From Blood and Ash / Из крови и пепла (by Jennifer L. Armentrout, 2020) - аудиокнига на английском

Chapter 1 “They found Finley this eve, just outside the Blood Forest, dead.” I looked up from my cards and across the crimson-painted surface to the three men sitting at the table. I’d chosen this spot for a reason. I’d…felt nothing from them as I drifted between the crowded tables earlier. No pain, physical or emotional. Normally, I didn’t prod to see if someone was in pain. Doing so without reason felt incredibly invasive, but in crowds, it was difficult to control just how much I allowed myself to feel. There was always someone whose pain cut so deeply, was so raw, that their anguish became a palpable entity I didn’t even have to open my senses to feel—that I couldn’t ignore and walk away from. They projected their agony onto the world around them. I was forbidden to do anything but ignore. To never speak of the gift bestowed upon me by the gods and to never, ever go beyond sensing to actually doing something about it. Not that I always did what I was supposed to do. Obviously. But these men were fine when I reached out with my senses to avoid those in great pain, which was surprising, given what they did for a living. They were guards from the Rise—the mountainous wall constructed from the limestone and iron mined from the Elysium Peaks. Ever since the War of Two Kings ended four centuries ago, the Rise had enclosed all of Masadonia, and every city in the Kingdom of Solis was protected by a Rise. Smaller versions surrounded villages and training posts, the farming communities, and other sparsely populated towns. What the guards saw on a regular basis, what they had to do, often left them in anguish, rather it be from injuries or from what went deeper than torn skin and bruised bones. Tonight, they weren’t just absent of anguish, but also their armor and uniforms. Instead, they donned loose shirts and buckskin breeches. Still, I knew, even off duty, they were watchful for signs of the dreaded mist and the horror that came with it, and for those who worked against the future of the kingdom. They were still armed to the teeth. As was I. Hidden beneath the folds of the cloak and the thin gown I wore underneath, the cool hilt of a dagger that never quite warmed to my skin was sheathed against my thigh. Gifted to me on my sixteenth birthday, it wasn’t the only weapon I’d acquired or the deadliest, but it was my favorite. The handle was fashioned from the bones of a long-extinct wolven—a creature that had been neither man nor beast but both—and the blade made of bloodstone honed to fatal sharpness. I may yet again be in the process of doing something incredibly reckless, inappropriate, and wholly forbidden, but I wasn’t foolish enough to enter a place like the Red Pearl without protection, the skill to employ it, and the wherewithal to take that weapon and skill and use them without hesitation. “Dead?” the other guard said, a younger one with brown hair and a soft face. I thought his name might be Airrick, and he couldn’t be much older than my eighteen years. “He wasn’t just dead. Finley was drained of blood, his flesh chewed up like wild dogs had a go at him, and then torn to pieces.” My cards blurred as tiny balls of ice formed in the pit of my stomach. Wild dogs didn’t do that. Not to mention, there weren’t any wild dogs near the Blood Forest, the only place in the world where the trees bled, staining the bark and the leaves a deep crimson. There were rumors of other animals, overly large rodents and scavengers that preyed upon the corpses of those who lingered too long in the forest. “And you know what that means,” Airrick went on. “They must be near. An attack will—” “Not sure this is the right conversation to be having,” an older guard cut in. I knew of him. Phillips Rathi. He’d been on the Rise for years, which was nearly unheard of. Guards didn’t have long lifespans. He nodded in my direction. “You’re in the presence of a lady.” A lady? Only the Ascended were called Ladies, but I also wasn’t someone anyone, especially those in this building, would expect to be inside the Red Pearl. If I was discovered, I would be in…well, more trouble than I’d ever been in before and would face severe reprimand. The kind of punishment that Dorian Teerman, the Duke of Masadonia, would just love to deliver. And which, of course, his close confidante, Lord Brandole Mazeen, would love to be in attendance for. Anxiety surfaced as I looked at the dark-skinned guard. There was no way Phillips could know who I was. The top half of my face was covered by the white domino mask I’d found discarded in the Queen’s Gardens ages ago, and I wore a plain robin’s egg blue cloak I’d, uh, borrowed from Britta, one of the many castle servants who I’d overheard speaking about the Red Pearl. Hopefully, Britta wouldn’t discover her missing overcoat before I returned it in the morn. Even without the mask, though, I could count on one hand how many people in Masadonia had seen my face, and none of them would be here tonight. As the Maiden, the Chosen, a veil usually covered my face and hair at all times, all except for my lips and jaw. I doubted Phillips could recognize me solely on those features, and if he had, none of them would still be sitting here. I would be in the process of being dragged back, albeit gently, to my guardians, the Duke and Duchess of Masadonia. There was no reason to panic. Forcing the muscles along my shoulders and neck to ease, I smiled. “I’m no Lady. You’re more than welcome to talk about whatever you wish.” “Be that as it may, a little less morbid topic would be welcomed,” Phillips replied, sending a pointed look in the direction of the other two guards. Airrick lifted his gaze to mine. “My apologies.” “Apologies not needed but accepted.” The third guard ducked his chin, studiously staring at his cards as he repeated the same. His cheeks had pinkened, something I found rather adorable. The guards who worked the Rise went through vicious training, becoming skilled in all manner of weaponry and hand-to-hand combat. None who survived their first venture outside the Rise came back without shedding blood and seeing death. And yet, this man blushed. I cleared my throat, wanting to ask more about who Finley was, whether he was a guard from the Rise or a Huntsman, a division of the army that ferried communication between the cities and escorted travelers and goods. They spent half the year outside the protection of the Rise. It was by far one of the most dangerous of all occupations, so they never traveled alone. Some never returned. Unfortunately, a few who did, didn’t come back the same. They returned with rampantly spreading death snapping at their heels. Cursed. Sensing that Phillips would silence any further conversation, I didn’t voice any of the questions dancing on the tip of my tongue. If others had been with him and had been wounded by what most likely had killed Finley, I would find out one way or another. I just hoped it wasn’t through screams of terror. The people of Masadonia had no real idea exactly how many returned from outside the Rise cursed. They only saw a handful here and there, and not the reality. If they did, panic and fear were sure to ignite a populace who truly had no concept of the horror outside the Rise. Not like my brother Ian and I did. Which was why when the topic at the table switched to more mundane things, I struggled to will the ice coating my insides to thaw. Countless lives were given and taken by the endeavor to keep those inside the Rise safe, but it was failing—had been failing—not just here, but throughout the Kingdom of Solis. Death…. Death always found a way in. Stop, I ordered myself as the general sense of unease threatened to swell. Tonight wasn’t about all the things I was aware of that I probably shouldn’t be. Tonight was about living, about…not being up all night, unable to sleep, alone and feeling like…like I had no control, no…no idea of who I was other than what I was. Another poor hand was dealt, and I’d played enough cards with Ian to know there was no recovering from the ones I held. When I announced that I was out, the guards nodded as I rose, each bidding me a good evening. Moving between the tables, I took the flute of champagne offered by a server with a gloved hand and tried to recapture the feelings of excitement that had buzzed through my veins as I’d hurried through the streets earlier that evening. I minded my business as I scanned the room, keeping my senses to myself. Even outside of those who managed to project their anguish into the air around them, I didn’t need to touch someone to know if they were hurting. I just needed to see someone and focus. What they looked like didn’t change if they were experiencing some sort of pain, and their appearance didn’t change when I concentrated on them. I simply felt their anguish. Physical pain was almost always hot, but the kind that couldn’t be seen? It was almost always cold. Bawdy shouts and whistles snapped me out of my own mind. A woman in red sat on the edge of the table next to the one I’d left. She wore a gown made of scraps of red satin and gauze that barely covered her thighs. One of the men grabbed a fistful of the diaphanous little skirt. Smacking his hand away with a saucy grin, she lay back, her body forming a sensual curve. Her thick, blonde curls spilled across forgotten coins and chips. “Who wants to win me tonight?” Her voice was deep and smoky as she slid her hands along the waist of the frilly corset. “I can assure you boys, I will last longer than any pot of gold will.” “And what if it’s a tie?” one of the men asked, the fine cut of his coat suggesting that he was a well-to-do merchant or businessman of some sort. “Then it will be a far more entertaining night for me,” she said, drawing one hand down her stomach, slipping even lower to between her— Cheeks heating, I quickly looked away as I took a sip of the bubbly champagne. My gaze found its way to the dazzling glow of a rose-gold chandelier. The Red Pearl must be doing well, and the owners well connected. Electricity was expensive and heavily controlled by the Royal Court. It made me wonder who some of their clientele was for the luxury to be available. Under the chandelier, another card game was in progress. There were women there too, their hair twisted in elaborate updos adorned with crystals, and their clothing far less daring than the women who worked here. Their gowns were vibrant shades of purple and yellow and pastel hues of blue and lilac. I was only allowed to wear white, whether I was in my room or in public, which wasn’t often. So, I was fascinated with how the different colors complemented the wearer’s skin or hair. I imagined I looked like a ghost most days, roaming the halls of Castle Teerman in white. These women also wore domino masks that covered half their faces, protecting their identities. I wondered who some of them were. Daring wives left alone one too many times? Young women who hadn’t married or were perhaps widowed? Servants or women who worked in the city, out for the evening? Were Ladies and Lords in Wait among the masked females at the table and among the crowd? Did they come here for the same reasons I did? Boredom? Curiosity? Loneliness? If so, then we were more alike than I realized, even though they were second daughters and sons, given to the Royal Court upon their thirteenth birthday during the annual Rite. And I…I was Penellaphe of Castle Teerman, Kin of the Balfours, and the Queen’s favorite. I was the Maiden. Chosen. And in a little under a year, upon my nineteenth birthday, I would Ascend, as would all Ladies and Lords in Wait. Our Ascensions would be different, but it would be the largest one since the first gods’ Blessing that occurred after the end of the War of Two Kings. Very little would happen to them if they were caught, but I…I would face the Duke’s displeasure. My lips thinned as a kernel of anger took root, mingling with a sticky residue of disgust and shame. The Duke was a pestilence of overly familiar hands and had an unnatural thirst for punishment. But I wouldn’t think about him either. Or worry about being disciplined. I might as well go back to my chambers if I was going to do that. Dragging my gaze from the table, I noted that there were smiling and laughing women in the Pearl who wore no masks, hid no identities. They sat at tables with guards and businessmen, stood in shadowy alcoves and spoke with masked women, men, and also those who worked for the Red Pearl. They weren’t ashamed or afraid to be seen. Whoever they were, they had freedom I deeply coveted. An independence I chased tonight, because masked and unknown, no one but the gods would know I was here. And as far as the gods were concerned, I had long ago decided that they had far better things to do than spend their time watching me. After all, if they had been paying attention, they would’ve already taken me to task over numerous things I’d already done that were forbidden to me. So, I could be anyone tonight. The freedom in that was a far headier sensation than I imagined. Even more so than the unripe poppy seeds provided by those who smoked them. Tonight, I wasn’t the Maiden. I wasn’t Penellaphe. I was simply Poppy, a nickname I remembered my mother using, something only my brother Ian and very few others ever called me. As Poppy, there were no strict rules to follow or expectations to fulfill, no future Ascension that was coming quicker than I was prepared for. There was no fear, no past or future. Tonight, I could live a little, even for a few hours, and rack up as much experience as I could before I was returned to the capital, to the Queen. Before I was given to the gods. A shiver tiptoed down my spine—uncertainty, along with a bite of desolation. I tamped it down, refusing to give life to it. Dwelling on what was to come and could not be changed served no purpose. Besides, Ian had Ascended two years ago, and based on the monthly letters I received from him, he was the same. The only difference was that instead of spinning tales with his voice, he did so with words in each letter. Just last month, he wrote about two children, a brother and sister, who swam to the bottom of the Stroud Sea, befriending the water folk. I smiled as I lifted the champagne flute, having no idea where he came up with those things. As far as I knew, it was impossible to swim to the bottom of the Stroud Sea, and there was no such thing as water folk. Shortly after his Ascension, on the orders of the Queen and King, he’d married Lady Claudeya. Ian never spoke of his wife. Was he happy at all in his marriage? The curve of my lips faded as my gaze dropped to the fizzing, pinkish drink. I wasn’t sure, but they’d barely known each other before marrying. How was that long enough when you’d presumably spend the rest of your life with a person? And the Ascended lived for a very, very long time. It was still odd for me to think of Ian as an Ascended. He wasn’t a second son, but because I was the Maiden, the Queen had petitioned the gods for a rare exception to the natural order, and they had allowed him to Ascend. I wouldn’t face what Ian had, marriage to a stranger, to another Ascended, one who was sure to covet beauty above all else, because attractiveness was seen as godlike. And even though I was the Maiden, the Chosen, I would never be viewed as godlike. According to the Duke, I wasn’t beautiful. I was a tragedy. Without realizing it, my fingers brushed the scratchy lace of the left side of the mask. I jerked my hand away. A man I recognized as a guard rose from a table, turning to a woman wearing a white mask like I was. He extended a hand to her, speaking words too low for me to hear, but she answered with a nod and a smile before placing her hand in his. She rose, the skirt of her lilac-hued gown falling like liquid around her legs as he led her from the room toward the only two doors accessible by guests, one at either end of interconnecting chambers. The right went outside. The left door led upstairs, to more private rooms where Britta had said all manner of things occurred. The guard took the masked woman to the left. He’d asked. She’d said yes. Whatever it was they did upstairs, it would be welcomed and chosen by both, regardless of whether it lasted a few hours or a lifetime. My attention lingered on the door long after it had closed. Was that another reason I had come here tonight? To…to experience pleasure with someone of my choosing? I could if I wanted to. I’d overheard conversations between the Ladies in Wait, who weren’t expected to remain untouched. According to them, there were…many things a woman could do that brought pleasure while retaining their purity. Purity? I hated that word, the meaning behind it. As if my virginity determined my goodness, my innocence, and its presence or lack thereof was somehow more important than the hundred choices I made every day. There was even a part of me that wondered what the gods would do if I went to them no longer an actual maiden. Would they overlook everything else I did or didn’t do simply because I was no longer a virgin? I wasn’t sure, but I hoped that wasn’t the case. Not because I planned to have sex now or next week or…ever, but because I wanted to be able to make that choice. Though, I wasn’t quite sure how I’d find myself in a situation where that option would even arise. But I imagine there’d be willing participants who’d want to do the things I’d heard the Ladies in Wait speaking about here at the Red Pearl. A nervous flutter beat in my chest as I forced myself to take another sip of the champagne. The sweet bubbles tickled the back of my throat, easing some of the sudden dryness in my mouth. Truth be told, tonight had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Most nights, I couldn’t fall asleep until it was nearly dawn. When I did, I almost wished I hadn’t. Three times this week alone, I woke from a nightmare, with my screams ringing in my ears. And when they came like this, in clusters, they felt like a harbinger. An instinct much like the ability to sense pain, screaming out a warning. Drawing in a shallow breath, I glanced back to where I’d been looking before. The woman in red was no longer on the table. Instead, she was in the lap of the merchant who’d asked what would happen if two men won. He was inspecting his cards, but his hand was where hers had been heading earlier, delved deep between her thighs. Oh, my. Biting down on my lip, I pulled away from where I stood before my entire face caught on fire. I drifted into the next space that was separated by a partial wall, where another round of games was being played. There were more guards here, some I even recognized as belonging to the Royal Guard, soldiers just like those who worked the Rise but who protected the Ascended instead. This was why the Ascended also had personal guards. People had tried to kidnap members of the Court before for ransom. No one was usually hurt too seriously in those situations, but there had been other attempts that stemmed from far different, more violent reasons. Standing near a leafy potted plant that sported tiny, red buds, I was unsure of what to do from there. I could join another card game or strike up a conversation with any of the numerous people who lingered around the tables, but I wasn’t all that good at making small talk with strangers. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d blurt out something bizarre or ask a random question that would make little sense to the conversation. So that was off the table. Maybe I should head back to my chambers. The hour had to be growing late and— A strange awareness swept over me, starting as a tingling sensation along the back of my neck and intensifying with every passing second. It felt like…like I was being watched. Scanning the room, I didn’t see anyone paying much attention to me, but I expected to find someone standing near. That was how potent the feeling was. Unease blossomed in the pit of my stomach. I started to turn toward the entrance when the soft, drawn-out notes of some sort of string instrument drew my attention to the left, my gaze landing on the gauzy, blood-red curtains that swayed gently from the movement of others in the establishment. I stilled, listening to the rise and fall of the tempo that was soon joined by the heavy thump of a drum. I forgot about the feeling of being watched. I forgot about a lot of things. The music was…it was like nothing I’d heard before. It was deeper, thicker. Slowing, and then speeding up. It was.sensual. What had Britta, the servant, said about the kind of dancing that took place at the Red Pearl? She’d lowered her voice when she spoke of it, and the other maid Britta had been speaking to had looked scandalized. Making my way along the outskirts of the room, I neared the curtains, reaching out to part them— “I don’t think you want to go in there.” Startled, I turned at the sound of the voice. A woman stood behind me—one of the ladies who worked for the Red Pearl. I recognized her. Not because she’d been on the arm of a merchant or businessman when I first came in, but because she was utterly beautiful. Her hair was a deep black, thickly curled, and her skin was a deep, rich brown. The red gown she wore was sleeveless, cut low across her chest, and the fabric clung to her body like liquid. “I’m sorry?” I said, unsure what else to say as I lowered my hand. “Why wouldn’t I? They’re just dancing.” “Just dancing?” Her gaze drifted over my shoulder to the curtain. “Some say that to dance is to make love.” “I…I hadn’t heard that.” Slowly, I looked behind me. Through the curtains, I could make out the shapes of bodies churning in time with the music, their movements full of mesmerizing and fluid grace. Some danced alone, their curves and forms clearly outlined, while others… I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes swinging back to the woman before me. Her red-painted lips curved into a smile. “This is your first time here, isn’t it?” I opened my mouth to deny that statement but could feel the heat spreading across every visible part of my face. That alone was telling. “Is it that obvious?” She laughed, and the sound was throaty. “Not to most. But to me, yes. I’ve never seen you here before.” “How would you know if you had?” I touched my mask just to make sure it hadn’t slipped. “Your mask is fine.” There was a strange, knowing glint to her eyes, which were a mix of gold and brown. Not exactly hazel. The gold was far too bright and warm for that. They reminded me of another who had eyes the color of deep citrine. “I know a face, whether it’s half-hidden or not, and yours is one I haven’t seen here before. This is your first time.” Truly, I had no idea how to respond to that. “And it’s the Red Pearl’s first time also.” She leaned in, her voice lowering. “As we’ve never had the Maiden walk through the doors.” A wave of shock rolled through me as my grip tightened on the slippery champagne glass. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m a second daughter—” “You are like a second daughter, but not in the way you intend,” she cut in, lightly touching my cloaked arm. “It’s okay. There is nothing to fear. Your secret is safe with me.” I stared at her for what felt like an entire minute before I recovered the use of my tongue. “If that were true, why would that kind of secret be safe?” “Why would it not be?” she returned. “What would I have to gain by telling anyone?” “You’d earn the favor of the Duke and Duchess.” My heart thumped. Her smile faded as her stare hardened. “I have no need of a favor from an Ascended.” The way she said that, it was as if I’d suggested that she was courting favor with a pile of mud. I almost believed her, but no one who lived within the kingdom would waste the chance to earn an Ascended’s esteem unless they… Unless they didn’t recognize Queen Ileana and King Jalara as the true, rightful rulers. Unless they supported he who called himself Prince Casteel, the true heir to the kingdom. Except he was no prince or heir. He was nothing more than a remnant of Atlantia, the corrupt and twisted kingdom that had fallen at the end of the War of Two Kings. A monster who had wreaked havoc and caused bloodshed, the embodiment of pure evil. He was the Dark One. And yet there were those who supported him and his claim. Descenters who had been a part of riots and the disappearances of many Ascended. In the past, the Descenters only caused discord through small rallies and protests, and even then, that had been few and far between due to the punishment that was meted out to those who were suspected to be Descenters. The trials couldn’t even be called that. No second chances. No long-term imprisonment. Death was swift and final. But things had changed of late. Many believed the Descenters had been responsible for the mysterious deaths of high-ranking Royal Guards. Several in Carsodonia, the capital, had inexplicably fallen from the Rise. Two had been killed with arrows through the back of their heads in Pensdurth, a smaller city on the coast of the Stroud Sea, near the capital. Others had simply vanished while in the smaller villages, never to be seen or heard from again. Only a few months ago, a violent uprising had ended in bloodshed in Three Rivers, a teeming trade city beyond the Blood Forest. Goldcrest Manor, the Royal Seat in Three Rivers, had been burned, razed to the ground, along with the Temples. Duke Everton had died in the fire, along with many servants and guards. It was only by some miracle that the Duchess of Three Rivers had escaped. The Descenters weren’t just Atlantians who were hidden among the people of Solis. Some of the Dark One’s followers didn’t even have a drop of Atlantian blood in them. My gaze sharpened and zeroed in on the beautiful woman. Could she be a Descenter? I couldn’t fathom how anyone could support the fallen kingdom, no matter how hard their lives were or how unhappy they may be. Not when the Atlantians and the Dark One were responsible for the mist, for what festered inside of it. For what most likely had ended Finley’s life—had taken countless more lives, including my mother’s and father’s, and had left my body riddled with the reminder of the horror that thrived inside the mist. Pushing aside my suspicions for the moment, I opened myself up to sense if there was some great pain inside her, something that went beyond the physical and stemmed from either grief or bitterness. The kind of pain that made people do horrible things to try and alleviate the anguish. There was no hint of that radiating from her. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a Descenter. The woman’s head tilted. “As I said, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to me. Him? That’s another story.” “Him?” I repeated. She moved to the side as the main door opened, and a sudden gust of cool air announced the arrival of more patrons. A man walked in, and behind him was an older gentleman with sandy blond hair and a weathered face, colored by the sun— My eyes widened as disbelief thundered through me. It was Vikter Wardwell. What was he doing at the Red Pearl? An image of the women with the short gowns and partially exposed breasts came to mind, and I thought about why I was here. My eyes widened. Oh, gods. I didn’t want to think about the purpose for his visit any longer. Vikter was a seasoned member of the Royal Guard, a man well into his fourth decade of life, but he was more than that to me. The dagger strapped to my thigh had been a gift from him, and it was he who broke with custom and made sure I not only knew how to use it, but also how to wield a sword, strike a target unseen with an arrow, and even when weaponless, how to take down a man twice my size. Vikter was like a father to me. He was also my personal guard and had been since I’d first arrived in Masadonia. He wasn’t my only guard, though. He shared duties with Rylan Keal, who’d replaced Hannes after he’d passed in his sleep a little less than a year ago. It had been an unexpected loss as Hannes had been in his early thirties and in prime health. The Healers believed it to have been some unknown ailment of the heart. Still, it was hard to imagine how one could go to sleep healthy and whole and never wake up again. Rylan didn’t know I was as well trained as I was, but he knew I could handle a dagger. He wasn’t aware of where Vikter and I all too often disappeared to outside the castle. He was kind and often relaxed, but we weren’t nearly as close as Vikter and I were. If it had been Rylan here, I could’ve easily slipped away. “Dammit,” I swore, turning sideways as I reached back and pulled the hood of my cloak up over my head. My hair was a rather noticeable shade of burnt copper, but even with it hidden now and my entire face obscured, Vikter would recognize me. He had a sixth sense that only belonged to parents and made itself known when their child was up to no good. Glancing back toward the entrance, my stomach dropped as I saw him sit at one of the tables facing the door—the only exit. The gods hated me. Truly, they did, because there was no doubt in my mind that Vikter would see me. He wouldn’t report me, but I’d rather crawl into a hole full of roaches and spiders than attempt to explain to him, of all people, why I was at the Red Pearl. And there would be lectures. Not the speeches and punishments the Duke loved to deliver, but the kind that crawled under your skin and made you feel terrible for days. Mainly because you had been caught doing something you deserved reprimand for. And, frankly, I didn’t want to see Vikter’s face when he discovered that I realized he was here. I stole another peek and— Oh, gods, a woman knelt beside him, a hand on his leg! I needed to scrub my eyes. “That’s Sariah,” the woman explained. “As soon as he arrives, she’s at his side. I do believe she carries a torch for him.” Slowly, I looked at the woman beside me. “He comes here often?” One side of her lips curved up. “Often enough to know what happens beyond the red curtain and—” “That’s enough,” I cut her off. I now needed to scrub my brain. “I don’t need to hear any more.” Her laugh was soft. “You have the look of one who is in need of a hiding place. And, yes, in the Red Pearl, that is an easily recognizable look.” She deftly took my champagne glass. “Upstairs, there are currently unoccupied rooms. Try the sixth door on the left. You will find sanctuary there. I’ll come for you when it’s safe.” Suspicion rose as I met her gaze, but I let her take my arm and lead me toward the left. “Why would you help me?” She opened the door. “Because everyone should be able to live a little, even for a few hours.” My mouth dropped open as she parroted what I’d thought to myself minutes ago. Stunned, I stood there. Giving me a wink, she closed the door. Her figuring out who I was couldn’t be a coincidence. Repeating back to me what I’d been thinking earlier? There was no way. A rough laugh escaped my lips. The woman may be a Descenter, or at the very least, she wasn’t a fan of the Ascended. But she might also be a Seer. I didn’t think there were any of them left. And I still couldn’t believe that Vikter was here—that he came here often enough that one of the ladies in red liked him. I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised. It wasn’t like Royal Guards were forbidden from seeking pleasure or even marrying. Many were quite…promiscuous since their lives were rife with danger and often far too short. It was just that Vikter had a wife who’d passed long before I even met him, dying in childbirth along with the babe. He still loved his Camilia as much as he had when she lived and breathed. But what could be found here had nothing to do with love, did it? And everyone got lonely, no matter if their heart belonged to someone they could no longer have or not. A little saddened by that, I turned around in the narrow stairwell lit by oil wall sconces. I exhaled heavily. “What have I gotten myself into?” Only the gods knew, and there was no turning back now. I slipped my hand inside the cloak, keeping it close to the hilt of the dagger as I climbed the steps to the second floor. The hallway was wider and surprisingly quiet. I didn’t know what I expected, but I’d thought I would hear…sounds. Shaking my head, I counted until I reached the sixth door on the left. I tried the handle and found it unlocked. I started to open the door but stopped. What was I doing? Anyone or anything could be waiting beyond this door. That woman downstairs— The sound of a male chuckle filled the hallway as the door beside me opened. Panicked, I quickly backed into the room in front of me, closing the door behind me. Heart pounding, I looked around. There were no lamps, just a tree of candles on a mantel. A settee sat in front of an empty fireplace. Without even looking behind me, I knew the only other piece of furniture had to be a bed. I drew in a deep breath, catching the scent of the candles. Cinnamon? But there was something else, something that reminded me of dark spices and pine. I started to turn— An arm curled around my waist, pulling me back against a very hard, very male body. “This,” a deep voice whispered, “is unexpected.” Chapter 2 Caught off guard, I looked up. A mistake that Vikter had taught me never to make. I should’ve gone for my dagger, but instead, I stood there as the arm around my waist tightened, and his hand settled at my hip. “But it’s a welcome surprise,” he continued, sliding his arm away. Snapping out of my stupor, I whirled to face him, the hood of the cloak remaining in place as my hand went for the dagger. I looked up…and then up some more. Oh, my gods. I froze, utter shock rippling through me, shorting out all common sense when I saw his face in the soft glow of the candlelight. I knew who he was, even though I’d never spoken with him. Hawke Flynn. Everyone in Castle Teerman knew when the Rise Guard arrived from Carsodonia, the capital, a few months ago. I’d been no different. I wanted to lie to myself and say that it was due to his striking height, placing him nearly a foot taller than me. Or it was because he moved with the same inherent, predatory grace and fluidity that belonged to the large, gray cave cats that normally roamed the Wastelands but that I had seen once in the Queen’s palace as a child. The fearsome, wild animal had been caged, and the way it continuously prowled back and forth in the too-small enclosure had equally fascinated and horrified me. I’d seen Hawke pacing in the same manner on more than one occasion, as if he too were caged. It could’ve been the sense of authority that seemed to bleed from his pores even though he couldn’t be much older than I was—maybe the same age as my brother or a year or two older. Or perhaps it was his skill with the sword. One morning while I stood beside the Duchess on one of the many balconies at Castle Teerman, overlooking the training yard below, she’d told me Hawke had come from the capital with glowing recommendations and was well on his way to becoming one of the youngest Royal Guards. Her gaze had been fixed on Hawke’s sweat-slick arms. So had mine. Since his arrival, I’d found myself hidden in the shadowy alcoves more than a few times, watching him train with the other guards. Other than the weekly City Council sessions held in the Great Hall, it was the only time I saw him. My interest could simply be because Hawke was…well, he was beautiful. It wasn’t often that could be said about a male, but I could think of no better word to describe him. He had dark, thick hair that curled at the nape of his neck and often fell forward, brushing equally dark brows. The planes and angles of his face made me yearn for some talent with a brush or a pen. His cheekbones were high and wide, nose surprisingly straight for a guard. Many of them had suffered at least one broken nose. His square jaw was firm, and his mouth well formed. The few times I’d seen him smile, the right side of his lip curved up, and a deep dimple appeared. If he had a matching one in his left cheek, I didn’t know. But his eyes were by far his most captivating feature. They reminded me of cool honey, a striking color I’d never seen before, and he had this way of looking at you that left you feeling stripped bare. I knew this because I felt his stare during the Councils held in the Great Hall, even though he’d never seen my face or even my eyes before. I was sure his regard was due to the fact that I was the first Maiden in centuries. People always stared when I was in public, whether they were guards, Lords and Ladies in Wait, or commoners. His stare could also just be a product of my imagination, driven by my small, hidden desire that he was as curious about me as I was of him. Perhaps it was all those reasons why he caught my interest, but there was another one that I was a little embarrassed to even acknowledge. I’d purposely reached out with my senses when I saw him. I knew it was wrong to do when there was no good reason. Nothing to justify the invasion. And I had no excuse other than wondering what often made him pace like a caged cave cat. Hawke was always in pain. Not the physical kind. It was deeper than that, feeling like chips of sharp ice against my skin. It was raw and it felt never-ending. But the anguish that seemed to follow him like a shadow never overwhelmed him. If I hadn’t prodded, I never would have felt it. Somehow, he kept that kind of agony in check, and I knew of no one else who could do that. Not even the Ascended. Only because I never felt anything from them, although I knew they felt physical pain. The fact that I never had to worry about picking up residual pain from them should make me seek out their presence, but instead, it gave me the creeps. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” Hawke spoke. He was giving me that half-smile of his now, the one that showed no teeth, made the dimple in his right cheek appear, but never quite reached his eyes. “It’s only been a few days, sweetling.” Sweetling? I opened my mouth and then clamped it shut as realization rose. I blinked. He thought I was someone else! Someone he’d obviously met here before. I glanced down at my cloak—the borrowed garment. It was rather distinctive, a pale blue with an edging of white fur. Britta. Did he think I was Britta? She and I were about the same height, a little under average, and the cloak hid the shape of my body, which was not nearly as thin as hers. No matter how active I was, I could not achieve the willowy frame of Duchess Teerman or some of the other Ladies. Inexplicably, there was a little part of me, the same bit that was hidden, that was…disappointed, and maybe even a little envious of the pretty maid. My gaze swept over Hawke. He wore the black tunic and breeches that all guards wore under their armor. Had he come straight here after his shift? I gave the room a quick once-over. There was a small table beside the settee, where two glasses sat. Hawke hadn’t been alone in here before I arrived. Could he have been with another? Behind Hawke, the bed was made and didn’t appear as if anyone had…slept in it. What should I do? Turn and run? That would be odd. He’d be sure to ask Britta about it, but as long as I returned the cloak and mask without her knowing, I would be in the clear. Except Vikter was most likely still downstairs, and the woman was, too— My gods, she had to be a Seer. Instinct told me she had known this room was occupied. She’d sent me here on purpose. Had she known that Hawke was here and likely to mistake me for Britta? It seemed too unreal to believe. “Did Pence tell you I was here?” he asked. My breath caught as my heart started pounding like a hammer against my ribs. I thought Pence was a guard on the Rise, one around Hawke’s age. A blond, if I remembered correctly, but I hadn’t seen him downstairs. I shook my head. “Have you been watching for me, then? Following me?” he asked, tsking softly under his breath. “We’ll have to talk about that, won’t we?” There was an odd threat to his voice, one that gave me the impression that he was not all that pleased by the idea of Britta following him. “But not tonight, it seems. You’re strangely quiet,” he observed. From what I knew of Britta, she was rarely ever demure. But the moment I spoke, he’d know I wasn’t the maid, and I…I wasn’t ready for him to discover that. I wasn’t sure what I was ready for. My hand was no longer on the dagger, and I didn’t know what that meant. All I knew was that my heart was still racing. “We don’t have to talk.” He reached for the hem of his tunic, and before I could take another breath, he pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. My lips parted and my eyes widened. I’d seen a man’s chest before, but I’d never seen his. The muscles that flexed and bunched under the thinner shirts the guards trained in were now on display. He was broad of shoulder and chest, all lean muscles defined by years of intense training. There was a fine dusting of hair under his navel that disappeared behind his breeches. My gaze dipped even lower, and heat returned, a different kind that didn’t just flush my skin but also invaded my blood. Even in the candlelight, I could see how tight his breeches were, how they gloved his body, leaving very little to the imagination. And I had a vast imagination thanks to the Ladies’ frequent tendency to overshare, and my frequent tendency to listen in on conversations. A strange curling sensation hit my lower stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant. Not at all. It was warm and tingling, reminding me of my first sip of bubbly champagne. Hawke stepped toward me, and my muscles tensed to run, but I held myself still by sheer will. I knew I should’ve stepped away. I should’ve spoken and revealed that I wasn’t Britta. I should’ve left immediately. The way he prowled toward me, his long legs eating up the distance between us, told me his intent, even if he hadn’t removed his tunic. And while I had little—all right, absolutely no experience—I inherently knew that if he reached me, he would touch me. He may do even more. He might kiss me. And that was forbidden. I was the Maiden, the Chosen. Not to mention, he thought I was another woman, and he’d obviously been in this room with someone else before I got here. That didn’t mean he’d been with someone, but he could’ve. I still didn’t move or speak. I waited, my heart beating so fast I felt faint. Tiny tremors racked my hands and legs. And I never trembled. What are you doing? whispered the reasonable, sane voice in my head. Living, I whispered back. And being incredibly stupid, the voice countered. I was, but again, I stood there. Senses hyperaware, I watched as Hawke stopped in front of me and lifted his hands, gripping the back of the hood with one. For a moment, I thought he might pull it back, and the charade would be over, but that wasn’t what he did. The hood only slipped back a couple of inches. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re about tonight.” His deep voice was husky. “But I’m willing to find out.” His other arm came around my waist. A gasp left me as he hauled me to his chest. This was nothing like the brief embraces I’d received from Vikter. I’d never been held by a man like this. There wasn’t an inch between his chest and mine. The contact was a jolt to my senses. He lifted me up onto the tips of my toes, then clear off my feet. His strength was staggering since I wasn’t exactly light. Stunned, my hands landed on his shoulders. The heat of his hard skin seemed to burn through my gloves and the cloak and thin white gown I usually slept in. His head slanted, and I felt the warmth of his breath on my lips. A tight tremor of anticipation coiled its way down my spine at the same moment my stomach dipped with uncertainty. There was no time for the two warring emotions to battle. He pivoted and strode forward with the same kind of feline grace I’d seen from him before. In a matter of a few stuttering heartbeats, he was guiding us down, his grip strong but careful, as if he were aware of his strength. He came down over me, his hand still behind my head, his weight a shock as he pressed me into the bed, and then his mouth was on mine. Hawke kissed me. There was nothing sweet or soft, like I’d imagined a kiss to be. It was hard and overwhelming, claiming, and when I sucked in a sharp breath, he took advantage, deepening the kiss. His tongue touched mine, startling me. Panic flared in the pit of my stomach, but so did something else, something far more powerful, a pleasure I hadn’t experienced before. He tasted of the golden liquor I’d once snuck, and I felt that stroke of his tongue in every part of me. It was in the shivers that erupted all over my skin, in the inexplicable heaviness in my chest, in that curling, tightening sensation below my navel and even lower still where there was a sudden, throbbing pulse between my legs. I shuddered, my fingers digging into his flesh, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t worn gloves because I wanted to feel his skin, and I doubted I’d be in any shape to concentrate on what he was feeling. His head tilted, and I felt the brush of his oddly sharp— Without warning, he broke the kiss and lifted his head. “Who are you?” Thoughts oddly slow and skin humming, I blinked open my eyes. Dark hair fell forward onto his forehead. His features were shadowed in the soft, flickering light, but I thought his lips looked as swollen as mine felt. Hawke acted too fast for me to track the movement, tugging my hood back, exposing my masked face. His brows lifted as the haze cleared from my thoughts. My heart jumped around in my chest for a whole different reason, even though my lips still tingled from the kiss. My first kiss. Hawke’s golden-eyed gaze rose to my head, and he shifted his hand out from behind my neck. I tensed as he picked up a strand of my hair, drawing it out so it shone a deep auburn in the candlelight. His head tilted to the left. “You are most definitely not who I thought you were,” he murmured. “How did you know?” I blurted out. “Because the last time I kissed the owner of this cloak, she damn near sucked my tongue down her throat.” “Oh,” I whispered. Was I supposed to have done that? It didn’t sound like it would be something enjoyable. He stared down at me, gaze assessing as he remained with half his body atop mine. One of his legs was thrust between mine, and I had no idea exactly when that had happened. “Have you been kissed before?” My face caught fire. Oh, gods, was it that obvious? “I have!” One side of his lips kicked up. “Do you always lie?” “No!” I immediately lied. “Liar,” he murmured, his tone almost teasing. Embarrassment flooded my system, suffocating the shivery pleasure as if I’d been doused in cold, winter sleet. I pushed at his bare chest. “You should get off.” “I was planning to.” The way he said it made my eyes narrow. Hawke laughed, and it was…it was the first time I’d heard him do so. When I saw him in the Hall, he was quiet and stoic like most guards, and I’d only seen that half-grin of his while he trained. But never a laugh. And with the anguish I knew lingered below the surface, I wasn’t quite sure that he ever laughed. But he had now, and it sounded real, deep, and nice, and it rumbled through me, all the way to the tips of my toes. I was slow to realize that this was the most I’d heard him speak. He had a slight accent, an almost musical lilt to his tone. I couldn’t quite place it, but I’d only ever been to the capital and here, and it was not often that many spoke to me or around me if they knew I was present. The accent could be quite common for all I knew. “You really should move,” I told him, even though I liked the weight of him. “I’m quite comfortable where I am,” he added. “Well, I’m not.” “Will you tell me who you are, Princess?” “Princess?” I repeated. There were no Princesses or Princes in the entire kingdom beyond the Dark One, who called himself such. Not since Atlantia had ruled. “You are quite demanding.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I imagine a Princess to be demanding.” “I am not demanding,” I stated. “Get off me.” He arched a brow. “Really?” “Telling you to move is not being demanding.” “We’ll have to disagree on that.” He paused. “Princess.” My lips twitched in wry humor, but I managed to stifle the smile. “You shouldn’t call me that.” “Then what should I call you? A name, perhaps?” “I’m…I’m no one,” I told him. “No One? What a strange name. Do girls with a name like that often make a habit of wearing other people’s clothing?” “I’m not a girl,” I snapped. “I would sure hope not.” He paused, lips curling down at the corners. “How old are you?” “Old enough to be in here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “In other words, old enough to be masquerading as someone else, allowing others to believe you’re another person and then allowing them to kiss—” “I get what you’re saying,” I cut him off. “Yes, I’m old enough for all those things.” One eyebrow rose. “I’ll tell you who I am, although I have a feeling you already know. I’m Hawke Flynn.” “Hi,” I said, feeling foolish for doing so. The dimple in his right cheek deepened. “This is the part where you tell me your name.” My lips nor my tongue moved. “Then I’ll have to keep calling you Princess.” His eyes were much warmer now, and I wanted to see if the pain had eased but managed to resist. I thought that perhaps his pain had gone away. If so… “The least you can do is tell me why you didn’t stop me,” he said before I could give in to the curiosity and reach out with my senses. I had no idea how I could answer that when I didn’t fully understand it myself. One side of his lips quirked up. “I’m sure it’s more than my disarming good looks.” I wrinkled my nose. “Of course.” Another short, surprised-sounding laugh left him. “I think you just insulted me.” Chagrined, I winced. “That’s not what I meant—” “You’ve wounded me, Princess.” “I highly doubt that. You have to be more than well aware of your appearance.” “I am. It has led to quite a few people making questionable life choices.” “Then why did you say you were insulted—?” Realizing he was teasing me and feeling foolish for not seeing that right away, I pushed at his chest once more. “You’re still lying on me.” “I know.” I took a breath. “It’s quite rude of you to continue doing so when I’ve made it clear that I would like for you to move.” “It’s quite rude of you to barge into my room dressed as—” “Your lover?” He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t call her that.” “What would you call her?” Hawke appeared to mull that over while still sprawled halfway across me. “A…good friend.” Part of me was relieved that he hadn’t referred to her as something derogatory like I’d overheard other men do before when speaking of women they’d been intimate with, but a good friend? “I didn’t know friends behaved this way.” “I’m willing to wager you don’t know much about these sorts of things.” The truth in his statement was hard to ignore. “And you wager all of this on just one kiss?” “Just one kiss? Princess, you can learn a wealth of things from just one kiss.” Staring at him, I couldn’t help but feel…very inexperienced. The only thing I could tell from his kiss was what it had made me feel. Like he was seeking to possess me. “Why didn’t you stop me?” His gaze swept over the mask and then lower, to where I realized the cloak had parted, exposing the too-thin gown and its rather daring neckline. Honestly, I didn’t know what I’d been thinking when I slipped on the garment. It was almost like I’d subconsciously been preparing myself for…something. My stomach tumbled. More likely, the gown was false bravado. Hawke’s gaze found mine. “I think I’m beginning to understand.” “Does that mean you’re going to get up so I can move?” Why haven’t you made him get up? whispered that stupid, very reasonable, and very logical voice. That was a great question. I knew how to use a man’s weight against them. More importantly, I had my dagger and access to it. But I hadn’t gone for it, nor had I truly made an attempt to put space between us. What did that mean? I…I supposed I felt safe. At least, at the moment. I may know very little about Hawke, but he wasn’t a stranger, at least he didn’t feel that way to me, and I wasn’t afraid of him. Hawke shook his head. “I have a theory.” “I’m waiting with bated breath for this.” That dimple in his right cheek appeared once more. “I think you came to this very room with a purpose in mind.” He was right about that, but I doubted he would be right about the actual reason. “It’s why you didn’t speak or attempt to correct my assumption of who you were. Perhaps the cloak you borrowed was also a very calculated decision,” he continued. “You came here because you want something from me.” I started to deny what he suggested, but no words rose to the tip of my tongue. Silence wasn’t a denial or agreement, but my stomach dipped again. He shifted ever so slightly, his hand coming to rest against my right cheek, his fingers splayed out. “I’m right, aren’t I, Princess?” Heart skipping all over the place, I tried to swallow, but my throat had dried. “Maybe…maybe I came here for…for conversation.” “To talk?” His brows rose. “About what?” “Lots of things,” I said. His expression smoothed out. “Like?” My mind was uselessly empty for several seconds, and then I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Why did you choose to work on the Rise?” “You came here tonight to ask that?” Not a single thing about his tone or his look said he believed me, but I nodded while I added that this was yet another example of how I was really bad at making conversation with people. He was quiet and then said, “I joined the Rise for the same reason most do.” “And what is that?” I asked, even though I knew most of the reasons. “My father was a farmer, and that was not the life for me. There aren’t many other opportunities offered than joining the Royal Army and protecting the Rise, Princess.” “You’re right.” His eyes narrowed as surprise flickered across his features. “What do you mean by that?” “I mean, there aren’t many chances for children to become something other than what their parents were.” “You mean there aren’t many chances for children to improve their stations in life, to do better than those who came before them?” I nodded as best I could. “The…the natural order of things doesn’t exactly allow that. A farmer’s son is a farmer or they—” “They choose to become a guard, where they risk their lives for stable pay that they most likely won’t live long enough to enjoy?” he finished. “Doesn’t sound much like an option, does it?” “No,” I admitted, but I had already thought that. There were jobs Hawke could’ve strived for. Trader and hunter, but they too were hazardous, as they required going outside the Rise frequently. It just wasn’t as dangerous as joining the Royal Army and going to the Rise. Was the source of his anguish due to what he’d seen as a guard? “There may not be many choices, but I still think—no, I know—that joining the guard requires a certain level of innate strength and courage.” “You think that of all the guards? That they are courageous?” “I do.” “Not all guards are good men, Princess.” My eyes narrowed. “I know that. Bravery and strength do not equal goodness.” “We can agree on that.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and my chest felt inexplicably tight. “You said your father was a farmer. Is he…has he gone to the gods?” Something crept across his face, gone too quickly for me to decipher. “No. He is alive and well. Yours?” I gave a small shake of my head. “My father—both of my parents are gone.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and it sounded genuine. “The loss of a parent or a family member lingers long after they’re gone, the pain lessening but never fading. Years later, you’ll still find yourself thinking that you’d do anything to get them back.” He was right, and I thought that this was perhaps the source of the pain he felt. “You sound like you know firsthand.” “I do.” I thought of Finley. Had Hawke known him well? Most of the guards were close, developing a bond thicker than blood, but even if he hadn’t known Finley, there were surely others he knew that had been lost. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry for whoever it is that you’ve lost. Death is…” Death was constant. And I saw a lot of it. I wasn’t supposed to, as sheltered as I was, but I saw death all too frequently. His head tilted, sending a tumble of dark locks over his forehead. “Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first nor the last time she’ll pay a visit, but that doesn’t make any death less harsh or unforgiving.” Sadness threatened to take up residence in my chest, crowding out the warmth. “That it is.” He dipped his head suddenly, his lips nearing mine. “I doubt the need for conversation led you to this room. You didn’t come here to talk about sad things that cannot be changed, Princess.” I knew why I came here tonight, and Hawke was right, yet again. It wasn’t to talk. I came here to live. To experience. To choose. To be anyone other than who I was. None of those things included talking. But I’d had my first kiss tonight. I could stop there or tonight could be a night of many firsts, all of my choosing. Was I…? Was I really considering this, whatever this was? Gods, I truly was. Tiny tremors rocked me. Could he feel them? They piled in my stomach, forming little knots of anticipation and fear. I was the Maiden. The Chosen. My earlier convictions about what the gods concerned themselves with weakened. Would they find me unworthy? Panic didn’t seize me like it should. Instead, a spark of hope did, and that unsettled me more than anything. The tiny glimmer of hope felt traitorous and wholly concerning, given that being deemed unworthy resulted in one of the most serious consequences. If I were to be found unworthy, I’d face certain death. I’d be exiled from the kingdom. Chapter 3 As far as I knew, there had only been one person who’d been found unworthy upon Ascension. Their name had been erased from our histories, as well as any piece of information about who they were and whatever deeds had caused his or her exile. They’d been forbidden to live among mortals, and without family, support, or protection, faced certain death. Even the villages and the farmers with their small Rises and guards suffered staggering mortality rates. While my Ascension was different from the others, I could still be found unworthy, and I imagined my punishment would be just as grave, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that. No. That was a lie. I didn’t want to deal with that. I should, but I wasn’t leaving the room. I wasn’t stopping Hawke. I’d already made up my mind even if I didn’t understand why he was still here, with me. Dampening my lower lip with my tongue, I felt dizzy and even a little faint, and I never felt faint. Those impossibly thick lashes lowered, and his gaze was so intent on my mouth that it was like a caress. I shivered. Those eyes of his seemed even brighter than before as his finger traced the outline of my mask, all the way to where the satin ribbon disappeared under the fall of my hair. “May I remove this?” Unable to speak, I shook my head no. Hawke halted for a moment, and then the half-smile appeared—no dimple this time, though. He trailed his finger away from the mask, then ran it along the line of my jaw and down my throat, to where the cloak was fastened. “How about this?” I nodded. His fingers were deft, and he brushed the cloak aside and then trailed just one fingertip along the neckline, following the rapid rise and fall of the swell of my breast. A riot of sensations followed his finger, so many I couldn’t make sense of them all. “What do you want from me?” he asked, toying with the small bow between my breasts. “Tell me, and I’ll make it so.” “Why?” I blurted out. “Why would you…do this? You don’t know me, and you thought I was someone else.” A flicker of amusement crossed his striking features. “I have nowhere to be at the moment, and I’m intrigued.” My brows lifted. “Because you have nowhere to be at the moment?” “Would you rather I wax poetic about how I’m charmed by your beauty, even though I can only see half your face? Which, by the way, from what I can see is pleasing. Would you rather I tell you I’m captivated by your eyes? They are a pretty shade of green from what I can tell.” I started to frown. “Well, no. I don’t want you to lie.” “None of those things were a lie.” He tugged on the bow as he dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine. The soft contact sent a wave of awareness through me. “I told you the truth, Princess. I’m intrigued by you, and it’s fairly rare anyone intrigues me.” “So?” “So,” he repeated with a chuckle as his lips glided along my jaw. “You’ve changed my evening. I’d planned to return to my quarters. Maybe get a good, albeit boring, night of sleep, but I have a suspicion that tonight will be anything but boring if I spend it with you.” I drew in a shallow breath, weirdly flattered, and yet still confused by his motivations. I wished someone was here to ask, but even if they were, that would be weird—and awkward. The two glasses by the settee appeared in my mind. “Were you…were you with someone before me?” His head lifted and stared down at me. “That’s a random question.” “There are two glasses by the settee,” I pointed out. “It’s also a random, personal question asked by someone whose name I don’t even know.” My cheeks warmed. He had a point. He was quiet for so long that doubt crept in. Maybe I shouldn’t care if he had been with someone else this evening, but I did, and if that told me anything, it screamed that this was a mistake. I was in over my head. I knew nothing about him, of what was— “I was with someone,” he answered, and disappointment swelled. “A friend who is not like the owner of the cloak. One I hadn’t seen in a while. We were catching up, in private.” The dismay eased, and I decided that he must be telling the truth. He didn’t have to lie to have me when he could have any number of others who would be eager to intrigue him. “So, Princess, will you tell me what you want from me?” I took another uneven breath. “Anything?” “Anything.” He moved his hand then, cupping my breast as he ran his thumb across the center. It was such a light touch, but I gasped as bolts of pleasure darted through me. My body reacted on its own, arching into his touch. “I’m waiting,” he said, swiping his thumb once more and scattering my already disjointed thoughts. “Tell me what you enjoy, so I can make you love it.” “I…” I bit down on my lip. “I don’t know.” Hawke’s gaze flew to mine, and such a long moment passed that I began to wonder if I’d said the wrong thing. “I’ll tell you what I want.” His thumb moved in slow, tight circles across a most sensitive part. “I want you to remove your mask.” “I…” A sharp, pulsing thrill rippled through my body, quickly followed by my heady wonder. What I felt… I’d never felt anything like it before. Sharp and sweet, a different type of anguish. “Why?” “Because I want to see you.” “You can see me now.” “No, Princess,” he said, lowering his head until his lips brushed the neckline of my gown. “I want to really see you when I do this without your gown between you and my mouth.” Before I could ask what he meant, I felt the wet, warm glide of his tongue through the thin, silken gown. I gasped, shocked by the act and by the rush of liquid heat it brought forth, but then his gaze lifted to mine as his mouth closed over the tip of my breast. He sucked deep and long, and the gasp turned to a cry that would surely embarrass me later. “Remove your mask.” His head lifted as he slid a hand over my hip. “Please.” He wouldn’t recognize me if I did. Hawke would never know who I was with or without the mask, but… If I removed the facial covering, would he say what the Duke often did? That I was both a masterpiece and a tragedy? And when he felt the uneven slices of skin scattered along my stomach and thighs, would he jerk his hand away in horror? My skin chilled. I hadn’t thought this through. At all. The wonderful, exhilarating heat dimmed. Hawke wasn’t an Ascended, but he was like them in appearance, nearly flawless. I had never been ashamed of the scars before. Not when they were proof of the horror I’d survived. But if he— Hawke’s hand slid down my outer right thigh to where the dress parted and stopped, right over the hilt of the dagger. “What the…?” Before I could even take another breath, he’d unsheathed the blade, his fingers coming precariously close to one of the scars. I sat up, but he was faster, rocking backward. The candlelight glinted off the red blade. “Bloodstone and wolven bone.” “Give that back,” I demanded, scrambling to my knees. His gaze shifted from the dagger to me. “This is a unique weapon.” “I know.” My hair fell forward, over my shoulders. “The kind that’s not inexpensive,” he continued. “Why are you in possession of this, Princess?” “It was a gift.” Which was true. “And I’m not foolish enough to come to a place like this unarmed.” He stared at me for a moment and then focused on the dagger again. “Carrying a weapon and having no idea how to use it doesn’t make one wise.” Irritation flared to life just as hotly as the desire he’d elicited from me mere moments ago. “What makes you think I don’t know how to use it? Because I’m female?” “You can’t be surprised that I would be shocked. Learning how to use a dagger isn’t exactly common for females in Solis.” “You’re right.” And he was. It wasn’t socially appropriate for females to know how to wield a weapon or be able to defend themselves, something that always bothered me. If my mother had known how to defend herself, she might still be here. “But I do know how to use it.” The right side of his lips curved up. “Now, I’m truly intrigued.” He moved unbelievably fast, thrusting the dagger blade down into the bed. I gasped, wondering what the owners of the Red Pearl would think of that, but then he pounced. He took me back down to the mattress, his weight covering me once more, and he pressed into me in a way that caused all the interesting parts to meet. His mouth lined up with mine— A fist pounded on the door, silencing whatever he was about to ask. “Hawke?” A male voice rang out. “You in there?” He stiffened above me, his warm breath against my lips as he closed his eyes. “It’s Kieran.” The man called out a name I didn’t recognize. “As if I didn’t know that already,” Hawke muttered under his breath, and a small giggle left me. His eyes opened, and that half-grin appeared. “Hawke?” Kieran pounded some more. “I think you should answer him,” I whispered. “Dammit,” he cursed. Looking over his shoulder, he called out, “I’m thoroughly, happily busy at the moment.” “Sorry to hear that,” Kieran replied as Hawke refocused on me. Kieran knocked again. “But the interruption is unavoidable.” “The only unavoidable thing I see is your soon-to-be broken hand if you pound on that door one more time,” Hawke warned, and my eyes widened. “What, Princess?” His voice lowered. “I told you I was really intrigued.” “Then I must risk a broken hand,” Kieran answered. A growl of frustration rumbled from deep within Hawke’s throat, the sound strangely animalistic. Goosebumps pimpled my skin. “The…envoy has arrived,” Kieran added through the door. Shadows crept across Hawke’s face. His lips moved as if he murmured something, but the sound was too low for me to hear. A chill chased away some of the heat. “An…envoy?” He nodded. “The supplies we’ve been waiting for,” he explained. “I need to go.” I nodded in return, understanding that he had to leave as I reached between us, grasping the edge of the cloak. For a long moment, Hawke didn’t move, but then he shifted off me, standing. He called out to Kieran as he grabbed his tunic off the floor. I yanked the forgotten dagger out of the mattress, quickly sheathing it as he pulled the tunic over his head and shrugged a baldric over his shoulders, securing the belt at his waist. There were two sheaths at his sides for weapons—weapons I hadn’t been aware of until now. He picked up two short swords from the chest near the door, and I thought that maybe I needed to be better aware of my surroundings the next time I barged into a room. His blades were honed to a wicked, deadly point, intended for close-contact fighting, and each side was serrated, designed to cut through flesh and muscle. I knew how to use them, too, but I kept that to myself. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” He sheathed the swords flat to his sides. “I swear.” I nodded once more. Hawke stared at me. “Tell me that you’ll wait for me, Princess.” My heart skipped over itself. “I will.” Turning, he walked to the door and then stopped. He faced me. “I look forward to returning.” I said nothing as he left the room, opening the door only wide enough for him to slip through. When the door clicked into place behind him, I let go of the breath I had been holding and looked down at the front of my gown. The area of my breast was still damp, the white material nearly transparent. My cheeks flushed hotly as I scooted off the bed and stood on surprisingly weak knees. My gaze lifted to the door, and I closed my eyes, unsure if I was disappointed or relieved by the interruption. Truthfully, it was a mixture of both, because I’d lied to Hawke. I wouldn’t be here when he returned. “What did you do last night?” The question snapped my attention from the biscuit I was currently devouring to the Lady in Wait who sat across from me. Tawny Lyon was the second daughter of a successful merchant, given to the Royal Court at the age of thirteen during the Rite. Tall and lithe, with rich brown skin and beautiful brown eyes, she was absolutely enviable. Some of the Ladies and Lords in Wait were assigned tasks outside of preparation to join the Court after Ascension, and since we were the same age, she had been assigned as my companion shortly after her Rite. Her duty ranged from keeping me company to assisting me with my bath or to dress if I required it. Tawny was one of the few people who could make me laugh over the silliest things. Actually, she was one of the few people who were even allowed to speak to me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I cared for her deeply. I believed she cared for me too, or at the very least, liked me, but she was required to be with me unless I dismissed her for the day. If she hadn’t been given the task of being my companion, we never would’ve spoken. That fact was not a reflection upon her as a person, but because she would be like all the rest, either forbidden to socialize with me or wary of my presence. The knowledge often sat heavy in my chest, another chunk of ice, but even though I knew our friendship was rooted in duty, I trusted her. At least, to a certain degree. She knew I was trained, but she didn’t know the things I sometimes assisted Vikter with, and she had no knowledge of my gifts. I kept those things to myself because sharing that information would either put others or her in harm’s way. “I was here.” Wiping buttery crumbs from my fingers, I gestured to the rather sparse chamber. We were in the small anteroom that opened up to the bedroom. There were only two chairs by the fireplace, a wardrobe and a chest, a bed, one nightstand, and a heavy fur rug under our feet. Others had more…creature comforts. Tawny had a beautiful chaise in her room and a pile of plush floor coverings, and I knew some of the other Ladies and Lords in Wait had vanities or desks, walls lined with bookshelves, and even electricity. Over the years, those items had been stripped from my chamber for one infraction or another. “You were not in your room,” Tawny said. A simple topknot was trying—and failing—to keep the mass of brown and gold curls swept back from her face. More than a few had snuck free to rest against her cheeks. “I checked on you shortly after midnight, and you weren’t here.” My heart skipped a beat. Had something occurred where the Duke or Duchess had sent Tawny for me? If so, Tawny wouldn’t be able to lie, but I imagined if that had happened, I would already know. I would have already been summoned to the Duke’s private office. “Why were you checking on me?” I asked. “I thought I heard your door opening and closing, so I decided to investigate, but no one was here.” She paused. “No one. Including you.” There was no way she’d heard me return. I’d used the old servants’ access, and while that door was as creaky as a bag of bones, her room was on the other side of where my bed sat. That door was one of the reasons I’d never asked to be moved to the newer, renovated parts of the stronghold. Through there, I could access nearly any part of the castle and could come and go without being seen. It more than compensated for the lack of electricity and the constant, chilly draft that seemed to always make its way in around the windows no matter how sunny the day was. My palms dampened as I glanced at the closed hallway door. Had someone been looking for me? Again, I would know by now, so it was likely Tawny thought she’d heard something. Knowing Tawny as I did, I knew she wouldn’t let this go if I didn’t give her something. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” “Nightmares?” I nodded, feeling a little guilty for the sympathy that crept into her eyes. “You’ve been having a lot of them lately.” She leaned back in the chair. “Are you sure you don’t want to try one of the sleeping drafts the Healer made for you?” “Yes. I don’t like the idea of—” “Being knocked out senseless?” she finished for me. “It’s really not that bad, Poppy. You rest very deeply, and honestly, with as little sleep as you manage, I think it would be good to at least try.” The mere idea of taking something that would put me in such a deep sleep that it would take an army marching through my chamber to wake me made me sweat. I would be rendered completely helpless, and that was something I would never allow to happen. “So, what did you do?” A pause. “Or should I ask, where did you go?” Her eyes narrowed as I became enraptured in the fine trim of the napkin. “You snuck out, didn’t you?” In that moment, Tawny proved that she knew me just as well as I knew her. “I don’t know why you’d think that.” “Because you don’t have a history of doing that?” She laughed when I glanced up at her. “Come on, tell me what you did. I’m sure it’s more exciting than what I was doing, which was listening to Mistress Cambria prattle on about how inappropriate this Lady or Lord in Wait is. I pled a viciously upset stomach just to be able to excuse myself.” I giggled, knowing that Tawny would’ve done just that. “The Mistresses are a lot to handle.” “That is being too kind,” she remarked. Grinning, I picked up the cup of creamed coffee. The Mistresses were servants of the Duchess, who helped her run the household but also kept track of the Ladies in Wait. Mistress Cambria was a dragon of a woman that scared even me. “I did sneak out,” I admitted. “Where did you go without me?” “I think you might be upset when you hear where.” “Most likely.” I peeked up at her. “The Red Pearl.” Her eyes widened to the size of the saucers scattered across the trolley between us. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “I can’t…” She appeared to take a deep breath. “How?” “I borrowed one of the maid’s cloaks, and I used that mask I found.” “You…you devious little thief.” “I returned the cloak this morning, so I don’t think you can call me a thief.” “Who cares if you returned it.” She tipped forward. “What was it like?” “Interesting,” I said, and when she begged for more details, I told her what I’d seen. She was enthralled, hanging on every word I said as if I were sharing with her the actual ritual that completed the Ascension. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me with you.” She fell back in her chair with a pout, but then sprang forward once more. “Did you see anyone there you recognized? Loren claims she goes there nearly every other evening.” Loren, another Lady in Wait, claimed many things. “I didn’t see her, but…” I trailed off, unsure if I should tell her about Hawke. I’d left no more than ten minutes after Hawke had, relieved to find that Vikter was also nowhere to be seen. Neither was the strange woman who knew more than she should. I’d done everything in my power not to think about what had happened in that room with him. Which meant, I failed the moment I returned to my bed. I’d lain there until exhaustion claimed me, replaying everything he’d said…everything he’d done. I’d woken with the strangest frustration, an ache in my chest and lower belly. “But what?” she asked. I wanted to tell her. Gods, did I ever want to share what’d happened with Hawke with someone. I had a hundred questions bursting to be let out, but last night was different. I’d crossed a big line, and while I didn’t feel like I had debased myself or done anything truly wrong, I knew that my guardians wouldn’t agree. Neither would the Priests and Priestesses. Going to the Red Pearl was one thing. Sharing myself in any form with another was a totally different matter. That knowledge could be a weapon. I trusted Tawny, but as I acknowledged before, only to a certain degree. And even though the mere thought of Hawke made my stomach tighten into dozens of little coils, it wasn’t something that would ever happen again. When I saw him during the City Council sessions, he wouldn’t know that it had been me he’d called Princess. He’d have no idea that he’d been my first kiss. What we’d done…it belonged to just me. It had to stay that way. I exhaled slowly, ignoring the sudden scratchy lump in my throat. “But many were wearing masks. She could’ve been there, and I wouldn’t have known. Anyone could’ve been.” “If you ever go to the Red Pearl without me again, I will cut holes in the bottoms of your shoes,” she warned, toying with the white beads dotting the neckline of her rose-colored gown. A shocked laugh left me. “Wow.” She giggled. “Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t go with me.” When she frowned, I quickly added, “I really shouldn’t have gone there myself.” “Yes, going to the Red Pearl is forbidden, and I’m sure it’s as forbidden as you being trained to use a dagger or a sword as a guard on the Rise.” That was something I hadn’t been able to hide from Tawny, and she had never shared, which was one of the reasons I knew I could trust her with most things. “Yes, but—” “Just like that one time you snuck out to view a fighting ring. Or when you convinced me to bathe in the lake—” “That was your idea,” I corrected, and her willingness to aid me in doing forbidden things was the other reason she held almost all of my trust. “And it was also your idea to do it without clothing.” “Who bathes in their clothes?” she asked, widening her eyes innocently. “And that was a mutual idea, thank you very much. I think we should do that again and soon before it gets too cold to even walk outside. But I could spend all morning listing things that you’ve done that are either forbidden by the Duke and Duchess or prohibited for the Maiden to do, and up until now, nothing has happened. The gods haven’t appeared and deemed you unworthy.” “That’s true,” I acknowledged as I smoothed a crease from the skirt of my gown. “Of course, it is.” She plucked up a small, round powdery pastry and popped it into her mouth. Somehow, she didn’t get a single dusting of sugar on her. Meanwhile, if I so much as breathed in the direction of those pastries, I ended up with a fine coating of white powder in places that made no sense. “So, when do we go back?” “I…I don’t think I should.” “You don’t want to?” I opened my mouth, then closed it and tried not to fall down that rabbit hole. The problem was that I wanted to go back. When I was lying in bed and hadn’t been obsessively rewinding the time spent with Hawke, reliving the razor-edged yearning and thrill his kiss had dragged out of me, I’d wondered if he had come back like he promised, and if I had done the right thing by leaving. Of course, in the eyes of my guardians and the gods, it had been the right thing, but had it been so for me? Should I have stayed and experienced infinitely more before there might not be any more chances? My gaze lifted to the windows that faced the west portion of the Rise. The dark shapes of the guards patrolling the ledge were the only movement. Was Hawke out there? Why was I even wondering that? Because there was more than just a small part of me that wished I’d stayed, and I knew it would be a long time before I stopped wondering about what would’ve happened if I’d waited. Would he have carried out whatever I’d wanted? I didn’t even know what that would’ve entailed. I had ideas. I had my imagination. I had other people’s stories of their experiences, but they were not mine. They were just thin, transparent copies of the real thing. And I knew if I returned, I would go back in hopes that he’d be there. That was why I shouldn’t go back. Looking at the open wardrobe, I saw first the white veil with its delicate gold chains, and a heaviness settled over me. I could already feel its substantial weight, even though the material was made out of the finest, lightest silk. When it was first slipped over my head at age eight, I’d panicked, but after ten years, I should’ve grown used to it by now. While I no longer felt like I couldn’t breathe or see while wearing it, it still felt heavy. Hanging beside it was the only color in my wardrobe, a splash of red among a sea of white. It was a ceremonial gown tailored for the upcoming Rite. The dress had arrived the morning before, and I hadn’t tried it on yet. It would be the first time I was allowed to attend—allowed to wear anything other than white and be seen without the veil. Of course, I would be masked, like everyone else. The only reason I was allowed to attend this Rite when all the others had been forbidden, was because it would be the last Rite before my Ascension. Whatever excitement I felt about the Rite was tempered by the fact that it would be the last. Tawny rose and drifted to one of the windows. “The mist hasn’t come in a while.” Tawny had a habit of jumping from topic to topic, but this switch was jarring. “What made you think of that?” “I don’t know.” She tucked back a loose curl. “Actually, I do. I overheard Dafina and Loren talking last night,” she said. “They claimed they heard from one of the Huntsmen that the mist has been gathering beyond the Blood Forest.” “I hadn’t heard that.” My stomach knotted as I remembered Finley, and I wished I hadn’t eaten so many slices of bacon. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.” She turned from the window. “It’s just that…it has been decades since the mist even neared the capital. It’s not something we’d have to worry about there.” No matter where we were, the mist was something to worry about. Just because it hadn’t gotten close in decades didn’t mean it wouldn’t, but I didn’t say that. She pushed away from the window, coming back to the table to kneel next to where I sat. “Can I be honest with you for a moment?” My brows rose. “Aren’t you always?” “Well, yes, but this…is different.” More than curious to know what she was thinking about, I nodded for her to go on. Tawny drew in a deep breath. “I know our lives are different, as were our pasts, and as our futures will be, but you treat the Ascension as if it may very well be your death when it’s the exact opposite. It’s life. It’s a new beginning. It is a Blessing—” “You’re starting to sound like the Duchess,” I teased. “But it’s the truth.” She reached over and clasped my hand. “In a few months, you won’t be dead, Poppy. You’ll be alive and no longer bound by these rules. You’ll be in the capital.” “I’ll have been given to the gods,” I corrected her. “And how amazing is that? You will experience something very few people do. I know… I know you fear that you won’t return from them, but you’re the Queen’s favorite Maiden.” “I’m her only Maiden.” Her eyes rolled. “You know that’s not why.” I did. The Queen had done more for me than what was ever required of her, but that didn’t change that my Ascension would be nothing like hers. “And when you come back, Ascended, I will be right by your side. Just think of the mischief we can make.” Tawny squeezed my hand, and I saw that she truly believed that would happen. It could. But it wasn’t a certainty. I had no idea what it truly meant to be given to the gods. Although every small detail seemed to be documented about the history of the kingdom, there were a few things that weren’t written about. I’d never been able to find anything about previous Maidens, and I’d asked Priestess Analia over a hundred times what it meant to be given to the gods, and the answer was always the same. A Maiden doesn’t question the gods’ plans. She has faith in them without knowledge of them. Maybe I truly wasn’t worthy of being a Maiden, because I found it hard to have faith in anything without knowledge of it. But Tawny did. As did Vikter and Rylan, and literally everyone else I knew. Even Ian. None of them had been given to the gods, though. I searched Tawny’s eyes, looking for just the slightest hint of fear. “You’re not afraid at all, are you?” “Of the Ascension?” She rose, locking her fingers together in front of her. “Nervous? Yes. Afraid? No. I’m excited to begin a new chapter.” To begin a life that was her own, where she could wake up and eat whenever she pleased, spend her days however she wanted, and with whomever she desired instead of being my perpetual shadow. Of course, she wasn’t afraid. And while I didn’t feel the same, I had not once taken into consideration what it meant for her. For the most part, Tawny was always more than willing to take part in whatever adventure I conjured up, and often suggested some herself. But if the gods were watching, especially this close to the Ascension, they could find her unworthy for taking part. That wasn’t something I’d just now thought about, but it hadn’t struck me with such clarity before that my attitude towards the Ascension could ruin her eagerness. Guilt surfaced, the taste of it sour in the back of my throat. “I’m so selfish.” Tawny blinked, bewildered. “What makes you say that?” “I’ve most likely tarnished your excitement with all my doom and gloom,” I told her. “I haven’t really thought about how excited you must be.” “Well, when you put it that way,” she said and then laughed, the sound soft and warm. “Honestly, Poppy, you haven’t. How you feel about the Ascension hasn’t affected how I feel.” “I’m relieved to hear that, but still, I should be more excited for you. That’s what…”—I took a thin breath—“that’s what friends do.” “Have you been excited for me? Happy?” she asked. “Even though you’re worried for yourself?” I nodded. “Of course.” “Then you have done what a friend does.” Maybe that was true, but I promised myself I would be better, starting with no longer risking her Ascension by involving her in my escapades. I could live with the dire consequences of being found unworthy because it would be my life and my own actions that led to it, but I wouldn’t do that to Tawny. I couldn’t live with that. After I took supper in my room later that day, Vikter knocked on my door. When I looked up at his face, golden and weathered by life on the Rise and years in the sun, I didn’t think about knowing where he was the night before and the subsequent awkwardness. I saw his expression and knew something had occurred. “What’s happened?” I whispered. “We’ve been summoned,” he said, and my heart lurched in my chest. There were only two reasons why we’d be summoned. One would be the Duke, and the other was equally terrible, but for far different reasons. “There’s a cursed.” Chapter 4 Without wasting one unnecessary second, we left my room and the Castle through the old servants’ access. We then moved like ghosts through the city until we found ourselves standing before an old, battered door. The white handkerchief tacked just below the handle was the only reason the home in the Lower Ward of Masadonia was distinguishable from the other squat, narrow houses stacked on top of one another. Glancing over his shoulder to where two City Guards chatted under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, Vikter quickly pulled the handkerchief off the door and slipped it into a pocket inside his dark cloak. The small, white cloth was a symbol of the network of people who believed death, no matter how violent or destructive, deserved dignity. It was also evidence of high treason and disloyalty to the Crown. I’d accidentally discovered what Vikter took part in when I was fifteen. He’d left one of our training sessions in a hurry one morning, and sensing that something was going on based on the mental pain the messenger had been throwing off, I’d followed. Obviously, Vikter hadn’t been pleased. What he was doing was considered treasonous, and being caught wasn’t the only danger. However, I’d always been disturbed by how these things were typically handled. I demanded he allow me to help. He had said no—repeated it probably a hundred times—but I had been relentless, and besides, I was uniquely suited to assist in such matters. Vikter knew what I could do, and his empathy for others had aided my desire to help. We’d been doing this for about three years now. We weren’t the only ones. There were others. Some were guards. A few were citizens. I never met any. For all I knew, Hawke could be one. My stomach dipped and then rolled before I shoved any thoughts of Hawke out of my mind. Vikter quietly rapped his knuckles on the door and then returned his gloved hand to the hilt of his broadsword. A couple of seconds later, hinges creaked as the old battered door shuddered open, revealing the pale, round face, and red, puffy eyes of a woman. She might’ve been in her mid to late twenties, but the tense pinch to her brow and the lines bracketing her mouth made her appear decades older. The cause of her worn appearance had everything to do with the kind of pain that cut deeper than the physical and was caused by the smell wafting out of the building from behind her. Under the thick, cloying smoke of earthy incense, was the unmistakable sour and sickeningly sweet scent of rot and decay. Of a curse. “You’re in need of aid?” Vikter spoke low. The woman fiddled with the button on her wrinkled blouse, her weary gaze darting from Vikter to me. I opened my senses to her. Soul-deep pain radiated from her in waves I couldn’t see, but it was so heavy, it was almost a tangible entity surrounding her. I could feel it slicing through my cloak and clothing and scraping against my skin like rusty, icy nails. She felt like someone who was dying but hadn’t suffered a single injury or disease. That was how raw and potent her pain was. Fighting the urge to take a step back, I shuddered inside my heavy cloak. Every instinct in me demanded that I put distance between us, get as far away as possible. Her grief formed iron shackles around my ankles, weighing me down as it tightened around my neck. Emotion clogged my throat, tasting like…like bitter desperation and sour hopelessness. I pulled back my senses, but I had opened myself up for too long. I was tuned into her anguish now. “Who is that?” she rasped, her voice hoarse with the tears I knew had swelled her eyes. “Someone who can help you,” Vikter answered in a way I was all too familiar with. He used that calm tone whenever I was seconds away from acting out in anger and doing something entirely reckless—which, according to Vikter, was way too often. “Please. Allow us to enter.” Fingers stilling around the button below her throat, she gave a curt nod and then stepped back. I followed Vikter inside, scanning the dimly lit room, which turned out to be a combined kitchen and living space. There was no electricity in the home, only oil lamps and fat, waxy candles. That wasn’t exactly surprising to see, even though electricity had been provided to the area of the Lower Ward, to light the streets and some of the businesses. Only the wealthy had it inside their homes, and they would not be found in the Lower Ward. They’d be closer to the center of Masadonia, near Castle Teerman and as far from the Rise as possible. But here, the Rise loomed. Drawing in a shallow breath, I tried not to focus on how the woman’s grief painted the walls and floors an oily black. Her pain had gathered here, among the knick-knacks and clay plates, quilted blankets with frayed edges and tired furniture. Clasping my hands together under the cloak, I took another breath, this one deeper, and looked around. A lantern sat on a wooden table, next to several sticks of burning incense. Surrounding the brick hearth were several chairs. I zeroed in on the closed door on the other side of the fireplace. My hooded head tilted as I squinted. On the mantel, closest to the door, was a narrow spike of a blade the color of burgundy in the low light. Bloodstone. This woman had been prepared to handle this herself, and with the way she felt, that would be disastrous. “What is your name?” Vikter asked as he reached up to lower the hood of his cloak. He always did this. Showed his face to comfort family or friends, to put them at ease. A lock of blond hair fell across his forehead as he turned to the woman. I did not reveal myself. “A-Agnes,” she answered, her throat working on a swallow. “I…I heard about the white handkerchief, but I…I wasn’t sure if anyone would come. I wondered if it was some kind of myth or a trick.” “It’s no trick.” Vikter may be one of the deadliest guards in the entire city, if not the kingdom, but I knew when Agnes looked up into his blue eyes, all she saw was kindness. “Who is ill?” Agnes swallowed once more, the skin around her eyes puckering as she briefly squeezed them shut. “My husband, Marlowe. He’s a Huntsman for the Rise, and…and he returned home two days ago—” Her breath caught, and she exhaled heavily. “He’d been gone for months. I was so happy to see him. I’d missed him terribly, and with each day, I feared he’d perished on the road. But he came back.” My heart squeezed as if it had been caught in a fist. I thought of Finley. Had he been a Huntsman, a part of this group that involved Marlowe? “He seemed a little under the weather at first, but that’s not uncommon. His work is exhausting,” she continued. “But he started…he started to show signs that night.” “That night?” Only a small note of alarm had crept into Vikter’s tone, and my eyes widened with a whole cartload more dismay. “And you waited until now?” “We hoped it was something else. A cold or the flu.” Her hand fluttered back to the buttons. Threads were beginning to show along the wooden discs. “I…I didn’t know until last night that it was something more. He didn’t want me to know. Marlowe is a good man, you understand? He wasn’t trying to hide it. H-he planned to take care of himself, but…” “But the curse would not allow it,” Vikter finished for her, and she nodded. I glanced back at the door. The curse progressed differently for everyone. It took hold for some in a matter of hours, while for others, it could take a day or two. But I knew of no cases that went beyond three. It had to be only a matter of time before he succumbed, possibly hours…or minutes. “It’s okay,” Vikter assured her, but it truly wasn’t. “Where is he now?” Pressing her other hand to her mouth, she jerked her chin toward the closed door. The sleeve of her blouse was stained with some dark substance. “It’s still him.” Her words were a little muffled. “He’s…he’s still in there. That’s how he wants to go to the gods. As himself.” “Is there anyone else here?” She shook her head, letting out another ragged breath. “Have you said your goodbyes?” I asked. The woman jerked at the sound of my voice, her eyes widening. My cloak was rather shapeless, so I imagined she was surprised to hear that I was female. A female would be the last thing anyone expected in situations like these. “It’s you,” she whispered. I stilled. Vikter didn’t. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand return to the hilt of the sword. Agnes moved suddenly, and Vikter went to unsheathe his weapon, but before he or I could react, she collapsed to her knees before me. Bowing her head, she folded her hands under her chin. My eyes widened under the hood as I slowly looked at Vikter. He arched a brow. “They spoke of you,” she whispered, rocking in short, jerky movements. My heart might’ve stopped. “They say you’re the child of the gods.” I blinked once and then twice as tiny goosebumps pimpled my skin. My parents were flesh and blood. I was definitely not a child of the gods, but I knew many people of Solis saw the Maiden as such. “Who has said this?” Vikter asked, shooting me a look that said this was something we’d be talking about later. Agnes lifted tear-stained cheeks, shaking her head. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Please. They didn’t speak to spread rumors or ill will. It’s just that…” She trailed off, her gaze drifting toward me. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “They say you have the gift.” Someone had definitely been talking. A subtle shiver curled its way down my spine, but I ignored it as the woman’s pain pulsed and flared. “I’m no one of importance.” Vikter inhaled noisily. “Agnes. Please.” Under the cloak, I tugged off my gloves, placing them into a pocket. I slipped my hand through the opening of the heavy folds, offering it to her as I stole a quick glance at Vikter. His eyes narrowed on me. I was so going to hear about this later, but whatever lecture I was bound to receive would be worth it. Agnes’s gaze dropped to my hand, and then slowly, she lifted her arm and placed her palm against mine. As she rose, I curled my fingers around her cool hand, and I thought of the golden, sparkling sand surrounding the Stroud Sea, of warmth and laughter. I saw my parents, their features no longer clear but lost to time, fuzzy and undefined. I felt the warm, damp breeze in my hair, the sand under my feet. It was the last happy memory I had of my parents. Agnes’s arm trembled as she took a sudden, heavy breath. “What…?” She trailed off, her mouth going lax as her shoulders lowered. The suffocating anguish retracted, collapsing into itself like a matchstick house in a windstorm. Her dampened lashes blinked rapidly, and rosy color infused her cheeks. I let go of her hand the moment the room felt more…open and light, fresher. There was still a sharp edge of pain lingering in the shadows, but it was now manageable for her. For me. “I don’t—” Agnes placed a hand to her breast, giving a little shake of her head. Her brow pinched as she stared at her right hand. Almost tentatively, she returned her gaze to me. “I feel like I can breathe again.” Understanding crept across her face, quickly followed by the gleam of awe in her eyes. “The gift.” I slipped my hand back under my cloak, conscious of the ball of tension brewing inside me. Agnes trembled. For a moment, I was afraid that she would drop to the floor again, but she didn’t. “Thank you. Thank you so much. My gods, thank—” “There’s nothing you need to thank me for,” I cut her off. “Have you said your goodbyes?” I asked once more. Time was getting away from us, time we didn’t have. Tears glimmered as she nodded, but the grief didn’t seize as it did before. What I’d done wouldn’t last. The pain would resurface. Hopefully, by then, she would be able to process it. If not, the grief would always linger, a ghost that would haunt every happy moment in her life until it became all she knew. “We will see him now,” Vikter announced. “It would be best if you remained out here.” Closing her eyes, Agnes nodded. Vikter touched my arm as he turned, and I followed. My gaze landed on the settee closest to the hearth as Vikter reached the door. A floppy-headed stuffed doll with yellow hair made of yarn lay partially hidden behind the thin cushion. Tiny goosebumps broke out across my skin as unease balled in the pit of my stomach. “Will you…?” Agnes called out. “Will you ease his passing?” “Of course,” I said, turning back to Vikter. I placed a hand on his back and waited for him to dip his head. I kept my voice low as I said, “There is a child here.” Vikter halted with his hand on the door, and I tilted my head toward the settee. His gaze followed. I couldn’t sense people, only their pain once I saw them. If a child was here, he or she must be hidden away, and possibly completely unaware of what was happening. But then why hadn’t Agnes admitted to the child being here? The unease expanded, and the worst-case scenario played out in my mind. “I will handle this. You handle that.” Vikter hesitated, his blue eyes wary as they lifted to the door. “I can take care of myself.” I reminded him of what he already knew. The fact that I could defend myself rested solely on his shoulders. A heavy sigh rattled from him as he muttered, “That doesn’t mean you always have to.” He stepped back, though, facing Agnes. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for something warm to drink?” “Oh, no. Of course, not,” Agnes answered. “I could make up some tea or coffee.” “Do you perhaps have hot cocoa?” Vikter asked, and I smirked. While that was something a parent may have on hand and could be seen as him searching for additional evidence of a child, it was also Vikter’s greatest weakness. “I do.” Agnes cleared her throat, and I heard the sound of a cupboard opening. Vikter nodded at me, and I stepped forward, placing my hand on the door and pushing it open. If I hadn’t been prepared for the too-sweet and the bitter-sour stench, it would’ve knocked me over. My gag reflex threatened to be triggered as my gaze adapted to the candlelit bedroom. I would just have to…not breathe as often. Sounded like a solid plan. I swept the room with a quick glance. Except for the bed, a tall wardrobe, and two rickety-looking end tables, the room was bare. More incense burned in here, but it couldn’t beat back the smell. My attention returned to the bed, to the form lying impossibly still in the center of it. Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me and started forward, slipping my right hand back into the cloak, to my right thigh. My fingers curled over the always-cold hilt of my dagger as I focused on the man. Or what was left of him. He was young, that much I could tell, with light brown hair and broad shoulders that trembled. His skin had taken on a gray pallor, and his cheeks were sunken as if his stomach hadn’t been full in weeks. Dark shadows blossomed under eyelids that spasmed every couple of seconds. The color of his lips was more blue than pink. Taking a deep breath, I opened myself up once more. He was in great pain, both physical and emotional. It wasn’t the same as Agnes’s, but no less potent or heavy. In here, the anguish left no room for light, and it went beyond suffocating. It choked and clawed in the knowledge that there was no way out of this. A tremor coursed through me as I forced myself to sit beside him. Unsheathing the dagger, I kept it hidden under my cloak as I lifted my left hand and carefully pulled the sheet down. His chest was bare, and the shivers increased as the cooler air of the room reached his waxy skin. My gaze traveled down the length of his concave stomach. I saw the wound he’d hidden from his wife. It was above his right hip, four ragged tears in his skin. Two, side by side, an inch or so above two identical wounds. He’d been bitten. One who didn’t know better would think some sort of wild animal had gotten ahold of him, but this wasn’t the wound of an animal. It seeped blood and something darker, oiler. Faint, reddish-blue lines radiated out from the bite, spreading across his lower stomach and disappearing under the sheet. A ravaged moan drew my gaze upward. His lips peeled back, revealing just how close he was to a fate worse than death. His gums bled, streaking his teeth. Teeth that were already changing. Two on top, two on the bottom—his canines—had already elongated. I looked to where his hand rested next to my leg. His nails had also lengthened, becoming more animalistic than mortal. Within an hour, both his teeth and nails would harden and sharpen. They’d be able to cut and chew through skin and muscle. He would become one of them. A Craven. Driven by an insatiable hunger for blood, he would slaughter everyone in sight. And if anyone were to survive his attack, they would eventually become just like him. Well, not everyone. I hadn’t. But he was becoming what existed outside the Rise, what lived inside the thick, unnatural mist—the foulness that the fallen Kingdom of Atlantia had cursed these lands with. Some four hundred years after the War of Two Kings had ended, they were still a plague. The Craven were creations of the Atlantians, the product of their poisonous kiss, which acted like an infection, turning innocent men, women, and children into starved creatures whose body and mind became twisted and decayed by ceaseless hunger. Even though the majority of Atlantians had been hunted into extinction, many still existed, and there only needed to be one Atlantian alive for there to be a dozen Craven, if not more. They weren’t completely mindless. They could be controlled, but only by the Dark One. And this poor man had fought back and escaped, but he must have known what the bite meant. From birth, we all knew. It was a part of the kingdom’s blood-soaked history. He was cursed, and there was nothing that could be done. Had he come back to say goodbye to his wife? To a child? Had he thought he would be different? Blessed by the gods? Chosen? It didn’t matter. Sighing, I replaced the sheet, leaving his upper chest bare. Trying not to breathe too deeply, I set my palm on his skin. His flesh…it felt all wrong, like cold leather. I concentrated on the beaches of Carsodonia, the capital, and the dazzling blue waters of the Stroud. I remembered the clouds, how fat and fluffy they were. How they looked like peace must feel. And I thought of the Queen’s Gardens outside of Castle Teerman, where I could simply be and not think or feel anything, where everything, including my own mind, was quiet. I thought of the warmth those too-brief moments with Hawke had brought forth. Marlowe’s shivers subsided, and the twitching behind his eyes slowed. The puckered skin at the corners of his eyes smoothed out. “Marlowe?” I said, ignoring the dull pain that started to blossom behind my eyes. A headache would eventually come. One always did when I repeatedly opened myself or used my gift. The chest under my hand rose deeply, and clumped lashes fluttered. His eyes opened, and I tensed. They were blue. Mostly. Bolts of red shot through the irises. Soon, there would be no blue left. Only the color of blood. His dry lips parted. “Are you…are you Rhain? Have you come to take me at my end?” He thought I was the God of the Common Man and Endings, a god of death. “No. I’m not.” Knowing that his pain would be eased long enough for this to be completed, I lifted my left hand and did the one thing I was expressly forbidden to do. Not just by the Duke and Duchess of Masadonia, or by the Queen, but also by the gods. I did what Hawke had asked in regard to the mask, but I’d refused. I pulled down my hood and then removed the white domino mask I wore just in case my cloak slipped, revealing my face. I figured, or hoped, that the gods would make an exception in cases like this. His crimson-laced gaze drifted over my features, starting where wisps of burnt copper hair curled against my forehead, then the right side of my face, followed by my left. His stare lingered there, over the evidence of what a Craven’s claws could do. I wondered if he thought the same thing the Duke always did. Such a shame. Those three words seemed to be the Duke’s favorite. That and: you have disappointed me. “Who are you?” he rasped out. “My name is Penellaphe, but my brother and a few others call me Poppy.” “Poppy?” he whispered. I nodded. “It’s a strange nickname, but my mother used to call me that. It sort of stuck.” Marlowe blinked slowly. “Why are…?” The corners of his mouth cracked, the new wounds seeping blood and darkness. “Why are you here?” Forcing a smile, I tightened my grip on the hilt of the dagger and did another thing that should end with me being hauled to the Temple but hadn’t yet because this wasn’t the first time I’d revealed myself to the dying. “I am the Maiden.” His chest rose with a sharp inhale, and he closed his eyes. A tremor coursed through him. “You’re the Chosen, ‘born in the shroud of the gods, protected even inside the womb, veiled from birth.’” That was me. “You…you are here for me.” His eyes opened, and I noticed the red had spread until only a hint of blue remained. “You will…give me dignity.” I nodded. Anyone cursed by a Craven’s bite did not die in their beds quietly and as peacefully as possible. They were not afforded that kindness or sympathy. Instead, they were generally dragged to the town square to be burned alive in front of a mass of citizens. It didn’t matter that most became cursed either protecting those who cheered their horrific demise or working to better the kingdom. Marlowe’s gaze shifted to the closed door behind me. “She’s…she’s a good woman.” “She said you’re a good man.” Those eerie eyes tracked back to me. “I won’t be a—” His upper lip curled, revealing one deadly sharp tooth. “I won’t be a good man much longer.” “No, you won’t be.” “I…I tried to do it myself, but…” “It’s okay.” Slowly, I pulled the dagger out from under my cloak. The glow of the nearby candle glittered off the deep red blade. Marlowe eyed the dagger. “Bloodstone.” Before any signs of the curse, a mortal could be killed in any number of ways, but once there were signs, only fire and bloodstone could kill the cursed. Only bloodstone or wood sharpened into a stake from the Blood Forest could kill a fully turned Craven. “I just…I just wanted to say goodbye.” He shuddered. “That was all.” “I understand,” I told him, even though I wished he hadn’t returned here, but I didn’t have to agree with his actions to understand them. His pain was starting to return, rising in sharp pulses and then ebbing. “Are you ready, Marlowe?” His gaze shifted to the closed door once more, and then his eyes closed. He nodded. Chest heavy, and unsure if it was my grief or his that weighed me down, I shifted ever so slightly. There were two ways to kill a Craven or someone cursed as long as you had a bloodstone blade or wood from a Blood Forest tree. Penetrate the heart or destroy the brain. The former wasn’t immediate. It could take minutes to bleed out, and it was painful…and messy. Placing my left hand against his too-cold cheek, I leaned over him— “I wasn’t…I wasn’t the only one,” he whispered. My heart stopped. “What?” “Ridley…he was…he was bitten, too.” A wheezing breath left him. “He wanted to say goodbye to his father. I don’t…know if he took care of himself or not.” If this Ridley had waited until the curse began to show signs, there was no way he would’ve been able to do it. Whatever was in the blood of the Craven—of an Atlantian—triggered some sort of primal survival instinct. Gods. “Where does his father live?” “Two blocks over. Third home. Blue…I think blue shutters, but Ridley…he lives in the dorms with…the others.” Good gods, this could be bad. “You’ve done the right thing,” I told him, wishing he’d done it sooner. “Thank you.” Marlowe grimaced, and his eyes opened once more. There was no more blue. He was close. Seconds. “I don’t have—” I struck as fast as the black vipers that hid in the valleys that led to the Temples. The tip of the dagger sank into the soft spot at the base of his skull. Angled frontward and between the vertebrae, the blade pierced deep, severing the brain stem. Marlowe jerked. That was all. He’d taken his last breath before he even knew it. Death was as instantaneous as it could be. I eased the blade out as I rose from the bed. Marlowe’s eyes were closed. That…that was one small blessing. Agnes would not see how close he’d come to turning into a nightmare. “May Rhain escort you to paradise,” I whispered, wiping the blood from my dagger on a small towel that had been draped over the end table. “And may you find eternal peace with those who have passed before you.” Turning from the bed, I sheathed the dagger and then replaced my mask and lifted my hood, tugging it over my head. Ridley. I started for the door. If Ridley were still alive, he had to be within minutes of turning. It was nighttime, and if he was in that dorm where others who were off duty slept…. I shuddered. No matter how well trained they were, they were as vulnerable as anyone else while asleep. Concern for a certain guard from the Rise surfaced, and fear pierced my chest and stomach. A massacre could be minutes away from happening. Worse yet, the curse would spread, and I more than anyone knew how quickly it could ravage a city until nothing but blood pooled in the streets. Chapter 5 We left Agnes in the bedroom, her husband’s limp hand pressed to her chest as she carefully brushed his hair back from his face. It was an image I wouldn’t forget for a very long time. But I couldn’t dwell on it then. I’d learned from Vikter that there was a daughter, but luckily, she was staying with friends, having been told that her father was ill. Vikter saw no reason to not believe Agnes. I was relieved to know that my worst fear hadn’t come true. That the child hadn’t also been cursed. Once someone had been cursed, a bite from them would pass on the curse, and even though Marlowe hadn’t fully turned, he would’ve been prone to uncontrollable rages and thirst from the moment he’d been bitten. But now I stood outside another tiny home, in the shadows of the narrow, dirt-packed alley, listening to another tragedy. The moment I’d shared with Vikter what Marlowe had told me, we’d gone straight for the father’s house since it was closer than the dorms. I was beyond glad I couldn’t see the man because I could hear the heartbreak in his voice as he told Vikter what had happened, and the ache in my head was now throbbing. If I saw the poor father, I would’ve wanted to somehow ease his pain. The old man knew precisely why Vikter was there when he asked if he’d seen his son. Ridley hadn’t been able to take care of himself. However, his father had. He’d shown Vikter where he’d buried Ridley in the backyard, under a pear tree. He’d ended his son’s life the day before. I was still thinking about that as Vikter and I left the Lower Ward, using the heavily wooded area outside the Citadel to avoid any City Guards. Many years ago, animals such as deer and wild boar had been plentiful in Wisher’s Grove, but only the smallest critters and large, predatory birds remained after years of hunting. The Grove now served more or less as a border between the haves and have-nots, the thick tree line all but erasing the cramped living arrangements for the vast majority of Masadonia from those who lived in homes triple the size of the one Agnes now mourned in. A part of the Grove, closer to the center of the city, had been cleared, creating a park where fairs and celebrations were held, people often rode their horses, sold goods, and picnicked on warmer days. The Grove ran right into the inner walls of Castle Teerman. Literally. Very few traveled the Grove, believing it to be haunted by any who’d died there. Or were they haunted by the spirits of guards? Or was it the spirits of hunted animals that roamed between the trees? I wasn’t sure. There were so many different versions. Either way, it worked for us because we could easily slip out of the Queen’s Gardens and into the Grove without being seen as long as we kept an eye on the patrolling guards. From the Grove, one could go anywhere. “We need to discuss what happened in that house,” Vikter announced as we navigated the forest floor with only a sliver of moonlight to guide us. “People have been talking about you.” I knew this was coming. “And you using your gift back there didn’t help matters,” he added, keeping his voice low even though it was unlikely we’d be overheard by anything other than a raccoon or an opossum. “You all but confirmed who you were.” “If people are talking, they haven’t said anything,” I replied. “And I had to do something. That woman’s pain was…it was unbearable for her. She needed a break.” “And it became unbearable for you, too?” he surmised. When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Your head hurts now?” “It’s nothing,” I dismissed. “Nothing,” he growled. “I understand why you want to help. I respect that. But it’s a risk, Poppy. No one has said anything yet. Maybe they feel indebted to you, but that could change, and you need to be more careful.” “I am careful,” I said. Even though I couldn’t see his expression as he too had lifted his hood to cover his face, I knew he sent me a look of disbelief. I grinned, but it quickly faded. “I know what the risks are—” “And you’re prepared to face the consequences if the Duke ever discovers what you’re doing?” he challenged. My stomach dipped as I toyed with a loose thread from my cloak. “I am.” Vikter cursed under his breath. In any other situation, I would’ve giggled. “You’re as brave as any guard on the Rise.” Taking that as a huge compliment, I smiled. “Well, thank you.” “And just as foolish as any new recruit.” My smile turned upside down. “I take my thank you back.” “I never should’ve allowed you to begin doing this.” He caught a low-hanging branch, moving it aside. “You going out among the people poses too much of a risk of discovery.” Dipping under the branch, I looked back at him. “You didn’t allow me,” I reminded him. “You just couldn’t stop me.” He stopped, catching my arm and turning me so I faced him. “I understand why you want to help. You couldn’t when your mother and father lay dying.” I flinched. “It has nothing to do with them.” “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re trying to make up for what you were unable to do as a child.” His voice dropped so low, I could barely hear him over the breeze stirring the leaves above us. “But it’s more than that.” “And what is that?” “I think you want to be caught.” “What? You really think that?” I took a step back, pulling free of his hold. “You know what the Duke would do if he ever found out.” “Trust me, I know. It’s not likely I’ll forget any of those times I had to help you walk back to your room.” His voice hardened, and heat blasted my cheeks. I hated that. Hated the way I felt for something someone had done to me. Absolutely hated the heavy shame that threatened to choke me. “You take too many risks, Poppy, even knowing it’s not just the Duke or even the Queen you’d have to answer to,” he continued. “Sometimes, I wonder if you want to be found unworthy.” Irritation flared to life, and there was a part of me that recognized it was because Vikter was scraping at old wounds and getting too close to a hidden truth I didn’t want to delve into and uncover. “Whether I’m caught or not, wouldn’t the gods already know what I do? There would be no reason for me to take additional risks when nothing is hidden from them.” “There is no reason for you to take any risks at all.” “Then why have you spent the last five or so years training me?” I demanded. “Because I know why you need to feel like you can defend yourself,” he shot back. “After what you suffered, what you have to live with, I can understand the need to take your protection into your own hands. But if I had known that it would lead to you putting yourself in situations where you risked exposure, I never would’ve trained you.” “Well, it’s too late for that change of heart.” “That it is.” He sighed. “And way to avoid what I just said.” “Avoid what?” I asked, pretending ignorance. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Shaking my head, I turned and started walking. “I don’t help those people because I want the gods to find me unworthy. I didn’t help Agnes because I hoped she would tell someone, and it would get out. I help them because it’s already a tragedy that doesn’t need to be compounded upon by being forced to watch their loved ones be burned to death.” I stepped over a fallen tree limb, my headache worsening. However, it had nothing to do with my gift and everything to do with the conversation. “Sorry to ruin your theory, but I’m not a sadist.” “No,” he said from behind me. “You’re not. You’re just afraid.” Whipping around, I gaped at him. “Afraid?” “Of your Ascension. Yes. You’re afraid. There’s no shame in admitting that.” He came forward, stopping in front of me. “At least, not to me.” But to others, like my guardians or the Priests, it wouldn’t be something I could ever admit. They would see that fear as being sacrilegious, as if the only reason I’d have to be afraid would be due to something horrible and not the fact I had no idea what would happen to me upon my Ascension. If I were to live. Or die. I closed my eyes. “I understand,” Vikter repeated. “You have no idea what will happen. I get it. I do, but Poppy, whether you take these unnecessary risks on purpose or not, regardless of if you’re afraid or not, the end result will not change. All you will do is incur the Duke’s wrath. That is all.” I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness. “Because no matter what you do, you’re not going to be found unworthy,” Vikter said. “You will Ascend.” Vikter’s words kept me up for most of the night, and I ended up skipping our normal morning training session held in one of the old rooms in the all-but-abandoned part of the castle. Unsurprisingly, Vikter hadn’t knocked on the old servants’ door. If that wasn’t evidence enough of how well he knew me, I didn’t know what would be. I wasn’t mad at him. Honestly, I could be annoyed and irritated with him every other day, but I was never mad at him. I didn’t think he felt that I was. He just…he’d hit a raw nerve last night, and he was aware of that. I was afraid of my Ascension. I knew that. Vikter knew that. Who wouldn’t be? Although Tawny believed that I would return as an Ascended, no one could be sure. Ian wasn’t like me. There’d been no rules imposed on him when we’d been in the capital or while we grew up here. He’d Ascended because he was the brother of the Maiden, the Chosen, and because the Queen had petitioned for the exception. So, yes, I was afraid. But was I purposely pushing the envelope and happy-dancing over the line in hopes of being found unworthy and stripped of my status? That was…that would be incredibly irrational. I could be quite irrational. Like when I saw a spider, I behaved as if it were the size of a horse with the cold calculation of an assassin. That was irrational. But being found unworthy meant exile, and that was also a death sentence. If I were afraid of dying upon Ascension, then getting myself exiled didn’t exactly improve the situation. And I was afraid of dying, but my wariness of the Ascension was more than that. It wasn’t my choice. I had been born into this, in the same way that all the second sons and daughters were. Even though none of them seemed to dread their future, it wasn’t their choice either. I hadn’t been lying or trying to cover up a hidden agenda when I helped Agnes or exposed myself to Marlowe. I did that because I could—because it was my choice. I trained to use a sword and bow because it was my choice. But was there another motive behind sneaking off to watch fights or swimming naked? Visiting gambling dens or lurking in parts of the castle forbidden to me and listening in on conversations that I wasn’t supposed to hear? Or when I left my chambers without Vikter or Rylan just so I could spy on the balls held in the Great Hall and people-watch in Wisher’s Grove? What about the Red Pearl? Letting Hawke kiss me? Touch me? All of those things that I’d done, I did because they were my choice, but… But could it also be what Vikter had suggested? What if, deep down, I wasn’t just trying to live and experience everything I could before my Ascension? What if I was, on some kind of unconscious level, trying to ensure that the Ascension never happened? These thoughts troubled me throughout the day, and for once, I wasn’t all that restless in my confinement. At least not until the sun began to set. Having dismissed Tawny hours before supper since there was no reason for her to sit around while I did nothing but morosely stare out the windows, I finally got annoyed with myself and yanked open the door. Only to find Rylan lounging across the hall. I drew up short. “Going somewhere, Pen?” he asked. Pen. Rylan was the only one who called me that. I liked it. I let go of the door, and it slowly inched back, bumping my shoulder. “I don’t know.” He grinned at me as he ran a hand over his light brown hair. “It’s time, isn’t it?” Glancing behind me to the windows, I saw that it was dusk. Surprise flickered through me. I’d wasted an entire day in self-reflection. Priestess Analia would be thrilled to hear that, but not the reasons. Either way, I wanted to punch myself in the face. But it was time. I nodded and started to step out— “I think you’re forgetting something,” he said, tapping a finger on his bearded cheek. My veil. Good gods, I’d almost walked out into the hall without it or a hood. Other than my guardians—the Duke and Duchess—and Tawny, only Vikter and Rylan were allowed to see me without my veil. Well, the Queen and King could, and Ian was permitted, but obviously, they weren’t here. If anyone else had been in the hall, they would’ve possibly fallen over in a dead faint. “I’ll be right back!” His grin increased as I whipped around and hurried back into the room, slipping the veil over my head. It took a little more than a couple of minutes to clasp all the little chains so it was secured in place. Tawny was so much faster at it than I was. I started back out— “Shoes, Pen. You should put some shoes on.” Looking down at myself, I let out a very unladylike groan. “Gods! One moment.” Rylan chuckled. Totally scatterbrained, I toed on my well-worn shoes, which were nothing more than satin and a thin leather sole, and then reopened the door. “Having a bad day?” Rylan mused as he joined me in my room. “Having a weird day,” I countered, heading for the old servants’ access. “A forgetful one.” “It must be for you to not realize the time.” Rylan was right. Unless something was going on, both he and Vikter were always ready for me just before dusk. Our pace was quick as we hurried down the narrow, dusty staircase. It emptied out into an area beside the kitchen, and while we took the old access to avoid being seen as much as possible, it wasn’t completely avoidable. Kitchen servants stopped mid-step as Rylan and I passed them, their brown garb and white caps making them nearly indistinguishable from one another. I heard a basket of potatoes hit the floor and the harsh, biting reprimand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw blurred faces bow their heads as if they were praying. I swallowed a groan while Rylan did what he always did and pretended that there was nothing off about their behavior. You’re the child of the gods. Agnes’s words came back to me. The only reason they thought that was because of the veil and the paintings and various artworks representing the Maiden. That and how often it was that they didn’t see me. We started toward the banquet hall. From there, we could enter the foyer and be able to access the Queen’s Garden. There’d be more servants, but there really wasn’t any other way to access it from within the castle that didn’t require scaling a wall. We made it halfway past the long table when one of the many doors on either side opened behind us. “Maiden.” A wave of goosebumps spread over my skin in revulsion. I recognized that voice, and I wanted to keep walking—to pretend I’d suddenly lost my hearing. But Rylan had stopped. If I kept walking, it wouldn’t end well for me. Inhaling deeply, I turned to face Lord Brandole Mazeen. I didn’t see what I was sure most saw, a dark-haired man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, handsome and tall. I saw a bully. I saw a cruel man who had long ago forgotten what it was like to be mortal. Unlike with the Duke, who seemed to despise me without cause, I knew precisely why Lord Mazeen found such glee in harassing me. Ian. And it all stemmed from the vainest, most inconsequential thing possible. A year before my brother Ascended, he’d bested Lord Mazeen at a game of cards, to which the Lord had ungraciously accused Ian of cheating. I, who probably shouldn’t have even been present for the game, had laughed. Mainly because the Lord was utterly terrible at poker. From that moment on, the Lord had sought to irritate both Ian and me whenever he got the chance. It only got worse once Ian Ascended, and the Lord began to…assist the Duke with his lessons. Clasping my hands together, I said nothing as he strode toward me, his long legs encased in black breeches. He wore a black dress shirt, and the darkness of his clothing created a striking contrast against his pale skin and lips the color of ripe berries. His eyes… I didn’t like to look into them. They seemed fathomless and empty. Like all Ascended, they were such a dark black that the pupils weren’t visible. I wondered what his eye color had been before he Ascended or if he even remembered. The Lord may only appear to be in his second decade of life, but I knew he’d Ascended after the War of Two Kings, along with the Duke and Duchess. He was hundreds of years old. Lord Mazeen gave a tight, close-lipped smile when I didn’t respond. “I’m surprised to see you here.” “She’s taking her evening walk,” Rylan replied, tone flat. “As she is allowed.” Eyes like shards of obsidian narrowed on the guard. “I didn’t ask the question of you.” “I’m taking my walk,” I stepped in, answering before Rylan said another word. That unnerving, fathomless gaze shifted to me. “You’re going to the garden?” One side of his lips quirked when surprise flickered through me. “Isn’t that where you always go at this time of day?” I did. And it was more than a little disconcerting that the Lord was aware of that. I nodded. “She must be on her way now,” Rylan interjected. “As you know, the Maiden must not linger.” In other words, I wasn’t allowed to interact, not even with the Ascended. The Lord knew that. But he disregarded it. “The Maiden also must be respectful. I wish to speak with her, and I’m sure the Duke would be most disappointed to learn that she was unwilling to do so.” My spine straightened as a wave of anger swept through me so swiftly, I almost reached for the dagger strapped to my thigh. The reaction shocked me in a way. What would I have done with it if I hadn’t stopped? Stabbed him? I almost laughed. But none of this was funny. His thinly veiled threat of speaking to the Duke had been effective. The Lord had backed both Rylan and me into a corner because even though I was not supposed to interact, the Duke didn’t hold Lord Mazeen to the same rules as others. If I walked away, I would be punished. So would Rylan. And while my punishment wasn’t something to take lightly, it would be nothing compared to what Rylan would face. He could be removed from the Royal Guard, and the Duke would ensure that it was known that he had fallen out of the Duke’s favor. Rylan would soon be unemployed and therefore dishonored. It wouldn’t be the same as being exiled, but his life would become measurably more difficult. I squared my shoulders. “I would love nothing more than to speak with you.” A look of smugness settled on his handsome features, and I wanted nothing more than to kick him in the face. “Come.” He reached out, curling his arm over my shoulders. “I wish to speak in private.” Rylan stepped forward— “It’s okay,” I told him, although it really wasn’t. Looking over at him, I willed him to listen. “Truly, it is fine.” Rylan’s jaw hardened as he stared at the Lord, and I could tell he wasn’t remotely happy about this, but he nodded curtly. “I’ll be right here.” “Yes, you will,” the Lord replied. Gods. Not all Ascended were like the Lord, who wielded his power and station like a poison-tipped sword, but Lord Mazeen wasn’t even the worst example. He steered me to the left, nearly causing a servant to drop the basket she carried. He seemed completely unaware of her as he strode forward. Whatever hope I had that he planned to speak to me a few steps away ended quickly as he took us into one of the shadowy alcoves between the doors. I should’ve known. He swept aside thick, white curtains and all but pulled me into the narrow space where the only source of light was a small sconce above a thickly cushioned chaise. I had no idea what the purpose of these half-hidden rooms was, but on more than one occasion, I’d found myself trapped in them. I stepped back, a little surprised that the Lord allowed it. He watched me, the smirk returning as I positioned myself so I was close to one of the curtains. He sat on the chaise, stretching out his legs as he folded his arms across his chest. Heart thumping, I chose my words carefully. “I really cannot linger. If someone were to see me, I would be in trouble with Priestess Analia.” “And what would happen if the good Priestess of the Temples were to hear you were lingering?” he asked, his body appearing loose and relaxed, but I knew better. Appearances could be deceiving. The Ascended were fast when they wanted to be. I’d seen them move in a manner that made them nothing more than a blur. “Would she report such misbehavior to the Duke?” he continued. “I do so enjoy his lessons.” Disgust was a weed taking root inside me. Of course, he enjoyed the Duke’s lessons. “I’m not sure what she would do.” “It might be worth discovering,” he mused idly. “At least, for me.” My fingers curled inward. “I don’t wish to displease the Duke or the Priestess.” His lashes lowered. “I’m sure you would not.” A sharp, stinging pain radiated out from where my nails dug into my palms. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?” “You didn’t ask your question appropriately.” Searching for restraint and calm, I was grateful for the veil. If he could see my face in its entirety, he’d know exactly what I was feeling. Which was red-hot, burning hatred. I didn’t know why the Lord found such great entertainment in harassing me. Why he found such enjoyment in making me uncomfortable, but he’d been this way the last several years. He was worse toward the servants, though. I’d heard the whispered warnings to new staff. Avoid gaining his attention or his displeasure. No matter what, there was a limit to how far he could go with me. With the servants, I didn’t believe he felt there was even a line to cross. I lifted my chin. “What would you like to discuss with me, Lord Mazeen?” A hint of a cold smile appeared. “I realized it had been a while since I last saw you.” It had been sixteen days since he’d last cornered me. So, not long enough. “I’ve missed you,” he added. Doubtful. “My Lord, I must be on my way—” I sucked in a sharp breath as he rose. One second, he was stretched out on the chaise. The next, he was directly in front of me. “I’m insulted,” he said. “I told you I missed you, and your only response was to say you must leave? You wound me.” The fact that he’d said nearly the same words Hawke had uttered no more than two nights ago didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did the vastly different reactions I had to them. While Hawke had come across teasing, Lord Mazeen spoke the words as a warning. I wasn’t charmed. I was revolted. “It wasn’t my intention,” I forced out. “You sure?” he asked, and I felt his finger against my jaw before I even saw him move his hand. “I have the distinct impression that was exactly your intent.” “It wasn’t.” I leaned back— He curled his fingers around my chin, holding my head in place. When I took my next breath, I thought his fingers smelled like…a flower, musky and sweet. “You should try to be more convincing if you wish me to believe that.” “I’m sorry if I’m not as convincing as I should be.” It took great effort to keep my voice steady. “You shouldn’t be touching me.” He smirked as he trailed his cool thumb along my lower lip. The sensation of thousands of tiny insects skittering over my skin followed. “And why is that?” The Lord knew exactly why. “I’m the Maiden,” I said, nonetheless. “That you are.” He trailed his fingers down my chin over the scratchy lace that covered my throat. His hand continued, brushing over my collarbone. My palm practically burned with the need to feel the hilt of the dagger against it, and my muscles tensed with the knowledge and skill to react—to make him stop. A tremor coursed through me as I fought the desire to fight back. It wouldn’t be worth what would happen. I kept telling myself that as his fingers slid down the center of my gown. It wasn’t just the fear of punishment. If I showed what I was capable of, the Duke would learn that I had been trained, and I doubted it would take any large leap of logic to determine that Vikter was responsible. Yet again, whatever I faced would be nothing compared to what Vikter would. But I could only tolerate so much. I took a step back, putting distance between us. Lord Mazeen tilted his head and then chuckled softly. Instinct sparked, and I moved to step out from the curtain, but I hadn’t been fast enough. He caught me by the hip and turned me. There wasn’t even a second to react as his arm clamped around my waist, and he hauled me back against him. His other hand remained where it was, between my breasts. The contact of his body against mine, the feel of it, sent a wave of revulsion through me. “Do you remember your last lesson?” His breath was icy against my skin just below the veil. “I can’t imagine you’ve forgotten.” I hadn’t forgotten a single one. “You didn’t make a sound, and I know it had to hurt.” His grip tightened on my waist, and even in my all-too-limited knowledge of things, I knew what I felt against me. “Admittedly, you’ve impressed.” “Thrilled to hear that,” I gritted out. “Ah, there it is,” he murmured. “There’s that tone unbecoming of the Maiden. The very same one that has gotten you into trouble a time or two—or a dozen. I was wondering when it would make an appearance. I’m sure you also remember what happened the last time it came out.” Of course, I remembered that, too. My temper had gotten the best of me. I’d snapped back at the Duke, and he’d struck me hard enough that I’d lost consciousness. I came to, only to feel like I’d been run over by a horse and finding the Duke and the Lord sprawled out on the settee, both appearing to have drunk a bottle’s worth of whiskey while I lay on the floor. For days, I’d felt like I’d come down with the flu. I imagine I had a bit of a concussion. Still, seeing the shock widen the Duke’s otherwise emotionless gaze had been worth it. “Perhaps I will go to the Duke myself,” he mused. “Tell him how disrespectful you’ve been.” Fury boiled my blood as I stared at the gray stones of the wall. “Let me go, Lord Mazeen.” “You didn’t ask nicely enough.” His hips pressed against me, and my skin flushed with rage. “You didn’t say please.” There would be no way I’d say please. Consequences be damned, I’d had enough. I was not his toy. I was the Maiden, and while he was incredibly faster and stronger, I knew I could hurt him. I had the element of surprise on my side, and my legs were free. I widened my stance as I felt something damp and wet against my jaw— A scream tore through the alcove, startling the Lord enough that he loosened his hold. I tore free and spun to face him, my chest heaving as I slipped my hand through the slit in my gown, to the hilt of the dagger. The Lord muttered something under his breath as the screams came again, high-pitched, and full of terror. Taking advantage of the distraction, I darted out from behind the curtain instead of unsheathing the dagger and slicing off what I was sure was the Lord’s most prized possession. The Lord threw aside the curtains as he stormed out, but the screams were bringing others rushing into the banquet hall. Servants. Royal Guards. There was nothing more Lord Mazeen could do now. Through the veil, my gaze met his. I knew it. His nostrils flared. He knew it. The screams came again, ringing out from one of the nearby rooms, drawing my attention. Two doors down, the door was open. Rylan was at my side. “Pen—” I skirted his reach and headed toward the sound. What happened in that alcove with the Lord fell to the wayside as my fingers curled around the handle of my dagger. Screams were never a good sign. A woman rushed out—the servant who’d been carrying the basket. Her face leached of all color as her hand opened and closed against her throat. She backed away, shaking her head. I reached the room at the same time Rylan did and looked inside. I saw her immediately. She was lying on an ivory-colored settee, her pale blue gown wrinkled and bunched around her waist. One arm dangled limply off the side, her skin the shade of chalk. I didn’t have to open my senses to know she felt no pain. That she’d never feel anything again. I lifted my gaze. Her head rested against a pillow, neck twisted at an unnatural angle and— “You shouldn’t see this.” Rylan grabbed me, and this time, I didn’t move out of his reach. I didn’t stop him as he turned me away, but I already saw. I saw the deep puncture wounds. Chapter 6 Rylan promptly escorted me right back to my room while Lord Mazeen stood in the doorway, flanked by several others, his gaze fixed on the dead girl. I wanted to push him aside and close the door. Even if it weren’t for the state of her undress, with so much flesh exposed, it was a lack of dignity tossed aside for morbid curiosity. She was a person, and while what was left behind was nothing more than a shell, she was someone’s daughter, sister, friend. More than anything else, people would talk about how she was found, with the skirt of her gown shoved up, and the bodice gathered at the waist. No one else needed to bear witness. I hadn’t been given a chance, though. And now Castle Teerman was on virtual lockdown as each and every space in the one hundred plus rooms was searched for either the culprit or more victims. Pacing in front of the fireplace, Tawny worried the tiny pearl buttons of her bodice. “It was a Craven,” she said, the deep violet gown swishing about her legs. “It had to be a Craven.” I glanced over at Rylan, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Normally, he didn’t stay inside my room, but tonight was different. Vikter was assisting with the search, but I imagined he’d be back soon. With my veil removed, Rylan’s gaze met mine. He’d seen that girl. “Do you think it was a Craven?” Rylan said nothing. “What else could it have been?” Tawny turned to where I sat in the chair. “You said yourself she was bit—” “I said it looked like a bite, but it…it didn’t look like a Craven bite,” I told her. “I know you’ve seen what a Craven can do.” She sat across from me, her fingers still twisting the pearl just as Agnes had done to the button on her blouse. “But how can you be sure?” “The Craven have four elongated canines,” I explained, and she nodded. This was common knowledge. “But she only had two marks, as if…” “As if two sharp fangs had penetrated her throat,” Rylan finished. Tawny’s head whipped in his direction. “What if it was a cursed? Someone who hadn’t fully turned yet?” she asked. “Then it would look like either normal teeth marks or a bite from a Craven,” Rylan answered, shaking his head as he stared out the window toward the Rise. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” I had to agree with him. “She…she was pale, and it wasn’t just the shroud of death. It was like she had no blood in her, and even if it were a two-fanged Craven—” My nose scrunched. “It would’ve been…messier and not so precise. She looked like…” “Looked like what?” My gaze dropped to my hands as the image of the woman reappeared. She’d been with someone, willing or not, and as far as I knew, Craven weren’t interested in anything but blood. “It just looked like someone had been in that room with her.” Tawny sat back. “If it wasn’t a Craven, then who would do something like that?” There were many people in and out of the castle—servants, guards, visitors…the Ascended. But that didn’t make sense either. “That wound appeared to be right over her jugular. There should’ve been blood everywhere, and I didn’t even see a drop of it.” “That…that is more than just a little strange.” I nodded. “And her neck was clearly broken. I know of no Craven that would do that.” Tawny folded her arms around herself. “And I don’t want to know of any person capable of that.” Neither did I, but we all knew that people were capable of all manner of atrocities, and so were the Ascended. After all, they too had been mortal at one time, and the capability for cruelty seemed to be one of the few traits some carried over. My thoughts wandered to Lord Mazeen. He was cruel, a bully, and based on our latest interaction, I suspected that he could be much worse. But was he capable of what was done? I shuddered. Even if he were, why would he do it, and how? I didn’t have an answer for that. There was only one thing I could think of that could do that, but it seemed too unreal to believe. “Did you…did you recognize her?” Tawny asked softly. “I didn’t, but I have to think she was a Lady in Wait or perhaps a visitor based on her gown,” I told her. Tawny nodded silently, returning to twisting the pearl on her bodice. Silence crept into the space, and Vikter arrived not long after, stepping into the room to speak quietly to Rylan. I scooted to the edge of my seat when he stepped away from Rylan, sighing as he sat on the edge of the chest that rested at the foot of my bed. “Every inch of this castle was searched, and we found no other victims or Craven,” he said, leaning forward. “Commander Jansen believes the grounds are safe.” He paused, squinting as he lifted his gaze. “Relatively speaking, that is.” “Did you…did you see her?” I asked, and he nodded. “Do you think it was a Craven attack?” “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he replied, repeating what Rylan had said. “What would that even mean?” “I don’t know,” he stated, rubbing his hand against his forehead. My attention zeroed in on him, noting how he massaged the skin above his brow and how he’d squinted when he looked to where we sat near the oil lamps. Sometimes, Vikter got headaches. Not like the ones I got after opening up my senses or using my gifts too much, but far more severe, where light and sound made him nauseous and his head pulse. I opened up my senses and immediately felt the sharp pounding ache behind my eyes. I quickly severed the connection, and it was like visualizing a cord connecting me to him being snipped in two. The last thing I wanted was to end up with another throbbing headache keeping me up. “If it wasn’t a Craven, then are there any suspects?” Tawny asked. “The Duke believes it was the work of a Descenter.” “What?” I demanded as I rose. “Here? In the castle?” Tawny cried. “That is what he believes.” Vikter lifted his head as I walked over to him, his gaze wary. “And what do you believe?” Rylan asked from where he still stood by the door. “Because I’m unsure how a Descenter could’ve managed to inflict wounds like that without leaving blood.” “Agreed,” Vikter murmured, watching me. “There would be no way to clean something like that up, especially not when the victim had been seen less than an hour before.” “So, why would the Duke insist it was a Descenter?” Tawny queried. “He’s not unintelligent. He would have to realize that, too.” I casually placed my hand on the back of Vikter’s neck as I reached for a small fur quilt. His skin was warm and dry as I thought of the beaches and my mother’s laugh. I knew his pain was eased the moment he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m unsure why the Duke believes this, but he must have his reasons.” Vikter’s gaze was grateful as I slipped my hand away and walked back to the chair, placing the throw in my lap. Tawny looked over at me and then took a deep breath before she refocused on Vikter. “Do you know who she was?” Sitting straight, he was definitely more clear-eyed when he spoke again. “She was identified by one of the servants. The victim’s name was Malessa Axton.” The name was unfamiliar to me, but Tawny whispered, “Oh.” I twisted toward her. “Did you know her?” “Not well. I mean, I know of her.” She gave a small shake of her head, sending several curls free from her twist. “I think she came to Court around the same time as I did, but she was often with one of the Ladies who lives on Radiant Row. I think it’s Lady Isherwood,” she added. Radiant Row was the nickname given to the row of homes closest to the castle and to Wishers’ Grove park. Many of the opulent houses were owned by the Ascended. “She was so young.” Tawny lowered her hand to her lap. “And she had so much to look forward to.” I reached out with my senses and found that her sadness echoed my own. It wasn’t the deep pain of loss that came when it was someone you knew, but the sorrow that accompanied any death, especially such a senseless one. Rylan asked Vikter to step outside. After a few moments, Tawny excused herself to return to her room. I managed to stop myself from touching her. I knew if I did, I would take her pain, even though I’d done it before without her realizing. I ended up at the window, staring at the steady glow of the torches beyond the Rise when Vikter reentered. “Thank you,” he said as he joined me by the window. “The ache in my head was starting to get the best of me.” “Glad I could help.” “You didn’t have to. I have the powder the Healer made for me.” “I know, but I’m sure my gift brought you much faster relief without the dizziness and sleepiness,” I said. Those were only two of the many side effects that brownish-white powder often caused. “That is true.” Vikter fell quiet for several moments, and I knew his thoughts were as troubled as mine. I had a hard time believing that it had been a Descenter, even though I imagined something like an ice pick could’ve made those wounds. However, the possibility of stabbing someone in the jugular and not getting blood everywhere seemed very unlikely, but even more baffling was the motive. What did creating those types of wounds indicate that was of any benefit to their cause? Because the only thing I knew that could make those kinds of wounds went against everything the Descenters believed in. “Rylan spoke to me.” I looked over at Vikter with raised brows. “Yes?” His sea-colored gaze flickered over my face. “Rylan told me about Lord Mazeen.” My stomach sank as I looked away. It wasn’t as if I had forgotten my run-in with the Lord, but it simply wasn’t the most concerning or traumatic thing to have happened in the last couple of hours. “Did he do anything, Poppy?” he asked. A suffocating, stinging heat crept into my face, and I pressed my cheek to the windowpane. I didn’t want to think about this. I never did. Nausea churned, and there was this…weird embarrassment that made my skin feel sticky and dirty. I didn’t understand why I felt that way. I knew I’d done nothing to gain the Lord’s attention, and even if I had, he was still in the wrong. But when I thought about how he felt entitled to touch me, I wanted to scratch at my own skin. And I didn’t want to think about how I’d been grateful for the servant’s screams, having no idea what the cause had been. I pushed all of that aside so it could later come to the forefront, most likely when I was trying to sleep. “He did nothing other than be an annoyance.” “Truthfully?” I nodded, although that seemed a little too far from the truth, but I was okay with lying. What could Vikter do with the truth? Nothing. He was smart enough to know that. A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “He needs to leave you alone.” “Agreed, but I’m able to handle him.” Kind of. I didn’t really want to think about how close I came to doing something utterly unforgivable. If I had unsheathed my dagger and used it, there would have been no hope for me. But, gods, I wouldn’t have felt a drop of guilt over it. “You shouldn’t have to,” Vikter replied. “And he should know better.” “He should, and I think he does, but I don’t believe he cares,” I admitted, turning so I rested against the ledge of the window. “You know I saw her in that room. I saw how she was…left. It made me think that she was with someone, either willingly or not.” He nodded. “The Healer who looked at her body believed there had been some level of physical relations before her death, but he didn’t find any signs that she had been fighting. No dried blood or skin under her nails, but no one can be sure.” I pressed my lips together. “I was thinking that it wouldn’t make sense for a Descenter to leave wounds like that, even if they were able to do it without it being…messy. What kind of message does that even send? Because the only thing that can do what was done to her is…” Vikter’s gaze met mine. “An Atlantian.” Relieved that he said it and not me, I nodded. “The Duke has to know that. Anyone who saw those wounds would have to think that and question why a Descenter would mimic something that could easily be attributed to an Atlantian.” “That’s why I don’t think it was a Descenter,” he said, and pressure clamped down on my chest. “I think it was an Atlantian.” A Descenter moving freely through Castle Teerman was concerning, but the possibility of an Atlantian being able to gain access without anyone being the wiser was something truly terrifying. I wanted to find something that would provide some sort of evidence that Vikter and I were being paranoid, so at the crack of dawn, when the castle was at its quietest, and Rylan guarded the room outside, I snuck down to the main floor and past the eerily quiet kitchen. Once the sun rose, I didn’t have to worry about running into Lord Mazeen or any Ascended. Entering the banquet hall, I headed to the left, to the second door, where I often met with Priestess Analia for my weekly lessons. As I stepped inside, I glanced across the dimly lit hall to the room where Malessa had been found. The door was closed. Tearing my gaze from it, I quietly shut the door and hurried over to the bare wooden chair, spying the book I never foresaw myself reading of my own volition. Mainly because it seemed as if I’d read The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis about a million times. I carried it over to the lone window and quickly cracked it open, holding it in the faint beam of sunlight. I carefully thumbed through the thin pages, knowing if I were to tear one, Priestess Analia would be most displeased. I found the section I was looking for. It was only a handful of paragraphs that described what Atlantians looked like, their traits, and what they were capable of. Unfortunately, all it did was confirm what I already knew. I’d never actually seen an Atlantian—at least, I didn’t think I had, and that was the problem. Atlantians looked like mortals. Even the extinct wolven, who had once lived alongside the Atlantians in Atlantia, could easily be mistaken for mortals, even though they had never been. The Atlantians’ ability to blend in with the populace they were known to subjugate and hunt made them deadly, expert predators. One could walk right past me, and I wouldn’t know. Neither would the Ascended. For some reason, the gods hadn’t taken any of that into consideration when they initiated the Blessing. Scanning the paragraphs, one word stood out, causing my stomach to dip. Fangs. Although I knew what it would say, I read the sentences anyway. Between year 19 and 21, those of blooded Atlantian descent leave the vulnerable state of immaturity, wherein the ill-spirits in their blood become active. Noted during this period is a disturbing increase in strength, and the ability to recover from most mortal wounds as they continue to mature. It is also to be noted that before the War of Two Kings and the extinction of the wolven, a bonding ritual was performed between an Atlantian of a certain class and a wolven. Not much is known is about this bond, but it is believed that the wolven in question was duty-bound to protect the Atlantian. For a true Atlantian, two upper canines will form fangs, becoming elongated and sharpened, but they will not be overly noticeable to the untrained eye. I thought of the two puncture wounds on Malessa’s neck. An Atlantian’s fangs may not be as overgrown and noticeable as a Craven’s, but the Duke could order the mouths of everyone in the castle to be checked. Admittedly, that would be invasive. I kept reading. Upon the appearance of fangs, the next phase of their maturity begins, wherein they begin to thirst. As long as their unnatural demands are met, their aging slows dramatically. It is believed that a year to mortals is equivalent to three decades to an Atlantian. The oldest known Atlantian was Cillian Da’Lahon, who saw 2,702 calendar years before his death. Meaning that an Atlantian could appear to be in their twenties, but in reality, they would be over a hundred years old, possibly even closer to two hundred or more. But they still aged, unlike the Ascended, those Blessed by the gods, who stopped at whatever age they were when they received the Blessing. Only the oldest of the Ascended appeared older than someone in their thirties, and they could live for an eternity. However, both the Atlantians and Ascended still lived an unfathomable amount of time, the closest thing to immortality—to the gods. I couldn’t even fathom living that long. I gave a little shake of my head and kept reading. At this time, the Atlantians are capable of passing on the ill-spirits in their blood to mortals, creating a violent and destructive creature known as a Craven, who share some of the physical traits of their creators. This curse is passed through a poisonous kiss… A poisonous kiss wasn’t referencing two lips coming into contact with one another. The Atlantians did what the Craven did, albeit not as…messily. Atlantians bit and drank the blood of mortals, something they had to do to survive. Their enormous lifespans, strength, and healing abilities all stemmed from feeding off mortals, their primary food source. I shuddered. It had to be an Atlantian that had bit and fed from Malessa, which explained how there was no apparent bloodshed, and why she had looked so incredibly pale. What it didn’t explain was why the Atlantian had then snapped her neck, effectively killing her before the curse could spread. Why wouldn’t the Atlantian allow her to turn? Then again, the bite wasn’t exactly in a place that could easily be hidden. The bite itself was the warning to all who saw it. An Atlantian was deep within our midst. Closing the book, I carefully placed it back on the stool, thinking about how my Ascension would occur on my nineteenth birthday and how the Atlantians reached a certain majority around that age. It wasn’t exactly surprising. After all, our gods had been their gods at one time. But the gods no longer supported the Atlantians. Making my way out of the room, I started for the kitchens when my gaze landed on the room Malessa had been found in. I needed to go back to my chambers before the staff became active, but that wasn’t what I did. I crossed the space and went to the door, finding it unlocked when I turned the handle. Before I could really think about what I was doing and where I was, I slipped inside, grateful that the wall sconces cast a soft glow throughout the room. The settee was gone, the space bare. Accent chairs remained, as did the round coffee table with some sort of floral arrangement neatly placed in the center. I crept forward, unsure of what I was even looking for, and wondering if I’d even know if I found it. Other than the missing furniture, nothing seemed out of place, but the room felt oddly cold, as if a window had been open, but there were no windows on this side of the banquet hall. What had Malessa been doing in here? Reading a book or waiting for one of the other Ladies in Wait or perhaps Lady Isherwood? Or had she snuck in here to meet with someone she trusted? Had she been blindsided by the attack? A shiver danced down my spine. I wasn’t sure what was worse—being betrayed or blindsided. Actually, I did know. Being betrayed would be worse. I stepped forward, stopping short as I glanced down. Something was behind the leg of one of the chairs. Bending down, I reached under the chair and picked up the object. My head tilted as I ran a thumb over the smooth, soft white surface. It was…a petal. My brows knitted as the scent reached me. Jasmine. For some reason, my stomach roiled, which was odd. I normally liked the smell. Rising, I looked to the vase and found the source. Several white lilies were spaced throughout the arrangement. No jasmine. Frowning, I looked down at the petal. Where did this come from? I shook my head as I walked over to the bouquet, placing the petal in with the rest of the flowers as I gave the room one last look. There was no blood on the cream carpet, something that would’ve definitely stained if it had spilled. I had no idea what I was doing. If evidence had been found, it had been removed, and even if it hadn’t been, I didn’t have experience in this. I just wanted to be able to do something or to find anything that would put our worst fears to rest. But there was nothing to be done or found here other than what was most likely reality, and what did I believe about truth? That it often could be terrifying, yes. But with truth came power. And I was never one to hide from the truth. I’d made it back my room that morning without any issues and ended up remaining in it the entire day, which wasn’t exactly all that different from any other day. Tawny had stopped by briefly, until one of the Mistresses summoned her. No one was sequestered, but I thought that the attack would at least slow down the preparations for the Rite. Obviously, that was a silly thought. I doubted the Earth shaking would get in the way of the Rite. I spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened to Malessa. And the more I thought about why the Duke would lie about the attacker being a Descenter, the more it started to make sense. Just like Phillips, the guard from the Rise, hadn’t wanted to talk about Finley’s death to stop panic and fear from taking root and spreading. But it didn’t explain why the Duke wasn’t being honest with the Royal Guard. If there was an Atlantian among us, the guards needed to be prepared. Because while the Ascended were powerful and strong, the Atlantians were too, if not more. Shortly before dusk, Rylan knocked on my door. “You want to try for the garden? I thought I would ask.” “I don’t know.” I glanced at the windows. “You think it will be okay?” Rylan nodded. “I do.” I really could use the fresh air and time away from my own thoughts. It just seemed… I wasn’t sure. As if it weren’t even twenty-four hours after Malessa had been killed, yet it was like any other evening. “You don’t have to stay in here,” Rylan said, and I glanced back to him. “Not unless that’s what you want to do. What happened last night, with the poor girl and with the Lord, has nothing to do with what you find joy in.” A small smile tugged at my lips. “And you’re probably tired of standing in the hall.” Rylan chuckled. “Possibly.” I grinned as I stepped back. “Let me get my veil.” It took only a few minutes for me to don the headdress and become ready. This time, there were no interruptions as we made our way to the garden. However, there were servants who did the stop-and-stare thing, but as I continued down the path of one of my favorite places on the grounds of the castle, my worries and obsessive thoughts slipped away like they always did. While I was in the sprawling garden, my mind calmed, and everything and anything ceased to nibble away at me. I wasn’t thinking about Malessa and the Atlantian who’d gained access to the castle. I wasn’t haunted by the image of Agnes holding her husband’s limp hand or what had happened in the Red Pearl with Hawke. I wasn’t even thinking about the upcoming Ascension and what Vikter had said. In the Queen’s Garden, I was simply…present instead of being caught up in the past or the future full of what-ifs. I wasn’t sure why the gardens were called what they were. As far as I knew, it had been a very long time since the Queen had been to Masadonia, but I guessed the Duke and Duchess had named it after her as some sort of homage. Never once while I lived with the Queen had I seen her step foot in the lush gardens of the palace. I glanced over at Rylan. Normally, the only threat he may face was an unexpected rain shower, but tonight, he was more alert than I’d ever seen him in the garden. His gaze continuously scanned the numerous pathways. I used to think these trips bored him, but never once had he complained. Vikter, on the other hand, would’ve grumbled about literally anything else we could’ve been doing. Come to think of it, Rylan might actually enjoy these outings, and not just because he wasn’t standing in the hall outside my room. A cool wind whipped through the garden, stirring the many leaves and lifting the edge of my veil. I wished I could remove the headdress. It was transparent enough for me to see, but it did make traveling at dusk and beyond in low-lit places a bit difficult. I made my way past a large water fountain that featured a marble and limestone statue of a veiled Maiden. Water poured endlessly from the pitcher she held, the sound reminding me of the rolling waves, crashing in and out of the coves of the Stroud Sea. Many coins shimmered under the water, a token to the gods in hopes that whatever the wisher wanted would be granted. I neared the outer most parts, which fed into a small but thick outcropping of jacaranda trees that camouflaged the inner walls that kept Castle Teerman separated from the rest of the city. The trees were tall, reaching over fifty feet, and in Masadonia, bold, lavender-colored, trumpet-shaped flowers blossomed all year round. Only during the coldest months, when snow threatened, did the leaves fall, blanketing the ground in a sea of purple. They were breathtaking, but I appreciated them not just for their beauty but also for what they provided. The jacaranda trees hid the crumbling section of the wall that Vikter and I often used to leave the grounds unseen in order to access Wisher’s Grove. I stopped in front of the mass of intertwined vines that crawled up and over interlocking wooden trellises as wide as the jacaranda trees were tall. Glancing up at the rapidly darkening sky, I then fixed my gaze ahead. Rylan came to stand behind me. “We made it in time.” The corners of my lips tilted up before my grin faded. “We did tonight.” Only a few moments passed, and then the sun conceded defeat to the moon. The last rays of sunlight pulled away from the vines. Hundreds of buds scattered over the vines trembled and then slowly peeled open, revealing lush petals the shade of a starless midnight. Night-blooming roses. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the faintly sweet aroma. They were at their most fragrant upon opening and then again at dawn. “They are quite beautiful,” Rylan commented. “They remind me—” His words ended in a strangled grunt. Eyes flying open, I spun around, and a scream of horror knotted in my throat as Rylan staggered backward, an arrow protruding from his chest. A look of disbelief marked his features as he lifted his chin. “Run,” he gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. “Run.” Chapter 7 “Rylan!” I rushed to his side, throwing an arm around him as his legs crumpled. His weight was too much, and when he fell, I went down with him, my knees cracking as they hit the pathway. The impact didn’t register as I pressed my hands around Rylan’s wound, trying to stanch the flow of blood. I opened my senses to him, expecting to feel pain. “Rylan—” Whatever words I was about to say died on my tongue, tasting of ash. I…I felt nothing, and that wasn’t right. He’d have to be in so much pain, and I could help that. I could take his pain, but I felt nothing, and when I looked at his face, I didn’t want to see what I saw. His eyes were open, gaze fixed yet unseeing on the sky above. I shook my head, but under my hands, his chest didn’t move. “No,” I whispered, blood turning to ice and slush. “Rylan!” There was no answer, no response. Underneath him, a pool of blood spread across the walkway, seeping into the symbols etched into the stone. A circle with an arrow piercing the center. Infinity. Power. The Royal Crest. I pressed down on his chest, my trembling hands soaked with blood, refusing to believe— A footstep echoed like thunder behind me. I twisted at the waist. A man stood a few feet from me, a bow at his side. A hooded cloak shielded his face. “You’re going to do as I say, Maiden,” the man spoke in a voice that sounded like churning gravel. “And then, no one will be hurt.” “No one?” I gasped. “Well, no one else will be hurt,” he amended. I stared up at the man, and…and Rylan’s chest still didn’t move under my palms. In the back of my mind, I knew it would never rise again. He’d been dead before he even hit the ground. He was gone. Pain, so sharp and so real, cut through me. Something hot hit my veins and poured into my chest, filling up the empty space. My hands stopped trembling. The grip of panic and shock lessened, replaced by rage. “Stand,” he ordered. I rose carefully, aware of how my gown, tacky with Rylan’s blood, stuck to the knees of my thin leggings underneath. My heart slowed as my hand slipped into the slit along the gown’s side. Was this the same person who’d killed Malessa? If so, he was an Atlantian, and I’d have to be quick if I had any hope. “We’re going to walk out of here,” he said. “You’re not going to make a sound, and you’re not going to give me any trouble, are you, Maiden?” My fingers closed around the smooth, cool handle of the dagger. I shook my head no. “Good.” He took a step toward me. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, but if you give me any reason, I will not hesitate.” I remained completely still, the heat of my fury building in me, brimming to the surface. Rylan had died because of me. That was his duty as my personal guard, but he was dead because this man thought he could take me. Malessa had possibly been assaulted and then murdered, and for what? If he was an Atlantian or a Descenter, he wouldn’t use me for ransom. I’d be used to send a message, just like the three Ascended who had been kidnapped from Three Rivers. They were returned in pieces. At the moment, I didn’t care what the man’s agenda was. All that mattered was that he’d killed Rylan, who found the night-blooming roses just as beautiful as I did. And he might’ve been the one to kill Malessa, leaving her body on display in such a careless, disrespectful way. “This is good,” he cajoled. “You’re behaving. That’s smart of you. Keep being smart, and this will be painless for you.” He reached for me— Unsheathing the dagger, I shot forward, dipping under his arm. “What the—?” I sprung up behind him, fisting the back of the man’s cloak. I thrust the dagger into his back, aiming where Vikter had taught me. The heart. Even caught off guard, he was quick, lurching to the side, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the dagger altogether. Hot blood gushed as the blade sank deep into his side, missing his heart by mere centimeters. He yelped in pain, the sound reminding me of a dog. Jerking the dagger out, a vastly different sound tore from his throat. A rumbling growl that raised the tiny hairs on my body and kicked my instinct into overdrive. That was such an…inhuman sound. My grip on the dagger tightened as I moved to shove it deep into his back once more. He swung around, and I didn’t see his fist until pain exploded along my jaw and at the corner of my mouth, affecting my aim. I tasted something metallic. Blood. The dagger sliced into his side, cutting deep, but not deep enough. “Bitch,” he grunted, slamming his fist into the side of my head this time. The blow was sudden, stunning. Staggering back, lights danced across my eyes as the corners of my vision turned dark. I almost went down, managing to stay on my feet by sheer will alone. If I fell, I knew I wasn’t getting back up. Vikter had also taught me that. Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear the lights from my vision as the man whirled on me. The hood of his cloak had fallen back. He was young, probably only a handful of years older than I, and his dark hair was shaggy. He pressed his hand to his side. Blood seeped out between his fingers. It was coming out of him fast. I must’ve hit something vital. Good. His lips peeled back in a feral snarl as his gaze lifted to mine. Even in the moonlight, I could see his eyes. They were the color of frosted water. A pale, luminous blue. “You will pay for that,” he growled, voice even more abrasive, as if his throat were filling with pebbles. I braced myself, instinct telling me that if I ran, he would give chase like any predator would. And if I got close again, my aim had better not be off. “Take one more step toward me, and I won’t miss your heart a third time.” He laughed, and a chill swept through me. It sounded too deep, too changed. “I’m going to enjoy tearing your skin off your weak, fragile bones. I don’t care what he has planned for you. I will bathe in your blood and feast on your entrails.” Fear threatened to take root, but I couldn’t cave to it. “That sounds delightful.” “Oh, it will be.” He smiled then, teeth smeared with blood, and he took a step toward me. “Your screams—” A sharp, piercing whistle came from somewhere deep in the trees, silencing him. He stopped, his nostrils flaring. The sound came again, and he seemed to vibrate with rage. The skin around his mouth went white as he took a step back. My grip was steady on the dagger, but a tremor started in my legs as I watched him, refusing to blink. He picked up the fallen bow, wincing as he straightened. His gaze met mine once more. “I’ll be seeing you again real soon.” “Can’t wait,” I gritted out. He smirked. “I promise I’ll make damn sure that smart mouth of yours is rewarded.” I doubted it was the kind of reward I’d be eager to receive. Backing up until he was beyond the roses, he spun around and loped off, quickly disappearing in the heavy shadows that gathered under the trees. I stayed where I stood, breaths coming out in short, quick bursts, ready in case this was some trick where he waited for me to turn my back. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, but the tremors had spread to my hand by the time I realized that he wasn’t coming back. Slowly, I lowered the dagger, my gaze snagging on the spattering of blood where he’d stood. Another short breath left me as I lifted my gaze to the roses. Drops of blood glimmered on the onyx-hued petals. A shudder racked me from head to toe. I forced my body to turn around. Rylan remained where he’d fallen, arms lax at his sides and eyes dull. I opened my mouth to speak, but there were no words, and I had no idea what I would’ve said anyway. I looked down at my dagger, and I felt a scream building in my throat, clawing at me. Get it together. Get it together. I had to find someone to help Rylan. He shouldn’t lay out here like this, and they couldn’t see me with a bloodied dagger. They couldn’t know that I’d fought the attacker off. My lips trembled as I pressed them together. Get it together. Then, like a switch had been thrown, the shaking stopped, and my heart slowed. I still couldn’t take in a deep enough breath, but I walked forward, dipping down and wiping the blade on Rylan’s breeches. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my actions causing guilt to make my skin crawl, but it had to be done. Head and face throbbing, I sheathed the dagger. “I’m going to get someone for you.” There was no answer. There never would be. I started walking the path without realizing what I was doing. A numbness had invaded my body, seeping in through my pores and settling in my muscles. The lights from the castle windows guided me forward as I edged around the water fountain, coming to a sudden stop. Footsteps sounded ahead of me. My hand slipped to the dagger, fingers curled around— “Maiden? We heard shouting,” a voice called out. It was a Royal Guard who’d often kept watch over the Ladies and Lords in Wait. His eyes widened upon seeing me. “Is that—good gods, what happened to you?” I went to answer, but I couldn’t get my tongue to form words. Another guard cursed, and then there was a taller form with golden hair brushing past the two guards, his weathered face stoic. Vikter. His gaze swept over me, lingering on my knees and hands, and then the unveiled part of my face. “Are you hurt?” He grasped my shoulders, his grip gentle, and his voice even more so. “Poppy, are you injured?” “It’s Rylan. He’s…” I stared up at Vikter, suddenly stopping as what Hawke had said about death surfacing without warning. It was something I’d already known, but it still managed to shock me. Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. Death had indeed paid an unexpected visit. “How did this happen?” Duchess Teerman demanded. The jeweled flower securing her brown hair glittered under the chandelier as she paced the room usually reserved for greeting guests. “How did someone get into the garden and come that close to taking her?” Probably the same way someone got into the castle and killed the Lady in Wait the day before. “The others are scouting the inner wall as we speak,” Vikter said instead. He stood behind where I sat perched on the edge of the velvet settee, half afraid that I would get blood on the golden cushions. “But I imagine the culprit came through the section that has been damaged by the jacaranda trees.” The very same section Vikter and I used to leave the castle grounds unnoticed. The Duchess’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “I want them all torn down,” she ordered. I gasped. “Sorry, my lady,” the Healer murmured, dabbing a damp cloth under my lip and then handing the material to Tawny, who provided him with a clean one. She’d been summoned as soon as I’d been placed in the sitting room. “It’s fine,” I assured the silver-haired man. What had caused the reaction wasn’t what the Healer had been doing. Granted, the astringent stung, but it was what Duchess Teerman had demanded. “Those trees have been here for hundreds of years— “And they have lived a long, healthy life.” The Duchess turned to me. “You have not, Penellaphe.” She strode toward me, the skirt of her crimson gown gathering around her ankles, reminding me of the blood that had pooled around Rylan. I wanted to pull away but didn’t wish to cause offense. “If this man had not been scared off, he would’ve taken you, and the last thing you would’ve been worried about is those trees.” She had a point there. Only Vikter knew what had happened—that I had managed to wound the man before he’d been signaled off. While the details couldn’t be shared because we’d run the risk of exposure, Vikter would notify the Healers in the city to keep an eye out for anyone wounded in such a manner. But the trees… They may have caused the deterioration of the wall, but it had been like that for as long as I could remember. There was no doubt in my mind that the Duke and Duchess knew about the wall and simply hadn’t ordered it repaired. “How badly is she injured?” she asked the Healer. “Superficial wounds, Your Grace. She’ll have a few bruises and some discomfort, but nothing lasting.” The old Healer’s long, dark coat hung from his stooped shoulders as he rose on stiff, creaking joints. “You’re incredibly lucky, young Maiden.” I wasn’t lucky. I had been prepared. And that was why I sat here only with an aching temple and a sore lip. But I nodded. “Thank you for your assistance.” “Can you give her something for the pain?” the Duchess asked. “Yes. Of course.” He shuffled over to where his leather satchel sat on a small table. “I have the perfect thing.” Rooting around until he found what he was looking for, he revealed a vial of pinkish-white powder. “This will help with any pain but will also make her drowsy. It has a wee bit of a sedating effect.” I had absolutely no intention of taking whatever was in that vial, but it was handed over to Tawny, who slipped it into the pocket of her gown. Once the Healer had left, the Duchess turned to where I still sat. “Let me see your face.” Exhaling wearily, I reached for the chains, but Tawny moved to my side. “Allow me,” she murmured. I started to stop her, but my gaze caught on my hands. They’d been wiped as soon as I was placed in the sitting room, but blood had made its way under my nails, and flakes of it still dotted my fingers. Was Rylan’s body still in the courtyard by the roses? Malessa’s body had been in that room for hours and then removed. I wondered if she had been returned to her family, or if her body had been burned out of precaution. Tawny unhooked the veil, carefully removing it so it didn’t tangle in the strands of hair that had escaped the knot I’d gathered it into that morning. Duchess Teerman knelt before me, her cool fingers grazing the skin around my lips and then my right temple. “What were you doing out in the garden?” “I was looking at the roses. I do so nearly every night.” I glanced up. “Rylan always goes with me. He didn’t—” I cleared my throat. “He didn’t even see the attacker. The arrow struck him in the chest before he was even aware that anyone was there.” Her bottomless eyes searched mine. “It sounds like he wasn’t as alert as he should have been. He never should’ve been caught off guard.” “Rylan was very skilled,” I said. “The man was hidden—” “Your guard was so skilled that he was felled by an arrow?” she asked softly. “Was this man part ghost that he made no sound? Gave no warning?” My back stiffened as I thought of the sound the man had made and how it hadn’t resembled anything human. “Rylan was alert, Your Grace—” “What have I told you?” Her delicately arched brows lifted. Struggling for patience, I took a shallow breath. “Rylan was alert, Jacinda,” I amended, using her first name. She sporadically required this, and I never knew when she would want me to use the name or not. “The man…he was quiet, and Rylan—” “Was unprepared,” Vikter finished for me. My head cranked around so fast it sent a flare of pain across my temple. Disbelief seized me. Vikter’s blue eyes met mine. “He enjoyed your evening strolls in the garden. He never thought there would be a threat, and unfortunately, became too complacent. Last night should’ve changed that.” Last night had changed that. Rylan had been scanning the grounds constantly. My shoulders slumped, and then my brain switched gears. Ian. “Please don’t say anything to my brother.” My gaze swung between the Duchess and Vikter. “I don’t want him to worry, and he will even though I’m fine.” “I will need to inform the Queen of what has happened, Penellaphe. You know this,” she replied. “And I cannot control who she tells. If she feels Ian needs to know, she will tell him.” I sank further into myself. Her cool fingertips touched my cheek, my left one. I turned back to her. “Do you understand how important you are, Penellaphe? You are the Maiden. You were Chosen by the gods. Ascensions of hundreds of Ladies and Lords in Wait, all across the kingdom, are all tied to yours. It will be the largest Ascension since the first Blessing. Rylan and all the Royal Guards know what is at stake if something were to happen to you.” I liked the Duchess. She was kind, nothing like her husband, and for a tiny moment there, I thought she was actually worried about me as a person, but it was what I signified that concerned her the most. What would be lost if something were to happen to me. It wasn’t just my life, but the future of hundreds of those who were about to Ascend. The worst part was the twinge of sadness when I should’ve known better. “If the Descenters were to somehow stop that Ascension, it would be their greatest triumph.” She rose, smoothing her hands over her gown. “It would be such a cruel strike against our Queen and King and the gods.” “You…you think he was a Descenter, then?” Tawny asked. “That he wasn’t trying to take her for ransom?” “The arrow used on Rylan was marked,” Vikter answered. “It carried the Dark One’s promise.” His promise. Air lodged in my throat as my gaze swung to Tawny’s. I knew what that meant. From Blood and Ash We Shall Rise. It was his promise to his people and his supporters, to those scattered across the kingdom, that they would rise once more. A promise that had been scrawled across vandalized storefronts in every city and had been carved into the stone shell of what had remained of Goldcrest Manor. “I must be blunt with you,” the Duchess said, glancing toward Tawny. “And I trust that what I’m about to say won’t become whispers on the lips of others.” “Of course,” Tawny promised as I nodded. “There is…reason to believe that the assailant from last night was an Atlantian,” she said, and Tawny sucked in a sharp breath. I had no reaction to the news since Vikter and I had already suspected as much. “It’s not news we want spread widely. The kind of panic that could cause…well, it would do none of us any favors.” I glanced at Vikter and found him watching the Duchess closely. “You think that was who came for me tonight? The same man responsible for Malessa’s death?” “I cannot say if it was the same man, but we do believe the one responsible for the disgraceful treatment of our Lady in Wait was a part of a group that visited yesterday,” she explained, walking toward the credenza along the back wall. She poured herself a clear drink from the glass decanter. “After the castle was checked for any persons who didn’t belong, we believed that the perpetrator had left, and that the act was to show how easy it was for them to gain access. We believed that the immediate threat had passed.” She took a sip of her drink, her lips twitching as she swallowed. “Obviously, we were wrong. They may no longer be in the castle, but they are in the city.” She faced me, her already alabaster skin even paler. “The Dark One has come for you, Penellaphe.” I shuddered as my heart skipped a beat. “We will protect you,” she continued. “But I would not be surprised if once the King and Queen learn of what has happened, they take drastic steps to ensure your safety. They could summon you to the capital.” Chapter 8 “I don’t think the man I saw in the garden was the Dark One,” I said to Vikter as we made our way from the sitting room, passing under the large, white banners embossed with the Royal Crest in gold. He was escorting Tawny and me back to my room. “When he said he was basically going to feast on my body parts, he referenced someone else, saying he didn’t care what he had planned. If the Dark One is behind this, I imagine the one with the plans would be him.” “I suspect whoever was in the garden was a Descenter,” Vikter admitted, hand on the hilt of his short sword as he scanned the wide hall as if Descenters lurked behind the potted lilies and statues. Several Ladies in Wait stood together, their voices quieting as we passed. A few placed their hands over their mouths. If they hadn’t heard what had happened, they now knew something else had occurred based on the amount of blood that stained my gown. “We should’ve gone the old way,” I muttered. It was rare that any of them ever saw me, and to see me like this would be the gossip of the week. “Ignore them.” Tawny shifted so she blocked most of me from view as we crossed the hall. She still carried with her the white vial that she knew I had no plans to use. “It may be good for them to see.” Vikter decided after a moment. “What happened last night and just now could serve as a timely reminder that we are in a time of unrest. We all should be on guard. No one is truly safe.” A shiver tiptoed its way down my spine. The numbness was still there, and all of this felt surreal until I thought of Rylan. My chest ached worse than my bruised jaw and temple. “When will…when will Rylan be put to rest?” “Most likely in the morning.” Vikter glanced down at me. “You know you cannot go.” The Ascended, as well as the Lords and Ladies in Wait, were not expected to attend the funeral of a guard. In fact, it was simply not done. “He was my personal guard, and he was…he was a friend. I don’t care what’s done and not done. I didn’t attend Hannes’ funeral because of protocol, and I wanted to be there.” The guilt from that still ate at me, usually at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. “I want to be there for Rylan.” Tawny appeared as if she wished to argue the point but knew better. Vikter simply sighed. “You know His Grace will not approve.” “He rarely approves of anything. This can be another thing he can add to his ever-growing list that contains all the ways I’ve disappointed him.” “Poppy,” Vikter warned, his jaw tightening, reminding me of our argument last night. “You may continue to act as if angering the Duke is no big deal, but you know that will not lessen the weight of his anger.” Did I ever, but that knowledge didn’t change anything. I was more than willing to deal with whatever consequences arose, just as I was when it came to me aiding those who’d been infected by the Craven. “I don’t care. Rylan died right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do. I wiped—” My voice cracked. “I wiped my blade on his clothing.” Vikter stopped as we entered the foyer, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You did all that you could.” He squeezed gently. “You did what you needed to do. You’re not responsible for his death. He was doing his duty, Poppy. The same as if I were to die defending you.” My heart stopped. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. You won’t die.” “But I will die someday. I may get lucky, and the god Rhain will come for me in my sleep, but it may be by the sword or by the arrow.” His eyes met mine, even through the veil, and a knot lodged in my throat. “No matter how or when it happens, it will not be your fault, Poppy. And you will not waste one moment on guilt.” Tears blurred his features. I couldn’t even think of something happening to Vikter. Losing Hannes and now Rylan, both who weren’t nearly as close to me as Vikter, was hard enough. Other than Tawny, Vikter was the only person in my life who knew what kept me up at night and why I needed to feel like I could protect myself. He knew more than my own brother did. It would be like losing my parents all over again, but worse, because the memories of my mother and father, their faces and the sound of their voices, had faded with the passing of time. They were forever captured in the past, mere ghosts of who they once were, and Vikter was in the now, bright and in vivid detail. “Tell me you understand that.” His voice had softened. I didn’t, but I nodded nonetheless because that was what he needed to see. “Rylan was a good man.” His voice thickened, and for a moment, grief filled his gaze, proving that he wasn’t unaffected by Rylan’s death. He was just too skilled to show it. “I know it didn’t sound like I thought so when we were with Her Grace. I stand by what I said. Rylan grew too complacent, but that can happen to the best of us. He was a good guard, and he cared for you. He would not want you to feel guilt.” He squeezed my shoulder once more. “Come. You need to clean up.” The moment we reached my room, Vikter checked the space, assuring that the access to the old servants’ stairs was locked. It was more than just a little unsettling to think that he felt the need to check my suite, but I figured he was operating on the better-safe-than-sorry mindset. Before he left us, I recalled a part of what the Duchess had said. “The group the Duchess spoke about… Do you know who they are?” “I wasn’t aware of any group.” Vikter glanced at where Tawny was carrying an armful of fresh towels into the bathing chamber. He often spoke openly in front of her, but this…all of this felt different. “But I’m not kept up to date on the comings and goings, so it’s not exactly surprising.” “So, the Duke was just trying to avoid panic,” I surmised. “The Duchess has always been more forthcoming, but I imagine that he probably told the Commander the truth.” His jaw hardened. “I should’ve been told immediately.” He should’ve been, and it didn’t matter that he’d already suspected the truth. “Try to get some rest.” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” I nodded. A hot bath was quickly drawn, placed near the fireplace, and then Tawny took the soiled gown. I never wanted to see it again. I sank into the steaming water and set about scrubbing my hands and arms until they were pink with heat and friction. Without any warning, the image of Rylan appeared in my mind, the look of shock on his face as he stared down at his chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, I lowered myself more and let the water slip over my head. I stayed there until my lungs burned and I no longer saw Rylan’s face. Only then did I allow myself to resurface. There I stayed, bruised knees tucked to my chest, until my skin puckered, and the water began to cool. I rose from the soaking tub, pulling on a thick robe that Tawny had left on a nearby stool and padded on bare feet across the fire-warmed stone to the lone mirror. Using my palm to wipe away a bit of steam, I stared into my green eyes. My father had passed that color onto Ian and me. Our mother had brown eyes. I remembered that. The Queen had told me once that except for my eyes, I was a replica of my mother when she was my age. I had her strong brow and her oval-shaped face, angular cheekbones, and full mouth. I tilted my cheek. The faintly red and bruised skin along my temple and the corner of my mouth were barely noticeable. Whatever the Healer had rubbed onto the skin had greatly sped up the healing process. It had to be the same mixture I’d used to heal the welts that too often marked my back. I pushed that thought from my head as I looked at my left cheek. That too had healed but had left a mark behind. I didn’t look at the scars often, but I did now. I studied the jagged streak of skin, a pink paler than my skin tone, that started below the hairline and sliced across my temple, narrowly missing my left eye. The healed injury ended by my nose. Another shorter wound was higher up, cutting across my forehead and through my eyebrow. I lifted my damp fingers, pressing them to the longer scar. I’d always thought that my eyes and mouth seemed too large for my face, but the Queen had said that my mother had been considered a great beauty. Whenever Queen Ileana spoke of my mother, she did so with pained fondness. They’d been close, and I knew she regretted granting my mother the one thing she’d ever asked her for. Permission to refuse the Ascension. My mother had been a Lady in Wait, given to the Court during her Rite, but my father had not been a Lord. She had chosen my father over the Blessing of the gods, and that kind of love…it was, well, I didn’t have any experience with that. Probably never would, and I doubted most people did, no matter what their futures held. What my mom had done was unheard of. She’d been the first and the last to ever do so. Queen Ileana had said more than once that if my mother had Ascended, she might’ve survived that night, but that night may have never come. I wouldn’t be standing here. Neither would Ian. She wouldn’t have married our father, and if she had Ascended, she would bear no children. The Queen’s beliefs were irrelevant. But when the mist had come for us that night, if my parents had known how to defend themselves, both might still be alive. It was why I was standing here instead of the captive of a man determined to take down the Ascended and more than willing to shed blood to do so. If Malessa had known how to defend herself, her outcome may have still been the same, but she would’ve at least had a chance. My gaze once more met my reflection’s. The Dark One would not take me. That was a vow I would kill for and die to uphold. I lowered my hand and then slowly turned from the mirror. I changed into a gown, leaving a lamp burning beside the door and crawled into bed. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before a soft knock sounded on the adjoining door, and Tawny’s voice called out. I rolled toward the entrance. “I’m awake.” Tawny eased inside, shutting the door behind her. “I…I couldn’t sleep.” “I haven’t even tried yet,” I admitted. “I can go back to my room if you’re tired,” she offered. “You know I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon.” I patted the spot beside me. Hurrying across the short distance, she snatched the edge of the blanket and slipped under it. Shifting onto her side, she faced me. “I keep thinking about everything, and I wasn’t even there. I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head.” She paused. “Actually, probably something that involves bloody vengeance.” I grinned despite all that had happened. “That’s not entirely untrue.” “This is my shocked face,” she replied, and then her smile faded. “I keep thinking about how unreal all of this feels. First with Malessa, and now Rylan. I saw him just after supper. He was alive and well. I’d passed Malessa yesterday morning. She was smiling and looked happy, carrying a bouquet of flowers. It’s like…I can’t process that they’re gone. There one moment and not the next, without any warning.” Tawny was one of the few who hadn’t been intimately touched by death. Her parents and her older brother and sister were alive. Other than Hannes, no one she knew well or saw often had died. But even though I was too familiar with it, the death was still a shock, and like Hawke had also said, no less harsh or unforgiving. I swallowed. “I don’t know what it was like for Malessa.” What I did know was that it had to be terrifying, though saying that wouldn’t help matters. “But for Rylan, it was quick. Twenty or thirty seconds,” I said. “And then he was gone. There wasn’t a lot of pain, and what he did feel, it was over quickly.” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. “I liked him. He wasn’t as stern as Vikter or as standoffish as Hannes and the rest. You could talk to him.” “I know,” I whispered around the burn in my throat. Tawny was silent for several moments and then said, “The Dark One.” Her eyes opened. “He seemed more like a…” “A myth?” She nodded. “It’s not like I didn’t believe he was real. It’s just that he’s talked about like he’s the bogeyman.” She snuggled down, tucking the blanket to her chin. “What if that was the Dark One in the garden, and you managed to wound him?” “That would be…pretty amazing, and I would brag until the end of time to you and Vikter. But, like I said, I don’t think it was.” “Thank the gods you knew what to do.” She reached across the bed, finding my hand and squeezing it. “If not…” “I know.” In moments like this, it was hard to remember that duty bound us together, created our bond. I squeezed her hand back. “I’m just glad you weren’t with me.” “I would like to say I wished I was there so you didn’t have to face that alone, but in truth, I’m glad I wasn’t,” she admitted. “I would’ve been nothing more than a shrieking distraction.” “Not true. I’ve shown you how to use a dagger—” “Being shown the basics of how to use a blade and then using it on another living, breathing person are two very different things.” She pulled her hand back. “I would’ve definitely stood there and screamed. I’m not ashamed to admit that, and my screams probably would’ve brought the guards’ attention sooner.” “You would’ve defended yourself.” I totally believed that. “I’ve seen how vicious you get when there is only one sweet cake left.” The skin around her eyes crinkled as she laughed. “But that is a sweet cake. I would push the Duchess off a balcony to get to the last one.” A short laugh burst from me. Another quick grin appeared and then faded as she toyed with a loose thread on the blanket. “Do you think the King and Queen will summon you to the capital?” Muscles tensed along my shoulders. “I don’t know.” That wasn’t true. If they thought I was no longer safe in Masadonia, they would demand I return to the capital, almost a year ahead of my Ascension. But that wasn’t what caused the coldness in my chest to seep into every part of me. The Duchess had proven earlier that ensuring the Ascension wasn’t thwarted was the greatest concern. There was one way to ensure that. The Queen could petition the gods to move up the Ascension. Shortly after dawn, when the sun shone brighter than I remembered for a morning so close to winter, I stood beside Vikter. We were at the foot of the Undying Hills and below the Temples of Rhahar, the Eternal God, and Ione, the Goddess of Rebirth. The Temples loomed above us, each constructed from the blackest stone from the Far East and both as large as Castle Teerman, casting half the valley into shadows but not where we stood. It was as if the gods were shining light down on us. We were silent as we watched Rylan Keal’s linen-wrapped body be lifted onto the pyre. Vikter had been resigned when I joined him, not prepared to train but dressed in white and veiled. He knew he wasn’t going to talk me out of this and said nothing as we walked to where funerals for all those who resided in Masadonia were held. While my presence had drawn many shocked glances, no one had demanded to know why I was present as we made the trek to the pyre. And even if they had said anything, it wouldn’t have changed my decision. I owed it to Rylan to be here. Surrounded by members of the Royal Guard and the guards from the Rise, we stood near the back of the small crowd. I didn’t want to get closer out of respect for the guards. Rylan was my personal guard, he was a friend, but he was their brother, and his death affected them differently. As the white-robed High Priest spoke of Rylan’s strength and bravery, of the glory he would find in the company of the gods, of the eternal life that awaited him, the icy ache in my chest grew. Rylan looked so small on the pyre, as if he’d shrunken in size as the Priest sprinkled oil and salt over the body. A sweet scent filled the air. The Commander of the Royal Guard, Griffith Jansen, stepped forward, the white mantle draped from his shoulders rippling in the breeze as he carried forth the lone torch. Commander Jansen turned in our direction and waited. It took me a moment to realize why. Vikter. As the one who had worked the closest with Rylan, he would be given the task of lighting the pyre. He started to step forward, but stopped, his gaze swinging to me. It was clear he didn’t want to leave my side, not even when I was surrounded by dozens of guards, and it was highly unlikely that anything would occur. Oh gods, it struck me then that my presence interfered with his desire or need to pay his respects. I didn’t for one second think that was why he’d initially resisted the idea of me coming the night before, but I hadn’t even considered how it would impact him. Feeling like a selfish brat, I started to tell him that I would be safe while he paid his respects. “I have her,” a deep voice said from behind me, one that shouldn’t be familiar but was. My stomach dipped as if I were standing on a ledge, while at the same time, my heart sped up. I didn’t even need to turn around to know whom it was. Hawke Flynn. Oh, gods. After everything that had happened, I had almost forgotten about Hawke. Almost being the keyword, because this morning, I had woken, wishing I had waited for him to come back to the Red Pearl. To possibly be taken and used in whatever terrible manner my enemies deemed, or to be killed before I had the chance to experience all the things that people only whispered about seemed all too frightening a reality. Vikter’s steely blue-gray gaze shifted over my shoulder. A long, tense moment passed as several guards looked on. “Do you?” “With my sword and with my life,” Hawke replied, coming to stand at my shoulder. The dipping motion returned to my stomach in response to his promise, even though I knew that was what all guards said, no matter if they were from the Rise or if they protected the Ascended. “The Commander tells me you’re one of the best on the Rise.” Vikter’s jaw hardened as he spoke quietly so only Hawke and I could hear him. “Said that he hasn’t seen your level of skill with a bow or sword in too many years.” “I’m good at what I do.” “And what is that?” Vikter challenged. “Killing.” The simple, short answer from lips that had felt as soft as they had firm, was a shock. But the one word didn’t frighten me. I had quite the opposite reaction, and that probably should’ve disturbed me. Or, at the very least, concerned me. “She is the future of this kingdom,” Vikter warned, and I squirmed in a strange mix of embarrassment and fondness. He’d said what everyone from the Duchess to the Queen would say, but I knew he spoke those words because of who I was and not what I represented. “That is who you stand beside.” “I know who I stand beside,” Hawke answered. A hysterical giggle climbed its way up my throat. He honestly had no idea who he stood next to. By the grace of the gods, I was able to stop that laugh. “She is safe with me,” Hawke added. I was. And I wasn’t. Vikter looked at me, and all I could do was nod. I couldn’t speak. If I did, Hawke might recognize my voice, and then…gods, I couldn’t even begin to fathom what would occur. With one last look of warning in Hawke’s direction, Vikter pivoted on his heel and stalked toward the guard who held the torch. My heart hadn’t slowed as I dared one quick peek in Hawke’s direction. I immediately wished I hadn’t. In the bright, early morning sun, with blue-black hair swept back from his face, his features were harder, harsher, and somehow all the more beautiful. The line of his lips was firm. No hint of a dimple to be seen. He had on the same black uniform he had worn the night at the Red Pearl, except now he also wore the leather and iron armor of the Rise, his broadsword at his side, the bloodstone blade a deep ruby. Why had he stepped forward to watch over me? There were Royal Guards present. Dozens of them who should’ve done so. My gaze swept the crowd, and I realized that none of them looked long in my direction, and I wondered if it was because it was so rare that they ever saw me, or if they feared punishment by the Duke or the gods for even looking at me. Their duty dictated that they give their life for someone who it would be considered a grave disrespect to look upon too long or approach without permission. The disturbing irony in that sat heavily on my shoulders. But Hawke was different. There was no way that he knew it had been me at the Red Pearl. He’d never heard me speak before, and I doubted my jaw and mouth were that recognizable. The Duchess had said he came from the capital with glowing recommendations and would likely become one of the youngest Royal Guards. If that was what Hawke wanted, stepping up like this would surely help. After all, there was a sudden, unexpected opening in the Royal Guard now. And wasn’t that a dark assumption to make? A muscle flexed along his jaw, momentarily fascinating. Then I remembered why I was here, and that was not to ogle Hawke from behind my veil. I shifted my gaze to where Vikter approached the pyre. Drawing in a shallow breath, I wanted to look away, to close my eyes when he lowered the torch. I didn’t. I watched as the flames licked along the tinder and the sound of crackling wood filled the quiet. My insides twisted as the fire ignited in a rush, spreading over Rylan’s body as Vikter dropped to one knee before the pyre, bowing his head. “You do him a great honor by being here,” Hawke spoke quietly, but his words startled me. My head swung in his direction. He was staring down at me with eyes so bright, they looked like the gods had polished the amber themselves and placed them there. “You do us all a great honor by being here.” I opened my mouth to tell him that Rylan and all of them were owed far more than the honor of my presence, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t risk it. Hawke’s gaze flicked over my lower jaw, lingering on the corner of my mouth, where I knew the skin was inflamed. “You were hurt.” It wasn’t a question but a statement uttered in a hard-as-granite tone. “You can be assured that will never happen again.”