A Fire in the Flesh (Flesh and Fire, #3)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“Ah, you don’t remember. He is your brother, your younger brother.”

“I can’t argue with that descriptor,” I said. “But if the shoe fits, lace that bitch up and wear it.”

“He was supposed to be with you when you were picking flowers for Anthea’s wedding. Instead, I believe he was fucking the baker’s daughter.”

“Yes, he scared her the first time, but that was an accident. He didn’t know how easily Sotoria could be startled,” he said, the skin beneath the painted wings softening in a way I hadn’t seen it do before. “And he didn’t kill her the second time either.” His lower lip quivered. “Eythos did, and that was the second and last time I failed her.”

But what I didn’t know was exactly why he couldn’t. Ash was a Primal of Death, and his blood healed. Could it be because Kolis was the Primal of Death?

“I may not always be able to tell when you lie, but most of the time I know,” he remarked, and I stiffened. “While I am not the Great Conspirator spoken of in the prophecy, I am a Deceiver, a teller of lies. I recognize many of yours. This is one of them.”

The realization that Kolis couldn’t be killed occupied my thoughts long after he left, only allowing me a few hours of restless sleep—if that. Kolis was the Primal of Death. He carried the true embers of Death. Ash was a Primal of Death. He did not carry the true embers of Death. And since Kolis had ensured that none of his Court were left to Ascend to the Primal of Death after he stole the embers from Eythos, he was it.

“Eythos claimed that whatever the creator felt at the time of creation often shaped it. That even a hint of joy, sorrow, desperation, or anger could mold the life of the creation before it even began,”

“When I create the Revenants, I feel only duty. But with Callum, I felt…I felt everything. Desperation. Anger. Sorrow. Even joy at being close to one who shares your blood.”

He drank deeply and fast before lifting his head. I supposed that was…fast food?

“If you lend me something big enough to haul his ass out of here with and fast. Like perhaps Setti?” “I think you just want to ride my horse,” Attes remarked, dragging his fingers over the cuff encircling his biceps. “But yes.” A thin stream of mist drifted from Attes’s cuff, rapidly spreading and taking shape, solidifying into a massive horse the size of Odin with a glossy, shadowstone-hued coat.

The presence I hadn’t been aware of for most of my life was gone, but Sotoria’s parting words lingered. We will meet again.

“It’s said that when the Arae look upon the threads of fate and see all the many different possibilities of one’s life, they can sometimes see what may come of the love between two or more souls. And in that union, they see possibilities that can reshape the realms by either creating something never seen before or ushering in great change,”

“And when they see that one thread, they are forbidden to intervene in the affairs of those souls, as they believe the bond between them cannot be circumvented. So, not even death of the body or the heart and soul—the kardia—can break such a connection.”

“Love is more powerful than the Fates,”