immortal.”
“With Anathrasa seeking revenge, I couldn’t be too careful.”
Ash’s chest bucked wildly. Was he implying that there truly was a way to kill him? And Anathrasa knew it?
Ash shook her head. “No—you don’t get to make this about you. You’ve killed endless numbers of us. How can you claim to want anything better than our deaths?”
“You have every right to hate me.” There were tears in his eyes now. “But I’ve been trying to make things better. My siblings keep staging wars against me. I fight, not just for glory, but for Kula. I have to push my gladiators, because if they fail, thousands suffer.”
To see Ignitus heartbroken would have once made Ash sing with joy. Now, though, she wanted to weep herself—she understood the pain in his eyes. Worry for Kula. Guilt that he had tried his best and still gotten people