A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire / Царство плоти и огня (by Jennifer L. Armentrout, 2020) - аудиокнига на английском

Chapter 1 “We go home to marry, my Princess.” As in get married? To him? Suddenly, I thought of all those girlish fantasies I’d had before I learned who I was and what was expected of me—daydreams given life because of the love my parents had for one another. Never once did those little-girl dreams include a proposal that wasn’t remotely an actual proposal. Nor did they incorporate it being announced at a table full of strangers, half of which wanted me dead. And those dreams surely hadn’t involved what had to be the kingdom’s worst—and possibly most insane—non-proposal of marriage to a man currently holding me captive. Perhaps I had some sort of ailment of the brain. Maybe I was experiencing hallucinations brought on by stress. After all, there had been so much painful death to process. His betrayal to deal with. And I’d just learned I was descended from Atlantia, a kingdom I’d been raised to believe was the source of all the evil and tragedy in the land. Stress-induced hallucinations seemed a far more believable reason than what was actually happening. All I could do was stare at the larger hand holding my much smaller one. His skin was slightly darker than mine as if kissed by the sun. Years of wielding a sword with deadly, graceful precision had left his palms callused. He lifted my hand to an indecently well-formed and full mouth. To lips that were somehow soft yet unrelentingly firm. Lips that had spun beautiful words into the air and whispered heated, wicked promises against my bare skin. Lips that had paid homage to the many scars that riddled my body and face. Lips that had also spoken blood-soaked lies. Now, that mouth was pressed against the top of my hand in a gesture that I would’ve cherished for an eternity and thought exquisitely tender just days or weeks ago. Simple things like hand-holding or chaste kisses had been forbidden to me. As were being wanted or feeling desire. I had long since accepted that I would never experience those things. Until him. I lifted my gaze from our joined hands, from that mouth that was already curving up on one side, hinting at a dimple in the right cheek, and from the slowly parting lips that revealed just a hint of fatally sharp fangs. His hair brushed the nape of his neck and toppled over his forehead, and the thick strands were such a deep shade of black, it often shone blue in the sunlight. With high and angular cheekbones, a straight nose, and a proud, carved jaw, he often reminded me of the large, graceful cave cat I had seen once in Queen Ileana’s palace as a child. Beautiful, but in the way all wild, dangerous predators were. My heart stammered as my eyes locked onto his, orbs a shade of stunning, cool amber. I knew I was staring at Hawke— Coldness poured into my chest as I stopped myself. That wasn’t his name. I didn’t even know if Hawke Flynn was merely a fictitious persona, or if the name belonged to someone who had most likely been slaughtered for their identity. I feared it was the latter. Because Hawke had supposedly come from Carsodonia, the capital of the Kingdom of Solis, with glowing recommendations. But then again, the Commander of the guards in Masadonia had turned out to be a supporter of the Atlantians, a Descenter, so that too could’ve been a lie. Either way, the guard who’d pledged to protect me with his sword and with his life wasn’t real. Nor was the man who had seen me for who I was and not just what I was. The Maiden. The Chosen. Hawke Flynn was nothing more than a figment of fantasy, just like those little-girl dreams had been. Who held my hand now was the reality: Prince Casteel Da’Neer. His Highness. The Dark One. Above our joined hands, the curve of his lips grew. The dimple in his right cheek was apparent. It was rare that the left dimple made an appearance. Only genuine smiles brought that out. “Poppy,” he said, and every muscle in my body knotted. I wasn’t sure if it was the use of my nickname or the deep, musical lilt of his voice that made me tense. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless.” The teasing glimmer in his eyes was what snapped me out of my dumbfounded silence. I pulled my hand free, hating the knowledge that if he had wanted to stop me from pulling away, he could’ve easily done so. “Marriage?” I found my voice, if only to say the one word. A glint of challenge filled his gaze. “Yes. Marriage. You do know what that means?” My hand curled into a fist against the wooden table as I held his stare. “Why would you think I wouldn’t know what marriage is?” “Well,” he replied idly, picking up a chalice. “You repeated the word as if it confused you. And as the Maiden, I know you’ve been…sheltered.” Under my braid, the nape of my neck started to burn, likely turning as red as my hair in the sunlight. “Being the Maiden or sheltered does not equal stupidity,” I snapped, aware of the hush that had settled over the table and the entire banquet hall—a room currently full of Descenters and Atlantians. All who would kill and die for the man I openly glared at. “No.” Casteel’s gaze flickered over me as he took a sip. “It does not.” “But I am confused.” Against my fist, I felt something sharp. With a quick glance down, I saw what I had been too shocked and disturbed to notice earlier. A knife. One with a wooden handle and a thick, serrated blade, designed to cut through meat. It wasn’t my wolven bone dagger. I hadn’t seen that since the stables, and it cut me deep to think I may never see it again. That dagger was more than a weapon. Vikter had gifted it to me on my sixteenth birthday, and it was my only connection to the man who was more than a guard. He had assumed the role my father should’ve occupied if he’d lived. Now, the dagger was missing, and Vikter was gone. Killed by those who supported Casteel. And based on the fact that I’d shoved the last dagger I’d gotten my hands on deep into Casteel’s heart, I doubted the wolven-bone blade would be returned anytime soon. The meat knife was a weapon, though. It would have to do. “What is there to be confused about?” He placed the chalice down, and I thought his eyes warmed like they did when he was amused or…or feeling a certain way I refused to acknowledge. My gift swelled against my skin, demanding I use it to sense his emotions as I flattened my hand over the meat knife. I managed to shut off my abilities before they formed a connection to him. I didn’t want to know if he was amused or…or whatever at the moment. I didn’t care what he was feeling. “As I said,” the Prince continued, dragging one long finger over the rim of his cup. “A marriage can only occur between two Atlantians if both halves are standing on the soil of their home, Princess.” Princess. That annoying and yet somewhat slightly endearing pet name of his had just taken on a whole different meaning. One that begged the question: How much had he known from the beginning? He’d admitted to recognizing who I was the night at the Red Pearl, but he claimed he didn’t know that I was part Atlantian until he bit me. Tasted my blood. The mark on my neck tingled, and I resisted the urge to touch it. How much of that nickname was a coincidence? I wasn’t sure why, but if that was yet another lie, it mattered. “Which part confuses you?” he asked, amber eyes unblinking. “It’s the part where you think I would actually marry you.” Across from me, I heard the choked sound of someone trying to conceal laughter. I flicked a look at the handsome face of a tawny-brown-skinned, pale-blue-eyed wolven—a creature able to take the form of a wolf as easily as they could assume the form of a mortal. Until a few days ago, I’d believed that the wolven were extinct, killed off during the War of Two Kings some four hundred years ago. But that was yet another lie. Kieran was just one of many, very alive wolven—several of which sat at this table. “I don’t think that you will,” Casteel replied, thick lashes lowering halfway. “I know.” Disbelief thundered through me. “Maybe I wasn’t clear, so I will try to be more explicit now. I don’t know why you’d think, in a million years, that I’d marry you.” I tipped toward him. “Is that clear enough?” “Crystal,” he responded, eyes heating to a warm honey hue, but there didn’t seem to be any anger in his stare or tone. There was something else entirely. A look that made me think of warm skin and how those rough, callused palms had felt against my cheek, gliding over my belly and thighs, grazing much more intimate places. The dimple in his cheek deepened. “But we shall see, won’t we?” A hot, prickly feeling spread over my skin. “We shall see absolutely nothing.” “I can be very convincing.” “Not that convincing,” I retorted, and he gave a noncommittal murmur that sent a bolt of pure rage streaking through me. “Have you lost your mind?” A deep belly laugh came from farther down the table. I knew it wasn’t the fair-haired Delano. That wolven appeared as if he’d just witnessed a massacre, and his neck was next on the line. Maybe I should be afraid, because wolven weren’t easily scared, especially not Delano. He’d defended me when Jericho and the others came for me, although he and the Atlantian, Naill—who currently sat on one side of him—had been sorely outnumbered. The Dark One wasn’t someone most would dare to anger. He was an Atlantian, deadly, fast, and impossibly strong. Hard to wound, let alone kill. And as I learned just recently, capable of using compulsion to enforce his will upon others. He’d killed one of the most powerful Dukes in all of Solis, thrusting the very cane Teerman often used on me through the Ascended’s heart. But I felt no fear. I was too furious to be scared. Sitting on Delano’s left was the source of the laugh I’d just heard. It had come from the mountain of a man, the one called Elijah. I didn’t think he was a wolven. It was the eyes. All the wolven had the same wintry blue eyes. Elijah’s were hazel, a color more gold than brown. I wasn’t the only one staring at him now. Several gazes had landed on him. I took the opportunity to slide the meat knife off the table, hiding it under the slit in my tunic. “What?” Elijah stroked his dark beard as he met the many stares. “She’s asking what most of us are thinking.” Delano blinked and then slowly looked at Elijah. Casteel said nothing. His tight-lipped smile spoke volumes as the piercing weight of his gaze moved from me to farther down the table. Fingers stilling on his beard, Elijah cleared his throat. “I thought the plan—” “What you think is irrelevant.” The Prince silenced the older man. “You mean the one where you thought to use me as bait to free your brother?” I demanded. “Or has that magically changed in the last couple of hours?” A muscle popped along Casteel’s jaw as the full focus of his attention returned to me. “You should eat.” I almost lost it right then and threw my scavenged knife at him. “I’m not hungry.” His gaze dipped to my plate. “You’ve barely eaten.” “Well, you see, I don’t have much of an appetite, Your Highness.” His jaw tightened as his eyes met mine and held. The golden hue of his irises had chilled. Goosebumps prickled my skin as the air around us seemed to thicken and become charged, filling the room. There hadn’t been an ounce of respect in my tone. Had I pushed Casteel too far? If so, I didn’t care. My fingers tightened around the handle of the blade. I was no longer the Maiden, bound to rules that prevented me from having a say in matters of my life. I would no longer be controlled. I could and would push harder than this. “She asks a very valid question,” someone said from the end of the table. It was a man with short, dark hair. He looked no older than Kieran, who, like Casteel, appeared to be in his early twenties. But Casteel was over two hundred years old. The man could be even older, for all I knew. “Has the plan to use her to free Prince Malik changed?” he asked. Casteel said nothing as he continued watching me, but the utter stillness that crept into his features was a far better warning than any words could be. “I am not trying to question your decisions,” the man stated. “I’m attempting to understand them.” “What do you need help understanding, Landell?” Casteel leaned back in the chair, his hands resting lightly on the arms. The way he sat as if completely at ease, raised the tiny hairs all over my body. A tense moment of silence descended, and then Landell said, “We have all followed you here from Atlantia. We stayed in this archaic, cesspool of a kingdom, pretending loyalty to a counterfeit King and Queen. Because, like you, we want nothing more than to free your brother. He is the rightful heir.” Casteel nodded for Landell to continue. “We have lost people—good people trying to infiltrate the Temples in Carsodonia,” he said. I tensed as images of the sprawling, midnight-hued structures formed in my mind. If all that Casteel had alleged was true, the purpose the Temples served was another lie. Third sons and daughters weren’t given over during the Rite to serve the gods. Instead, they were given to the Ascended—the vamprys—becoming nothing more than cattle. Much of the pile of lies I’d been fed my entire life was terrible, but that was possibly the worst of them all. And as revolting as what Casteel claimed was, I feared it was the truth. How could I deny it? The Ascended had told us that the Atlantians’ kiss was poisonous, cursing innocent mortals and turning them into these decaying shells of their former selves—vicious, blood-hungry monsters known as the Craven. But I knew that to be untrue. The Atlantians’ kiss wasn’t toxic. Neither was their bite. I was proof of both of those things. Casteel and I had shared many kisses. He’d given me his blood when I was mortally wounded. And, he’d bitten me. I did not turn. Just like I hadn’t turned when I was attacked by the Craven all those years ago. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t begun to develop suspicions about the Ascended before Casteel entered my life. He had only confirmed them. But was it all true? I had no way of knowing. My fingers ached from how tightly I held the knife. “We haven’t found any leads on where our Prince is being held, and too many will never return home to their families,” Landell continued, his voice steadying with each word, thickening with anger I didn’t need my gift to sense. “But now we have something. Finally, something that could be used to gain knowledge of your brother’s whereabouts—to possibly free him, keep him from being forced to make new vamprys, living through the kind of hell you’re all too familiar with. Instead, we’re going home?” I knew of some of that hell. I’d seen the numerous scars all over Casteel’s body, the brand in the shape of the Royal Crest on his upper thigh, just below his hip. But Casteel said nothing in return. No one spoke. There was no movement, not from those at the table or the ones near the hearth at the back of the banquet hall. Landell wasn’t finished. “The ones hanging on the walls of the hall outside this very room deserve to be there. Not just because they disobeyed your orders, but because if they had succeeded in killing the Maiden, we would’ve lost the one thing we could use. They put the heir in jeopardy for vengeance. That is why I believe they deserve their fate, even though some of them were friends of mine—friends of many at this table.” I will kill them. That was Casteel’s promise when he saw the wounds the others had left behind. And he had. Mostly. Casteel had staked those Landell spoke of to the wall. All were dead now, except for Jericho. The ringleader was barely alive, suffering a slow, agonizing death to serve as a reminder that I would not be harmed. “You can use her,” Landell fumed. “She is the Queen’s favorite—the Chosen. If they were ever to release your brother, it would be for her. Instead, we’re going home for you to marry?” He jerked his chin toward me. “Her?” The distaste in that word stung, but I’d been on the receiving end of far more cutting remarks from Duke Teerman to show even a flicker of reaction. Across from me, Kieran’s head snapped in Landell’s direction. “If you have any intelligence, you would stop speaking. Now.” “Let him continue,” Casteel interjected. “He has a right to speak his mind. Just as Elijah did. But it seems as if Landell has more to say than Elijah, and I would like to hear it.” Elijah’s lips pursed, and he emitted a low whistle, eyes widening as he leaned back in his chair, dropping an arm over the back of Delano’s seat. “Hey, sometimes I speak and laugh when I shouldn’t. But whatever you plan or want, I’m with you, Casteel.” “Are you serious?” Landell’s head whipped toward Elijah as he shot to his feet. “You’re okay with giving up on Prince Malik? You’re fine with Casteel bringing her back home, to our lands, and marrying her, making her the Princess? An honor meant to bring all of our people together, not to divide them.” Casteel moved slightly, his hands sliding off the arms of his chair. “As I just said, I’m with Casteel.” Elijah lifted his gaze to Landell. “Always, and no matter what he chooses. And if he chooses her, then we all do.” This was…that was entirely ridiculous, the whole argument. It didn’t matter. And I didn’t care why there was a need to bring the people of Atlantia together because Casteel and I weren’t getting married. I didn’t get a chance to point that out, though. “I do not choose her. I will never choose her,” Landell swore, the skin of his face thinning and darkening as he scanned those who sat around him. Wolven. He was a wolven, I realized. I adjusted my grip on the knife and tensed. “All of you know this. The wolven will not accept her. It doesn’t matter if she has Atlantian blood or not. Neither will the people of Atlantia welcome her. She’s an outsider raised and cared for by those who forced us back into a land that is quickly growing too small and useless.” He stared down the table, looking at Casteel. “She didn’t even accept you, and we’re supposed to believe that she will bond with you?” Bond? I glanced at Kieran and then Casteel. I knew that some wolven were bonded to Atlantians of a particular class, and it took no leap of logic to assume that Casteel being a Prince was just that. The two of them seemed the closest out of everyone I’d seen Casteel interact with, but I knew of no other bond. However, again, it was irrelevant since we were not marrying. “Are we supposed to believe that she is worthy of being our Princess when she flat-out denies you in front of your people while reeking of the Ascended?” Landell demanded. My nose wrinkled. I didn’t smell like…like the Ascended. Did I? “When she refuses to choose you?” “What matters is that I choose her,” Casteel spoke, and my stupid, stupid heart skipped a beat, even though I did not choose him. “And that is all that matters.” The wolven’s lips peeled back, and my eyes widened at the sight of his canines elongating. “You do this, and it will be the downfall of our kingdom,” he snarled. “I will not choose that scarred-face bitch.” I flinched. I’d actually flinched, cheeks burning as if I’d been slapped across the face. I lifted my fingers, touching the uneven skin of my cheek before I realized what I was doing. Landell’s hand dropped to his hip. “I’ll see her dead before I stand by and allow this.” Seconds, mere heartbeats passed from when those words left Landell’s mouth, and the frenzied stir of air as it lifted wisps of hair at my temples. Casteel’s chair was empty. A shout, and then something heavy clanged off a dish. A chair toppled, and Landell…he was no longer standing by the table. His plate was no longer empty. A narrow dagger lay there, one designed for throwing. My wide eyes followed the blur that was Casteel as he pinned Landell to the wall, his forearm pressed into the wolven’s throat. Good gods, to be able to move that fast, that silently… “I just want you to know that I’m not even particularly upset about you questioning what I intend to do. How you’ve spoken to me doesn’t bother me. I’m not insecure enough to care about the opinions of little men.” Casteel’s face was inches from the wide-eyed wolven. “If that had been all, I would’ve overlooked it. If you had stopped after the first time you referenced her, I would’ve let you walk out of here with just your overinflated sense of self-worth. But then you insulted her. You made her flinch, and then you threatened her. I will not forget that.” “I—” Whatever Landell was about to say ended in a gurgle as Casteel’s right arm thrust forward. “And I will not be able to forgive you.” Casteel jerked his arm back, throwing something to the floor. It landed with a fleshy smack. My lips slowly parted as I realized what the lumpy, red mass was. Oh, my gods. A heart. It was an actual heart. Letting go of the wolven, Casteel stepped back, watching Landell slide down the wall, the wolven’s head lolling to the side. He turned to face the table, his right hand stained with blood and gore. “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to share?” Chapter 2 A chorus of denials echoed through the banquet hall, but none of the men had so much as twitched in their seats. Some of them were even chuckling, and I…I stared at the red coursing down the length of Casteel’s fingers, dripping onto the floor. Casteel leaned forward, plucking up Landell’s napkin. Strolling back to his chair, he idly wiped his hand clean. I watched him sit, my heart thumping as he turned to me, his gaze sheltered by a fringe of heavy lashes. “You probably think that was excessive,” he said, dropping the crumpled, blood-stained napkin onto his plate. “It wasn’t. No one speaks of you or to you like that and lives.” I stared at him. He sat back. “At least, I gave him a quick death. There is some dignity in that.” I had no idea what to say. I had no clue what to feel. All I could think was, oh my gods, he just ripped a wolven’s heart from his chest with his bare hand. The men who stood by the doors were picking up Landell when one of the men at the table asked, “So, when is the wedding?” Laughter greeted the question, and there was a hint of a smile on Casteel’s lips as he leaned toward me. “There is no side of you that is not as beautiful as the other half. Not a single inch isn’t stunning.” His lashes lifted, and the intensity in his stare held me captive. “That was true the first time I said it to you, and it is still the truth today and tomorrow.” My lips parted on a sharp inhale. I almost reached for my face again but stopped myself. Somehow, in the process of getting used to being seen without the veil of the Maiden, I’d forgotten about my scars—something I’d never thought possible. I wasn’t ashamed of them, hadn’t been for years. They were proof of my strength, of the horrific attack I had survived. But when I was unveiled in front of Casteel for the first time, I’d feared he would agree with what Duke Teerman had always said. What I knew most thought if they saw me unveiled or looked upon me now. That half of my face was a masterpiece, while the other was a nightmare. But when Hawke—Casteel—had seen the pale pink, jagged streak of skin that started below my hairline and sliced across the temple, ending at my nose, and the other that was shorter and higher, cutting across my forehead through my eyebrow, he had said that both halves were as beautiful as the whole. I’d believed him then. And I’d felt beautiful for the first time in my life, something that had also been forbidden to me. And gods help me, but I still believed him. “What he said was more than an insult. It was a threat that I will not tolerate,” Casteel finished, sitting back as he picked up his chalice with the same hand that had torn a heart free from its cage moments before. My gaze fell to where the dagger still lay on Landell’s plate. What the wolven would’ve attempted to do with that dagger shouldn’t have come as a shock. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that many of those at this table would rather see me sliced into pieces. I knew I wasn’t safe here, but all of them had seen the hall outside this room. They had to know what would happen if they disobeyed Casteel. Some unconscious part of me still underestimated their hatred of anything that reminded them of the Ascended. And that was me, even if I hadn’t done anything to them other than defend myself. Conversation picked back up around the table. Quiet discussions. Louder ones. Laughter. It was like nothing had happened, and that rattled me. But what left me wholly unsettled was what I couldn’t admit, even to myself. Kieran cleared his throat. “Would you like to return to your room, Penellaphe?” Pulled from my thoughts, it took me a moment to respond. “You mean my cell?” “It’s far more comfortable and not nearly as drafty as the dungeon,” he replied. “A cell is a cell, no matter how comfortable it is,” I told him. “I’m fairly certain this is the same conversation we had earlier,” Casteel commented. My gaze swiveled back to Casteel. “I’m fairly certain I don’t care.” “I’m also sure that we came to the conclusion that you have never been free, Princess,” Casteel tacked on. The truth of those words was still as brutal as it was when they had first been spoken. “I don’t believe you would even recognize freedom if it were ever offered to you.” “I know enough to recognize that’s not what you’re offering,” I shot back, fury returning in a hot, welcoming wave, warming my too-cold skin. A faint smile appeared on Casteel’s mouth, though it wasn’t his tight, calculating one. My anger gave way to confusion. Was he purposely baiting me? More than a little agitated, I focused on the wolven. “I would like to return to my more comfortable, not-nearly-as-drafty cell. I assume I won’t be allowed to walk there myself?” Kieran’s lips twitched, but his expression smoothed out pretty quickly, proving that he had the common sense not to smile or laugh. “You would assume correctly.” Without waiting for His Highness to give permission, I pushed back my chair. The legs screeched across the stone floor. Internally, I sighed. My motions weren’t as dignified as I wished, but I kept my head high as I started to turn. One of the men who’d been at the door and had retrieved Landell’s corpse stalked across the banquet hall, headed straight for the Prince. He bent low, whispering in Casteel’s ear as Kieran rose. Without waiting for Kieran, nor looking at the smear of blood across the wall, I took a step. Suddenly, Casteel was at my side, his hand on my arm. Not having heard him rise, I swallowed a gasp of surprise and moved to pull my arm free as the man who’d spoken to Casteel stepped away. “Don’t,” Casteel whispered, holding onto my arm. Something about his tone in that one word stopped me. I looked up at him. “We’re about to have company. Fight me all you want later. I’ll probably enjoy it. But do not fight me in front of him.” My eyes met his as knots formed in my stomach. Again, his tone struck a chord of unease within me as I looked at the door. Who was coming? His father? The King? Casteel shifted so that he stood partially in front of me as a group of men filled the doorway. The sandy-haired man who walked in the center, tall and broad of shoulder, snagged my attention. I inherently knew that this was who Casteel had spoken of. The man, his wealth of blond hair brushing a square, hard jaw, appeared much older than Casteel. If he was mortal, which I doubted, I would’ve pegged him for someone on the verge of approaching mid-life. I didn’t think this man was Casteel’s father. He looked nothing like him, but I supposed that didn’t mean much. He strode toward us. The heavy cloak he wore, dusted with melting snow, parted, revealing a black tunic with two gold lines overlapping across his chest. As he drew closer, I somehow managed not to gasp. It wasn’t the pale blue eyes I associated with the wolven. It was the deep groove in the center of his forehead as if someone had attempted to slice open his head. I, of all people, knew better than to be surprised by scars. Shame crept up my throat as I averted my gaze. It wasn’t that the injury was ugly. The man was handsome in a rugged way that reminded me of a lion. It was just a shock to see someone, a possible wolven, scarred. Vaguely, I became aware of Kieran coming to stand at my back. “What in the gods’ teeth is happening here?” the man demanded. The breath I had taken got stuck as my gaze flew back to the man. His voice…it sounded so familiar to me. “Or do I even want to know?” he continued, his brows lifting as he saw the blood on the wall. The others who’d traveled with them moved among those at the table, all except one. He was shorter than Casteel and more compact. His hair was a reddish-brown mop of waves, and his eyes were a brilliant gold like Casteel’s. This one remained close to the man, and his gaze seemed to track every breath I took. “I’ve just been doing a little redecorating,” Casteel replied, and the wolven chuckled as the two males clasped hands. I felt a catch in my chest again, a tug at my heart. His laugh…it was raspy and rough as if his throat weren’t sure what to do with the emotion. Like Vikter’s. My heart squeezed. That was why his voice and laugh sounded familiar to me. “I didn’t expect you to be here so soon, Alastir,” Casteel said. “We rode hard to get ahead of the storm headed this way.” Alastir’s gaze slid past the Prince to me. Curiosity marked his features, though not the flush of anger or the coldness of distaste. “So, this is her.” “It is.” Every muscle in my body tensed as Alastir’s gaze lowered. His head tilted, and it took me a moment to realize that he was staring at my neck— The damn bite! My braid had slipped over my shoulder, revealing my throat. The skin around Alastir’s mouth tightened as his gaze shifted back to Casteel. “I feel like things have occurred since we last spoke.” Had Alastir been with Casteel’s father when he left New Haven to speak with him? If so, where was the King? “Many things have changed,” Casteel answered. “Including my relationship with Penellaphe.” “Penellaphe?” Alastir repeated in surprise, one eyebrow arching. “Named after the Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty?” Since I very well couldn’t stand there and ignore him, I nodded. A faint smile appeared. “A fitting name for the Maiden, I imagine.” “You wouldn’t think that if you knew her,” Casteel replied, and I clamped my lips shut against a retort. “Then I cannot wait to do so.” Alastir’s smile tightened. “You will have to wait a little longer.” Casteel glanced back. His eyes briefly met mine, but it was long enough for me to know that he wished for me not to challenge what he said next. “Penellaphe was just about to retire.” Kieran stepped closer, placing his hand on my lower back to urge me forward. I squelched the urge to refuse, having enough sense to realize that Casteel didn’t want me around this man, and there was probably a good reason for that. I walked forward, well aware of several gazes following me. I’d made it halfway to the door when I heard Alastir ask, “Is it wise to allow the Maiden to roam freely?” I stopped— “Keep walking,” Kieran said under his breath. The handle of the knife I’d stolen dug into my palm. “It wouldn’t be wise to refuse her to do so,” Casteel said with a laugh, and it took everything in me not to throw the blade at him. Kieran kept pace with me as we passed the men who’d returned to standing sentry at the large wooden doors. Striding forward, I told myself not to look up, but my eyes lifted anyway as I passed the impaled body of Mr. Tulis. Pressure clamped down on my chest. He and his wife had come before Duke and Duchess Teerman, pleading to keep their third-born son, their only remaining child, who had been destined to go into service to the gods during the Rite. I’d felt their soul-deep pain and desperation, and even without my gift, I would’ve been affected. I’d planned to plead their case to the Queen. To do something, even if I weren’t successful. But they’d escaped. His entire family, his wife and infant son, given a chance at a new life. And he’d taken that opportunity to deliver what would’ve been the wound that killed me if it hadn’t been for Casteel. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell, “why?” as I stared at the pale face and the dried blood that stained his chest. Why had he made that choice? He’d thrown everything away for a short-lived sense of retribution. Against me, who had done nothing to him or his family. None of that had mattered in the end. Now, his son would grow up without a father. But at least he would live. If he’d been given over in the Rite, he’d likely face a future worse than death. I had no idea how long the third sons and daughters survived within those Temples. Were they…fed upon immediately, even as infants? Small children? Third sons and daughters were given over annually, while the second sons and daughters were given to the Court between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. They lived—well, most of them. Some died at Court due to a sickness of the blood that took them during the night. Casteel had said the vamprys struggled to control their bloodlust, and I now doubted that there’d been an ailment that took them. Instead, it was like what had happened to Malessa Axton, who’d been found with a bite on her throat and her neck broken. It was never confirmed, but I knew Lord Mazeen, an Ascended, had killed her and left her body there, half exposed for anyone to find. At least Lord Mazeen will harm no one else, I told myself as a savage wave of satisfaction flowed through me. I easily recalled the look of shock etched onto his face when I chopped off his hand. I’d never thought I would be glad to kill anything but a Craven, but Lord Mazeen had proven that false. The violent joy came to a swift end as thoughts of the children crept back in. How could anyone, mortal or not, hurt young ones like that? And they had been doing it for years—hundreds of years. Realizing I’d come to a standstill, I started walking again. Chest heavy, I didn’t even bother to look at Jericho. I could tell by the pitiful whimpers coming from him that he was still alive. I believed everyone deserved dignity in death, even him, but I didn’t feel even one iota of empathy for what he’d brought upon himself. And Landell? Did I feel sorry for him? Not particularly. What did that say about me? I didn’t want to think of that so I asked, “Who was that man?” “His name is Alastir Davenwell. He’s the advisor to the King and Queen. A close family friend. More like an uncle to both Casteel and Malik,” Kieran said, and I jerked a little at the mention of Casteel’s brother. “Is that why Casteel didn’t want me around him? Because Alastir is an advisor to his parents? Or because he too will wish to chop me into pieces?” “Alastir is not a man prone to violence, despite the scar he carries. And while he knows his place with the Prince, he is loyal to the Queen and King. There are things that Casteel would not want to get back to his father or mother.” “Like the ridiculous marriage thing?” “Something like that.” Kieran shifted the conversation as we rounded the corner and entered the common area where the air was free of the stench of death. “Do you feel pity for the mortal? The one Cas helped escape the Ascended with his family?” Cas. Gods, that sounded like such a harmless nickname for such a dangerous man. I glanced at Kieran as we entered the narrow stairwell, noting that he was without his short sword and bow as he moved in front of me. But he was far from defenseless, considering what he was. I didn’t even bother to make a run for it. I knew I wouldn’t make it more than a foot. Wolven were incredibly fast. Kieran stopped without warning, spinning around so suddenly that I backed up, hitting the wall. He took a step toward me and dipped his head to mine. Every muscle locked as he inhaled deeply. Was he…? His head lowered, the bridge of his nose brushing my temple. He inhaled again. “What are you doing?” I jerked to the side, putting space between us. “Are you smelling me?” He straightened, his eyes narrowed. “You…smell different.” My brows lifted. “Okay? I don’t know what to tell you about that.” He didn’t seem to hear me as his eyes brightened. “You smell like…” “If you say I smell like Casteel again, I will punch you in the face,” I promised. “Hard.” “You do smell like him, but that’s not it.” He shook his head. “You smell of death.” “Wow. Thanks. But if I do, that is not my fault.” “You don’t understand.” Kieran eyed me for a moment longer and then turned, starting up the stairwell once more. No. I didn’t understand, and I really didn’t want to. I sniffed the sleeve of my tunic. It smelled like…roasted meat. “Earlier, you said you didn’t feel sympathy for any of them,” he said as I followed him. “That hasn’t changed,” I said. “They wanted me dead.” We stepped out of the stairwell and onto the covered walkway. Damp, cold air greeted us. “But I can’t help but feel pity for Mr. Tulis.” “You shouldn’t.” “Well, I do.” Shivering, I ducked my chin against the sharp gust of wind. “He was given a second chance. He threw it away. I feel pity for that choice and for his wife and son. And I guess I feel sorry for the families of any of them that are now on that wall.” Kieran fell into step beside me, taking the brunt of the wind. “The pity for the families is rightfully placed.” I stopped in surprise but said nothing. “What?” “Nothing,” I murmured. He issued a soft chuckle. “You think I’m not capable of compassion?” I glanced out over the yard below. A fine layer of snow shone brightly in the moonlight. Beyond, I saw nothing but the thick darkness of the encroaching woods. It was strange to look out and not see a Rise, the often-mountainous walls constructed from limestone and iron mined from the Elysium Peaks. The sleepy town of New Haven had one, but it was much smaller than what I was accustomed to in both Masadonia and Carsodonia. “I don’t know what you’re capable of,” I admitted, touching the banister’s cool wood as the wind picked up, lifting the shorter strands of my hair that had escaped my braid. “I hardly know anything about the wolven.” “My animal side doesn’t cancel out my mortal one,” he replied. “I’m not incapable of emotions.” My gaze cut to his. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” I trailed off. What had I meant? “I guess I did mean it like that. I’m sorry.” “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not like you’ve met many wolven,” he reasoned. “Yes, but that’s no excuse.” I gripped the railing with one hand. “There are a lot of different people from various places that I haven’t met and know nothing about. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to make assumptions.” “True,” he replied, and I almost cringed. How many times had I made assumptions about the Atlantian people? The Descenters? Biases were taught and learned. Maybe that wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t make it acceptable. But nobody at that table had even twitched in their seats as Casteel killed Landell. What did that say about them? “Is what happened tonight common?” “Which part? The marriage proposal or the open-heart surgery?” I shot Kieran a dark look. “Landell.” He studied me for a moment, and then his stare turned to the yard and the trees. “Not particularly. Even if you don’t see this yet or don’t want to, Cas is not a murderous tyrant. Honestly, it’s rare that any question him. Not because what he does or doesn’t do is always reasonable, but because he has no problem getting blood on his hands to assert his authority to get what he wants or to keep those he cares for safe.” There was a measure of relief, knowing Casteel didn’t rip hearts out of chests often. That was a good thing…I guessed. Although, I didn’t dare believe that I fell into the category of those he cared for. I was someone he needed. “What Cas did wasn’t about Landell questioning him.” Kieran angled his body toward me. “It wasn’t as simple as Landell not being able to understand how or why the Prince would choose you. It wasn’t even about him challenging Cas. Atlantians and wolven do anything to protect their home, and it was clear that Landell saw you as a threat to it,” Kieran told me, and I wondered what I had to do with Landell’s concern over their land growing too small and useless. “Cas was right to do what he did. If he hadn’t, Landell would’ve thrown that dagger he pulled. There will be others who will want to do the same thing.” Dread settled in my bones. “Was Landell another warning, then? How many warnings will there need to be?” “As many as are needed.” “And that doesn’t bother you? Some of them are your friends, right?” “If someone is idiot enough to insult and threaten you in front of Cas, it’s likely someone I wouldn’t have been particularly close to in the first place.” I almost laughed at that, but none of this was funny. “Everyone seems so full of emotion one moment and then absolutely apathetic the next.” “You haven’t tried to feel my emotions to know what I am feeling?” Kieran asked, delivering another dose of the unexpected. My gaze cut to him. Then I remembered that Kieran had been there when I used my gift to ease the pain of a dying guard. Still, it was bizarre to discuss this with anyone after spending so long forced to hide my abilities and never speak of them. “Cas told me that it started with you only being able to sense and ease pain. But he also said that changed.” I nodded. “It did change, only a little while ago. I don’t know why. I asked the Duchess about it because I thought maybe the first Maiden had been able to do the same.” Tension crept up my neck. Duchess Teerman had told me that the first Maiden’s gift had grown from sensing pain to reading emotions, and that the growth was because she was near her Ascension—like I was. Honestly, little was known about the first Maiden. Not even her name or what era she lived in. But the Duchess had insinuated that the Dark One had killed the first Maiden. Casteel. I shivered, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the cold. “I haven’t tried to read your emotions. I try not to do that since it feels like an invasion to do so.” “Maybe it is a breach of privacy,” he agreed. “But it would also give you an upper hand when dealing with people.” It could. “Do you think he’s told others?” I asked. “Cas? No. The less others know about you, the better,” he answered, and my brows rose. “I don’t know of any Atlantian alive today who can experience what others feel.” “What does that mean?” “I’m not sure yet.” He started walking. “You coming? Or are you planning to stay out here and turn into an ice cube?” Sighing, I pulled myself away from the railing and went to where he stood in front of the door. He slipped a key from his pocket. “Your ability would especially help you when it comes to dealing with Cas.” “I have no intention of dealing with him.” A small smile appeared as he held open the door. I walked into the room, warmed by the heat of the fireplace. “But he has every intention of dealing with you.” Keeping the meat knife hidden under my tunic, I faced Kieran. “You mean he has every intention of using me.” His head cocked to the side. “That’s not what I said, Penellaphe.” “Why not? Do you think he really has given up on his brother? I don’t. He even said that I’m the Queen’s favorite,” I spat, the last two words acidic on my tongue. “This marriage thing has to be a part of the plan to get his brother back. Though why he didn’t just fess up to that at the table, I have no idea.” “I don’t think either of you knows the truth.” My spine stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?” Kieran eyed me. He was quiet for so long, the unease within me tripled. “He told you the truth about the Ascended, didn’t he?” I wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with what he’d said, but I answered. “The Ascended are…vamprys, and everything I’ve been taught—that everyone in Solis believes—is a lie. The gods never Blessed King Jalara and Queen Ileana. The gods aren’t even—” “No, the gods are real. They are our gods, and they now rest,” he corrected. “You know the Ascended aren’t Blessed. They are as cursed as those bitten by a Craven are. Except they don’t decay. You know this, but do you understand?” His words were like a punch to the chest. “My brother—” I cut myself off. I didn’t need to talk about Ian. “I understand.” “And do you believe what Cas told you about the Ascended?” I looked at the fire, not answering. On one hand, I’d seen the evidence of what Casteel claimed—saw it branded on his skin. The Ascended had held Casteel captive before they took his brother. He’d been tortured, forced to do and take part in things I knew were utterly horrific based on the few small details he’d shared with me. What I felt when I thought about that was too heavy and noxious to be called disgust. And the ache in my heart was only the beginning, knowing that Casteel’s brother had been captured while freeing him. I could be furious with Casteel. I could even hate him. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to scream for all the agony Casteel had experienced and for what his brother was surely suffering at this very moment. Did that mean that all Ascended were evil? Every last one of them, including my brother? I believed in what I saw proof of. But Casteel… I couldn’t trust more than half of what left his mouth, and it wasn’t like all Atlantians were utterly innocent. “If you do believe him, then what are you fighting to go back to?” Kieran asked, and my gaze flew to his. “Isn’t that what you’re doing by refusing Cas?” “Refusing to marry him has nothing to do with the Ascended, and everything to do with him,” I argued. “He lied to me about everything.” “He didn’t lie about everything.” “How do you know?” I challenged. “You know what? Don’t even answer that. It doesn’t matter. What does is that he plans to ransom me to the very people who did these horrible things to him and countless others. He plans to hand me over to the people who will most likely use me as a blood bag until I die. And even if, by some small chance, those plans have changed, they only did so because he realized I was part Atlantian. How is that any better? Why would I marry him?” “Why would he marry someone he plans to ransom off?” he queried. “Exactly!” Exasperated, I mashed my lips together as my focus shifted to the dark night beyond Kieran. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” He fell quiet again. “You push him like you have no fear, even after all you’ve seen?” “Should I fear him?” I asked. An incredibly stupid part of me almost didn’t want to know the answer. I’d trusted Hawke with my secrets, my desires, my body, my heart, my…life. I’d trusted him with everything, and nothing about him had been real. Not even the name Hawke. I’d stumbled and tripped for him, and I was afraid that I would keep falling despite his betrayal. That was what I was afraid of. “He has done things some might find unforgivable. Things that would haunt your sleep and leave you with nightmares long after you wake. He may hate being called the Dark One, but he has earned that name.” Kieran’s pale eyes met mine as a shiver curled its way down my spine. “But he’s the one thing in all the kingdoms that you, and only you, never have to fear.” Chapter 3 If Kieran’s words were meant to reassure me, they’d done the exact opposite. Pacing in front of the narrow window that was too small to escape from, I stared at the door. It had been locked from the outside. Just like a cell. My hands curled into fists as I made another pass in front of the window, anger mingling with the ever-present unease. It wasn’t what Kieran had said about Casteel earning the title of the Dark One. After how coldly and efficiently Casteel had killed Phillips, the guard who’d traveled with us from Masadonia, I already knew how he ended up with the nickname. Seeing him take out Landell was only further proof that he could—and would—kill without hesitation, but… I stopped suddenly. I could also kill without too much reluctance. Hadn’t I proven that with Lord Mazeen? When Jericho and the others came after me, I’d been prepared to kill. My gaze dropped to my hands. They too, were covered in blood, and I couldn’t say it was just from self-defense and the necessity to survive. Lord Mazeen deserved the ending he got. The Ascended had taken the same perverse joy the Duke had when it came time for my lessons, but he hadn’t attacked me when I turned on him. He’d insulted Vikter within moments of my guard and friend taking his last breath, and I didn’t feel even a smidgen of guilt for how I handled it. Even if he hadn’t been a vampry, he was still a monster. Maybe that was why I wasn’t shocked by what Casteel had done in the hall. And that quite possibly meant there was something wrong with me. Either way, it was what Kieran had said before he closed the door that made me angry. That Casteel was the only person I never had to fear. Kieran couldn’t be more wrong. I looked to the bed then, and my stomach dipped as if I were standing on the edge of a Rise. I could almost see us, our limbs entwined, and our bodies joined. An aching pulse rolled through me as I touched the bite mark on my neck. I shivered, then searched for a hint of disgust or even fear. I found none. He’d bitten me. And his bite had hurt, but only at first, and only for a few seconds. Then, it had felt…it had felt like being drowned in liquid heat. I had never felt something so intense in my life—hadn’t even known something like that was possible. But it wasn’t the effects of the bite that had led to what we’d done in the woods while the snow fell around and upon us. Our bodies had come together because of my attraction to him. Because how I felt for him had been greater than the truth of what and who he was. That was what drove this need to understand how he’d gotten to this point in his life and why he was doing what he was now. It was what fueled this desire to forget everything except for the bliss I’d felt while I was in his arms—his lips against my skin, and the peace and companionship I experienced when we were simply speaking to one another. But I wasn’t safe with him. Even if Casteel never raised a hand to me, I couldn’t forget what he was. What he’d caused. Vikter’s death may not have come at the tip of Casteel’s sword, but it had been the jagged blades of the people who followed him. And what of Loren and Dafina, the Ladies in Wait who had died during the attack at the Rite? They had been excited to Ascend, but I doubted they had known the truth. They hadn’t deserved to die like they had, murdered by Descenters who most likely didn’t even know their names. Again, it hadn’t been by Casteel’s hand, but the act was carried out in his name. How could I ever forgive him for any of that? And what kept hurting every time I thought about him was that he knew how badly I desired freedom. To have the ability to simply choose something—anything—for myself. Whether it be something as simple as walking where I wanted, unveiled, or speaking to whoever I wanted. To something as important as choosing who I shared my body with. He knew how much that meant to me, and he was trying to take it away. My heart twisted so painfully, it felt like someone had thrust a dagger deep into my chest. What, if anything, could he feel for me? My heart hurt deeply, as if I were grieving someone who had died. In a way, it was like that. I mourned the loss of Hawke, and it didn’t matter that he still lived and breathed. The Hawke I’d grown to trust, the man I’d shared my secrets with was gone. In his place was Prince Casteel Da’Neer, but I was still drawn to him. I still had that desire, need, and the… That was why he was the most dangerous person in any kingdom. Because no part of me doubted that he planned to use me to free his brother, returning me to the same Ascended who had held him captive for five decades and who now held his sibling. Pressure clamped down on my chest as I started pacing again, my thoughts shifting to Queen Ileana. My mother and the Queen had been close. So much so that when my mother chose my father over the Ascension, the Queen had allowed it. That was unheard of. Even rarer was how the Queen had cared for me after the Craven attack as if I were her own child. She had changed my bandages, sat with me when the nightmares of the attack came, and held me when all I wanted was to be hugged by my mother and father. She was the first to teach me not to be ashamed of the scars when others gasped and whispered behind their gloved hands. During those years, and before I was sent to Masadonia, she’d become more than a caregiver. And according to Casteel, she had been the one who branded him with the Royal Crest. I could easily remember her holding my hand as we traveled the Royal Gardens under the star-swept skies. Her patience and kindness had seemed never-ending, and yet the same hand that had held mine had sliced into Casteel’s skin. If what Casteel said was true, the same softly spoken voice that’d told me stories of my mother when she was a little girl, running through the same paths we’d walked, had also fed an entire kingdom nothing but blood-soaked lies. If Casteel were telling the truth, she’d used the people’s fear of the creatures she and others like her had created to control every single mortal. And if it all was true, then had the Queen known the whole time that I was half-Atlantian? Gods, that was almost too hard to process. But what of Ian? How could he have Ascended? Casteel had said that Ian had only been seen at night, and he believed that Ian had Ascended. Was it then like someone had suggested at the dinner? Was Ian my half-brother? I found it hard to believe that either of my parents would’ve had a child by someone else. Their love for each other was…well, it was the kind people only hoped to find for themselves. Or I could be entirely na?ve. Because if Ian wasn’t their child, where did they get him? On the side of the road or something? Casteel would likely think that I was being foolish. Not that I cared what he thought. What the Queen knew and whether or not Ian was my half-brother, didn’t matter. My gaze tracked its way back to the door. I had to escape. Even with the warning Casteel had left hanging in the hall, it was evident that his people still saw me as the figurehead for the Ascended. I didn’t think Landell had said any lies when he spoke how my ancestry wouldn’t matter to the Atlantian people. I doubted the new arrivals would want anything different than the others. It had sounded like Alastir believed I should be in a cell instead of roaming around. As if I were allowed to do that. And once he brought me to Atlantia, if that was truly what Casteel planned, I would be surrounded by them, and in an even more precarious position. A small seedling of excitement took root in my stomach when I thought of Atlantia. I couldn’t help but want to see the kingdom. Probably because I’d hardly seen anything in my life. But to be able to look upon a place that wasn’t supposed to exist? That was something very few people would ever be able to do. Sighing, I shoved those feelings and thoughts aside. There would be no escape if Casteel managed to take me to Atlantia. Kieran had been wrong to assume that I was fighting Casteel to return to the Ascended. I was fighting him to return to my brother. I had to get to Ian, but it had to be on my terms. If I somehow managed to live long enough for Casteel to exchange me, I would be going straight from one cage to another. That could only be an option of last resort. So, I needed to get to Ian my way. And then what? I knew I wouldn’t be safe among the Ascended, but there were distant villages and towns I could try to carve out some kind of life in. Slowly, I lifted my hand to my face, my fingers finding the longest scar. It would be hard to hide, wouldn’t it? I would have to try, though. Because I refused to hide my face ever again. I couldn’t live like that. But that was a bridge I couldn’t even begin to cross until I figured out how to escape, make my way to the capital, and find Ian without getting caught or killed. We’d escape the Ascended together. Because even if Ian wasn’t my full-blooded brother and had gone through the Ascension, he couldn’t be like the rest. I refused to believe that. There was no way he would feed off the innocent and from children. There was no way that all Ascended were evil. Some had seemed rather normal. But if they didn’t feed off the third sons and daughters given to the gods during the Rite, then how did they survive? They needed blood. If not, they would eventually die from whatever mortal wounds had plagued them before the Ascension. Ian had been healthy as a horse, but he would’ve been drained of nearly all his blood before feeding from an Atlantian to Ascend. That would’ve killed him, and could still kill him if he didn’t feed. I wanted to see for myself what Ian had or had not turned into. I would do everything I could to help him. But if he had turned into a monster who preyed on others? On children? Then what? My heart squeezed, but I took a deep, slow breath. I knew what I would have to do. I would have to end it for him, and I would. Because Ian was a kind, gentle soul—always had been. He was a dreamer, destined to spin tales for the rest of his life. Not to become a monster. There was no way he would have wanted to become something so evil. Ending that nightmare for him would be the honorable thing to do. Even if it killed a part of me. My muscles tensed for action, and the room seemed three sizes smaller than before. I couldn’t spend one more moment in here with these thoughts, not being able to do a damn thing. I wasn’t sure if I could resist Casteel. If Casteel were right, I didn’t think I would survive my time in Atlantia. But I could find my brother. “And I will not spend one more fucking moment in this room,” I said out loud, stalking to the door. I leaned against it, listening for any sounds from outside. Hearing nothing, I rapped my knuckles on the wood. “Kieran?” Silence. Kieran wasn’t standing guard by the door. He likely thought I was safely tucked away in the room. It wasn’t like I could kick it down or climb out the stupid, pointless window. He probably thought there was no way out. And there wasn’t, if one didn’t have an older brother who had taught them how to pick locks. My lips curved into a smile as I spun around. I grabbed the meat knife off the table and took it back to the door. The blade was thick near the handle, but the edge was thin enough to fit into the lock. Kneeling, I slipped the point into the keyhole. Ian had taught me how to wiggle the knife around, applying pressure to the right and then the left, repeating until I heard the soft click. Before I requested to be moved to the older part of Castle Teerman that contained the old servants’ access, allowing me to move about unseen, I was often locked inside my bedchambers while Ian was allowed out for schooling, to play, and to do whatever. He’d never told me how he learned to pick a lock, but he spent many, many afternoons teaching me. “You have to be patient, Poppy,” he’d said, kneeling beside me as I jammed the knife into the keyhole. He’d laughed as he placed his hand over mine. “And gentle. You can’t come at it like a battering ram.” So, I was patient, and I was gentle. I wiggled the knife until I heard the soft snick of the point finding the tumbler. Grabbing the handle with my other hand, I exhaled deeply as the mechanism gave a little. I willed my hand to steady as I turned counterclockwise. The handle turned, and the door cracked open. Cold air seeped in as I peeked outside, peering at the empty walkway. A rush of euphoria hit me as I closed the door, scanning the room. The leather satchel was already packed with the meager items I’d brought with me. I went to grab it, but my gaze strayed to the bed, to the flannel nightgown left out by someone for me to wear. Snatching that off the bed, I started to shove it into the bag when I saw the thigh sheath lying on top. Quickly, I strapped that on and slipped the knife inside it, breathing through the pang I felt when I thought of my wolven bone and bloodstone dagger. Could it still be lying in the stables, lost under piles of straw and hay? I crammed the nightgown into the bag and then dropped the strap over my head and across my chest. Turning, I picked up the heavy, fur-lined cloak. It was a drab, dark brown, chosen when we left Masadonia since it wouldn’t catch the eye. Tossing it over my shoulders, my fingers were steady as I secured the buttons along the neck of the cloak, even though my heart pounded. I tugged on my gloves, wishing there were supplies in the room other than what I thought was liquor that sat on the table below the window. But I had gone without food before, usually when Duke Teerman was disappointed in something I did or didn’t do. I could go without again. I didn’t have much of a plan, and very limited knowledge of the surrounding areas, but I knew that traveling east would take me closer to the Skotos Mountains. Supposedly, Atlantia lay—and thrived—beyond the cloud-capped peaks and the fog-drenched valleys. If I headed through the town, I could follow the road back to Masadonia, but that would take me straight through the Blood Forest. If I went southwest, through the woods, I would eventually reach…what was the town? My nose wrinkled as I tried to recall one of the maps I’d seen in the city’s Atheneum. It had been old, the ink faded, but there had been a bridge drawn— Whitebridge. The town of Whitebridge was to the south, but I had no idea how far it would be on foot. Cursing my inexperience with horses, I sprang forward, opening the door. Walkway still clear, I slipped outside, closing the door behind me. I could lock it from the outside, but the time it would take to do that wasn’t worth the seconds it would take for someone to unlock the door. I hurried to the stairwell, sticking close to the wall. Stopping at the door, I listened for signs of life. When I heard nothing, I entered and raced down the steps, a surreal sense of deja vu hitting me as I reached the landing. I turned to the door that led outside, just like I had after stabbing Casteel. I really hoped this had a different outcome as I pulled up the hood of the cloak, then reached for the door, opening it slowly. A fine layer of snow crunched under my boot as I stepped out into the yard, the sound minuscule but sounding like a crack of thunder to my ears. Drawing in a deep breath, I reminded myself of all the times I’d snuck out onto the Rise without being seen, or moved throughout the castle and the city, never once being caught—until Casteel. I wasn’t going to think about that right now. I would think about how much I excelled at sneaking off, right under the noses of many. I could do this. My breath puffed out in small, misty clouds as I looked to the right, toward the stables. Could the wolven dagger really be in there? Could I really be stupid enough to check? Yes? The dagger meant…well, it meant everything to me. But Ian was more important—my freedom was more important. Going to the stables was too much of a risk. There’d be stable hands there, Descenters and possibly even Atlantians or wolven. I wasn’t that stupid. “Dammit,” I muttered and then pushed away from the wall. I ran for the shadows, the edges of my cloak streaming out behind me as I avoided the lit torches and their buttery glow. I didn’t even realize I’d made it to the forest until the silvery moonlight became fragmented, leaving just enough light for me to not be taken out by a tree. I didn’t slow. I ran faster than I ever had, keeping the pace to put as much distance between me and the keep as possible. When my boot snagged on an exposed root, bringing me down hard, my knees cracking off the frozen ground, I climbed back to my feet and ran some more, pushing past the pain and the cold, the damp air stinging my cheeks. I ran until the dull ache in my side turned into a stitch that forced me to slow. By then, I had no idea how far I’d traveled, but the trees were less crowded, and the snow-covered ground was untouched. Panting as I rubbed at my side, I forged forward. There couldn’t be more than a day’s ride between New Haven and Whitebridge. So, on foot? A day and a half, maybe two if I rested. Once I got there, I could find the next group who was traveling toward the capital. I could get lucky. Maybe there wouldn’t be a long wait. But if not? I would have to make do, though the real concern was if Whitebridge was as controlled by Descenters as New Haven was. If so, would they know who I was? I didn’t think so. Very few people knew I was scarred. But if Casteel got word out, just like the Ascended would once we didn’t show at our next outpost, I would be recognized. As far as I knew, we hadn’t planned to stop at Whitebridge, but whatever plans had been shared with the Duchess hadn’t been real. But could I use my identity? If I could prove to any of the mortals or possibly the Ascended that I was the Maiden, then I was sure I could secure travel to the capital, and then I could escape once we were inside. That would be a risk, but nothing about this was safe. Only the gods knew what lived in these woods. Knowing my luck, probably a cantankerous family of very large, very hungry bears. I’d never seen a bear before, though, so that would be kind of an amazing sight to behold right before it chewed off my face. But at least I doubted— The snapping of a branch stopped me as I climbed over a fallen tree. Looking down, I saw nothing but smooth snow and scattered pine needles. I held my breath, skin prickling as I strained to hear any other sounds. A cracking noise came again, this time closer, sending a rippling wave of wariness through me. Spinning around, I scanned the trees and their low-hanging branches, weighed down by the snow and ice. Was that the cause of that sound? Branches breaking? I turned in a full circle, slower this time, my eyes watering from the cold air. My head jerked to the right. I squinted at the thicker, deeper shadows where the moonlight didn’t quite penetrate. Reaching into the folds of my cloak, I pulled the meat knife out. I really hoped it wasn’t a bear. I didn’t want to have to kill the ursine. I almost laughed because I doubted the knife would do much against a bear. My muscles tensed as the shadow peeled away, slinking out from the gloom. I jerked back a step at the size of it, nearly as tall as a man, it’s tawny fur dusted with snow. My heart sank all the way to the tips of my freezing toes as the wolven prowled forward, its muscles bunching and rolling under the heavy fawn-colored fur. Kieran. “Dammit,” I growled, tasting fury in the back of my throat. His ears flattened as he climbed halfway onto the fallen tree, the claws of his front paws ripping into the wood. He dropped his chin, those pale blue eyes alert as we stared at each other. He was waiting, probably for me to run, but I knew that wouldn’t end well for me. The sense of hopelessness, of how unfair this was almost brought me to my knees. But I stood my ground. I would not give up. The handle of the knife dug into my gloved palm as my heart slammed against my ribs. “I’m not going back to the keep,” I told Kieran. “You will have to force me, and I will not make it easy for you. I will fight you.” “If you’re looking for a fight…” came a voice that sent a shiver down my spine and then over my skin. My head jerked in the direction of the sound. “You’ll fight me, Princess.” Chapter 4 Casteel, garbed in black, cut a striking figure silhouetted against the snow as he stalked forward. He came to stand beside Kieran, and I saw that he was armed with his two short swords, the handles a deep chrome, and the blades a ruby-hued bloodstone. The knife I held had never felt more pathetic than it did in that moment. “I suppose I will need to add lock picking to the ever-growing list of attributes,” Casteel drawled. “But what a very un-Maiden-like talent to have. Then again, I shouldn’t be that surprised. You have many un-Maiden-like talents, don’t you?” I said nothing as my heart threw itself around my chest. “Did you really think you’d escape me?” Casteel asked softly. Anger was sharper than any blade, far more welcomed than the hopelessness. “I almost did.” “Almost means nothing, Princess. You should know that.” I did. “I’m not walking back to that keep.” “Would you prefer that I carry you?” he offered. “I would prefer never to see your face again.” “Now, all three of us know that’s a lie.” Beside him, Kieran made a chuffing sound, and I considered chucking the knife at the wolven’s face. “I’ll make you a deal.” I stayed alert as he stepped over the fallen tree I had as if it were nothing more than a branch. “I’m not interested in any deals. I’m interested in my freedom.” “But you haven’t heard what I have to offer.” Reaching across his chest, he unstrapped one of the swords. “Fight me. You win, you can have your freedom.” He tossed the sword so it landed in front of me. Giving the weapon a quick glance, I laughed, the sound gritty against my skin. “As if he’ll let me cause you any harm.” I jerked my head to Kieran. Casteel tilted his head as the wolven’s ears perked. “Go back to the keep, Kieran. I want to make sure Poppy feels this is fair.” “Fair?” I seethed as Kieran hesitated for a moment and then pushed off the fallen tree. Twisting with all the grace of an animal, he loped off. “You’re an Atlantian. How will fighting you be fair?” “So you’re afraid to lose, then? Or afraid to fight me?” “Never,” I swore. He smirked as his eyes flared a heated ocher. “Then fight me. Remember what I said earlier? I want you to battle me. I look forward to it. I enjoy it. None of that was a lie. Engage me.” Of course, I remembered what he’d said, but there was no way I could beat him. I knew that. He knew that. However, there was no way I would stroll back to my cage either. Not when I’d spent my whole life in one. Keeping my eyes on him, I slid the knife back into its sheath and unhooked the cloak, letting it fall to the ground. I immediately missed the warmth, but the garment would be too much of a hazard. I removed the satchel, as well, dropping it by the outer garment. One of Casteel’s eyebrows rose. “Is that all you were planning to escape with? Just some clothes? No other supplies? No food or water?” “I couldn’t risk being caught shopping from the pantry, now could I?” Watching him, I bent and picked up the short sword, holding it with two hands. It was nowhere near as heavy as a broadsword, but even as lightweight as it was, I didn’t have the upper body strength of those who trained for years with them. Vikter had quickly erased the notion that I’d be able to wield either with one hand for any extended period. “More like this was a poorly thought-out plan, one borne of panic.” “It was not borne of panic.” Not exactly. Maybe a little. “I don’t believe that. You’re smarter than this, Poppy.” He unsheathed the other sword, sliding it free. “Too damn clever to run in the middle of the night with no food, no water, and nothing more than a paltry meat knife for protection.” I clamped my lips together as the heat of anger warmed my skin. “Do you know how long it will take to get to Whitebridge on foot? That’s where you were heading, wasn’t it? Did you think about how cold it gets in the middle of the night?” he demanded, a hint of anger hardening his tone. “At any point, did you stop and think about the things that could be in these woods?” I hadn’t. Not really. And he was right. My plan wasn’t all that well-thought-out. “Are you done talking yet? Or are you too afraid that I might actually beat you, so you won’t shut up?” “I like hearing myself talk.” “I’m sure you do.” The snow picked up, spiraling across the ground. “Ready?” he asked. “Are you?” “Always.” My gaze dipped to his sword. He held it pointed down, not at the ready. There was an insult there, whether he meant it or not. Blistering, smoky rage burned through me, spurring me into action. Charging him, I jabbed for his midsection, but Casteel was fast, deflecting my attack with a simple swipe of his sword. “You should be aiming for my neck, Princess. Or is the sword too heavy for you?” Lips thinning at the taunt, I swiped the sword high. He blocked it and struck out, not nearly as fast as he could, considering I could easily dance out of his reach. “You’ve forgotten a lot of what I said to you.” He prowled forward, cutting off my next blow with a swipe of his blade. “Maybe I chose to ignore whatever it was you had to say.” Eyes narrowing, I moved to the side. “Either way, I’ll do you a favor and repeat myself.” “Not necessary.” I tracked his movements as he circled me. He was far more skilled with the sword, just like Vikter had been when he trained with me. What had he taught me? Never forget one of the most important weapons: the element of surprise. Casteel stalked me, sword raised. “It seems entirely too necessary for me to repeat myself, considering your foolish behavior.” I would show him foolish behavior. “Fight me. Argue with me. I won’t stop you. But I will not allow you to put your life in jeopardy. And this? Tonight? Is the epitome of reckless, life-endangering behavior.” “You didn’t want me to argue with you earlier,” I reminded him, watching him carefully. “Because, as I said, you can fight me, but not when it jeopardizes your life.” “So, my life was in jeopardy with Alastir?” “I was working on ensuring that’s not the case. Yet here I am instead, making sure you haven’t gotten yourself killed.” “Only because you need me alive. Right? What good will a dead Maiden be as a bartering tool when it comes to freeing your brother?” His jaw flexed. “So, you’d rather get yourself killed?” “I’d rather be free,” I gritted out as the wind blew a strand of hair across my face. His upper lip curled, revealing one fang. “If you think running back to the Ascended will give you freedom, then I’ve overestimated your critical-thinking skills.” “If you think that’s what I’m planning, then I’ve overestimated yours,” I returned. Casteel made his move then, swinging hard. I suspected he planned to knock the sword free from my hand. If he landed the blow, he would’ve, but I darted into the sword’s path. Surprise widened his eyes as he drew the blade back like I knew he would. I was no good to him dead. I dipped under his arm and spun, kicking out. My boot connected with his stomach, pushing a sharp curse out of him. Straightening, I swung the blade around. Casteel shifted to the side, narrowly avoiding a slice to the chest. “Nice job,” he remarked, his voice free of mockery. “I didn’t ask for your thoughts.” His blade met mine in a clang of bloodstone. For several heated moments, that was the only sound in the woods as we thrust and parried. A fine sheen of sweat dampened my forehead despite the cold, and even though all the running caused my muscles to now weep in protest, I refused to give in. This wasn’t a fight to the death. In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t even a fight for freedom because no matter what deal Casteel made, he wouldn’t let me go. This was about who disarmed whom first. Who drew first blood. This was about driving out the pent-up rage and the festering sense of helplessness that had resided inside me for far longer than I was comfortable admitting. And maybe, just maybe, that was why Casteel was allowing this. The edge of my sword came close to nicking his left cheek as he swept the blade aside, the deflection sending an aching tremor up my arms. I was breathing fast while he showed no signs of tiring. He moved around me in a slow circle, his sword once again lowered. “Did I frighten you tonight? With Landell?” he asked. The arrogance marking his features slipped away, revealing someone else entirely. “Is that why you ran? Are you scared of me?” Startled by the question—by the way he almost looked afraid to hear my answer—I lowered the sword an inch. It was a mistake. Casteel struck as fast as a falcon with its prey in sight. He gripped my arm, spinning me so my back was to him. I tried to twist, but his arm clamped down on my waist, pulling me back against his chest. He pressed his fingers into my wrist, forcing my hand to spasm open. The sword fell to the snow. “I had to do it,” he said, dipping his head so his cheek pressed against mine. “No one, and I mean no one, speaks of you like that. Threatens you and lives.” My stupid, ridiculous heart skipped a beat. “That’s so sweet,” I said, and I felt his arm loosen around my waist. “But you cheated.” Jerking to the side, I slammed my elbow into his stomach as hard as I could. Casteel grunted, letting go. I whirled, striking fast instead of going for the sword he still held. My fist caught him in the corner of the mouth. The shock of pain flared in his eyes, and I spun, dipping low as I swung my leg around. He jumped, but I caught one leg, sweeping it out from underneath him. He went down, and a shout of victory burst from me as I popped to my feet and turned to him, breathing heavily. Casteel dropped his sword as he rose onto one elbow, dragging his hand over his mouth as he stared up at me. Red smeared the back of his hand, and a sense of violent delight surged through me. He’d disarmed me first, but I’d made him bleed. “Just so you know, I’d do it again—kill a thousand versions of Landell,” he said, dampening some of the satisfaction I felt as I glanced at the sword he’d dropped. “And I wouldn’t lose a moment of sleep over it. But you never need to fear me. Never.” My gaze flew to his. There was no smugness in his words, no teasing in his stare. “I don’t fear you.” His brows furrowed in confusion, and I seized that moment, shooting toward the sword. I wasn’t even exactly sure what I would do with it once I held it. I didn’t get to find out. Casteel snagged me around the waist, moving so silently that I hadn’t even heard him stand or come at me. He took me to the ground, twisting so he took the brunt of the fall. I ended up on top of him. “This reminds me of the stables,” he spoke to the back of my head, and whatever vulnerability had been in his voice moments before was now gone. He rolled me under him. “You were just as violent then as you are now.” His weight and the heat of his body against my back and the iciness of the snow at my front was a shock to my senses, stunning me. “Most wouldn’t find that such an attractive quality.” His voice was a warm whisper against my ear, invoking thoughts of tangled sheets and lush spice. There wasn’t an inch of space separating us. I could feel him along the length of my back, over the curve of my rear, and where one of his legs was shoved between mine. The decadent scent of him and the crispness of the snow filled every too-short, too-shallow breath as every part of my body became aware of his. “But…” he said, his mouth brushing my jaw, followed by the graze of his sharp teeth, sending an illicit thrill through me. Would he bite me? An aching heaviness filled my chest and glided lower, igniting a burst of disbelief. Did I…? Did I want him to do that? No. Of course, not. I couldn’t. His lips curved against my skin, against the healing bite mark. “I’m not most people.” “Most people aren’t as insane as you,” I said in a throaty voice that wasn’t mine. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.” He scraped harder with his sharp teeth, just below where he’d bitten me before, and I gasped as my body jerked. “And the truth is, you like my brand of insanity.” My blood pounded through me in a dizzying push. “I don’t like anything about you.” He laughed as his lips skimmed the side of my throat. “I love how you lie.” “I’m not lying,” I denied, wondering if he nudged my head to the side or if I had done that. It couldn’t have been me. “Hmm?” His lips hovered over the spot where my pulse fluttered wildly. “Your penchant for violence isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Not with me. Haven’t I told you it turns me on?” “One too many times,” I said, pushing off the ground and against Casteel. I felt him against me for a brief moment, felt the proof of his words. The tight throbbing response to the knowledge made me question my sanity. Casteel hadn’t expected the move, and he slipped to the side—or maybe he was just humoring me. Probably the latter. Either way, I scrambled to my knees and turned on him, throwing a wild punch. Casteel caught my hand. “Then I guess it would be repetitive of me to tell you how much you’re turning me on now?” “That and how incredibly disturbing it is.” He smiled up at me, his eyes twin golden flames. “I do so prefer hand-to-hand combat with you,” he said, catching my other wrist when I swung my fist down. “I like how close it brings us, Princess.” I shrieked my frustration—my irritation—at him. At myself. “There is something so wrong with you!” “Probably, but you know what?” He lifted his head off the ground. “That’s the part you like the most.” “There is nothing—” My response died on the tip of my tongue. Under his head, the snow seemed to be rising off the ground, but that…that wasn’t right. I lifted my gaze, seeing white, misty clouds rolling softly along the snow. Mist. “Do you see that? “What?” Casteel twisted his head. “Shit. Craven.” My heart stammered. “I didn’t think there were any Craven here.” “Why would you think there’s no Craven here?” Disbelief rang in his tone. “You’re in Solis. The Craven are everywhere.” “But there’s no Ascended here,” I argued as the mist thickened and spread. “How can there be Craven?” “There used to be Ascended here.” He sat up, bringing me closer. “They fed, and they fed a lot. Elijah and the others keep the Craven back, but with Whitebridge on the other side of these woods, and young, pretty girls blindly running through them in the middle of the night, it’s not like they don’t have a food source.” “I didn’t run into the woods blindly,” I snapped. “But you did, and you didn’t even realize there were Craven in these woods.” His voice hardened with hints of his earlier anger. “And all you had was a damn meat knife. Why did you run, Poppy?” A high-pitched shriek sent a bolt of dread through me. “Do you think now is a good time to have this conversation?” “Yes.” I shot him an incredulous stare. “No?” he said and then added a sigh. He rose as swiftly as the air, pulling me to my feet. Letting go of one of my arms, he bent and swiped up the sword he’d dropped. Another shrill cry sounded, followed by the sound of snapping tree limbs, freezing the blood in my veins. “I think—” Casteel hauled me against his chest without warning. Before I knew what he was even about, his mouth was on mine, stealing my breath and scattering my thoughts. The kiss was hot and raw, a clash of lips and teeth. I was reminded again of how, as Hawke, he’d held himself back when he kissed me, and how much he hid. It wasn’t just the fangs, it was also the power—his power. He lifted his mouth from mine, his eyes nearly luminous as he stared down into my wide ones. “But we will have that conversation later,” he promised, thrusting the sword into my hand. “Make me feel incompetent and kill more than me, Princess.” For a moment, I was rooted to the spot where I stood, the hilt of the sword cold against my palm. The Cravens’ screams jolted me from my stupor. I turned just as Casteel picked up the other sword. There was no time to think about anything, especially not the kiss. The mist grew, reaching our knees— They streamed out from a cluster of trees, a tide of sunken, gray bodies, bared fangs, and blazing, coal-red eyes. I’d never seen the Craven so…decayed. Their skulls were bare of hair, or only patchy, clumpy strings remained. Ribcages were all but exposed through the ragged clothing they wore. They were so emaciated, so withered away that I couldn’t help but feel pity for the mortals they used to be and the rotting corpses they’d become. I braced as they spilled over the fallen branches and boulders. Because even in their condition, they were fast, and they would be deadly in their bloodlust. The first to reach me may have been a woman once, given the faded yellow frock and the jeweled ring still on her finger. She screamed, reed-thin legs pumping as she reached for me with outstretched hands, her fingers ending in razor-sharp claws that could easily shred skin. I was proof of that. Her jaw hung open, exposing the two elongated canines along the top, and the two that jutted up from the bottom. Meeting her halfway, I thrust the sword into her chest. Rotten blood spurted, filling the air with putridness. If the blade weren’t bloodstone or a stake fashioned from the trees within the Blood Forest, she would’ve kept coming, tearing herself in two to get to me. I’d seen a Craven do that before. But the blade was bloodstone, and she was dead the moment the sword pierced her heart. Yanking the weapon free, I turned as she crumpled to the ground. Casteel had lopped off the head of a Craven, another surefire way of killing them. I wasn’t worried for him. I imagined it would take dozens of Craven, if not more, to overwhelm an Atlantian. Piercing the chest of another Craven, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that if there had been any semblance of truth behind the Ascended’s claims of the Dark One controlling the Craven, I doubted they’d be trying to rip his skin open right now. I already knew that though, having seen the Craven go after him in the Blood Forest before. This was just more evidence of the truth he spoke. And the lies I’d been told. Fury energized me as I sliced the bloodstone through the neck of a Craven, severing its head. I whirled from the gore, only to come face-to-face with ghastly, inhuman eyes, and snapping teeth. A moment of pure, unadulterated terror swamped me when my gaze locked with the Craven’s. It threatened to toss me back through the years to when I couldn’t keep my grip on my mother’s slippery, blood-soaked hand as the pain of the first claw and then the first bite turned into a never-ending nightmare. I wasn’t a small child now, incapable of defending myself. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t prey. With a rage-filled shout I barely recognized as mine, I jabbed the blade through the Craven’s caved-in chest. The ungodly light went out in its eyes, the last vestiges of life. “Six,” Casteel called out. “You?” “Four,” I answered, calming myself as I almost wished I didn’t know what he’d meant. I darted under the arms of another Craven, driving the sword deep into its back. “Five.” “Shameful,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes. A wailing Craven jerked my head around. It raced toward me, and I stepped in, gripping the hilt with both hands as I shoved the blade through its chin. Tearing the sword free, I saw that the mist was all but gone now. Heart thumping as Casteel drove his blade through the last Craven, I lowered the sword. Taking a step back, I dragged in deep breaths. As he pulled his weapon free, his head swiveled in my direction. I didn’t know if he was looking to see if I was still standing or to make sure I wasn’t running away—or at him with the sword. He didn’t have to worry about the last two things. I was far too tired to run anywhere. “I was hoping to have the chance to rescue you.” Casteel bent, wiping his sword clean on the leg of the fallen’s pants. “But you didn’t need my help.” “Sorry to disappoint you.” My gaze shifted to the Craven before me. He wore no shirt, and that was how I could see the wound on his stomach, four deep indentations along his waist that were an ugly shade of purple, whereas the rest of his skin was the color of death. He hadn’t been fed upon by an Ascended. I wondered how old he’d been before a Craven’s bite had cursed him. What had he’d done for a living? Was he a guard or a Huntsman? A banker? A farmer? Did he have a family? Children who had been ripped apart in front of him? “Did I tell you that a Craven bit me?” “No,” he answered quietly. “Where?” “On my leg. Scarred as it is now, it looks like claws did it, but it was fangs,” I said, unsure why I was talking or thinking about this. “I never understood why I survived the bite while everyone else bitten was cursed. I’d planned to tell you about it after we were…together, but things happened. I didn’t say anything before because it was another thing I was told to keep silent about. The Queen told me it was because I was the Maiden, the one Chosen by the gods. That was why I didn’t turn. But I wasn’t chosen by anything or anyone.” I looked over at him. “It’s because I’m part Atlantian, isn’t it?” Slipping his sword into the scabbard as he walked toward me, he stopped beside me. “A Craven’s bite does not curse an Atlantian, but in enough numbers, and I suppose depending on if they managed to sever our heads, they could kill us.” “I think the reason I was never allowed to use my gift or tell anyone about the bites is because those things are Atlantian traits,” I said. “Maybe the Ascended were afraid that if people knew, someone would realize what that meant.” “Did anyone know?” he asked. “Vikter knew about the bites and my gift, but Tawny didn’t. My brother did—I mean, he does. He knows.” My brows knotted. “And the Teermans.” “There are Atlantians among the Descenters. If one of them had become aware of your gift or the bite, they would’ve known.” He lifted his hand to my cheek. I tensed as he smoothed his thumb down the side of my face to below the scar. “Craven blood,” he explained, wiping it away. His eyes met mine. “If I’d known those marks were bites, I would’ve realized what you were right away.” “Yeah, well….” I trailed off. “Would that have changed anything?” He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he said, “No, Poppy. You being mortal or half-Atlantian wouldn’t have changed what was already happening.” “At least you’re honest.” An ache pierced my chest as I dragged my gaze from his and looked over the Craven. They’d come from the direction I’d been heading. I let out a heavy breath, knowing I wouldn’t have survived. There was no way I could have taken on a dozen Craven by myself. And only with a meat knife. I could admit that. I would’ve died tonight, and that wasn’t the kind of freedom I’d been looking for. For some reason, I thought about what he’d said to me before, during what felt like a different life. “Do you remember saying that you felt like you knew me when we met?” “I do.” “Was that a lie?” His features hardened and then smoothed out. “Was it a lie to you?” I shook my head no. “Why, then?” Thick lashes lowered. “I think it’s the Atlantian blood in us recognizing each other, showing the connection in a feeling that would probably easily be overlooked,” Casteel said as I felt his hand over mine, over the one holding the sword. He slipped it from my grasp, and I didn’t try to fight him. I watched as he cleaned the blade and then sheathed it next to the other. I met his gaze again. “I’m not handing over the meat knife.” “I wouldn’t expect you to.” A long, silent moment passed between us. “It’s time.” I knew what he meant. It was time to go back. And it was. The fight for this battle had left me. “I’ll try to escape again.” “I figured as much.” “I’m not going to stop fighting you.” “I wouldn’t want you to.” I thought that was weird. “And I’m not going to marry you.” “We’ll talk about that later.” “No, we won’t,” I said, starting toward my cloak with weary steps. I drew up short, cursing under my breath. “What?” Casteel followed. “There’s a dead Craven on my cloak.” I sighed heavily. “That was an especially inconvenient place for it to fall.” He nudged it off the cloak, but the damage was already done. I could see and smell the rotten blood staining the garment. “If I put that on, I will vomit,” I warned him. Picking up my satchel, he draped it over his shoulder as he rose. “You ran far. Farther than I thought you would get,” he said. Since he wasn’t looking, I allowed myself a small smile. “But I don’t think you’ll freeze to death on the way back. Then you’ll rest,” he said, facing me. “You’ll need all your strength for the battles ahead, Princess.” Chapter 5 The trip back to the keep was quiet and long. The wind had picked up, battering both of us. I’d begun to wonder if the gods had awakened, and this was their punishment. After all, if everything Casteel and the others had claimed was true, wasn’t I as counterfeit as the Queen and King of Solis? I’d done everything possible to handle how much the cold had begun to affect me, but it seemed impossible to hide anything from Casteel. Halfway through our journey, he ended up wrapping his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to him as we forged forward, his body absorbing the brunt of the wind. Gods help me, but I didn’t resist. I chalked it up to being far too tired and cold. It had nothing to do with his lush scent masking the stench of the Craven. It didn’t have anything to do with how…good it felt to lean on someone, for them to take the worst of the wind, to carry their weight and mine. Nor did it have anything to do with the simple luxury of being allowed this close to someone without fear of reprimand or being found unworthy. Casteel was just…warm. When we finally made it back to the keep, there was no telling what time it was. But despite my failure, I welcomed the warmth of the room. I was a walking ice cube, unable to feel my nose, and unsure if it was even still attached. What I did not welcome was finding Kieran waiting inside the room, sitting in the corner chair by the fire. He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “What took you two so long? I was actually beginning to wonder if she beat you.” “You seem real concerned sitting there,” Casteel replied, ushering me toward the fireplace. I allowed it, as I was shivering so badly, I swore my bones were trembling. Kieran grinned. “I was beside myself with worry.” Casteel snorted. “We worked things out.” “No, we didn’t,” I gritted out between chattering teeth. Ignoring that, Casteel pried my clenched hands apart. “We ran into some Craven,” he told Kieran, tugging my damp gloves off. He dropped them onto the hearth. “A little over a dozen.” Kieran tilted his head at me as Casteel moved to the side, slipping off my satchel. “Wonder how that would’ve worked out for you with your meat knife.” “S-shut up,” I stammered, holding my fingers as close to the fire as I could without shoving them into the flames. “She knows it wouldn’t have worked out all that well for her.” Casteel shoved a hand through his snow-kissed hair, dragging the thick strands back. “That’s why she’s cranky.” “I doubt that’s the only reason,” Kieran remarked. I shot him a look that would’ve withered him on the spot if he cared. Apparently, he didn’t care, at least based on how his grin kicked up a notch. “I had a bath drawn. The water would be warmer if you had simply come back without too much trouble.” I almost raced straight to the bathing chamber, but the way he said, “too much trouble” dripped with amusement. “Do you expect a thank you?” “It would be nice,” he replied. “Doubt I will get one, though.” Warmth crept back into my fingers in a prickly rush as I spared a quick, longing look toward the bathing chamber. “Your expectations would be correct, then.” “They usually are.” He studied me for a moment and then rose from the chair. “I’ll wrangle up some men and go out and take care of the Craven.” “I’ll come with you,” Casteel said, and I glanced over at him in surprise. He caught my stare before I could look away. “We don’t let them lay out there and rot. They were once mortal,” he explained. “We burn them.” The same was done in Masadonia whenever the Craven reached the Rise, but it was the fact that he was volunteering to go back out there that shocked me. I would’ve expected that from Hawke, but this was the Prince. And it was freezing out. Then again, he didn’t appear even remotely fazed by the cold. I bit down on my lip to stop myself from asking, but that didn’t work. Curiosity always got the best of me. “Does the cold not affect you?” “I have thick skin,” he answered, and I frowned, not sure if that was true. “To go along with my thick skull.” Now that was something I was sure of. “I would ask that you hold off on any more attempts at escape tonight. Make use of the bath and rest,” Casteel said, and I gritted my teeth. “But in case you feel like testing out how much cold your body can withstand, just know that Delano will be standing guard outside this room.” Poor Delano, I thought. The last time he played guard, things hadn’t exactly been easy for him—or me. Casteel joined Kieran at the door. He was halfway out when I heard him say, “Behave, Princess.” A thousand retorts rose to the tip of my tongue as my head whipped toward him, but he was already closing the door. I let out a rather filthy curse, and as the lock clicked into place, I heard him laugh. Instead of running and kicking the door like I wanted to, which would serve no purpose but to bruise my frozen toes, I tore myself away from the fire. Unhooking the thigh sheath, I placed it near the flames so it would dry. I left the knife on the small wooden table by the bed and then quickly stripped out my nearly frozen clothing. Leaving them in a pile by the fire, I hurried to the bathing chamber. Several oil lamps had been lit, casting a soft glow over the tub and several pitchers still full of fresh water. Dipping my fingers into the water, I was relieved to find that it was still warm. I probably should’ve thanked Kieran since it had been a considerate thing to do. But he was also party to my captivity, so I shouldn’t be too grateful. I wouldn’t. Rolling my eyes at myself, I stepped into the tub. As I sank into the warm water, wincing as it met my chilled skin and scraped knees, the reality of tonight set in like lead balls in my stomach. Neither Casteel nor Kieran had been anywhere near the room when I made my escape, and yet they’d still discovered my absence. Maybe I’d waited too long to leave, and one of them had already been on their way to my room. I draped my braid over my shoulder as I grabbed the bar of lilac-scented soap and started scrubbing vigorously at my skin. It wouldn’t have mattered if I had left sooner. They still would’ve found me, either alive or…torn to pieces by the Craven. My escape had been foolish and ill-planned, borne of my need to find my brother and…yes, panic. Not because of what Casteel had done in the banquet hall, but because of the soul-crushing sense of helplessness and… Letting the soap slip through my fingers, I lifted my hand to the bite on my neck. An achy pulse coiled low in my stomach. That. That had a lot to do with why I ran. I opened my eyes, fishing the bar of soap from the water. In the quiet stillness of the room, I recognized the truth of my situation. Escape would be nearly impossible, even with longer lead time, supplies including bloodstone, and more amicable weather. Kieran would track me. Casteel would come for me. Sighing, I leaned back against the tub and stayed in the water until I almost forgot how cold I’d been. Finally, I climbed out. After drying off, I pulled the nightgown from my bag, relieved to find that it was dry. I slipped it on and then climbed into bed, slowly undoing my braid. The ends of my hair were wet, but they’d dry. I curled up on my side, facing the door. The warmth of the blankets lulled me to sleep, despite my racing thoughts. It couldn’t have been more than an hour before a deep laugh from outside jolted me from my slumber. Casteel. He was here, outside the bedchamber. Why? My mind immediately went in several directions. One of those flashed images of him and I all twisted together— I jumped from the bed as if the mattress had caught fire, grabbing the knife. He couldn’t be here to make sure I was still inside, not with Delano standing guard outside. Why was he here instead of his quarters when he had to be exhausted from the night’s events? My heart stammered. He must have his own bedchamber…right? I looked around, my heart thumping. This was his bedchamber. At the sound of the grinding of the lock, I turned. The door swung open, letting in a gust of cold, damp air that ruffled the flames of the fireplace. And he… Casteel prowled in as if he had every right to do so. He halted the moment he saw me and what I held, sighing heavily. Closing the door behind him, he was wise enough to not take his gaze off me. “Poppy,” he started. “As you know, it’s been a long day and night. And while I’m relieved to see that you didn’t manage to evade Delano, and despite that I think you look rather adorable in that gown, holding that tiny, little knife—” I threw the blade, aiming for his head just like he’d told me to do. Stepping aside, Casteel snatched the weapon out of the air. I knew how fast he was, but it was still shocking to see how quick he could be. It stole my breath even as an infuriating voice whispered in the back of my mind that I had known he’d easily avoid the knife. A curse hissed through his teeth as his fingers closed around the blade. Blood trickled between his fingers, and I didn’t feel even a kernel of guilt as he stared at his hand. Well, perhaps there was a tiny bit of remorse—no larger than the size of a gnat, though. He hadn’t done anything at the exact moment in time to truly earn a knife being thrown at his face, but I was sure he would be more than deserving in a few minutes. Slowly, he opened his fingers, dropping the knife to the floor. The blood-soaked blade clanged off the wood. “That is the second time you’ve drawn blood tonight.” He looked over at me. A tense moment passed, and he then raised one dark brow. “You’re so incredibly violent.” “Only around you,” I shot back. His lips curled into a half-grin, revealing the dimple in his right cheek. “Now, you know that’s not true at all.” Walking toward the basin just inside the bathing chamber, he washed his hand. “But you know what is true?” My jaw ached from how tightly I was clenching it as I told myself not to ask. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. Highly unlikely, but one could always hope. Casteel looked over his shoulder at me, waiting. Frustration burned through me. “What?” I demanded. “What’s true?” He smiled then, a real one. Both dimples were on full display, and they weren’t the only thing. No longer needing to hide what he was behind a tight-lipped smile, there was a hint of fangs. My breath hitched in my throat. I didn’t know if it was the fangs or the dimples. Or the genuine warmth in his smile—and I’d seen all his smiles to know which ones were real: The half-curl of his lips that said he was amused. The predatory one that reminded me of a large cat whose prey had made a foolish mistake. The cold curve to his mouth that never reached his eyes. The twist of a grin full of barely banked violence that was a promise of bloodshed. Those smiles may not have been directed at me, not even tonight when we squared off in the woods. But I’d seen them all. But this was the kind of expression that softened the striking lines of his face and turned his eyes from cool amber to warm honey. And to me, it was the most dangerous of all his smiles. He wasn’t mad I’d thrown a knife at him and made him bleed, but warning bells went off nonetheless. These kinds of smiles begged for me to forget reality and all the lies and blood that had been shed. They made me think of him as Hawke. Instinct triggered self-preservation even as his smile tugged at my foolish heart, and the sensation slid lower, spiraling tight. Casteel turned to me, his hand open. There was no blood. No wound except for a faint pink line across the center of his palm. “It still turns me on, Princess.” I exhaled a shrill breath. “I feel like I’ve said this a hundred times, but it needs to be said again. There’s something wrong with you.” He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Some believe there’s something wrong with all of us, and I tend to believe that.” “I didn’t realize you were so philosophical.” I glanced at the knife on the floor while he emptied the basin into a bucket. There was no way he’d forgotten that I had it, or that it lay there now. Was he waiting to see what I would do? “There’s a lot you don’t realize about me,” he replied, returning to the bedchamber to retrieve the pitcher of water warmed by the fireplace. “I cannot wait to return home, to the land where all you need to do for hot water is turn a faucet handle.” “I—what?” I turned to him. “What do you mean?” The half-grin was back. “In Atlantia, all homes have running hot water that goes straight to their tubs and sinks.” “You lie.” He sent me a look as he placed the pitcher on the stand beside the basin. “Why would I lie about something like that?” “Because you’re a liar?” I reasoned. Loosening the collar of his tunic, he tsked softly. “Poppy, you wound me. In my heart,” he said, placing his hand over his chest. “Again.” “Don’t whine. You’ll heal. Again,” I snapped. “Unfortunately.” He chuckled. “I’m not the only one who is a liar, it appears.” Reaching down, he gripped the hem of his tunic. “You’d be very sad if I didn’t heal.” “I wouldn’t care—” My eyes widened as he pulled the tunic over his head. “What are you doing?” “What does it look like?” He gestured at the tub. “I just had my hands all over what are basically rotten corpses. I’m washing up.” For a moment, I couldn’t find any words as he turned, pouring the warm water into the tub. Partly due to disbelief, though also because he was…damn, his body was a work of art, even with numerous nicks and thin slices I could barely see in the soft lamplight. “Why are you doing that in here?” “Because this was my room. And for what is left of tonight, which isn’t very much, it’s our room.” He bent over the tub, picking up the pitchers of water I hadn’t used. The muscles along his shoulders and back moved under the taut skin in interesting ways. My heart clamored. “I used the water in the tub—” “The water is clean enough,” he interrupted. “And I’ve shared far dirtier water with far less intriguing people.” “Couldn’t you go to another room and have a bath all to yourself? With fresh water?” I suggested. “I’m sure many here would be eager to serve their Prince.” “There are many here who would be glad to serve me.” He looked at me, brows raised. “But leave you alone? When you could take all kinds of reckless, albeit exciting action? I don’t think so. I can’t have someone standing outside your room all night. They need their rest. I need to rest.” “Why? Because we’re leaving tomorrow?” “Not with the storm blowing in. It will make travel far too difficult,” he told me. “You know, the same storm you would’ve gotten caught in if you did manage to escape.” His hands lowered to the flap of buttons on his breeches— I quickly looked away. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Casteel chuckled. “Not like you haven’t seen it all before.” “That doesn’t mean I need to see it all again,” I shot back as I heard the soft rustle of fabric hitting the stone floor. “Interesting word choices.” Telling myself I shouldn’t and somehow being unable to resist, I peeked at the bathing chamber— I caught sight of bronzed skin dusted with dark hair, strong thighs, and the sleek, muscled curve of his backside. His body truly was a work of art, all the nicks oddly adding to the perfection. “You could’ve said you didn’t want to see everything,” Casteel continued, startling me enough that I looked away, cheeks flaming. Water sloshed against the sides of the tub as he climbed in. “You can look now. I’m…somewhat proper.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Although, not nearly proper enough for your barely ex-Maiden eyes,” he continued. This time I spun toward the bathing chamber. All I could see was the back of his head and the breadth of his shoulders, which was more than enough. “But I imagine your issue has nothing to do with what is proper or expected of you, is it? You’ve never been one to follow the rules.” I shook my head even though he couldn’t see as he reached for the soap, lathering the bar between his hands. He was right. I didn’t care about what was proper or expected, and that was long before he swept into my life like a fierce storm. But there was no way he was staying in this room with me. Tearing my gaze from him, I turned— “Go for the knife.” Casteel’s voice stopped me. My head snapped back in his direction as water splashed. How had he known? “That’s what you want, right? If it makes you feel safer, I don’t have a problem with it.” He splashed his face. Water ran down his neck and over the delineated lines of his shoulders. “Take it, Poppy.” My mouth dried. “You’re not afraid I’ll use it against you while you take your time bathing?” “I’m counting on you to use it again. If you didn’t, I’d be shocked. That’s why I didn’t bring my swords into the room. Figured you’d probably grab one of them.” I would if they were near. My hands opened and closed at my sides. He was offering me some level of protection, a sense of safety, and to some, that would be seen as a positive. Not to me. It was kind of offensive and pointless. He and I both knew the knife would only make him bleed temporarily. I still hurried over to where the knife lay and picked it up, my rising irritation halting when I saw the blood on the blade. His blood. My stomach twisted as I rose. “Do you want to know about the land of hot water that awaits with just the turn of a knob?” he asked amidst the trickling of water. Yes, I did, even though I wasn’t sure I believed that such a thing existed. Yet I said nothing as I picked up the towel I’d used earlier. I wiped the knife clean. “It’s broilers and pipes,” he went ahead and explained. “The piping runs from the broilers that are usually in a room off the kitchen. From there, they carry the hot water to wherever it’s needed.” Reluctantly, my interest had been piqued and was now stroked. “What do you mean by broilers?” “They’re like…large ovens where combustible material heats a storage tank of water.” He rose without warning, and all that water sluicing down the gleaming skin of his back, between— Heart pounding, I whirled away from the bathing chamber. A handful of seconds passed, and I looked over my shoulder just as he walked out of the smaller room, a towel tucked around his waist. He was… I had no words to describe his level of indecency. Or maybe I had too many words in my head— Casteel smiled at me as he strode across the room, opening a narrow cabinet in the wall that I hadn’t investigated. He pulled out what appeared to be black pants. “Electricity aids the broilers, and yes, in Atlantia, all homes and businesses, no matter who resides inside them, have power.” Fixing my gaze on the fire, I thought about what he’d said. If only what he claimed was true. That would probably be the first of many things that set the kingdom apart from the one I’d grown up in. Only the extremely wealthy or the well-connected had access to electricity in Solis. “How is that possible?” “It may be a finite source here, but it doesn’t need to be that way. The Ascended make it that way,” he said, and a quick glance told me that he’d ditched the towel in favor of the pants he’d retrieved. They were looser than breeches, hanging indecently low on his hips, held up by some sort of drawstring that seemed to defy gravity. He gathered up our clothing, placing it all in a laundry hamper that he then placed outside the door. Closing the door, he said, “A crucial part of their all-encompassing control is creating a rift between mortals who have and mortals who have not.” He sat in the chair in the corner and leaned back, propping one ankle on top of his knee. In just those strange, loose pants, I’d never seen a more arrogantly at-ease male. His fingers slowly tapped the arm of the chair. “So, those who barely have enough to survive, turn their anger towards those who have more than they could ever need. And never towards the Ascended.” I couldn’t exactly argue that point. The rift in Masadonia was clear and as wide as it was in the capital. While Radiant Row, where some Ascended and the wealthy lived, was only a few blocks long, it was an entire city within Carsodonia. And everything else was like the homes near the Rise in Masadonia, squat and stacked upon one another. “But Atlantia is ruled differently?” I challenged, holding the knife against my chest. “It is.” I thought of what Landell had said. “Sounded to me like there are problems in Atlantia.” His fingers stilled. “There are problems everywhere, Poppy.” “And what kind of problems is Atlantia having with limited space and useless land?” His head tilted to the side. “Atlantia was once this entire landmass from the Stroud Sea to far beyond the Skotos Mountains. My people built cities and cultivated the lands that the Ascended now rule over. When my people retreated at the end of the War of Two Kings, they lost all of that land. We are simply running out of space now.” “And what happens if you run out of space?” “I won’t allow that to happen,” he replied, straightening his head. “I thought you’d be asleep when I came back. You’ve probably had a far more tiring day than most of us.” “I was sleeping, but…” My gaze dropped to his chest, to the tightly coiled muscles of his stomach. The glow from the fireplace left very little to the imagination. “I woke you? I’m sorry about that,” he said, and the apology sounded genuine enough. “There’s a lot we need to talk about, Poppy.” “There is.” Namely, the whole marriage nonsense. “But talking doesn’t require you to be shirtless.” “Talking doesn’t require any clothes at all.” That smoky grin of his returned. “I can promise you that some of the most interesting conversations take place with no clothes to speak of.” Heat blasted my cheeks. “I’m sure you’ve had a ton of experience with those types of conversations.” “Jealous?” Propping his elbow on the arm of the chair, he rested his chin in his palm. “Hardly.” The grin increased, and even though I couldn’t see the dimple beyond the fingers splayed across his jaw and cheek, I knew it had to be there. “Then…distracted?” “No,” I lied, and then lied some more. “Not even remotely.” “Ah, I understand. You’re dazzled.” “Dazzled?” A surprised laugh almost broke free. And there it was again, the slight widening of his eyes, the parting of his lips, and the absence of arrogance. It was like watching him slip off a mask, but I had no idea if what was revealed was just another mask, especially when the look disappeared as his features became unreadable again. I exhaled slowly. “We don’t need to talk about your over-inflated ego. That has been long since established. We need to talk about this whole marriage stuff. There is no way I’m—” “We do need to talk about that, about our future. But not right now. It’s late. I’m tired. And if I’m tired, you have to be exhausted,” he said, and my eyes narrowed. “That’s the kind of conversation we both need to be fully energized for.” “That conversation will take just enough time for me to say I’m not marrying you. Therefore, there is no future to speak of. Now the conversation is over and done with. See how simple that was?” “But it’s not that simple,” he replied softly. “Why did you run tonight?” Frustration began to burn a hole through me. “Could it possibly be because you’re trying to force me to marry you? Did that never cross your mind?” “Possibly.” There was a stretch of silence as he stared at me. “Do you know why I chose the name Hawke?” My heart kicked at my chest at the unexpected change of subject. “I figured it was a name that belonged to whatever poor soul you most likely killed.” He laughed, but there was no humor. Suddenly, I realized that his laughs, like his expressions and even his smiles, were also like masks—each representing a different Casteel, a different truth or falsehood. “There was no poor soul who owned that name. Or at least not that I’m aware of. If there is or was, that would be a pure coincidence. But I chose Hawke for a reason.” I wanted to tell him that I didn’t care, but I did. Oh gods, I wanted to know. He lowered his hand. “In Atlantia, it is tradition to be given a second name, a middle one, so to speak. It's given in honor of a cherished family member or friend, usually picked by the mother, and it is a well-guarded secret only shared outside of the family with the closest of friends and with those who hold a special place in one’s life. My mother chose my middle name in honor of her brother. His name was Hawkethrone. My full name is Casteel Hawkethrone Da’Neer. When I was a small child, my mother took to calling me an abbreviated form of that name. And so did my brother. They, and only they had ever known me as Hawke,” he said. “Until you.” Chapter 6 Hawke… The name didn’t belong to someone else. It was real. Hawke was real? “To be honest, the only time my mother calls me Casteel, it generally includes my full middle and last names, and it usually means she’s irritated by something I did or didn’t do,” he continued. “Although Kieran doesn’t call me Hawke, he knows the origin of the name. He was the one who chose the last name, Flynn. He thought it sounded like it fit with Hawke.” “We…we don’t have middle names,” I heard myself say. “I know.” “Are you telling the truth now?” His features tightened as some sort of emotion flickered across them. “I’m telling the truth, Poppy.” My gift pushed against my skin, and what Kieran had said about my abilities resurfaced. I’d said that I had no intention of handling the Prince, but my gift could tell me what he was feeling and maybe help me determine if he was lying. Lies and truths were so often tied to emotions, and a person could try to hide what they were feeling. Sometimes, they were successful, even with the most extreme mental anguish. But while people could lie to someone about what they felt, they couldn’t lie to themselves. Opening myself up was always easy. It required no effort. My senses stretched out, and it was like a cord formed between Casteel and me, connecting us. It wasn’t always like that, so singular. Sometimes, crowds overwhelmed me and pulled me in. Some people were projectors, their anguish so deep and raw that they formed the connection with me without trying. With Casteel, it took a few seconds for me to process what I was picking up from him. Emotions had a certain taste and feel to me, and what I felt now was both tart and tangy in the back of my mouth. Discomfort and…sadness. His sorrow was familiar. It was always there, shadowing his every step, every breath. I often thought about how he could laugh and tease. How he could be so ridiculously vexing while feeling such grief. I wondered if the teasing and his all-too-easy laughter were also masks because I knew his pain started and probably ended with his brother. I didn’t know what the discomfort was tied to, but I didn’t feel anything that made me think he wasn’t telling the truth now. And maybe…maybe that meant the name Hawke was real. That it wasn’t a lie. The next breath I took felt thin. “Why are you telling me this about your name? Why does it matter?” He was quiet now, his features smoothing out. “Because knowing that Hawke is a part of my name, a part of me, matters to you.” “Can you read minds?” I asked, thinking I’d probably asked that before but I felt like I needed to ask again. Mind reading couldn’t be too farfetched considering he could force his will upon others, and especially since what he said was true. It did matter to me. Why? I had no idea, because what did it change? At the end of the day…nothing. A faint grin appeared. “No, I cannot, which is a disappointment when it comes to you. I would love to know what you’re thinking—what you’re really feeling.” Thank the gods he didn’t know, because what I was feeling was messier than when I attempted to knit. “I am Hawke,” he said after a moment. “And I am Casteel. I’m not two separate people, no matter how badly you want to believe that.” I tensed, my grip tightening around the handle of the knife. I hated how well he knew me. “I know that.” “Do you really?” A rush of frustration scorched my skin because I did often think of him as two different people, but mainly that there were simply different masks he wore, and there’d been one for Hawke. But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t. “I know you are the same,” I said. “You are the one who lied to me from the beginning, and you’re the one who is holding me captive now. It doesn’t matter what name you used while doing it.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “Yet you haven’t called me Hawke since you learned who I was.” The frustration quickly flamed into anger. “And why does that matter, Hawke?” A smile crept across his lips then, one that showed the barest hint of fangs. “Because I miss hearing you say it.” I stared at him for what felt like a small eternity. “You’re ridiculous, Casteel.” He laughed, and the sound was warm and deep and real. I felt his amusement through the connection, a sprinkling of sugar on my tongue. That almost angered me enough to do something very reckless with the knife yet again. Somehow, I managed to resist the impulse that proved just how violent I could be. His humor faded. “I haven’t lied to you since you learned who I was.” “How am I to believe that?” I demanded. “And even if you haven’t, that doesn’t erase those lies.” “You’re correct. I don’t expect you to believe, nor do I expect you to ever forget those lies,” he said. Again, through the connection I had left open, I felt sadness with the fading taste of humor. “But I have nothing to gain from lies now. I have what I want. You.” “You do not have me.” One side of his lips curled up. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. Ask me something, Princess. Ask me anything, and I will tell you the truth.” A hundred different questions arose. There was so much I could ask him. Two things dominated. Did you ever care for me? Was any of it real? I wouldn’t ask those questions again. “And I’m just supposed to believe you?” “Whether or not you do is up to you.” It wasn’t just a question of me choosing to believe him, but I didn’t point that out. There was another question that rose to the forefront, something I’d been thinking about earlier. “Did you kill the first Maiden?” I asked. “What?” Surprise filled his tone, and I also felt it through the cord—cool like a splash of ice water. I told him what the Duchess had claimed about the first Maiden’s abilities. “She said that the Maiden had been unworthy, even though she was still to be given to the gods. But her decisions and choices led her to the Dark One. To you.” Just like me. “The Duchess basically said that the Dark One killed her.” “I don’t know why the Duchess would tell you that. The only Maiden I have met is you,” he answered, and I could feel the hot, acidic burn of anger radiating from him. “I don’t even know if there truly was another Maiden.” I… I had not considered the possibility that there had been no other Maiden. That could explain why there was nothing written about her, not even a name. But for her to not exist at all? “I have a lot of blood on my hands, Poppy. Sometimes, so much that I don’t think they’ll ever be clean. So much that I don’t know if I ever want them to be.” My gaze shot to his. “And I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me—about the Dark One. Some of it is true. I kill the Ascended every chance I get, in Carsodonia and in every city I’ve visited. And, yes, I do find unique ways to end their lives. I am drenched in their blood.” Skin chilled, I was unable to look away. “You were responsible for Goldcrest Manor—Lord Everton?” “Lord Everton was not alive when I left the city of Three Rivers. Nor were any of the mortals who aided him when it came to his penchant for feeding on young boys—a predilection that went beyond that. And as I’m sure you’ve realized, some mortals know the truth, and they helped to cover what happened in the Temples and what they did when there was no Rite.” I’d figured that the Ascended had help. They had to. The Priests and Priestesses in the Temples had to know. The Mistresses of the keeps and those who served the Ascended closely. “And I’m sure you heard the rumor that my affair with Lady Everton was what allowed me to enter the manor?” he said. I had heard that. “I will admit that I’ve used every weapon I have. After all, the Ascended taught me that.” I flinched. “She was known for her affairs. Servants helped to sneak her lovers inside the manor. Many never left, but I made sure she saw me. Eventually, she invited me to her bed, and that was how I gained entry. But I did not lay a finger on her in that way. Never.” There was a low rumble in his tone. “And if she hadn’t run as the flames began, she wouldn’t have escaped either.” I didn’t doubt that for one second. Tipping forward, he held my stare. “It’s not just the Ascended that stain my hands. There are innocents. Mortals and descendants of Atlantians alike, caught between what I want and me. Your guard, Rylan, was one of those.” My throat tightened. “As were the ones who traveled here with us, and countless others. Each by arrow, poison, or fall. Anything that stood between you and me.” He didn’t look away, not for one second. “And Vikter? Those Ladies at the Rite? I didn’t kill them, but you were right. Those who support me acted on their own, but they did so enflamed by my words, urged by my lead. So, their blood is on my hands, too. I should’ve taken ownership of that from the first moment.” A shudder worked its way through me, one of pain and sorrow. “Does any of it stain your soul?” I whispered. “Much of it does.” He sat back. “But this Maiden is not a part of that. If she did live, and she was like you—part Atlantian, and shared your gifts or something similar—she wasn’t given to the gods. She was most likely used in the same way they plan to use you.” The breath that left me was ragged. “If…if they’ve had your brother, why would they have needed her?” He eyed me from his chair. “Atlantians need Atlantian blood to survive. One who is only half-Atlantian can provide the necessary sustenance. That was how I was kept alive. I swallowed thickly, hurting for him despite everything. Hurting for her, a woman I didn’t even know, wasn’t even sure existed. “She could’ve been held captive to…to feed him? To keep him alive?” “Without Atlantian blood, we don’t die,” he said. I frowned. “How could you not survive but still live?” “Because what we become is not something I would compare to being alive,” he answered. Before I could question that, he spoke. “If there was a first Maiden, she was either keeping my brother alive, or she was used in the same manner as he is. Possibly both. But either way, I imagine that she has long since perished. What you should be asking is why they need you. Why would they make you the Maiden, keep you closeted away, under their protection and under their ever-watchful gaze? Why did they wait until now for your Ascension?” He spat out the last word. “Earlier, after the Craven, you were right about why they forced you to stay quiet about being bitten and told you never to use your abilities. Someone could’ve discovered what you were, and that would have brought their entire house of bones down on them. So, why did they wait so long and take that risk? Please tell me that you’ve asked yourself these questions.” My skin chilled. “I have. They…they want to use me to make more vamprys. But why? They have—” “And why do you think they waited this long?” he repeated. “Why did this supposed first Maiden conveniently disappear around the same time her abilities began to grow? There is no Ascension for you. The gods require no service. They waited so you could be useful to them.” He sat forward. “There’s a reason the Ascended wait until a certain age to Ascend. Do you know what happens when an Atlantian reaches the age of nineteen?” I did. I’d read about it in The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis. The answer had been in that damn book I’d been forced to read a hundred times. Probably the only part that was true. “An Atlantian reaches a state of maturity. You call it…the Culling, when they go through physical changes.” “And when certain other abilities begin to manifest or strengthen for some,” he added, his eyes bright in the dimly lit room. “For me, it was compulsion. As a child, I could be somewhat persuasive, but once I went through the Culling, I could force my will onto another if I wished.” A hollowness spread in my stomach. “Then why haven’t you just made me go along with whatever it is you wish for me to do?” His brows furrowed together. “Because I may be a monster, but I’m not that kind of monster, Poppy.” There was a catch in my chest as I looked away from him. “Besides, compulsions are temporary, only useful for immediate gains,” he said. When I looked at him again, his expression had smoothed out. “And interestingly, just like you can’t pick up on emotions from the Ascended, compulsions do not work on them either.” I cleared my throat. “Do you know why?” “Some believe it’s because they have no soul.” I thought of Ian and then shut those thoughts down. “So you think my abilities are changing because I’m going through the Culling?” “A version of it, yes. Your blood wouldn’t have been useful to them until you at least hit nineteen, even if your abilities took the next two years to morph.” As I processed what he was telling me, my brain went in one direction. “Will I develop…fangs?” He lifted his brows. “Doubtful. Half-Atlantians don’t need blood, so they don’t need fangs.” “What about…immortality?” “Would you not want that?” I thought of the Ascended, of how long they lived, and I wasn’t sure their lack of humanity was due to what they did to survive or because they lived to see everyone around them die several generations over. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Will I?” He shook his head. “Only full-blooded Atlantians have what mortals would think of as immortality.” I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or not. “Can I even Ascend then? Be made into a vampry?” I asked, thinking of Ian. If he were part Atlantian like me… “I honestly don’t know, Poppy. It is forbidden for any Atlantian to Ascend anyone with a drop of mortal blood in them. Even the half-Atlantians that live in Atlantia are not Ascended. They live and die just like mortals,” he explained, and that was something I didn’t know about those who lived in Atlantia. That not all Atlantians were like him. “I would imagine a half-Atlantian going through an Ascension would be the same as a mortal. They would become a vampry.” Meaning, they would be ruled by bloodlust, just not as consumed by it as a Craven. Pressure settled in my chest. “When a person is turned—made vampry—what happens to them?” He was quiet for several moments before he said, “They are fed upon by other vamprys, brought to the brink of death by blood loss, and then fed blood from an Atlantian. Sometimes, the change is immediate. Other times, they can appear dead for hours. But they wake up and…they are hungry. As uncontrollable as a Craven, it often takes several Ascended to subdue them.” His jaw worked as his gaze shifted to the fire. “Even after being fed, they’re consumed by hunger. I’ve heard that it can take weeks, sometimes months for a newly made vampry to control his or her thirst.” A sinking sensation threatened to pull me through the floor. There had been a space of time after Ian’s Ascension that I hadn’t heard from him. It was when he’d married, and it had been months. “And I know that for those who could not abide by what was now needed of them, they ensured that they would not harm another,” he added quietly. “How?” I asked, instinct telling me that the answer wasn’t going to be an easy one. “They choose to walk when the sun is at its highest. It doesn’t take long, but it is not quick by any means. Nor is it painless.” Oh, gods. Now that…that sounded like something Ian would do. But he was alive. He’d been sending letters. He had to be alive. I swallowed. “Those you saw turned? Did all of them seem aware of what was happening?” His gaze shifted back to me. “I know where you’re going with this, and I don’t think the answer will change things in the way you wish.” “Will you just answer the question?” His lips thinned. “The Ascended held a ceremony for it. Mortals were brought in dressed in robes and wearing masks. Meaningless words were chanted, and candles were lit. Some seemed to know what would occur. Most appeared intoxicated. I had no idea if they knew exactly what was happening.” His chest rose with a deep breath. “Some seemed drugged. I doubt they even knew if they were awake.” I stared at him, stuck in this terrible place between relief and horror. Suddenly, I understood why he hadn’t wanted to answer the question. If Ian had been drugged to the point where he hadn’t been aware—if others hadn’t been aware of what was happening—that was far worse. Casteel watched me silently. “There is no reason for an Ascended to turn a half-Atlantian. Doing so would taint the blood—the part they need to either turn other Ascended or to keep an Atlantian alive. That is why they made sure you were healthy and safe, why your precious Queen cared so tenderly for you,” he said. My entire body went as taut as a bowstring. “Your blood meant nothing to them before now, and it would mean even less to them if you went through the Ascension.” So, Ian and I likely had different parents, either one or both. Because he had to have been turned. He’d been writing me letters, and Casteel claimed that Ian had only been seen at night. Unless— Unless Casteel’s contacts had seen someone else, and it hadn’t been Ian sending those letters at all. The pressure inside me increased, shifting to my stomach as I swallowed thickly. I couldn’t even consider any of that right now while I was so far from Ian. The questions and the doubts would crush me. And I already felt crushed. I knew what they’d planned for me before, but to fully understand why they’d waited, why they did everything they had done, it sickened me to the point where I feared I might actually become physically ill. “They were only keeping me alive until they…” I choked on my words as the weight of them threatened to crush me. Casteel said nothing as he sat there, though that was probably for the best at the moment. I felt like a powder keg that had been lit. Inside me, disbelief and anger sparked. I’d been kept sheltered and virtually caged, cared for like some prized cattle until my blood had aged. Until it was useful—either to make more vamprys or to keep another alive to continue making more. “I’m not a bottle of wine,” I whispered. “No,” he said quietly. “You are not a bottle of wine, Poppy.” My head jerked up. “And you didn’t know this when you came for me? You swear? You swear right here and now that you didn’t know I was part Atlantian. That this is why they made me the Maiden. That I was being kept alive and sheltered from everything until I was…useful?” His gaze met mine. “I swear to you, Poppy. I had no idea that you were Atlantian until I tasted your blood. I didn’t even expect that was what you were when I learned of your gift. Maybe I should have.” A shadow crossed his features, gone so quickly I wasn’t even sure I had seen it. “But no Atlantian has been capable of such a thing for, well, for hundreds of years. I didn’t know.” My senses were still open, and it took several moments to filter through what I felt to even make sense of his emotions. There was still the acidic taste of anger, the tart flavor that I associated with uncertainty, and the sadness that always lingered within him. My gift wasn’t a lie detector by any means, but I didn’t think he was lying. Pulling my gift back was the hardest part because that didn’t feel natural. What did was going to him and taking away the sadness, giving some temporary peace. My skin tingled with the desire to do just that, and it wasn’t necessarily because it was him. The gift demanded to be used, to heal. I wrestled it back, exhaling raggedly as I sat on the edge of the bed. “Now that you fully understand why they’ve done what they have to you and what they plan,” Casteel said, his voice hardening in a way I rarely heard when he spoke with me. “Why in the hell would you run back to them, Poppy? Marriage to me or not.” I stared at Casteel, the meat knife loose in my hands. “I told you earlier, I wasn’t running back to them.” “Then where were you running to? With no supplies, might I add.” “You don’t need to add that. I’m well aware of what I left here with.” “If you weren’t going back to the Ascended, where did you think to go? You were heading toward Whitebridge—to the south.” His eyes were like shards of amber. “You weren’t going back to Masadonia. I figure you were going to the capital. Why? Even knowing what you did then, why would you do that?” “Why?” Anger flashed through me, hot and bright like the flames. “Are you seriously asking that question again?” “Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked. I was stunned into silence, but only for a moment. “Why would I stay here and let you turn me over to them? To the people you told me wanted to use me—to the people who abused and tortured you? Who are doing that to your brother? How does that make you any better? Safer? You’re doing the same thing they did to me!” The back of my throat burned as a knot of ugly, painful emotion lodged there. “You’re keeping me safe, well-fed, and caged until you can use me!” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “And then you announce that you’re going to marry me.” I shook my head, trembling. “What in the world would make you even say such an offensive thing?” “Offensive? Come now, Poppy, I know deep down that you must be excited. Not everyone gets to become an actual Princess.” “I am not remotely—” I snapped my mouth shut, realizing he was actually teasing me. Was this all some grand joke to him? “It’s considered a great honor in Atlantia to be welcomed into the bosom of the noble, ruling family,” he went on. “I think my mother is going to like you.” I shot to my feet. “We are not getting married!” Slamming the knife down, it scored deep into the wood of the table by the bed, the handle vibrating from the impact. “On second thought, my mother is definitely going to like you,” Hawke murmured, and right then, he was Hawke. That was the bemused tone I was all too familiar with, and it threw me enough that it took a few moments to recover, to remember that it was simply another mask. “Why? Because I didn’t throw it at your face this time?” “She’ll most likely be amused to hear that you have done exactly that,” he said, and my brows knitted. “And she will be happy to know that you are capable of showing restraint.” “Now, I wish I hadn’t shown restraint.” Casteel chuckled, and that too sounded so familiar, but it was Casteel’s laugh that faded. It was his golden eyes that held an intense look of fascination. He was both Hawke and Casteel, but it was the latter that I now dealt with. He leaned forward in his chair, lowering both bare feet to the floor. “You are so incredibly beautiful when you’re angry.” I refused to be flattered by that somewhat weird compliment. “And you’re so incredibly disturbed.” “Been called worse.” “I’m sure you have.” I folded my arms across my chest. He rose from the chair, and for a moment, I got a little lost in all the bronze skin on display. “We’ll talk tomorrow about our future—” “There is no future to talk about. We’re not marrying,” I cut in. “I think you’ll find my reasonings impossible to refuse.” “Nothing is impossible.” “We’ll see.” “No, we—what are you doing?” I demanded as he walked to the other side of the bed. “What are you doing?” “Getting into bed.” “Why?” My voice pitched high. He arched a brow as he pulled the blanket aside. “To go to sleep.” “I figured that out, thanks. But why do you think you get to sleep in the same bedchamber, let alone the same bed with me?” “Because, as I explained earlier, this is my bedchamber.” “Then I will find another room.” “There are no other rooms available, Princess.” My hands dug into the blanket as my mind raced. “This isn’t appropriate. I’m the Maiden. Or was. Whatever. I’m the definition of appropriate.” He stared at me. “Besides the fact that you are not the definition of appropriate, everyone in this keep knows that we’ve already shared a bed, Poppy.” “Well, that’s just…” My face burned. “That’s just great.” “I’m not leaving you alone.” “I’m not going to try to escape! I promise.” “I hope you don’t think I’m foolish enough to trust your vow.” Casteel picked up a rather flat pillow and fluffed it. “So, either it’s me in here, or it’s Kieran. Would you rather it be him? If so, I will summon him for you.” He tossed the pillow toward the head of the bed. “But just so you know, he often slips into his wolven form and has a habit of kicking in his sleep.” My lips slowly parted. “What? Wait. I don’t need an explanation of that. I don’t want Kieran.” The hint of a smile was pure wickedness. “You want me.” “That is not what I said. You can sleep on the floor.” “I am not sleeping on the floor. And before you say it, neither are you.” He slipped into bed with enviable grace. “No matter what you think you know of me, I hope you realize that I would never force myself on you, nor would I compel you to do something like that. I won’t ever do something you don’t want from me, and that’s not just because I know what that feels like,” he said flatly, and my heart squeezed. “It’s because I’ve never been that kind of person.” “I don’t think you would do something like that,” I said quickly. And I didn’t want to know. I…needed to know. “What did they do to you?” “That’s not something I really want to get into, Poppy.” I opened my mouth and then closed it. I could understand that. Respect it. And as I remained where I was, I thought about what Kieran had said earlier about me being safe with the Prince. Unfortunately, I also remembered the effects of his blood, and how I all but begged him to touch me. Not one of my finer moments. Casteel had refused, though. He could’ve easily taken advantage of the situation, but what had he said? That he wasn’t a good man, but that he was trying to be one. I thought of the shame I had felt inside him. He was both the villain and the hero, the monster and the monster-slayer. But I wasn’t afraid of him trying something with me. I was more afraid of myself—scared of how much my heart was pounding. The night we had been together, falling asleep in his arms had been…it had been just as beautiful as what we’d shared before that. Only it hadn’t been real. The problem was that my heart didn’t seem to understand that, at least not all the time. That was why it was pumping so fast now. To some—probably to most in the kingdom—sleeping beside someone didn’t mean much of anything. But to me? It was as life-altering as holding hands, being able to openly touch another, or sharing dinner with someone—things other people often took for granted. That was why sharing a bed with Casteel was dangerous. I watched him let the blanket fall to his waist and then fold his hands under his head. Once he appeared comfortable, he said, “But, just so you know, if you want my lips on any piece of you, I’m more than willing to appease you.” My mouth dropped open. “And my willingness to comply extends to my hands, my fingers, and my cock—” “Oh, my gods,” I cut him off. “You don’t have to worry about that. I will never request your…your services.” “Services?” He tipped his head toward me. “That sounds so dirty.” I ignored that comment. “You and I are never going to do anything like what we did before.” “Never?” “Never.” “Would you say it would be…impossible?” “Yes. It’s definitely impossible.” Hawke smiled then, and it was Hawke’s smile. Dimples appeared in both cheeks, and I hated the catch I felt in my chest upon seeing them. Loathed that it made me see him as Hawke. “But didn’t you just say nothing was impossible?” he all but purred. I stared down at him, at an absolute loss for words. “I want to stab you in the heart right now.” “I’m sure you do,” he replied, closing his eyes. “Whatever,” I muttered, accepting that I would have to deal with him. At least for the night or until I figured out how to escape. I scooted back, shoving my legs under the blanket. I threw myself down with enough force that it shook the bed. “You okay over there? Sounds like you could’ve hurt yourself.” “Shut up.” He laughed. With my back to him, I stared at the knife. The blade was bent. I sighed. A moment later, there was a click, and the room darkened. He’d turned off the oil lamp by his side of the bed. His side of the bed? We didn’t have sides. I tugged the blanket to my chin as I shifted my focus to the fireplace. My mind wandered back to something that shouldn’t matter but did. “Why did you tell me?” I whispered, not even sure if he was still awake or why I was asking. He’d already answered. “Why did you have to tell me that Hawke was your middle name?” The fire crackled, spitting sparks, and I closed my eyes. Seconds, maybe minutes later, Casteel said, “Because you needed to know that not everything was a lie.” Chapter 7 With all the stress and trauma of the last several days, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the past found me in my sleep. Still, it was a shock to the senses. Blood was everywhere. Splattered against the walls, running down them in thin rivulets, and pooling along the dusty wooden floor—under the lumps on the floor, misshapen and not right. The air was thick with the scent of metal. A smear of blue in the lamplight caught my gaze. A shirt. Hadn’t the funny man who’d served our food that evening been wearing a blue shirt? Mr. La…Lacost? He told us stories about the family of mice that lived in the barn out back, who’d made friends with the kitties. I’d wanted to see them, but Papa had taken us back to our rooms. He hadn’t been smiling or laughing at dinner. He hadn’t since we left. He’d sat at the table, his gaze darting to the window in between every quick bite of food. But Mr. Lacost’s chest and stomach looked strange to me as I stood there, trembling. No longer round, it was sunken, jagged— “Don’t look, Poppy. Don’t look over there,” came Momma’s hushed voice as she pulled on my hand. “We must hide. Hurry.” She pulled me down the narrow hallway, her hand wet against mine. “I want Papa—” “Shh. We must be quiet.” Her voice shook, sounding too thin. The arms of her dress were torn, the pale pink streaked with crimson. Momma was hurt, and I didn’t know what to do. “We must be quiet so Papa can come and find us.” I didn’t understand how being quiet would help Papa come to us. It was dark in the room we entered, and the sounds, the ragged breaths and moans, the continuous shouts and cries were loud. Papa had gone outside when they came, went out there with the strange man who’d seemed to know him. I wanted my papa. I wanted Ian, but he had left with the woman who smelled like sugar and vanilla— A shrill sound pierced the darkness. Momma tugged hard on my hand, yanking me down to where she crouched. She opened a large cupboard behind me as someone screamed. Pots clattered off the floor as Momma tore them from inside the closet. “Get in, Poppy. I need you to get in and be very quiet, okay? I need you to be as silent as a mouse, no matter what. Do you understand?” Looking behind me at the small hole of darkness, I shook my head. Momma wouldn’t fit in there. “I wanna stay with you.” “I’ll be right here.” Her hands touched my cheek. Her skin was damp as she turned my head towards her. “I need you to be a big girl and listen to me. You have to hide—” The high-pitched howl came again, and I clamored for her, clutching at her sides. My fingers dug into the sticky waist of her dress. “You have to let go, baby. You need to hide, Poppy.” I held tighter, feeling wet warmth coursing down the sides of my face. Momma jerked at the sound of something—a voice. Someone spoke, but my heart pounded too loudly in my ears for me to hear. It sounded like a rushing fall of water, and the nightmare sounds were louder, closer. Then, there was a voice again. And Momma, her hands were wetter, stickier… Someone knocked a lamp over somewhere. Glass shattered. Momma yelled as her arms folded around me, the words mushed together, making little sense except for one— Screams. Someone was shrieking. Momma? She was torn from me, her hands sliding down my arms, her fingers catching mine and then slipping. A body crashed into us—me—and I tottered to the side, losing my hold of Momma. Fiery pain sliced across my face, stunning me. I fell back. Hands grabbed at me. Hands that were too heavy. Hands that hurt. I screamed— There was a voice again, somewhere in the darkness, living under the screams. What a pretty little flower. What a pretty poppy. Pick it and watch it bleed. Not so pretty any longer… Poppy. I jerked awake, a scream ringing in my ears, burning my throat as I gasped for air, struggling to move but unable. My arms were trapped against my sides, my legs tangled in thick warmth. My eyes peeled open, and it took a moment for my surroundings to make sense. I focused on the steady thumping under my cheek as I slowly dug out the thorns of panic and fear. Faint gray light seeped in through the narrow window across from the bed. I wasn’t at the inn, being ripped and torn into. I was in the keep, in bed, with a warm, hard chest against my cheek, a hand that continuously smoothed over my hair, a voice that whispered my name over and over, telling me it was okay, promising me that it was safe. I was nestled in his lap, held tightly to his chest as if he tried to keep the tremors at bay with his hold alone. Casteel. Reality came back to me in pieces as the disorientation from the nightmare eased, and I began to realize that he was slowly rocking us. I knew I needed to pull away, should put some distance between us, but something about his embrace was grounding. Something that felt inexplicably right in the aftermath of the blood and terror. Maybe it was because I often woke alone after the nightmares, shaken and terrified, especially after Ian left for the capital. And even with my screams often waking Tawny, I never allowed such…comfort. I’d always been too embarrassed to seek it from my lady’s maid. But there wasn’t another option now, and it was the first time I’d ever been relieved to have the choice taken from me. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of Casteel’s body soak into mine. A hint of shame sifted through me even though he’d known about the nightmares. Vikter had warned him about them, and I knew that Vikter had done so not for Casteel’s benefit but mine. Sorrow tightened my chest. I missed Vikter, missed him so badly, and waking from these blood-soaked nightmares, the loss was raw. But embarrassment also warmed my skin. How incredibly silly Casteel must think me to be suffering nightmares so many years later. I started to pull away. “I’m sorry,” I said, wincing at the hoarseness of my voice. Only the gods know what kind of sounds I must’ve made to scratch my throat so raw. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “When I was younger and I left Atlantia for the first time, I saw a Craven outside a small village. I’d never seen anything scarier in my entire life. I didn’t think there could be anything worse out there.” Casteel’s arms tightened around me. “Having been in its state for quite some time, it looked like a walking corpse. It was far more terrifying than anything my imagination could’ve created when I was a child. And hearing the way it wailed? I swore it would haunt my sleep, and it did. For weeks, even far away from any Craven, I woke in the middle of the night, swearing I heard it screaming.” The tremors were subsiding as he curved his hand around the back of my head. “But then I was captured. And the worst part? It was my fault. I was still young and foolish. I thought I could solve everything by taking out King Jalara and Queen Ileana myself. I truly believed I could do it. I got close—near enough to make my move. Obviously, I failed. And then I learned what true terror was. You asked me earlier what they did to me. They refused me blood, kept me on the edge, giving me just enough to survive—sometimes barely, but the constant low supply affected my ability to heal.” Bile crept up my throat, but I said nothing as I stayed in his arms. “It takes a long time for that effect to occur, and they knew it. They didn’t brand me before they knew the mark would remain.” His chest rose against me. “When the ones they brought in to feed me were close to dying, no longer able to serve their purpose, they killed them right in front of me. Sometimes slowly, putting the same nicks and cuts into their skin until they died. Other times, they snapped their necks. But there were times that I was so hungry that I…” He swallowed. “It was me that tore into their throats and killed them. And they’d leave their bodies in there with me to rot. For days. Weeks. Nothing for me to stare at but the person I’d killed. Nothing to think about but what kind of life they’d lived before that moment, and what kind of future I’d stolen from them. Sometimes, the bodies would pile up, left in there long after the stench had passed.” Oh, my gods. My eyes were open but unseeing as I listened to him. Was this also a part of the grief he carried with him? If so, I could understand why. All the terrible things he’d done or caused didn’t matter in that moment. I couldn’t imagine the suffering he must’ve endured. No one deserved that. Even those whose actions warranted death didn’t deserve to be tortured, used, and abused. And to be haunted by nightmares decades later? Centuries later? I didn’t think I could deal with a hundred years of reliving the night the Craven attacked. There was an emptiness to his voice as he continued. “And they did things to me—things that caused reactions I couldn’t control. Females. Males. They made me—” He stopped, and I could feel his head shake. “I learned what true fear was.” A shuddering breath left me. “I…I’m sorry. I wish—” “You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t you, and I don’t want that from you.” His fingers curled around my hair. “I don’t want pity.” “I don’t pity you,” I told him. “And I know I’m not responsible for what happened to you—and neither are you, even if your actions led to your capture. I still feel horrible for what was done to you.” “I don’t want you to feel that. I just want you to know that I had nightmares, Poppy. For years after being freed, I woke in the middle of the night, thinking I was still in that cage, shackled by my wrists and ankles. Sometimes, things I did after being freed follow me into sleep.” His hand slid to my cheek, guiding my head back so my eyes met his. “So, I know all about how the past doesn’t remain where it should. How it likes to pay visits when you’re at your weakest. There is never a need to apologize, nor should you ever feel shame.” My heart twisted even as some of the discomfort lessened. “How…how did you survive what you did?” “I don’t think you’ll like the answer,” he said after a moment, looking away. “I promised myself that when I escaped, I would eventually watch the life seep from the soulless eyes of Queen Ileana and King Jalara.” He dropped his hand. “That’s how I survived.” I swallowed at the utter coldness of his tone. “Revenge, then.” When he nodded, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about what he’d said. Was I supposed to think poorly of him? I still didn’t know how to reconcile what he’d told me about the Queen and what I knew, what I’d seen. “How did you survive, Poppy?” His gaze swept back to mine, lashes lowered halfway. “How have you not let the night of the Craven attack make you afraid of everything? Because you are fearless, whether it be facing a swarm of Craven, staring into the eyes of a wolven, or when you push back at me, even knowing what I am.” His question caught me off guard, as did the knowledge that he saw me as fearless. “I…it’s not that I’m without fear. I do fear things.” Interest sparked in his golden eyes. “I don’t believe that.” There was no way I’d admit to him that I feared myself more than I could ever fear a Craven, wolven, or even him. “I survived because I refused to ever be helpless again. That kept me from caving to the fear. That’s what helped me push through the pain of training with Vikter—the aches and bruises.” I thought of the brand on Casteel’s thigh, the pain he must have endured for something like that to scar when he healed so easily. “I can understand how the need for revenge helped you survive.” His head tilted as his lashes lifted, revealing his bright, intense gaze. “Is that how you’re surviving right now? Picturing all the ways you will kill me?” No. I wasn’t thinking that at all. Maybe I should be, but I wasn’t. Slipping out of his embrace, I scooted over to my side of the bed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.” A half-grin appeared, revealing the dimple in his right cheek. Too soon, it faded. “Do you remember anything from the nightmare?” “I’m really trying not to think about it,” I admitted, tugging the heavy blanket up to my chest. He reclined back on an elbow, and my gaze dipped from his eyes to the lean length of his stomach. “You were speaking in your sleep.” “What?” That jerked my traitorous eyes back to his. Casteel nodded. “You were saying something that reminded me of a…disturbing nursery rhyme, to be honest. Something about a pretty flower.” The moment those words left his mouth, the nightmare came back in a rush of startling clarity. “What a pretty poppy. Pick it and watch it bleed,” I murmured. “Not so pretty any longer.” “Yes. That.” An eyebrow rose. “And it’s as disturbing as it was the first time around.” “I can’t believe I was saying that.” “Neither could I when I heard it,” he commented. “Has someone said that to you before?” “I…” My brows furrowed as I shook my head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, the nightmares I have of that night aren’t exactly how things happened, but I don’t remember ever hearing that before.” I curled my fingers around the collar of the nightgown. “And I…I try not to think about it when I wake up. I could’ve heard it before and forgotten. Sometimes, it’s—” “Disorientating,” he finished for me. I nodded, sifting through what I remembered. Nausea rose as I did. I could almost smell the blood, feel my mother’s wet hand against— “Someone spoke to my mother. In my nightmare. There was a voice right before the Craven reached us.” My eyes widened. “I think it was the one who said the thing about the flower, and my mother responded. But I…” Frustration ate at me as I tried to make sense of the garbled word I’d thought she said. It could’ve been more than one word. I could almost see her lips moving, but it could also be a false memory. “I don’t… I can’t remember.” “Maybe it will come to you later.” “Maybe.” I sighed. “But I don’t even know if what I heard was real.” “It might not be. Sometimes, things in the past seem to overlap one another in dreams. My capture often gets mixed up with Malik’s.” He eased onto his back, his eyes on the exposed beams of the ceiling. “The night of the Craven attack isn’t the only ordeal you’ve been through.” My fingers slipped from the neckline of my gown. I knew at once that he was referring to the Duke. Heat crept up my throat, and I hated the shame that caused it—the humiliation of what he did to me that I’d been unable to stop. And as I’d just learned, if anyone knew how that felt, it was Casteel. He’d had it far worse than me, though. “How did you find out about the Duke? I never told you.” “About his lessons?” Tension bracketed his mouth. “Duke Teerman was feared but not respected among his Royal Guards. It took only the smallest of compulsions for one of them to share what they knew.” My mouth dried at the knowledge that he’d used compulsion, but it wasn’t that he’d done it that caused the reaction. It was the reminder of what he could do. That kind of ability was frightening—and awe-inspiring. And not using it whenever he could was also impressive. I doubted that I’d have that kind of strength of character. I frowned. Was I actually complimenting his character? The man who had lied, kidnapped me, and held me captive? I obviously needed more rest. “The thing you repeated in your sleep?” he said, jarring me from my thoughts. “It sounded like something the Duke might’ve said to you. It’s perverse enough for that bastard.” Casteel was right. It was perverse enough for Duke Teerman. The voice had sounded familiar. Could he be right? Was it the two…ordeals overlapping? There were times I didn’t quite remember everything from the time spent in his private offices, when the pain of the canings had left me in a semi-lucid state. “How often did he do it?” Casteel asked quietly. “Engage in his lessons?” I clamped my mouth shut. Casteel turned his head toward me. “I know what he did. I know that he wasn’t always alone. And I know that, sometimes, it only lasted a half an hour. Other times, the guard lost track of the time.” His features were sharp and stark. “And I know that he preferred to use the cane against bare flesh.” Pressure clamped down on my chest at the image of Lord Mazeen holding my hands to the table, preventing me from covering my chest, stopping me from any shred of dignity. “Whenever he was disappointed in me,” I replied roughly. “He was often disappointed.” His lips thinned. “If I had known that Lord Mazeen joined him, he would’ve been staked to that wall right alongside the Duke.” I lifted my gaze to his. “I’m glad you didn’t. If you had, then I wouldn’t have gotten to see the look on his face when I sliced off his hand and then his head.” Casteel stared at me, the corners of his lips curving up. His lips parted, and I saw a hint of his fangs. The dimple in his right cheek appeared, and then his left. I felt a curling motion in my stomach. “So incredibly violent, my Princess.” The curl moved even lower. “I’m not your Princess.” He chuckled as he turned his head away. “You think you can go back to sleep?” he asked. “We probably have a couple more hours before Kieran or someone will be banging on this door to make sure you haven’t found a way to murder me in the middle of the night.” I rolled my eyes. “As soon as the storm blows over, we’ll leave for Spessa’s End.” I knew very little about Spessa’s End. Only that it was a small town similar to New Haven, sitting on the edge of Stygian Bay. It was the closest town to Pompay, the last Atlantian stronghold during the war. One of the Priestesses had told me that Stygian Bay was the gateway to the Temples of Eternity, overseen by Rhain, the god of Common Men and Endings. She’d described the Bay as black as the night sky. Lying down, I turned onto my side, but I didn’t sleep. Instead, I stared at the dying flames, thinking of the Duke, the nightmare, and the knowledge that there would be little chance of escape between here and Spessa’s End. “You’re not sleeping, are you?” Casteel asked sometime later. “How did you know?” “You’re rocking over there like you’re a babe being wooed to sleep.” “I am not—” I swallowed a groan as I realized that I was doing exactly that. I stilled my lower half. “Sorry. It’s an old habit from when I was a child. I usually can’t sleep after the nightmares,” I admitted after a few seconds. “Is that when you sneak off to explore the city?” Since he couldn’t see me, I grinned. “Sometimes. It all depended on how late it was.” “Well, there’s no city for you to explore,” he said, and I felt the bed shift as he moved. “I’m confident you remember how adept I am as a sleep aid.” Sparks danced over my skin. Of course, I remembered the night in the Blood Forest, when he’d slipped his hand between my thighs, and for the first time in my life, I’d discovered what pure pleasure was. I tried to block those images. “That’s not necessary.” “That’s disappointing.” “That’s your problem—” I sucked in a sharp breath as I suddenly felt him against my back. I twisted. “What are you doing?” “Holding you,” he answered, curving an arm over my waist. My heart bounced like a child’s ball. “I don’t—” “That’s all I’m doing,” he cut in. “I sometimes find that being close to another helps me fall asleep.” I wondered how he’d gained that knowledge. Instead, I asked, “Then why didn’t you suggest that in the Blood Forest?” “Because this is not nearly as fun or interesting as what I did then,” he replied. “I do have that diary around here somewhere. You know, the one with the throbbing co—” “I know exactly which journal you’re speaking of. And that won’t be necessary either.” “That’s all so disappointing.” He settled his head behind mine as he all but pulled me down. “I need my sleep, and that’s not going to happen when it feels like I’m on a boat.” He paused. “A rickety one.” “I wasn’t rocking that much!” I denied, wiggling to put space between us. “I wouldn’t advise that,” he said, voice gruff as his arm tightened. “Why?” “Squirm a few more inches lower, and I’m sure you’ll find out why.” My eyes popped wide as I grew very, very still. Was he…? Was he aroused? Simply because he was lying in bed next to me? Was that all it took? After what we’d just talked about? I bit down on my lower lip. Sometimes, all it took for me was to look at him, and I’d feel a certain way. Knowing that he could experience all the want and desire after what he went through was a relief. What he felt now had nothing to do with what had been done to him. What I felt when he touched me had nothing to do with how I felt when the Duke placed his hands on me. I knew that. And I shouldn’t be shocked to discover that Casteel was attracted to me. That had been abundantly clear unless…that too had been an act. No, I didn’t think it was an act. There’d be no reason to force the attraction now, especially not when it was just us— “I can practically hear the wheels of your brain turning, Princess,” he said. “Why do you believe I’m thinking about anything?” I demanded. “Because you couldn’t be stiffer. Sleep, Poppy. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” The marriage. Our future. Two things that were irrelevant because the first was never going to happen, so there could be no future for us. Besides, how was I supposed to sleep with him curled around me like one of those small, fluffy animals that lived in trees near the capital? What were they called? I couldn’t remember. I’d only seen drawings of them in a children’s book I’d once found in the Atheneum. They were cute and looked soft, but Vikter had once told me that they were vicious little creatures. “Do you know what the fluffy animals are called that live in the trees near the capital?” I asked. “What?” “The ones that hang onto the limbs,” I explained. “They’re fluffy and cute, but are supposedly vicious.” “Dear gods, do I even want to know why you’re thinking of the tree bears?” “Tree bear?” My brow puckered. “That’s the name?” “Poppy,” he sighed. I rolled my eyes. “You remind me of a tree bear.” “I would tell you that I’m offended, but that requires speaking, which means neither of us would be sleeping.” “Whatever,” I muttered. Lying there stiffly, I debated snatching the meat knife and stabbing him in the arm with it. That seemed like a bit of an overreaction, but it was one I’d enjoy, at least in the moment. I didn’t know exactly when or how long it took, but somewhere between staring at the knife and doing everything not to rock, my eyelids grew heavy, and I did eventually sleep. And I did not dream. Chapter 8 The next time I saw Casteel, I was going to shove the stupid knife so far into his chest, he would have to dig it out. Glaring at the door, guarded from the outside, I swallowed a shout of frustration and anger. With the exception of Delano arriving with lunch, I’d been locked up in this room all day, alone and going absolutely stir-crazy. Casteel was gone when I woke, and that had been a welcomed discovery since waking up in his arms was not something I needed to experience again. The memories of such were already hard enough to forget. But hours later, as the snow fell steadily and the wind howled outside the narrow window, whatever gratitude I’d felt had shriveled up and died. Delano had stood guard outside nearly the entire day. I knew because the last time I had pounded on the door, he’d answered through the heavy wood. He’d replied in virtually the same way each time I demanded to be let out. “No one wishes to chase you through a snowstorm.” “I’d rather not be gutted by the Prince, so no.” “The Prince will return soon.” My favorite was when I’d said that I just wanted some fresh air. “Nothing personal, but there is literally no way I would trust you enough to crack this door open to allow even an inch of fresh air to enter your chamber.” How was that not personal? I started toward the door, planning to bang my fist off it until the whole keep came running— The door suddenly swung open as Delano rushed inside, hand on the hilt of his sword. He drew up short, eyes bright as he checked me over and scanned the room. “Are you okay?” he demanded. Delano had the kind of face that often tricked you. Except for the nearly constant crease between his fair brows, there was a boyishness to his features. As if he would be grinning the second he thought you weren’t looking. But in that moment, with the hard set to his jaw and the steeliness in his eyes I’d never seen before, he looked as if he were a breath away from lopping off someone’s head. “Other than being angry about being trapped in here? Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t yelling?” My brows lifted. “Not externally. Did you hear me yelling?” Delano’s head tilted. “What do you mean by…not externally?” “I was probably screaming internally for being locked in here.” “So, you weren’t screaming?” “No. Not out loud.” I crossed my arms. His already light skin seemed paler. “I thought… I thought I heard you calling my name.” The crease between his brows deepened. “Screaming for help.” Letting go of his sword, he ran a hand through his nearly white-blond hair. “It must’ve been the wind.” “Or your guilty conscience.” “Probably the wind.” I started toward him. There it was, a flash of a grin. “Sorry to interrupt.” “Interrupt what? I’m stuck in this room. What could—?” I shrieked as the door closed and locked. “Now I am yelling!” “It’s the wind,” he yelled back through the door. I stomped my foot once and then twice instead of giving in to the urge to really scream. Throwing myself onto the bed, I pictured all the different places I could stab Delano, but then I felt a little bad about that. It wasn’t his fault. It was Casteel’s. So, I pictured putting as many holes in him as I could until I started to doze. I didn’t fight it. Being unconscious was far better than rage-pacing. I had no idea how long I slept, whether it was minutes or hours, but when I opened my bleary eyes, a patchwork quilt had been draped over my legs, and I saw that I wasn’t alone. Across from the bed sat Kieran, in the same chair as the night before, practically in the same position—one booted foot resting on a bent knee. “Good afternoon,” he said as I blinked slowly, looking between him and the quilt. “The quilt wasn’t me. That was Cas.” He’d been in here? While I slept? That son of a— “Though I’m glad you finally woke up. I was going to give you another five minutes before I risked life and limb to wake you. Unlike Cas, watching you sleep is not something I find all that entertaining.” Casteel watched me sleep? Wait. How long had Kieran been sitting there? “What are you doing in here?” I rasped. “Other than wondering exactly what choices I made in my life that led me to this exact moment?” Kieran asked. My eyes narrowed. “Yes. Other than that.” “Since I figured Delano would like a break and wondered if you might be hungry. I’m hoping that you are because I would like to eat, too.” My stomach immediately decided that yes, it would like some food, and grumbled loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Feeling my cheeks flush, I shoved the blanket off and stood. “Am I actually allowed to leave this room?” “Of course.” My brows lifted. “You say that as if I’m asking a stupid question. I’ve been locked in here all day!” “If you could be trusted not to run, then perhaps you wouldn’t be locked in here.” “Maybe if you weren’t holding me captive, I wouldn’t have to try and escape!” “Good point.” I blinked. “But it is what it is.” Kieran arched a brow. “Do you wish to leave the room and eat, or would you rather sit here and stew? Your choice.” My choice? I almost laughed. “I need to use the bathing chamber first.” “Take your time. I’ll just sit here and stare at…nothing now.” Rolling my eyes, I started to turn, and then my stupid mouth opened. “Where is His Highness?” “Highness? Man, I bet Cas loves being referred to as that.” Kieran chuckled. “You miss him already?” “Oh, yes. That’s exactly why I’m asking.” He grinned. “He’s been speaking with Alastir and several of the others in town. If he wasn’t the Prince of Atlantia, with all his princely duties, I’m sure he’d be here…” His pale eyes glimmered. “Watching you sleep.” “Thank the gods that he has something to pass his time with then,” I muttered. Ignoring that, I hurried into the bathing chamber. I took care of my needs and then grabbed the brush from the small vanity. My hair was a mess from sleeping on it, and there was a good chance that I tore half of it out while trying to get the knots out. Once I finished, I placed the brush back and then looked in the small mirror, tilting my head to the side. I wasn’t looking at the scars, though I thought they seemed less noticeable somehow—could be the lighting. Rather it was my eyes that I stared at. They were green, passed down from my father to Ian and me. My mother’s were brown, and I thought of how the Atlantians had golden or hazel-colored eyes. Had my mother’s been a plain shade of brown? Or had they been a golden brown? Was I just assuming that all Atlantians had some shade of gold in their eyes? Turning my head to the side, I saw that the bite mark was now just a pale purple bruise. It looked like one of the love bites I’d read about in Miss Willa Colyns’ diary. I flushed as I quickly braided my hair. Once completed, I tossed the plait over my shoulder, hoping the thick tail would stay in place, concealing the mark. My gaze lowered to my hands. I have a lot of blood on my hands. As angry as I was at Casteel, his words still haunted me, as did what he’d shared about the time he’d spent as a captive. He didn’t deserve that. Part of me still couldn’t believe that he’d taken ownership for Vikter and the others, and I couldn’t help but wonder if their deaths were part of what stained his soul. I also wondered if what he hadn’t been able to control when he was held also darkened his soul. If so, that sat even heavier on my heart, and I wasn’t sure what to do with any of that. Horrific things had been done to him. He’d done terrible things. Neither canceled out the other. Kieran was at least standing when I exited the bathing chamber. He faced the banked fire, and I wondered if that was as far as he’d moved. “Do you ever get bored?” I asked. “With what?” he replied, sounding as disinterested as possible. “With standing around and waiting for me? It seems like you are tasked with doing so quite often.” “It’s actually an honor to guard what the Prince values so highly,” he replied. “And since I’m never quite sure what you’re going to do from one second to the next, it’s not even remotely boring. That is, except when you’re sleeping.” I made a closed mouth sound of annoyance as my heart immediately went to war with my brain over why I was considered something the Prince valued. My heart, which gave a happy little flop, was obviously stupid. I went to the fireplace and picked up the thigh sheath. Relieved to find the supple leather dry, I asked, “Have you seen my dagger?” “The one fashioned from wolven bone?” I cringed. “Yes, that one.” “I have not.” Feeling a bit contrite and insensitive, I turned to him. “About the…the handle. I have no idea how that came into creation or when. It was given to me as a gift—” “I know,” he interrupted. “Unless you are the one who carved it from the bones of a wolven, you don’t need to apologize. I imagine it was created shortly after the War of Two Kings. Many of my kind fell during the battles, and not all the bodies could be retrieved.” I wanted to apologize again, especially when I thought about how families hadn’t had the chance to honor their loved ones with whatever burial practices they observed. I resisted the urge to comment as I slipped the bent meat knife into the sheath, half expecting Kieran to say something, but all he did was smile faintly when I glanced at him. “Ready?” he asked. When I nodded, he peeled away from the wall. “Lead the way.” I did just that, and it gave me great satisfaction to do so. Opening the door, I stepped outside and headed down the walkway. Why did it never feel nearly as cold when it snowed? A better question resurfaced as I opened the door to the stairwell. “Are all Atlantians’ eyes a golden shade?” “That’s an incredibly random question,” he said, catching the door before it swung shut in his face. “But, yes, most Atlantians have some shade of gold in their eyes. Only those of the elemental bloodline have pure golden eyes.” I almost missed a step. “Elemental bloodline?” I asked, looking over my shoulder. “Not all Atlantians are the same,” he remarked. “Did your history books leave that out?” “Yes,” I grumbled, facing forward. The texts mentioned the wolven as being a part of Atlantia, but nothing had ever suggested there were different…bloodlines. “What is the elemental bloodline?” “Those whose blood is purely Atlantian and can be traced back to the earliest known Atlantians,” he answered. “Not descendants by blood but by creation.” “They were created by other…Atlantians?” “Yes, by the deities, the children of the gods.” “Really?” I said doubtfully. “Deities?” “Really.” My brows knitted as we reached the landing. I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but what did I know? I looked back at him. “Are any of them still in Atlantia?” “If there were, Cas would not be our Prince.” A muscle flexed in Kieran’s jaw. “The last of their line was gone by the end of the war.” “What does that mean? That Casteel wouldn’t be the Prince?” “They were deities, Penellaphe. The ones who created the elemental Atlantians. A drop of their blood is a drop from the gods. They would usurp any bloodline that sat on the throne.” “All because they can link their blood back to these…deities?” “They ruled Atlantia since the dawn of time, up until the last of them died. They weren’t just a bloodline,” he said. “They were Atlantia.” Okay, then. “And Casteel is of the elemental line?” “He is.” Well, if anyone would somehow be connected to deities and gods, it would be him. It explained his arrogance and high-handed attitude. “So, there are others who live in Atlantia? Besides the wolven?” “There are,” he said, surprising me. I half expected him to deem the information confidential. “Those with mortal blood, usually first or second-generation with one Atlantian and one mortal parent.” Those had been the half-Atlantians Casteel had spoken of the night prior. “Very rarely does a third-generation or more removed have any discernible Atlantian blood or traits. But even though they have mortal lifespans, they aren’t often plagued by illnesses or disease.” “Since their blood can feed one of an elemental line and be used to make vamprys, they don’t need blood after their Culling, do they?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t talked with Casteel about that part. Kieran raised an eyebrow. “No. They do not need blood.” That was a relief, although Casteel’s blood tasted nothing like I’d ever imagined. “Do those of the elemental line need food?” I’d seen Casteel eat. I’d actually seen the Ascended eat. “Do vamprys?” “Those of the elemental line can go long periods without food but doing so requires them to take blood more often. Vamprys can eat, but they don’t need to. Food does nothing to slake their bloodlust.” I stopped in the stairwell. “The ones who are part mortal…those are the ones with eyes that are hazel but more gold?” “You’d be correct in your assumption.” “Then why are mine green? Neither of my parents had hazel eyes,” I told him. “My mother could’ve had golden brown, but I’m pretty sure her eyes were just brown.” He glanced at the door. “If your mother or father had Atlantian blood in them, that doesn’t mean they were purely Atlantian. They could’ve been second-generation and your memory of their eye color faulty.” I frowned. “I remember the color of their eyes.” He glanced down at me. “It’s also possible that neither of them were your birth parents.” I almost tripped again. “Did they just find me in a field or something and decide to keep me?” “Mortals often do inexplicable and strange things, Penellaphe.” “Whatever.” A lot of things seemed impossible that I was working to accept. Both of my parents not actually being my blooded parents wasn’t one of them. “Are there more…bloodlines?” “There are.” I waited while he stared at me. “Are you going to tell me what they are?” Amusement crept into his wintry eyes. “There were many bloodlines at one time. However, most have either died off naturally or were lost in the war. The changelings are another bloodline, although their numbers have significantly dwindled.” “Changelings?” I repeated slowly, having never heard the word before. “Most are of two worlds, able to shift their forms.” “Like a wolven?” “Yes. Some.” His gaze swiveled to the door again, and his eyes narrowed. “Many believe they are distant cousins of the wolven, the offspring of a deity and a wolven.” “What kind of forms can they shift into?” I asked, thinking of one of the stories Ian had sent, the one about the water folk. I almost asked if they could shift into part fish, but that was too ridiculous for me to even utter. “Many different forms. But that will have to wait. He pressed a finger to my lips when I opened my mouth. “One second.” I frowned, but he moved his hand, brushing past me to open the door. I followed on his heels. When he came to a sudden stop, I almost walked right into his back. “Kieran.” The familiar, raspy voice caused my heart to lurch, even though I knew it wasn’t Vikter. It was Alastir. “I’ve been wondering where you were today. I expected to see you with Casteel.” “I’ve been busy,” Kieran answered. “Is Cas back already?” “He’s still with Elijah, speaking about…about the upcoming move.” There was a pause as I peeked around Kieran. Alastir’s hair was pulled back in a knot at the nape of his neck. Without the cloak, I saw that he wasn’t without weapons. A dagger was strapped to one thigh, and a golden-trimmed scabbard held a sword on his opposite hip. Alastir also wasn’t alone. A man with auburn waves and the same vivid gold eyes as Casteel was with him. An elemental Atlantian, I now knew. His gaze slid from the wolven to where I stood, mostly hidden behind Kieran. One side of his lips tipped up. Kieran moved to the side, blocking my view of the elemental. “As I’m sure you know, there are concerns,” Alastir continued. “Concerns from Elijah or you?” Kieran asked. “Concerns from all,” Alastir answered. “It’s a sizable group to move and keep healthy and whole during the trip. And once there.” My mind rapidly turned that over. Were the people who lived in New Haven making the move to Atlantia? Even the Descenters, who were of no Atlantian descent? I thought the concerns had a lot to do with their limited land. But why were they going there now? Kieran crossed his arms. “It needs to be done.” “Does it?” came the quiet reply from Alastir. “I would think you of all people would know that it does,” Kieran said as I silently stepped farther to the side. “To do nothing is cruel.” Alastir’s features were somber as he said, “I agree. Doing nothing is cruel. My hesitation doesn’t come from a place of apathy. Hell, you know I’ve spent the better part of my life locating our people and their offspring trapped in Solis and bringing them home.” Alastir placed his hand on Kieran’s shoulder. “My hesitation comes from a place of empathy. I hope you and Casteel realize that.” “We do.” Kieran clamped his hand over the older wolven’s forearm. “It’s just a complicated situation.” “That it is.” Alastir turned his head to where I stood. “But not nearly as complicated as this.” Kieran started to block me once more, and I’d had it with the ridiculousness. “He can see me standing behind you,” I said. “You’re a giant oaf, but not that giant of an oaf.” A wide smile broke out across Alastir’s face, and the elemental behind him laughed. Kieran sighed. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to cross paths again without the Prince rushing you off.” The wolven’s smile tightened. “He does seem quite taken with you.” I tensed, immediately wanting to put out that based on what Casteel planned to do, he couldn’t be taken with me. But recalling that Casteel had said that he was working on making sure my life wasn’t in jeopardy with this man, I managed to keep that to myself. “I think he’s far more taken with himself.” A loud laugh burst from the elemental. “I think I can now be counted as one of those taken with you.” My cheeks flushed, burning even deeper when Kieran said, “I would advise against saying that in front of Casteel.” “I like my head attached to my body, and my heart in my chest,” the elemental responded. “I have no plans to repeat that.” “He did say you were…quite outspoken.” I crossed my arms. “More like warned you?” “Something like that, but surprising nonetheless.” Alastir’s pale eyes danced with amusement. “We didn’t get a chance to be properly introduced yesterday. I’m Alastir Davenwell and the one behind me is Emil Da’Lahr.” Emil grinned as he nodded in my direction. “I will forever think of Kieran as a giant oaf now, thanks to you.” “That’s great,” muttered the wolven standing beside me. Sparing a quick glance at Kieran’s stoic expression, I said, “I’m Penellaphe.Penellaphe Balfour.” Alastir’s gaze sharpened on me as his brows narrowed. “Balfour?” I nodded. “That’s an old name, one that goes back several hundred years in Solis,” Alastir said. How old was this wolven? “My father’s family was involved in shipping. They were merchants.” “Casteel has told me that you are of Atlantian descent,” Alastir said after a moment. “Which would explain why the Ascended have deemed you the Maiden and kept you close to them.” His head tilted. He must’ve seen something in my expression, because he continued. “You’ve learned what they had planned for you.” A statement, but I nodded anyway. “I am sorry for that,” he offered softly, bowing his head slightly. “I cannot imagine what it must feel like to learn that those who cared for you did so for such abhorrent reasons.” It felt like the world was nothing but a violent lie. “Your mother was close to the vampry Queen, and your father’s family a friend to the King? Correct?” Surprise flickered through me. “Did Casteel tell you that?” A faint smile appeared. “I knew some of your background before I met you, Penellaphe. Word of a Maiden, one Chosen by the gods, reached Atlantia long ago.” That didn’t make me feel entirely comfortable. “I guess that came as a shock to your people since your gods are asleep, therefore unable to choose anyone.” Emil chuckled. “That it did. We wondered if they had woken and forgotten about us.” “I think what is more of a shock is learning that you’re of Atlantian descent,” Alastir said, brows knitted. “Especially since your mother and father were so connected to the Blood Crown.” “The Blood Crown?” “The Queen and King of Solis. The Royals,” explained Kieran. “They’re referred to as the Blood Crown.” I was sure there was disturbing accuracy behind that title. “It leaves me with the question of how you’re even here,” said Alastir. Kieran unfolded his arms. “What is that supposed to mean?” “You can’t tell me that neither you nor the Prince has wondered how the parent of someone of Atlantian descent survived long so close to the Blood Crown.” Alastir looked at me. “It’s not that they can sense us, but being that close, I imagine it would’ve been discovered.” “And they would’ve used one of them as what? A blood bag?” I finished. Emil’s brows rose. “That’s one way of putting it, but yes.” “I don’t know which one was Atlantian,” I admitted. “Kieran seems to think that I was found in a field.” Emil sent a questioning look at the wolven. Kieran sighed. “I did not say that. I merely suggested that one or even possibly both weren’t her blooded parents.” “That’s possible.” A thoughtful expression entered Alastir’s features. “I never heard what became of your parents. Are they still in the capital of Solis? If so, then I imagine the answer lies with them.” “My parents are no longer alive.” Unsure if he knew of Ian, I didn’t mention him. “They were killed in a Craven attack outside the city.” Alastir paled as he stared at me. “Is that…?” He trailed off, lines bracketing his mouth. I had a feeling I knew what he had been about to ask. “It was how I was scarred,” I told him, holding his stare. The lines at his mouth deepened. “You wear your scars proudly, Penellaphe.” “As do you,” I murmured. “I am sorry to learn of your parents,” Alastir said. “I wish there was more I could say.” “Thank you,” I murmured. “We need to get going.” Kieran touched my back lightly. “Excuse us.” Alastir nodded as both he and Emil stepped aside. “It was nice to speak with you, Penellaphe.” “You, too,” I said, sending both men a small smile. Kieran ushered me through the otherwise empty common area. I looked over my shoulder to see both males still standing there, watching us. I turned back to the hall. My steps slowed as I said in a low voice, “They…seemed nice. Are they?” “They are both good men, loyal to Atlantia and the Da’Neer dynasty.” Dynasty. Is that what Casteel’s family was? A dynasty? “Come.” He touched my back again. “We must eat. You must eat.” I forced my steps to keep pace with Kieran’s as I momentarily forgot about Alastir. I couldn’t see beyond the bend, but tiny knots tangled up my stomach. I didn’t want to see the walls with the hanging dead again. “Why is everyone so concerned about me eating?” “We want to take you to Atlantia. Not starve you.” Atlantia. My already churning stomach dipped. I knew so little about what rose from the blood and ash of war. “Do they really have running hot water there, available in…faucets?” Kieran blinked once and then twice. “Yes. They do. It is probably the thing I miss the most when I am here.” “That sounds lovely,” I murmured. “The hot water part. Not the missing it part.” “I figured that was what you meant.” As I neared the bend, I steeled myself for the grotesque sight of the bodies spiked to the walls. Was Jericho still alive? Had the others begun to rot? It was cool enough in here that the others would probably look as they had before, only grayer and waxier. My empty stomach churned as I stepped into the hall and lifted my gaze. The walls were bare. No bodies. No evidence of blood, nothing streaming down the walls and finding the tiny cracks in the stone to form little rivers. None on the floor, either. I pressed my hand to my stomach. “They’re gone.” “Cas had them removed last night after dinner,” Kieran advised. Surprise shuttled through me. “And Jericho?” “He is no more. Casteel took care of him while you were running off to start a new life, one which would’ve ended in certain dismemberment and death at the hands of the Craven.” Ignoring that jab, I didn’t know if I should feel as relieved as I did. “Did…did Casteel believe his warning was heard?” “I believe he was more concerned about what you said than if his warning was left up long enough to be heeded.” Kieran crossed through the open doors. “I, on the other hand, would’ve left Jericho up there for at least another day or so.” My mouth dropped open. I wasn’t sure what shocked me more. That Casteel had acted upon what I’d said, or that Kieran would’ve left the traitorous wolven lingering in a painful state of almost death. “There should always be dignity in death,” I said once I found my voice. “No matter what.” Kieran didn’t answer as he led me to an empty table. The chairs from the night before had been replaced by a long bench. I sat as I looked around, spotting only a few people toward the back of the banquet hall, near the hearth and several doors. Where was everyone? With Casteel and Elijah? I turned as Kieran sat beside me. “I don’t think Casteel acted upon my words, but if he did, I’m grateful to hear that.” He rested an elbow on the table. “I don’t think you realize how much sway you have over him.” I started to deny such a statement, but an older woman with a white smock covering the front of her soft yellow gown hurried to the table, carrying two plates. The scent of food caused my stomach to make itself known once more. She placed one in front of us, both full of fluffy mashed potatoes, roasted meat, and glistening rolls on the side. As inconspicuously as possible, I noted the color of her eyes. They were brown with no hint of gold. “Thank you,” I said. There was a grunt of acknowledgment, but when Kieran offered the same thanks, he was given a warm smile and a sweet, “thank you.” My lips pursed, but I didn’t let it bother me as I snatched up the fork and started shoveling the potatoes into my mouth. Though it was a unique experience for me to even be able to look anyone in the face, or for them to see me, and for us to exchange even simple pleasantries. The mouthful of potatoes turned to sawdust on my tongue, so I guessed her response did bother me. A little. Looking over at Kieran, I saw that he had been given a fork and a knife. My eyes narrowed. It was slightly thinner, but far sharper than my sad blade. Finishing off the potatoes, I got back to my line of questioning. “She was mortal, wasn’t she? The woman who brought the food to us?” Cutting up his roasted meat into neat pieces that all appeared to be the same size, he nodded. “She is.” Then she must be a Descenter, a mortal of Solis. I used to wonder what sort of hardships someone had to face in their life to lead them to support the Dark One and the fallen kingdom. But that was before I knew the truth. Now, I wondered what hardship had awoken her to the truth. “Are the people here planning to leave for Atlantia?” I asked. “You put two and two together, I see.” “I’m smart like that.” He raised a brow. “So, I’m right? Why are they leaving here?” “Why would anyone want to remain under the control of the Ascended?” Well, that sounded like a good enough reason. “But why now?” “Sooner rather than later, the Ascended will realize that their Maiden is missing, and they will come looking for you. They will come here,” Kieran said. “And there are far too many supporters in New Haven.” My gaze lifted to the now-empty hearth as I thought of all the filled homes along the street we’d come in on. “How many people live here?” “Several hundred.” “Is there room for them in Atlantia?” His gaze slid to mine, and I could tell he was working out that I knew about their land problem. “We will make room.” I had a feeling it wasn’t that simple. I wanted to know what would happen if they weren’t able to move them in time. I stopped before I could. It wasn’t my problem. Their problems weren’t mine. Kieran had finally, after about ten years, finishing cutting up his food. “May I have that? If you’re done, that is? I’m not sure, but the last piece is a little thicker than the rest of the pieces.” Slowly, he looked over at me. “Would you like me to cut your food for you?” “Would you like me to knock you off this bench?” He chuckled deeply. “Cas is right. You are incredibly violent.” “No, I’m not.” I pointed my fork at him. “I’m just not a child. I don’t need someone else cutting my meat.” “Uh-huh.” He handed the knife over, and I took it before he could change his mind. I didn’t take nearly the same amount of time to slice the tender meat, but I didn’t hand the knife back over either. I kept it in my left hand as I speared the food with my fork. “Where is everyone?” “Living their best lives, I suppose,” he replied rather wistfully. I shot him a dark look, but I was undaunted. “Anyway,” I drew out the word, getting back to what we had been talking about before we ran into Alastir. “What do you call the ones who have mortal blood in them? The half-Atlantians? Like what would you call me?” “Atlantian.” “Really?” I replied, picking up one of the rolls. “That makes things confusing.” “Not to me.” Rolling my eyes, I bit into the bread and almost moaned. It was so buttery, and there was a hint of sweetness I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was amazing. “The amount of blood someone has does not define an Atlantian,” Kieran elaborated. “Those who are elemental are no more important than those who aren’t.” I wasn’t sure I believed that if those who were elemental were more powerful, lived longer, and were created by the children of the gods. “Do the changelings have longer lifespans? I’m guessing the wolven do.” “We do.” He sighed, picking up his cup. “And they do.” “How long do they normally live?” I picked up a cloth, wiping my fingers, and then I reached down, unsheathing my ruined knife. “Longer than you can comprehend.” He stared straight ahead, chewing slowly. “I can comprehend a long time. The Ascended live forever. The Atlantians—well, the ones who are of the elemental line, practically do, too.” I placed the ruined knife on the table and slipped the other one under and into its sheath. “Nothing lives forever. Anything can be killed if you try hard enough.” Overly proud of myself, I stabbed another piece of meat. “I suppose.” “But no matter how hard you try with that knife you just swiped,” he said, and my eyes widened, “you will not be able to kill Cas with it.” My head swung in his direction. “I’m not planning to kill him with it.” “I would hope not.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “It would probably only further endear you to him.” I gave a small shake of my head. “I’m going to ignore that incredibly disturbing possibility.” “Ignoring something doesn’t make it less true, Penellaphe.” “Why do you call me Penellaphe?” “Why do you have so many questions?” My eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you answer the question?” Kieran leaned over, dipping his chin. “Nicknames are often reserved for friends. I don’t believe you consider us friends.” What he said made so much sense that I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. When I did, I doubted he would be happy to learn that it was another question. “Like how Atlantians only share their middle names with friends?” “With close friends, yes.” He studied me a moment. “I’m guessing Casteel told you his.” “Yes.” “Did that change anything for you?” I didn’t answer because I still didn’t understand why it mattered to me. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Kieran didn’t push it, and we finished what was left of our lunch in silence. I kept glancing toward the open doorway. Not that I was looking for Casteel, but I…I was looking for anyone. The few people who had been at the back of the room had all but disappeared. I imagined Kieran was grateful for the reprieve, but sadly for him, it was short-lived. “You know what I don’t understand?” “Yet another question,” he said, heaving an absurdly loud sigh. I pretended not to hear his comment. “Alastir brought up a good point about my parents. I must be a second-generation, right? Since neither of my parents were full-blooded, like born in Atlantia as far as I know,” I told him. “But Queen Ileana knew what I was…” I trailed off, frowning. I truly had no idea if the Ascended knew what I was before or after the Craven attack. Surviving the Craven’s bite and not turning would’ve been a dead giveaway to Queen Ileana. “What?” Kieran prodded. “I…I honestly can’t remember being referred to as the Maiden or the Chosen before my parents left. But I was so young, and there are so few memories.” And what I remembered of the night of the Craven attack, I couldn’t exactly trust as real. “I don’t know how they learned what I was. If it were my abilities before the attack or if it was after that.” “And you don’t remember what made your parents leave the capital?” “I remember them saying that they wanted a quieter life, but what…what if they knew what would happen to me? To their children?” “And they were escaping the Ascended?” Kieran took a drink. “That’s a possibility.” I glanced back at the doors. “Alastir helped to relocate Atlantians who were stranded in Solis?” “He did, but if your parents were first-generation, unaware of what they were, I doubt they would’ve known how to even contact someone like Alastir. “ “How would they have contacted him?” I turned back around. “They would’ve had to know someone who knew someone who knew someone, and through the whole chain of people, they’d have had to trust each and every one completely.” Considering how Descenters were treated, I couldn’t imagine anyone having that kind of trust. But still, what if they had been seeking someone like Alastir? What if they’d left without even knowing that there were others out there that could help them? Would that have changed the outcome at all? Probably. “Alastir did bring up another good point,” Kieran commented. “How either of my parents didn’t end up being used to create more vampry.” “Unless…” I knew where he was heading with that. “Anyway, back to my original question.” “Yay,” he muttered. “If my parents were first-generation, then I would be second.” His gaze flickered over my face, passing over the scars without even so much as a slight widening of the eyes. “Assuming that they are both your parents, yes. I would almost think your abilities would make you first-generation, but it’s possible that you’re second.” “And all Atlantians have golden eyes, in some shape or form,” I said. “As I’m sure you can tell, I don’t have golden eyes.” “No, you don’t. But I never said all Atlantians have golden eyes. I said most do,” Kieran said, toying with the fork. “Changelings don’t, and they have no unique eye color. Neither did a few of the other bloodlines we believed had died off,” he added, the fork stilling between his fingers. “Maybe we were wrong to assume that some of the older lines have ceased to exist. Perhaps you’re proof of that.” Chapter 9 “You think I might be a descendent of one of the other bloodlines? Or…or a changeling?” A thousand thoughts entered my head all at once. “I can’t change my form. I mean, I haven’t tried. Should I?” My nose wrinkled. “Probably not. Knowing my luck, my other form would be a barrat.” I shuddered. Barrats were rats the size of a small bear. Kieran stared at me, his lips twitching. “You have a selective memory. I said most can shift forms, but not all. And it would be extremely doubtful that even a first-generation descendent of the changeling bloodline could do that.” “Sorry, I got hung up on the whole shifting forms part. What can the others do? The ones who don’t shift?” “Some have heightened senses—mental abilities. As those of an elemental line often do.” “Like…being able to tell the future or knowing things about people?” He nodded. The woman who’d been in the Red Pearl came to mind immediately. She’d known way too much for someone I’d never met before, and I’d wondered then if she’d been a Seer, but it seemed more likely that she had been working with Casteel. But she’d said something. It had been strange then, but virtually meaningless. What had it been? You are like a second daughter, but not in the way you intend. Had she meant second daughter as in…second-generation? Either way, with my abilities, it would make sense that I had descended from such a bloodline. Being able to tell what others were feeling was a heightened sense. “What about the other bloodlines?” I asked. “The ones that died off?” “There were—” Kieran’s head suddenly twisted toward the doorway. I followed his gaze, finding the area empty at first. However, within seconds, he appeared. The breath I took sort of got stuck somewhere in my chest when I saw Casteel. Annoyed by the reaction and also somewhat awed by the idea that the mere sight of someone could cause such a physical response, I had to admit that he cut a striking and imposing figure dressed in black breeches and a tunic with a heavy, fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders. As he strode forward, the cloak parted, revealing both of his short swords, sheathed close to the sides of his stomach, their deadly, sharp points were tucked away from his arms, and the serrated sides lay flat against him. His hair was windblown back from his face, sharpening the lines of his cheekbones. Casteel had taken only a few steps into the banquet hall when he turned in our direction. His gaze found mine with unerring accuracy. The space between us seemed to shrink as he held my stare. My heart rate picked up, and my skin flushed. I didn’t remember falling asleep this morning, but I did recall exactly what it had felt like with his arm draped over my waist, his chest mere inches from my back. It had been an experience and would’ve been perfect if things were…different. If things were different, I would be looking forward to the many nights and mornings that surely awaited us. A sharp aching pulse rolled through me. Casteel’s lips rose, just a corner. I knew that if I were closer, I would see the dimple in his right cheek. It was almost like he knew where my thoughts had gone. Tearing my gaze from his, something occurred to me. Casteel did know. Facing Kieran, I asked in a low voice, “Can he somehow sense…like what I’m feeling? Not like I can, but in another way?” Kieran tilted his head toward mine, dark brows furrowing and then smoothing as a hint of amusement played across his lips. Oh, no. I tensed, instinctively knowing I probably wasn’t going to like the answer. “Atlantians of the elemental line do have heightened physical senses,” he explained. “Their sight is far beyond what a mortal could even imagine, allowing them to see clearly even during the darkest hours of the night.” I already knew that. “Their sense of taste is also heightened, as well as their sense of smell,” he continued, his grin growing. “They can scent a person’s unique scent, and that can tell a lot of things about someone and their body—where a person has been, what they last ate, or who they’ve been close to.” Relief began to seep into me. All of that didn’t sound too bad— “One could tell, in certain situations, if a person is unwell or injured or the exact opposite. Like, for example, if someone is….” He paused. “Aroused.” And there it was, what I feared. Casteel could sense arousal? Heat swept over every inch of my body, and I knew I had to be as red as the leaves within the Blood Forest. Oh, gods. That explained how he seemed to know exactly when I was lying about being attracted to him. But could he sense that from a distance? I doubted that. “How is that even possible?” “Each person has a unique scent. At certain times, the scent is stronger. Especially when someone is aroused.” “I wish you’d stop saying that word,” I muttered. “Why? There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he responded. “It’s probably one of the most natural things there is.” Natural or not, I now knew what it felt like to know someone could be privy to such intimate dealings. Feeling as if the tables had been turned on me, I picked up my cup and swallowed the sweet juice. “Only the wolven have keener senses that allow us to track over longer distances,” Kieran added. “And for longer periods.” I nearly choked on the juice. The night in the Blood Forest came back to me in vivid, startling detail. Kieran had been keeping guard while Casteel…while he helped me sleep. At that time, I’d believed Kieran had been too far away to hear or see or scent anything. I almost shouted a curse that would’ve shocked Vikter and then made him laugh. “I’m curious,” Casteel said, causing me to jump. I hadn’t even heard him approach. “What are you two discussing that has Poppy looking as if she’s five seconds away from crawling under the table?” “Nothing,” I said. “I was just telling her about how you have heightened physical senses,” Kieran answered at the same time as I did. “Like your ability to see better than her, and scent her arousal—” “Oh, my gods!” I spun on the bench, swinging at Kieran, but he easily avoided my fist. “I’m sorry.” Kieran didn’t look remotely remorseful. “I meant desire. She doesn’t like the word arousal.” “Careful, Kieran,” Casteel murmured, catching my hand before I could swing at Kieran once more. “She’ll be threatening to stab you next.” The wolven grinned. “I’m pretty sure that’s already happened.” “I hate you,” I announced. “I hate you both.” Casteel chuckled. “That’s a lie.” My gaze shot to his as I tugged on my hand. “You can’t sense that.” He didn’t let go of my hand. “Not through any type of heightened senses, but I know you don’t nonetheless.” “Whatever you think you know is completely wrong. I absolutely loathe your very existence.” I glared up at him. “And you can let go of my hand, please and thank you.” “Why do you think you loathe my very existence?” His eyes glimmered as a hint of a smile played across his lips. “And even though you asked oh so nicely, I fear that if I let go of your hand, either Kieran or I will be in grave danger.” Kieran nodded. “Cowards,” I hissed. “Also, I like holding your hand,” Casteel said, sucking his lower lip between his teeth—between his fangs. “I don’t care what you like. And I also can’t believe you’re seriously asking why I would loathe you. Do you have memory problems?” “I think I have a very impressive memory. Don’t you think so, Kieran?” “There is very little you forget,” the wolven answered. Steam had to be billowing out of my ears. “Besides the fact that you’ve lied to me, kidnapped me, and planned to ransom me, you kept me locked in a room all day. How is that any better than what the Ascended did to me my entire life?” The warmth and amusement vanished under the ice drenching Casteel’s gaze. “Because this time, it is for your safety.” I laughed harshly. “Isn’t that what they also claimed?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “The difference is that they were lying to you, and I’m not.” “There are those who would risk death to seek revenge against the Ascended,” Kieran added. “He’s trying to protect you.” “For what?” I shot each of them a withering stare. “So I stay alive long enough for him to trade me?” Casteel arched a brow but said nothing. Anger and embarrassment was a dangerous mix. I was furious over being locked up all day and embarrassed by the knowledge that both of these men knew how I responded to Casteel—how easily my body sang for him. “You’re no better than the Ascended.” Casteel didn’t move. Kieran didn’t speak. Silence stretched out so long between us that unease blossomed, sending my heart pounding. I shouldn’t have said that. I knew that the moment it left my mouth, but I couldn’t take it back. “I need to show you something,” Casteel bit out, all but lifting me off the bench. He started walking, tugging me along behind him, his grip on my hand firm but not painful. I struggled to keep up with his long-legged pace as he crossed the banquet hall. “There is nothing you can show me that I want to see.” “You won’t want to see this. No one does. But you need to see it.” Confused by that statement, I looked over my shoulder to see Kieran leaning back, arms resting on the table, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He waved at me. I did something that Ian had once taught me, something that I’d seen the guards do to one another—sometimes in humor and other times in anger. It was considered a foul gesture, and I’d never done it in my life. I gave Kieran the middle finger. Throwing his head back, the wolven laughed loudly and deeply. Casteel glanced back at me, brows raised as his eyes flicked to Kieran. “Do I even want to know what you just did?” “It’s none of your business,” I grumbled, cheeks feeling hot. “You’re in a lovely mood today.” “I’m beginning to doubt your comprehension skills. You’ve kept me—” “Locked away in a room all day. I know,” he interrupted as we walked through the empty hall. “I would’ve preferred not to. Believe it or not, the idea of keeping you confined is something I find distasteful.” I wanted to believe him. I really did, but I wasn’t that na?ve. “Then you can simply not do it.” He coughed out a dry laugh. “And risk you running off again, unprepared and unprotected? I think not.” “I’m not going to try to run away—” Casteel laughed again, this time as deeply as Kieran had. I figured there was a good chance I might explode as we entered the common area. People lingered in the space, and I had no idea what they thought when they saw Casteel and I walk past them. I imagined one or both of us looked as if we were charging off to do battle. Up ahead, one of the men by the door opened it for us, and I had no idea where we were going as Casteel led me outside. Regardless, I was glad he wasn’t taking me back to the room. I’d definitely lose it then. The snow was coming down in a light, slow flurry, having eased off a bit from before. We trudged through several inches on the ground as we crossed the yard. “Why are we going into the woods?” I asked, wondering if I should be concerned, even though I knew I was no good to him dead. “We aren’t going very far.” Having slowed down so I could walk at his side, he glanced over at me. “Are you cold?” I shook my head. “We won’t be out here for very long,” he said. I lifted a hand as we walked, momentarily distracted by the snow. I watched it fall and melt against my skin. After a moment, I became aware of Casteel’s intense gaze on me. Closing my hand, I lowered it to my side. “It snowed in Masadonia, didn’t it?” he asked quietly as we reached the edge of the forest. “Were you ever able to enjoy it?” “It would’ve been unseemly for a Maiden to be romping around in the snow.” I frowned as we stepped under the trees. Snow dusted large areas of the forest floor and drifted in higher piles where there were breaks in the trees. “But a few times when I was able to sneak out at night I saw it, but it wasn’t often. A couple of times with Ian. Once with Tawny.” Tawny. My heart hurt as I thought of her, almost wishing I hadn’t. Gods, I missed her. She was the second daughter of a successful merchant, given to the Royal Court at the age of thirteen during the Rite. She had been tasked to be a companion of sorts to me, but she had become far more than that. I often worried that our friendship was nothing more than a task, a duty to her. But I knew better now. She genuinely cared for me. “Everyone seemed to go outside in the snow,” I continued. “So, going out without being seen wasn’t always feasible.” “That’s a shame. There are few things more peaceful than being out in the snow.” Casteel’s steps slowed, and then he stopped, letting go of my hand. Palm still tingly from the contact, I crossed my arms over my chest as he bent. “Does it snow in Atlantia?” “In the mountains, yes.” He lifted a heavy branch and then swept the fine layer of snow off what appeared to be a wooden door in the ground. “My brother and I would sneak off quite a bit to go into the mountains when we knew it was snowing. Kieran would often come with us, as would…others sometimes.” He tugged on an iron hook, pulling a door up. “I can make a mean snowball.” I stared at a dimly lit hole. Stone and earthen steps took form out of the shadows. “Ian taught me how to make snowballs, but I haven’t thrown one in years.” He looked up at me, a slight smile on his lips. “I bet you’re the type who packs the snow so tight that it leaves welts behind when it hits someone.” My lips twitched as I looked away, thinking the mask of the Prince had cracked a little just there, showing a peek of either Casteel or yet another mask. “Knew it,” he murmured and then cleared his throat. “I ran into Alastir before I came into the banquet hall. He told me he spoke with you.” “We did. Briefly.” I glanced at him. “Kieran was there.” “I know.” He watched me. “What do you think of Alastir?” I thought about that for a moment. “He seems nice, but it’s not like I know him.” I lifted my gaze to his. “Kieran said you are close with him.” “I’ve known him my entire life. He’s like a second father to Malik and me. To even Kieran. When I wanted to do something and my mother said no, and my father would ask what my mother said,”—a faint grin appeared—“which was usually no, obviously, I then went to Alastir.” “And what did he say?” “Usually, yes. And if it was something reckless or if he thought I might find myself in trouble, he followed,” he said. “Alastir found you very…unexpected.” “I thought you warned him about how outspoken I could be.” “Apparently, not well enough.” I took a deep breath. “Am I still in jeopardy with him?” “Hopefully, not for much longer.” Casteel turned to the earthen steps. Another long moment passed. “I know you hate being kept in a room, secluded. I didn’t mean to leave you in there for that long.” Saying none of what I wanted to, I stared at his shoulder. “I had to speak with Mrs. Tulis about her husband,” he continued, voice soft. “About why what happened had to.” Mouth suddenly dry, I lifted my gaze to his. “She was upset. Unsurprisingly. She couldn’t believe that he’d taken part in what he did. I don’t think she even believed me.” He tipped his head back, squinting at the snow as it drifted through the trees. “I can’t even blame her for doubting what I said. How often had she been lied to by the Ascended? Speaking with her took longer than I anticipated.” A smidgeon of guilt blossomed. “How…? Is she okay now?” I asked, wincing. Of course, she wasn’t okay. Her husband was dead. “I gave her the option to stay with the people of New Haven, promising her that no harm would come to her or, if she wished, I told her I would provide her safe passage to another town.” He lowered his chin. “She is to let me know.” “I hope she chooses to stay,” I whispered. “As do I.” He exhaled roughly. “Can you see the steps?” When I nodded, he said, “I’ll follow you down.” I hesitated and swallowed thickly. I wasn’t afraid of the dark or tunnels, but… “I’ve never been underground before.” “It’s a lot like being aboveground.” I sent him a dry look. “Really?” He chuckled then, and the sound was soft and real. “Okay. It’s nothing like being aboveground, but we’ll only be in a narrow tunnel for a very short distance and then you’ll forget you’re underground.” “I don’t know about that.” “You will,” he said, his tone quiet and heavy. My eyes met his for a moment, and then I exhaled, nodding. I had no idea what we were doing, but I was curious. I was always curious. Carefully, I made my way down the steps, placing my hands on the damp, cool walls. Once I reached the bottom, I tried not to think about how I was underground. I took a couple of cautious steps forward. Lit torches spaced several feet apart cast light upon the stone and dirt floor and the low ceiling, continuing for as far as I could see. It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be. The door clicked shut, and then Casteel landed behind me. I turned, wondering if he’d jumped, but he turned to face me. Suddenly, we were chest to chest. Under the scent of rich soil, there was the hint of him. Of pine and spice. His eyes met mine, and I quickly looked away, unsettled by…everything. “What is this?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded steadier than it felt. “It is different things to different people.” Casteel stepped around me, his shoulder and hip brushing mine. I knew the shiver had nothing to do with the surroundings. His hand curved around mine once more, and the spark of his skin touching mine traveled up my arm. “To some people, this is a place of reflection,” he said as he began walking, and I wondered if he felt that charge of energy. We continued down the tunnel. “For some, it is a place to bear witness to what many strive to forget.” The shadows ahead disappeared as the tunnel came to an end. Several feet of stairs led down into a space that opened into what appeared to be some sort of circular chamber with high ceilings and…dear gods, it had to be the length of the keep itself. Dozens and dozens of torches jutted out from the stone, casting light across the chamber’s walls. Only the center was in shadows. Within that gloom, there appeared to be several benches. “To others, this is simply a tomb. Hallowed ground.” Casteel let go of my hand. “One of the few places in all of Solis where those who have lost family members to the Ascended can mourn.” I was moving before I knew it, walking down the stairs and then onto the chamber’s floor. Pedestals were situated every couple of feet, and upon them rested slender chisels and hammers. I went to the right, my gaze crawling over the wall—over what was etched into the stone. There were words. Names. Ages. Some with epithets. Others with none. As I drew closer, I saw sketches carved into the stone. Portraits rendered by capable, artistic hands. A shuddering breath left me as I followed the curve of the wall. The names…there were so many of them. They flowed over the surface, from floor to ceiling, but the dates were what formed a knot in my chest, each marking the birth and then the death. The realization that many shared the same death dates moved the knot to my throat, and the recognition of those dates caused the carvings in the wall to blur. Quite a few of the death dates were sporadic, some several hundred years ago. While others were only a decade or five years ago, or last year, or…or a couple of months ago. But many others had dates that lined up with the Rites of the past. And the ages… My hand clutched at my chest. Two years of age. Seven months of age. Four years and six months of age. Ten years of age. And on and on. There were so many. Thousands. Thousands and thousands of children. Babies. “They…they are from the Rites,” I broke the silence, my voice thick and hoarse. “Many are, but others are Descenters who were killed,” he answered from somewhere behind me. “Some died of what the Ascended call a wasting disease, but in truth, it was due to uncontrolled feedings.” My eyes squeezed shut as Mr. and Mrs. Tulis appeared in my mind’s eye. They had lost two children that way. Two. “And some of the names, the ones you’ll notice have no end dates?” He was closer now. “They represent those who’ve disappeared, presumed to have become Craven or are dead.” Opening my eyes, I blinked back tears. I stepped closer, reaching out to trace the grooves that formed cheeks and eyes, but stopped short. Below, set against the wall, were old, dried flowers. Some fresh ones. Pieces of jewelry that glimmered faintly in the firelight. A necklace. A bracelet. A ring. Two wedding bands laid to overlap one another. My hand shook as I drew it back to my chest. I stopped in front of a stuffed animal. An old bear with a pale ribbon as a crown. My throat burned. “These are only a small fraction of the lives taken by the Ascended. There are large chambers with not a single space left for even one more name. And these are only the names of the mortals who were taken.” Each word bitterly clipped. “In Atlantia, walls that travel as far as the eye can see carry the names of our fallen.” Swallowing hard, I spread my fingers over my cheeks, brushing away dampness as I stared at the bear. “I am not without sin. I’m sure that I’ve caused names to be carved into different walls, but I am not them.” His voice was quiet in the chamber, and yet it somehow still echoed. “We are not them. And all that I ask is that the next time you think I am no better than an Ascended, you think of the names on these walls.” The words I know you’re not like them rose to the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t speak. I was barely holding it together. “I can promise you that the vast majority of those I’ve killed, who’ve ended in tombs or on walls, deserved it. I don’t lose a single moment of rest thinking of them. But the ones who were innocent?” Casteel spoke again, his voice low and as sharp as the chisels that awaited fingers shaking with grief. “The ones caught in the middle or who died by those who support me? I lose sleep over them—over the Lorens and the Dafinas of the world. The Vikters—” “Stop,” I rasped, unable to move for what felt like a small eternity. Casteel quieted, and I didn’t know if it was because he’d said all that he needed to or if it was a small gift that he was bestowing upon me. My lips trembled when I was finally able to move again. I walked on, discovering fresher flowers, newer dates, and more common names—and far too many too-short date ranges, and ones left open-ended. I don’t know how long we stayed in there, but I felt like I needed to walk every foot of the chamber, see every name that I could read, commit as many to memory as possible, and bear witness just as others had to the horrific and painful loss of life. Casteel had been right when he said that this was something no one wanted to see. I didn’t, but I needed to see this. No one could fake this. They just couldn’t. Slowly, I turned around. He stood by the entrance. “You ready?” Feeling as if I’d just battled a legion of Craven, I nodded. “Good.” He waited until I joined him before he climbed the stairs. Neither of us spoke until we emerged to discover that day had long since given way to night. I watched him close the door and move the limb over it. “Why did you remove the bodies from the hall?” I asked. He remained kneeling. “Does it matter?” “Yes,” I whispered. Lifting his head, he stared out over the moonlight-drenched snow. “I didn’t lie when I told you that I had helped those cursed by a Craven die with dignity. I did. Because I believe there should be dignity in death, even for those I loathe. I’d forgotten that in my anger and in my—” He cut himself off and then looked up at me. “You reminded me that as Hawke, I believed in that.” As Hawke. “Thank you,” I said hoarsely. I wasn’t sure if I was thanking him for remembering or for showing me what I never wanted to see but needed to. His head tilted as he stared up at me, and then he rose. “Come,” he said quietly. “We have a lot to discuss before it gets too late.” His proposal that wasn’t a proposal. Our future that really wasn’t one. I said nothing though as we walked back toward the keep, nor did I resist when he took hold of my hand once more. I had no idea why he did it. I doubted he feared I’d run. Maybe he simply liked holding my hand. I liked my hand being held. The last to do it so often was Ian, and that had only been when no one was around. But that felt nothing like this. Maybe I liked it so much because my mind was still in that chamber—no, that crypt with no bodies, among all those people who would never hold hands again. Perhaps it was because my mind was still in the moment where Casteel remembered a part of him that was Hawke. We didn’t speak the entire walk back to the keep or up to the room. Once inside, he led me over to the hearth. I stood by it, letting the fire warm my chilled skin. “Will we leave tomorrow?” I asked, breaking the silence. “The storm is weakening, but it will have to clear a little from the roads.” Flakes of snow melted and disappeared in the dark strands of his hair as he looked to the rattling window. “The wind should help with that…and possibly blow down this keep if it keeps up like this for another night.” I laughed out loud, thinking of the tale Ian had once told me he’d heard. Casteel turned to stare. “Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking about this story Ian once heard. About a wolf blowing down the homes of pigs. For some reason, I thought of a wolven doing that.” “You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “You’re beautiful when you’re quiet and somber, but when you laugh? You rival the sunrise over the Skotos Mountains.” He sounded so genuine, as if he truly meant that, and I couldn’t understand it. “Why do you say things like that?” His gaze searched mine. “Because it’s the truth.” “The truth?” I laughed, stepping back from the fire. The burn was back in my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. “Will you add my name to the walls once you hand me over? I’ll be dead eventually. That’s the truth. So, don’t say things like that.” “But it’s not the truth. Not at all,” he said, his gaze catching and holding mine. “It’s why we must marry.” “Why are you so adamant about the marriage?” I demanded. “It makes no sense.” “But it does. It’s the only way I can get what I want, and ensure you stay alive. Hopefully so you can live a long, free life.” Chapter 10 “What?” I repeated, this time barely above a whisper. Live a long life? Free? How was that possible if he got what he wanted—his brother’s freedom in exchange for my captivity? “Will you let me try to make sense of it for you? I’m not asking you to trust me.” “Trusting you is not something you have to worry about.” He leaned back, the line of his jaw hardening. “Neither am I asking for your forgiveness, Penellaphe.” The use of my formal name was jarring, sending my heart racing as it silenced all the bitter words rushing to the tip of my tongue. “I know what I’ve done to you is not something that can be forgotten,” he continued. “All I’m asking is that you listen to what I have to say. And, hopefully, we will come to an agreement.” I forced myself to nod. My need to understand what he was suggesting far outweighed my desire to argue with him. “I…I will listen.” There was a slight widening of his eyes as if he expected me to refuse, and then his brow smoothed. “Remember when I left to speak with my father? Of course, you do,” he added after a moment. “That was when Jericho went after you.” The line of his jaw tightened. “My father hadn’t been able to show, sending Alastir in his place. There had been issues at home that he had to attend to.” “Issues with the wolven and running out of land?” I surmised. He nodded. “Not now, but soon, with the scarcity of the land, we will have a lack of food and other resources.” A small part of me was surprised that he had answered the question. “When Alastir spoke to Kieran, it sounded like the people of New Haven would be leaving for Atlantia soon.” “They will be.” “Because you took me, and the Ascended will come here, looking for me.” His gaze met mine. “There were plans to move them to Atlantia before I took you. My actions move up that timeframe, but the lack of land wouldn’t have been resolved before then.” I thought that over. “So, the resources are about to be stretched even further.” “They will be, but we’re not at the breaking point. Not yet,” he said. “Some want a more aggressive stance on alleviating our shortages. Many of the wolven are among that group, as many Atlantians are. Some of the conversations surrounding what should be done have grown heated, and that is why my father had to remain behind.” Casteel rose then, walking to a small table under the window. He picked up a glass decanter full of some kind of amber-colored liquid that I suspected was liquor. “Would you like a drink? If I recall, you liked to sneak a whiskey or two with Tawny.” Tawny. I wanted to see her so badly, to know for sure that she was okay. But if she had been here… I briefly closed my eyes, hoping Tawny was safe. More than ever, I was grateful that she wasn’t here. She could’ve become an issue dealt with in the same way Phillips and the other guards had been. Drawing in a deep breath, I opened my eyes and asked, “Would you have killed her? Tawny? If she had traveled with me, would you have killed her?” Casteel paused as he reached for a glass and then gripped it, pouring the whiskey until the glass was half full. “I don’t make a habit of killing innocent women.” He poured a second glass. “I would’ve done all that I could to ensure that it would not have been necessary, but her presence could’ve caused a complication that I wouldn’t wish to solve.” Meaning that, if he had to, he would have. However, he had ensured that the situation hadn’t arisen by forbidding Tawny to travel with me. I didn’t know how to feel about that. What was right or wrong there? None of this meant that Tawny was entirely safe, though. She was destined to Ascend. But would her or any of the Lords and Ladies in Wait Ascend now that I was missing? All the Ascensions in the kingdom were tied to mine. They still had Casteel’s brother, and they had to have another Atlantian to keep the Prince alive. Without me, they could proceed with the Ascension, unless… Unless something had happened to Prince Malik? I swallowed hard as I shoved that question aside. It would do no good to ask such a thing, and I doubted Casteel hadn’t already considered that. He walked the glass of whiskey over to me, and I took it even though I hadn’t asked for it. He moved to stand in front of the fireplace. Sliding my thumb along the cool glass, I lifted it to my lips and took a small sip. The liquor burned the back of my throat, but the second drink was far smoother. I still had to clear my throat, though. Tawny and I would sneak drinks, and I had helped myself to a sip or five every once in a while, but not nearly enough for me to be used to it. “What do the issues your people are facing have to do with the whole marriage thing?” “That’s what I’m getting to.” He turned toward me, propping one elbow against the mantel. “But first, my people will obey me to their deaths, both Atlantian and wolven.” He swirled the liquid around in his glass. “I hope between that and the actions I took to remind them that you are not to be harmed, it will go a long way in aiding them in making smart life choices. However, these are not normal circumstances. You are not a normal circumstance.” “But I have done nothing to your people. I even tried to save one.” “Many Descenters have done nothing to you, but you once viewed them all as evil and murderous,” he returned. “You once believed that all Atlantians were nothing more than monsters, and yet an Atlantian had never harmed you.” I opened my mouth. “It is the same, is it not? The Descenters and I represent death and destruction, although many of them have done nothing more than speak the truth.” His gaze drifted to the softly rolling flames. “You represent a dynasty that has subjugated and decimated their families, stolen from them the lives of the ones they love, their gods, and even their rightful heir. You did none of those things, yet that is what they see when they look upon you. They see the opportunity to take their pound of flesh.” His words sat like stones in my liquor-warmed belly, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “I’m sorry.” “For what?” His brows furrowed. Wheezing from the huge gulp of the whiskey I swallowed, I blinked rapidly. “For what was done to your people,” I told him, my voice hoarse. “To your family. To you. I know I said that last night, and you didn’t want my apologies, but I need to say it again.” Casteel stared at me. “I think you’ve drunk enough whiskey.” He paused. “Or maybe you should have more.” I snorted. Like a little piglet. “What you’ve done doesn’t mean I can’t still feel compassion.” I started to take another drink but thought twice. Whatever kind of whiskey this was, it seemed to have a far quicker effect than anything I’d had before. “What you’ve done doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t know or care about what is right and wrong. What was done to your people is horrible.” My gaze dropped to the golden liquid in my glass, thinking of all those names on the walls. Who knew how many were never listed? “And…and what is being done to the people of Solis by the Ascended is horrible. It is all terrible.” “That it is,” he said quietly. “I guess I get why they hate me.” I thought of Mr. Tulis and took a larger drink. “I wish they didn’t.” “As do I. Which is one of the reasons why we must marry.” My gaze flew to his as I almost choked. “That’s the part I don’t understand. How you’ve come to that conclusion or why. How will that get your brother back? How will that help with limited resources? How will I be…free?” There was a sharpness to his gaze then. “There’s a chance that some may still disobey my commands. Retribution can be a strong motivator. I, myself, love and enjoy the taste of revenge, as I know you do.” I started to deny that, but he’d been there when I turned on Lord Mazeen. He would know that my denial would be a lie. “I must return home to help ease the concerns of the others, where you will be surrounded by many who believe that anyone from the Kingdom of Solis is the lamaea in the flesh.” “Lamaea?” “It’s a creature with fins for legs and tails for arms that hides under the beds of children, waiting until the lights are turned off. In the dark, it makes its way out from under the bed to then suck the life from them.” “Oh.” My lip curled. “It’s not real. Or at least I’ve never seen one, but as a small child, both my brother and I fought to keep the lights on at night,” he said, and I could see him as a precocious child, hiding under a blanket with wide, golden eyes. My gaze snagged on how the muscles of his arm curled as he lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips. Well, I could almost see him as such. “Wait,” I said, confused. “How does it get out from under the bed if it has fins for legs and tails for arms?” His lips twitched. “I believe my mother once said it wiggled and slid, like a snake.” “That’s extremely disturbing.” My nose wrinkled as I glanced at the decanter of whiskey, wondering if I should have another glass. “I also don’t understand the tails for arms part.” “No one does.” He looked away, dipping his chin as he dragged his fangs over his lower lip. My gaze—my entire being—seemed to be snagged on that act. A subtle shiver danced over my skin, and again. “The point I’m trying to make is that even though I have ordered that no one is to harm you, you may still be in danger,” he explained. “For some, the idea of revenge is far greater than the fear of certain death.” It took me a bit to pull my thoughts away from this lamaea creature and the glimpse of his fangs before I could focus on the point of this conversation. “And you believe that marrying me will remove me from danger?” “Making sure that people know you are part Atlantian and will become my wife should make you off-limits. Especially to those who still have some fear of death and actual common sense.” He took a drink. “You will no longer be the Maiden in their eyes. You will be my fianc?e. In their minds, you will become their Princess.” I mulled over what he was saying, and I didn’t know if it was weariness tugging at me or the liquor dulling my emotions, but I was able to process what he was telling me without throwing my glass at him. Which I was sure he appreciated. And probably why he offered the drink in the first place. “What are you thinking?” he asked. “If I should have another glass of whiskey.” “You can have whatever you want.” Whatever I wanted? I looked at him, and the wealth of want rising inside of me told me that another glass of whiskey wouldn’t be wise. Leaning over, I placed the empty tumbler on the table. “You’re marrying me to…protect me. Is that what you’re saying?” “Yes, and no.” While there was warmth in my stomach, my chest felt ice-cold. “What does that mean?” “It means that marriage will provide you with safety, and it will also provide me with what I want and what my kingdom needs.” “How will marrying me secure your brother’s release or give your kingdom what it needs?” He took another drink. “What do you think those who rule over Solis value more? The ability to create more vamprys or to remain living?” I jerked my head back at the question. “I would hope the latter.” “I would hope so, too,” he agreed, and a moment passed. “My father believes that Malik is either dead or beyond saving.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “He does?” When Casteel nodded, I didn’t know what to say. “That…that is terribly sad.” The line of his jaw tightened. “It’s the reality of the situation, and I cannot blame him for it, but I don’t believe that Malik is lost. I refuse to believe it,” he stated adamantly, and I hoped for his sake that he was right. “Many Atlantians want retribution. Not just for what the Ascended have done to their Prince, but for the countless lives they have taken, and the land and future they stole from us. My father is quickly becoming one of those who wants retribution. And the thing is, Poppy, we can take our revenge. Atlantia rose from blood and ash. We are no longer a fallen kingdom. Not by any sense of the word. We haven’t been for a very long time. We are a kingdom of fire.” The tiny hairs all over my body rose. “We may have retreated after the war, but we did so for the sake of our people and the lives of the mortals caught between us, but that did not mean we suffered. That we have become less than the kingdom we once were. In the time since the war, we’ve rebuilt our numbers, and we’ve stretched far and wide from Atlantia, entrenching ourselves in every city within Solis, opening the eyes of those who are ready to see the truth.” My heart rate picked up as I watched him lift the glass to his lips once more. “Many have spent the last four hundred years preparing to take back the kingdoms,” Casteel said, and I might’ve stopped breathing then. “They want to make war with Solis, and if they succeed in convincing my father, countless people will die. Atlantians. Wolven. Mortals. The land will once again be soaked with blood. But this time, there will be no retreat. If my father is convinced to make war, Atlantia will not fall. We will not stop until all the Ascended, and those who support them, are nothing but ash.” “And…you don’t want this? To take back the kingdom and end the Ascended?” I could understand if he did, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Ian and Tawny, and all the innocent people who would be trampled in the process. He eyed me over the rim of his glass. “Sometimes, bloodshed is the only option. If it comes to that, I will not hesitate to pick up my sword, but my brother will be one of the casualties. There is no way he will be kept alive if we go to war against them. I need to free him before that happens.” “And you think your people will not want to go to war if he’s returned to you?” I asked. “It’s not only about him, but if I am successful, I believe so. If not, at the very least, it may give mortals time to prepare. To either choose their side or escape as far as they can to wait it out. I’d rather not subject this land to another several-hundred-year war.” He cared about the mortals? Even the ones who didn’t support Atlantia? That sounded like the Hawke I knew, but not the one who earned the name the Dark One. Unsettled, I smoothed my hands over the hem of my tunic. “How will marrying me accomplish any of this? I’m just the Maiden—and you and I both know that means nothing. The gods did not choose me—” “But the people of Solis don’t know that,” he countered. “To them, you are the Maiden. You were Chosen by the gods. Just like you are the figurehead of the Ascended to Atlantia, you are a symbol of them to the people of Solis.” A half-grin formed. “And you are the Queen’s favorite.” I shook my head. “All of that may be true, but I don’t see how that accomplishes anything.” “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Princess. You’re incredibly important to the kingdom, to the people, but even more so, to the Ascended. You are the glue that holds all their lies together.” I stiffened. “Imagine what will happen when the people of Solis learn of you, the Chosen Maiden, marrying an Atlantian Prince and not turning into a Craven? Not even after a wicked kiss?” He grinned at me, one dimple appearing. My eyes narrowed. “That alone will open many eyes. And through our union, we would be able to gently introduce the mortals to a world where the Atlantian people are not defeated and scattered to the wind. But it would also show them that the gods must approve of such a union. After all, based on what the Ascended have told them for generations, if the gods don’t approve, they will seek vengeance. The people of Solis don’t know that the gods sleep. And the Ascended rely on them never discovering that truth.” Nodding slowly, I thought about the people. “The people would think the gods approved.” “And what do you think the people would do if the Ascended turned on the one Chosen by the gods? The very gods who, according to the Ascended, keep the people of Solis safe from the Craven? If the Ascended turn on you, the kingdom built on lies will begin to crack. It will take very little to shatter the whole damn thing. And if I remember anything about Queen Ileana, is that she’s a very clever woman. She knows this.” Jarred by him saying her name when he did so very rarely, I saw the thinning of his lips. “But not clever enough to know that the Kingdom of Atlantia has grown to the point where it’s a considerable threat to their rule?” “They know Atlantia still exists, and they’ve fortified their armies—their knights.” An icy shiver wrapped its way down my spine at the mention of the Royal Knights. They were the army of Solis, heavily armored, exceptionally trained, and utterly imposing. I’d only ever seen them in the capital, and even then, it was rare to see a knight since they were camped in the foothills of the Elysium Peaks. Many had taken a vow of silence. “But we have been very careful to keep how much we’ve grown and accomplished quiet, making sure that the Descenters are seen as a ragtag group of people supporting a lone Prince who is hell-bent on securing the throne. They’ve grown complacent over the many years.” He arched a brow as he took a drink. “And I do believe many scholars have said that the ego is the downfall of many, many powerful people. Even with the knights and the entirety of their guards standing behind them, it would not be enough for them to defeat us. This is where you come in. Or, more accurately, where we come in. Together. Married. Joined. You and me—” “I get it,” I interrupted with a low growl. The hue of his eyes deepened. “Even with all my considerable talent, I won’t get anywhere near them or the Temples. I tried, many times while I was in Carsodonia, but you…you are my way in.” I exhaled heavily. “You think with me—by marrying me—you’ll be able to negotiate the release of your brother.” “And bargain for the return of some of our land. I want everything east of New Haven.” “Everything east of New Haven. That would be…the Wastelands and Pompay. And farther south, Spessa’s End” “And many more small towns and fields. Many of those places not even ruled over by a local Ascended,” he said. “Many of those places they don’t even use. It would be a fair request.” It was a fair request. Solis would still maintain the major trade cities and the farmlands outside of Carsodonia and Masadonia, among others. But… “It won’t be as simple as us sending a letter to them, announcing our nuptials.” Casteel snagged my attention. “Once the Ascended realize that you’ve gone missing, they may believe you have come to an unfortunate end.” “At the hands of the Dark One?” He inclined his head in my direction. “Or any number of very bad people. Either way, Queen Ileana nor any of the Ascended will believe that we have come together without seeing that you’re still alive, healthy, and whole. We will meet with them on our terms and present them with their options.” “Give in to your demands or face war?” I finished. “War may come either way, but if they agree, we may buy the people of Solis some time.” Casteel nodded as he placed his arm back on the mantel. “What you’re requesting is fair. They have your brother, and the loss of land wouldn’t hurt Solis that much,” I said. “I would hope that they would have the common sense to agree. They may not be able to make more vamprys—that is if they haven’t captured others to use for that.” An image of Ian formed, and my stomach rolled. “And if they don’t agree…then there will be war.” My gaze lifted to his. “And if you meet with the King and Queen, and they agree, will you let them live?” His chin dipped as a slow, cold smile spread across his striking face. “Once I have what I want and what my kingdom needs, they will not remain on Solis’s throne. They will not remain breathing. Not them. Not her.” I looked away, tensing against the desire to recoil. I could understand it, especially after what they’d done to him. But it was hard to forget those months, those years after the attack, when all I had was Ian and Queen Ileana. But I had seen the walls of the chamber underground. I’d seen Casteel’s scars. I’d had my suspicions before I even met him. I knew that what he claimed was true. I didn’t need to see or know anything else to believe that. “And you plan to allow the Ascended to live? Who would rule Solis then?” I cut myself off because I wanted to ask: what about Ian? “To prevent war and repeat history, they would have to be allowed to live. Things would have to change, though. No more Rites. No more mysterious deaths. They would need to control themselves.” “And you believe that can happen? You said it takes months, if not longer—” “But they can control themselves. They already do in some cases, and a lot of Ascended are old enough to do so. They can make their bite pleasurable. They can feed without killing. I’m sure many would volunteer. Or the Ascended could even pay for the service. Either way, if they want to live, they will need to control their bloodlust. The fact that they are not the Cravens they create is proof that they can. They just never had a reason to do so.” “Do you think it will work?” I asked. “It’s the only way the Ascended have a chance of survival,” he said. But if he was wrong—if he failed? If his brother was already gone? I looked up at him and could say with a hundred percent certainty that he would kill them all or die trying. My throat constricted. “And afterward, with or without your brother, I’m free?” He met my gaze. “You will be free to do as you choose.” “So, this marriage will not be…real?” There was a beat of silence before he said, “It’s as real as you believe anything about me is.” He wasn’t looking at me then. His attention was once again fixed on the flames. The line of his jaw was like marble. “I truly have no idea what that’s supposed to mean,” I admitted, folding my legs under the blanket. “How will I be free if we marry?” “I will grant a divorce if that is what you decide.” I gasped before I could stop myself. Divorces were practically unheard of in Solis. They had to go before the Court to even petition to have one, and it was, more often than not, rejected. “Is divorce common in Atlantia?” I asked. “No,” he answered. “What is uncommon is for two Atlantians to marry who don’t love one another. But when people do change along with their love, they may divorce.” I got snagged on the whole part about marrying when there was no love being uncommon. If it was so rare, then how could he so easily go into a union with someone he obviously didn’t love? The answer was easy. He would do anything for his brother. “So, this marriage isn’t real.” I drew in a shallow breath. “And what if I refuse? What if I say no?” “I hope that won’t be the case, especially after everything you’ve seen. But this way, you won’t be used to send a message to the Ascended, and you won’t be used by them. It’s a way out.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “It’s not a perfect one, but it is one.” It…it was a way out. A windy, twisting one, but I knew that if he had never come for me, I would be in Masadonia, veiled and suspicious, but having no real idea of the horror that was happening—the future I was going to meet. Casteel wasn’t a blessing in disguise. I didn’t know what he was, but nothing would have been okay if he hadn’t entered my life. I lifted my chin. “And what if I still say no?” “I won’t force you to marry me, Poppy. What I already have to force from you is…distasteful enough, given everything that was taken from you before you even met me.” His chest rose with a heavy breath. “If you refuse, I don’t know. I’ll have to find another way to free my brother and somehow hide you away so that no one, including my people, can get their hands on you.” Surprise flickered through me, and without thinking, I reached out to him, reading his emotions, searching for a hint of scheming or slyness. Anything to indicate that he wasn’t being truthful. What I felt was sadness, heavier and thicker than before, and I tasted something sour in my mouth, something that left me with the sensation of wanting to shed my skin. Shame. I felt shame coming from him, and it wasn’t buried deep. It was there, just below the surface. “You…you don’t like this, do you? The situation I’m in—that we’re in.” A muscle flexed in his jaw once more, but he said nothing. “That’s why you aren’t just hauling me straight to the capital right now, demanding the exchange,” I said. “That would be quicker. It would be easier—” “There would be nothing easy about giving you to them.” His eyes flashed an intense amber before he looked away. “And stop reading my emotions. It’s a bit rude.” My brows lifted. “And forcing me to drink your blood wasn’t?” “I was saving your life,” he groused. “Maybe I’m saving yours by reading your emotions,” I shot back, pulling my senses back in. Casteel pinned me with a dry look. “Please explain how you came to that conclusion.” “Because it’s a relief to know that you wouldn’t force my hand in marriage.” And it did loosen some of the tension knotting in my chest. “It doesn’t change the lies and everything else, but it does at least dampen my near murderous rage.” And the soul-shattering disappointment, but I wasn’t sharing that. “So, I might not actually try to sever your head while you sleep.” His lips twitched. “But no promises?” I didn’t dignify that with a response. “So, you will tell everyone we’re getting married, and I’m supposed to act as if that is the case when we’re around others? Then once we’re married, we will go to the capital?” Casteel lifted his head, gaze focused on the wall across from him. “Yes, but we will have to be convincing. It’s not as simple as telling the world we’re to be married. We must marry as soon as we arrive in Atlantia. Before I take you to my parents.” My stomach hollowed. “Do you think it’s wise to marry before you even tell the King and Queen you’re engaged?” “Not particularly.” There was a flash of a boyish grin, one I imagined he wore quite a bit when he was younger and about to do something he knew he would get in trouble for. “My parents will be…displeased.” “Displeased?” I choked on a laugh. “I have a feeling there will be a stronger emotion.” “Quite possibly. But my parents will seek to delay the marriage until they are sure it’s true. We cannot afford the time it will take to gain their permission—permission I do not need,” he said. “As I said before, my people want retribution. If they think this is a ploy to get back a Prince they have already mourned, and if they value revenge over life, they will try something. Once you become my wife, you will be protected.” “Your people seem…” I trailed off. His people seemed barbaric, but mine weren’t much better. Whether I claimed the Ascended as my people or not, I had been raised by them. And wouldn’t I be just as violent if I lived every day, knowing that the Ascended could arrive at any time to slaughter without question or punishment? I would be just as wrathful. A shudder worked its way through me as I stared at his profile, at the taut lines of his face, and the shadows under his eyes. I realized that maybe Casteel and I weren’t all that different. “I understand.” His gaze flew to mine, his eyes wide. “What?” “I understand why you’re doing this. They have your brother, who was captured in the process of freeing you,” I told him, my thoughts shifting to Ian. “I can understand that you’d go to extremes to get him back.” He turned to me. “Really?” I nodded. “I would do the same. So, I can understand and still not like it. I can hate that I’m nothing more than a pawn to you and still understand why I am.” “You’re not just a pawn to me, Poppy.” “Don’t lie,” I told him, my heart squeezing. “That’s not doing either of us any favors.” He opened his mouth and then closed it, seeming to rethink what he’d been about to say. “There’s a reason I understand,” I told him. “You would do anything to free your brother, and I will do anything to get back to mine. I’ll agree to this if you promise to help me get to Ian.” “Poppy—” “I know what he is, and you know that I have to see what he’s become.” He turned fully to me. “And what if he has become just like the others?” “Just because he’s Ascended doesn’t automatically mean he’s evil—don’t.” I lifted a hand when he moved to speak again. “You said that they can control their bloodlust if they want. Many of the Ascended are evil, but just as many were good people before their Ascensions, and they had no idea what the truth was. My brother…” I drew in a shaky breath, squaring my shoulders. “I have to see for myself what he has become. So that is the deal. I will temporarily marry you and help you free your brother if you help me free mine.” Casteel’s head tilted as he stared at me for several moments. I had no idea what he saw, but then he nodded. “I agree.” “Okay,” I whispered. “You’re not going to fight me on this?” I considered that. “Not in front of others. Why would I? If them believing we’re getting married keeps me alive, then why wouldn’t I go along with that?” I reasoned, frowning slightly. I would never have guessed that whiskey had such an amazing ability to clear one’s thoughts. “I don’t have a death wish. Neither do I have a desire to be caged and used as a bag of blood.” He flinched. It was small, but I saw it. “But in private, you’ll fight me tooth and nail?” he surmised. “Kieran knows what you’ve planned, doesn’t he?” He nodded. I met his stare. “Then in front of him and in private, I will fight you tooth and nail. I will not pretend to be the docile fianc?e without an audience.” “Understandable.” He dragged his thumb over his glass. “But if you want to pretend to be just that in private—” “Not going to happen.” Something glimmered in his golden eyes. “I think you will find that I can be impossibly charming.” I glared at him. “Remember what you said about impossibilities?” I did. “But this is truly impossible.” “I guess we will see.” “I guess we will,” I told him, relaxing. This banter felt normal. At least, for us. Casteel eyed me. “I feel like this is a trick, and you’re two seconds from trying to plunge that knife into my heart again.” I coughed out a dry laugh. “What good would that do? You’d only be annoyed, and the knife is not nearly sharp enough to sever your head or pierce your incredibly thick skull.” He smirked, finishing off the whiskey left in his glass before moving away from the mantel. “But it would give you great satisfaction.” I considered that. It would. “I knew it,” he murmured, placing the glass on the table. A couple of moments passed as I felt Casteel’s gaze on me. “Do Atlantians recognize the tradition of rings when they propose?” I asked. The Ascended didn’t in Solis, but many of the mortals did. A ring was bestowed upon a couple’s engagement, and then bands were exchanged upon marriage. “We do.” “Then how believable is it that we are engaged if I don’t have a ring?” “Good point,” he murmured. “I want a ring,” I announced. “I want an obscenely big one like I’ve seen some of the wives of wealthy merchants have. Their diamonds are so large they look like they should weigh down their hands.” He angled his body toward me. “I will find you a diamond so big it will enter the room before you do.” “Good.” It took me a moment to realize that I was smiling. I wondered if I should be concerned by that as I thought everything over. I felt a little more at ease. What I had said to him about understanding why he was doing this was true. That didn’t mean I had to like it or that reality didn’t sting and hurt something fierce. But if Vikter had taught me anything, if I’d learned anything from Queen Ileana and my time as the Maiden, dealing with Duke Teerman and Lord Mazeen, it was that being pragmatic and rational was the only way to win a battle and survive a war. I would go along with this because this was how I stayed alive and got to Ian. I, like Casteel, would do anything for my brother. And that included going from one viper’s nest to another. Chapter 11 I was to be married. That was the last thought I had before falling asleep and the first thought I had upon waking—both of which I’d done alone. Casteel had left shortly after I agreed, Delano having summoned him. I ended up falling asleep, and the only reason I knew he’d returned in the middle of the night was because I’d woken at some point with the warmth of his body inches from mine. I’d lain there for far too long, listening to the steady sound of his breathing, fighting the urge to roll over and look at him. He was gone when I woke, and I was relieved—this time for different reasons than before. I needed to wrap my head around what I had agreed to, and I tried to do so as I stood in front of the dimly lit vanity in the bathing chamber, tackling the knots in my hair as if they had the answers to all my questions. The marriage was real…yet not. A business arrangement that would give both of us what we wanted. His brother. Land. My brother. Freedom. And maybe even an end to a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Well, hopefully, we would gain what we desired. How could I not agree? If I said no, and Casteel truly let me go, stashing me away where no one could find me—if that were even possible—I would still need to see Ian. This way, I wasn’t doing it alone. I may be Casteel’s key to the King and Queen, but I had enough intelligence and common sense to recognize that he was also the safest and smartest path to my brother. But that wasn’t the only reason I had agreed. Despite Casteel’s lies and betrayals, I knew that I wouldn’t have been able to walk away, leaving Casteel to save his brother and possibly even his people through different means. Even though I had been given little opportunity to discover who I was as a person, I knew enough about myself to realize that I wouldn’t have found a moment of peace in whatever freedom I had. Not after everything I’d learned, and not when there was something I could do. But marriage? It had been so long since little-girl fantasies of weddings and the possibility of being tied to an Ascended—something that, at the time, I hadn’t known would never happen—had filled me with fear and panic. This marriage filled me with panic and fear too, but for very, very different reasons. We would have to behave as if we wanted one another in a way that went beyond the physical. We’d have to act as if we were in love. And that was dangerous. Even with my lack of experience in all things, I knew this. What I already felt for him in spite of everything felt like a slippery slope. It would be hard enough to pretend to be together so we could convince his people of our relationship and not be affected by it. There needed to be boundaries. Lines. I was still a pawn. Only now, I was an active one. I couldn’t forget that. I wouldn’t. Another worry manifested. How were we going to convince anyone that we were in a loving relationship when I’d publicly refused the proposal and insinuated, rather clearly, that I thought he’d lost his mind? How was I supposed to even act? All I had as examples were my parents, and from what I could remember, everything about their love—the long looks and the way they constantly touched one another—had been natural. Something that couldn’t be faked or forced. And the rest of the relationships I’d seen regularly were those of the Ascended, and I’d never seen the Duke and Duchess touch each other. Even Ian never spoke of his wife in any of the letters he sent. Not once beyond announcing their marriage—something I hadn’t been allowed to attend. Then, Queen Ileana’s refusal to allow me to travel had been positioned as a safety concern. But now, I wondered if it was something more. I should’ve questioned more then, but I had become complacent in the Ascended’s absolute control of me. How did that happen? How did the people of Solis get to the point where so very few questioned handing over their children? Some even happily did so, feeling honored. Was it fear? Misinformation? Lack of access to education and resources? There were so many reasons why, and even more for those who had begun to suspect that things were not as they seemed, yet had made excuses. Like I had. Because seeing the truth was terrifying. And what if Casteel’s plan worked? I saw Ian and…dealt with how that turned out. Then what? Would the Ascended truly change? Would the people of Atlantia be satisfied? And how would we know if the Ascended were following the new rules, living a more restricted life? Even if they did, I doubted the divide between those who lived in places like Radiant Row and the slums by the Rise would suddenly evaporate. The wheel the Ascended created would continue to turn, wouldn’t it? Or would losing the Queen and King scatter the rest of the Ascended, forcing them into a new way of life? I didn’t know the answers to any of that. All I did know was that the people of Solis couldn’t continue to be preyed upon. And if I could help stop that, then I would. That was a purpose far greater than the one I’d lived with as the Maiden. It was real. It would change lives. It made me feel as if I had been chosen for something that mattered. But none of that told me how I was supposed to act in a loving relationship. The Ascended always came across as if they were somehow removed from physical needs, but I knew that wasn’t always the case. Though Duke Teerman’s and Lord Mazeen’s perversions were not good examples of how to behave in a relationship. My heart beat too fast in my chest as a knock sounded. A moment later, the door cracked open, and Kieran called out, “Want breakfast?” “Yes.” Dropping the brush, I hurried from the bathing chamber. Kieran held the door open for me. “Someone is very hungry.” I wasn’t sure I could consume even a mouthful of food. I stepped out into the walkway to see that the snow had stopped, even though the wind still whipped through the trees, sending the fallen snow whirling across the yard. “Will we be leaving soon?” I asked. “Since the snow has stopped?” “I believe Alastir and some of the others will leave later today to check the roads to our east, to see if they’re passable. I hope so since the storm didn’t stretch very far to the west.” Meaning the roads from Masadonia, or even the capital, wouldn’t be as impassable. “Do you think they realized we haven’t shown at our next location yet?” “I don’t think so. We have time. Not much, but some,” he said. It was weird to feel relief, almost as if it were a betrayal of some sort, even though I knew it wasn’t. “So, Penellaphe. For once, I have a question for you,” Kieran drawled as we entered the stairwell. I glanced over at him. “Okay?” “How’s it feel to be on the verge of becoming a real Princess?” “He told you already?” I didn’t know why that should surprise me. Casteel had probably seen Kieran last night. “Of course, he did. I probably knew his plans had changed before he did.” My eyes narrowed. “I’m willing to bet his plans changed when he realized I was part Atlantian.” He smiled, and the expression hid a wealth of mysteries. “His plans changed well before that. But like I said, he hadn’t quite realized that.” “But you did? You know him that well?” “I do.” “Well, good for you,” I muttered. He chuckled. “I can’t wait to see how you two are going to pull this off.” My pulse skittered like a wild horse. “What does that mean?” Kieran slid me a knowing look as we entered the bustling common area. “Not a minute has gone by since we left the Blood Forest that you aren’t threatening Casteel’s life.” “That’s an exaggeration. There’s definitely been… Several minutes have gone by.” I cringed, but Kieran had a point. “I guess we’ll find out soon.” I was too nervous to wonder if anyone was shooting me hateful looks as we went into the otherwise empty banquet hall and took our seats at the table. Chairs had now replaced benches. Food was brought out—sausage and eggs, along with those amazing biscuits. Somehow, I got past the twisting of my stomach to snatch one of those. I was far quieter this morning as I ate my food. The reason why appeared just as I finished what I could eat. Kieran looked over his shoulder, and I knew who had arrived. Slowly, I peeked behind me. Casteel walked into the room with Alastir and several of the men at his side. Alastir spoke to him as Casteel looked straight to where Kieran and I sat. Our gazes seemed to lock for a moment, and then I quickly looked away, heart back to thundering in my chest. “Casteel will announce you as his fianc?e.” Kieran lowered his cup. “It will be wise to behave appropriately.” My eyes narrowed on Kieran’s profile. “Do you think I’m going to scream in Casteel’s face and run off instead?” A hint of a smile appeared. “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Rolling my eyes, I peeked at the doors. The group had stopped just inside the room, speaking with Naill, who, like the rest of them, had a habit of seemingly appearing out of nowhere. “Do you think he’ll believe us?” “Yet another question?” Kieran leaned back, crossing his arms. “Seriously? Do you ever get tired of asking so many?” “Apparently, you don’t, since you just asked three of them.” He chuckled then. “I think it will be tough to convince Alastir.” I stared at him. “That’s really motivational. Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” One quick glance, and I saw that they were still by the doors. “How do you know he will announce that I agreed to the marriage? Did he tell you?” “No.” “Then how do you know?” “I just know things.” I pinned him with a bland look. “I know you two are close, but…” Something occurred to me. The bond. “I read that some Atlantians of a certain class and wolven have bonds.” “Did you?” he murmured. “Yes. It is believed the wolven are duty-bound to protect the Atlantian they’re bonded to.” “Are you going to eat that biscuit?” he asked. Brows knitting, I shook my head. “You can have it.” Kieran picked up the roll and immediately began tearing it into tiny pieces, reminding me of how the small rodents the Healers kept in cages ripped apart their paper bedding. I shoved that image out of my head. “I’m thinking the history texts had the part about the bond being with a certain Atlantian class wrong. It’s a certain bloodline. Elemental.” “You’d be right.” He popped a piece of the bread into his mouth. “I could live off this bread.” “The bread is…tasty.” I kind of wished I hadn’t let him have it. “The bond between you two is more than just you protecting him, isn’t it?” “We were bonded at birth, and the connection is a lot of things, Penellaphe.” I was about to demand details, like if he could somehow sense what Casteel was about to do or not, but the sound of approaching footsteps quelled the desire. My heart, which had only slowed down slightly, started pounding again. Casteel and the men were coming over, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Smile prettily and behave as if Casteel hung the very moon and stars each and every night? My shoulders tightened as I tried to picture myself doing that. And for some reason, the scars on my face became bigger and more visible in my mind. “Are you hyperventilating?” Kieran asked. “What?” I stared at my plate. “No.” “You’re breathing very fast.” Was I? Oh gods, I was. Why was I behaving like—? “You should calm yourself,” he advised. “As I said, it is very unlikely that Alastir will believe Casteel. The others will follow his lead.” “Yet again,” I muttered. “Not helpful.” I didn’t get a chance to demand to know why Alastir would hold that kind of sway. Before Kieran could respond, I heard Alastir say something to him, and honestly, it sounded like a different language. My ears only started to process sounds when I heard Casteel say my name. Blood rushed to the tempo of a pounding drum as years of expected behavior and grooming kicked in on an unconscious level. I felt myself standing. Casteel touched the small of my back, the contact light yet I felt it in nearly every part of my body. My gaze slowly lifted to his, and the intensity in those amber depths held me captive. I thought I saw something akin to concern settling into his features. Was I still breathing too fast? “Penellaphe?” he repeated. “I’m sorry.” Feeling a little dizzy, I blinked. “Did you say something?” “I asked if you were finished with breakfast.” Casteel watched me closely. “Yes.” I nodded for extra emphasis. “Good.” He took hold of my hand as he tucked my hair back from my face, brushing the heavy strands over my shoulder. The act was an intimate gesture I wasn’t used to, and the look that settled in my features told me that he was growing concerned. I needed to pull myself together. If I could stand and remain silent during Duke Teerman’s lessons, I could behave as if I weren’t about to fall to the floor now. Fixing a smile to my face, I turned to Alastir as I pulled forth manners learned long ago. “Hello, Alastir. I hope you had a good evening?” A slight curve to his lips formed as he inclined his head. “It was. Thank you for asking.” He noted where Casteel held my hand and then arched a brow at Kieran. “It’s very polite of her to ask, unlike either of you.” Kieran sounded as if he choked on air, and on my other side, I thought I heard a muffled snort. I squeezed Casteel’s hand. Hard. “I’m learning that these two are not very well mannered,” I said. “I apologize for their lack of consideration.” Alastir’s gaze swiveled back to me as Emil grinned from where he stood, speaking with Naill. A deep laugh left Alastir, crinkling the skin around his eyes. My lips parted on a soft inhale. That laugh. All I could think of was Vikter, and my heart ached fiercely. “These two are definitely not ones I’d consider well-behaved under any circumstances,” Alastir replied. Casteel looked down at me, and I thought I saw an apology in his stare, as if he weren’t thrilled with how this might play out. He said nothing, even though Alastir waited, and others watched. He returned the squeeze, nowhere near as hard as I had done. Did he want me to…read him? I opened my senses, and what I tasted all of a sudden was a mix of sour and vanilla. Shame and sincerity. He wasn’t proud of this. Either that, or I was deciphering his emotions wrong. That could be possible, but I didn’t think so. I nodded, and his lashes lowered, shielding his eyes for the briefest moment. And then I saw it. The mask slipping into place, curving up the corner of his lip in a smug twist of a smile. His features sharpened, and when he opened his eyes again, they reminded me of chips of amber. “I hear congratulations are in order,” Alastir said, drawing my attention to him. The laughter had long since faded. “The Prince told me this morning that you accepted his proposal.” “I did.” “I must be honest, when he told me, I thought I might’ve drunk too much last night. I didn’t believe him when he said he was marrying, especially the Maiden.” “She is not the Maiden,” Casteel cut in swiftly. “Not anymore.” He let go of my hand and moved it to my back again. I felt an inexplicable warming in my chest, one that left me greatly unsettled. Alastir cocked an eyebrow. “I would imagine she’s not,” he said, and my eyes widened slightly. “But she was the Maiden.” He shifted his attention to Casteel. “Who she was may be in the past, but that does not change that past.” The hand at my back flattened as Casteel replied, “The past is irrelevant.” “Do you really believe that?” Alastir mused. “What I believe doesn’t matter.” Casteel’s palm slid off my back, leaving behind a shiver. He took my hand once more. “What does matter is that everyone else believes that.” “Spoken like a true Prince. Your mother and father would be proud.” Alastir grunted out a short, dry laugh as his gaze roamed over me once more, lingering on the side of my neck, where my hair had fallen over my shoulder. There was no doubt that he saw the faded marks. The line of his mouth tightened. “I’m glad you’re here, Penellaphe, as we’ve only had a few moments to speak, and I have many questions.” “I can imagine,” I murmured. Casteel tugged gently on my hand. “Sit with me?” Nodding, I started for the seat I’d just risen from, but Casteel moved to the chair at the head of the table. He sat, and it only struck me then where he planned for me to sit. Not in a chair but in his lap. I hesitated. There was no way I was sitting in his lap. Over my shoulder, I saw the others take their seats while Kieran moved to stand at Casteel’s left, and Alastir took the chair to his right, where I’d been seated earlier. Casteel looked up at me, the twist of his lips softening. What now filled his gaze was a challenge. My eyes narrowed, and he arched a brow. There was nowhere else to sit. The only other option would be to stand behind him like a servant, and I refused to do that. There was a space at the end— “Would you like this seat, Penellaphe?” Alastir offered. Knowing that seating at tables was often a demonstration of one’s position, I knew I shouldn’t accept the offer. “My fianc?e is upset with me,” Casteel announced, surprising me enough that I turned to him. “I can’t imagine Penellaphe ever being upset with you,” Kieran commented, and I had the strongest urge to lean over and punch him. “I know.” Casteel’s smile was wider now, more real. The dimple in his left cheek was starting to make an appearance, and the hint of fangs caused my stomach to dip at the same time my ire spiked. “But I admit, I deserve it.” I stilled, unsure what he was about. “You’re not even married, and you’re already upsetting her?” Emil chuckled. “That’s not a good start.” “No, it’s not, which is why I must rectify this immediately. I’m sorry,” he said, the smile fading as his eyes met mine. “Truly. It wasn’t planned.” My skin pimpled. Was he apologizing for me not being prepared for this, in front of others? Casteel shifted, curling an arm around my waist. So caught off guard by his words, I ended up sitting sideways in his lap. He dipped his chin, and his lips brushed the curve of my ear as he whispered, “I thought I would have time to speak to you first.” I nodded slightly. His lips were a featherlight caress across my cheek, and then he said louder, “I didn’t plan the proposal, and to be honest, it wasn’t the very best, as many within Haven Keep witnessed, even those at the table. She actually told me no at first.” “That was not the only thing she said,” Naill commented with a chuckle. “Told him he was out of his mind. Told him a lot of things.” Did that Atlantian have a death wish? Casteel laughed. “It’s true, but I won her over, didn’t I?” The answering masculine chuckles caused my skin to prickle with irritation. My tongue moved before I could stop myself. “That was after I threw a knife at your face.” Alastir made a coughing sound as Kieran’s and my plates were removed and replaced with food. “Excuse me?” “Yes.” Casteel’s eyes were like warm pools of gold. “That was after you threw the knife at me. I haven’t been the best of suitors,” he continued, lifting my left hand. “I promised her the largest diamond I could find as soon as we return home.” “Well,” Alastir drew out the word as he picked up a fork. “That is something that can be easily fixed upon returning. Our Queen has just what you need in safekeeping.” His mother had a diamond ring? For Casteel? For when he married? My spine couldn’t be more rigid. Why had I brought up the stupid jewelry? I didn’t even care about it since I…well, I’d never been allowed to wear any beyond the golden chains of the veil. “Casteel hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information on how you two met.” Alastir bit into his sausage, not taking the time to slice and dice it as Kieran had. “I wanted to ask when we last spoke. How did you end up in the incorrigible hands of our Prince, Penellaphe? I imagined someone of your…status would’ve been hard to reach, especially by someone like him.” Casteel let out a low laugh. “You should have more faith in my abilities to achieve what I want.” I tensed, feeling like those words were meant more for me than Alastir. “Be that as it may,” Alastir said with a wry grin, “how did he find a way to you?” Wondering how honest I was expected to be and precisely what kind of rumors he’d heard, I decided to be as truthful as possible. In the past, I’d learned that most lies were successful when the little information given was the truth. “He became my guard.” “Well, that’s not how we met initially.” Casteel’s hand that rested on the curve of my hip moved, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. “It was actually at a brothel.” Someone at the table sounded as if they choked on their food. I was betting it was Emil. A fair brow rose as Alastir chewed slowly. “That was…unexpected.” “The Red Pearl isn’t just a brothel,” I corrected, turning a narrow-eyed glare on Casteel. He grinned. “It’s not?” “Card games are played there.” “That wasn’t the only games being played there, Princess.” His thumb moved along the inside of my hip, causing my stomach to whoosh. “Penellaphe had a habit of sneaking out and exploring the city at night.” I nibbled on the inside of my lip as I tore my gaze from Casteel. Had he known how often I did that? He had said that he’d been watching me for longer than I realized. “What I know of the Maiden—and, yes, Casteel, I know she’s no longer the Maiden, but that was what she was,” he added before Casteel could correct him. “The Ascensions of the others were tied to yours, weren’t they? And again, I am sorry that you were raised in such a web of lies told by the Ascended.” Several at the table cursed at the mention of the Ascended. “Thank you. And yes, you’re right.” I frowned slightly. “Or they were. I don’t know if their Ascensions will be carried out now.” “Hopefully, they won’t,” Delano remarked. “I agree,” I said quietly, thinking of Ian. “Do you?” Alastir asked. “Truly?” “I do,” I admitted. “I didn’t know who or what the Ascended really were. I, like most people within the Kingdom of Solis, only knew what I was shown.” “Then I expect many are blind to what is right in front of them,” someone commented, a younger man with rich brown hair toward the end of the table. “Many live in fear of being ripped apart by the Craven or displeasing the Ascended and angering the gods,” I replied. Casteel’s arm tightened around my waist, his hand squeezing my hip gently. Was that some sort of message? I had no idea, nor did I care. The people of Solis were victims just as much as the Atlantians were. “Many are also more worried about providing for their families and keeping them safe than they are about questioning what the Ascended tell them.” “Are they so distracted by their daily struggles that they don’t question handing over their children to the Court or to gods they’ve never seen?” Alastir asked. “Or are they just that submissive?” “I wouldn’t confuse submission for distraction, and I wouldn’t mistake obedience for stupidity when it’s apparent that you know very little about the people of Solis,” I stated coolly. Alastir’s gaze swung to mine. “What they have been told about the Atlantians, about the gods and the Craven, is all they know. Generation after generation, they’re taught to believe in the Rite and how much of an honor it is for their third sons and daughters to serve the gods. Raised to believe that only the Ascended and the gods stand between them and the Craven. I was raised the same way.” I leaned forward, a little surprised to find that Casteel didn’t stop me. “The gods belong to the people of Atlantia, do they not? Do your people believe in them even though they’ve never seen them?” Silence fell around the table. It was Kieran who answered. “The gods have slept for hundreds of years, and only the oldest among the Atlantians can remember seeing them. But we believe in them nonetheless.” I smiled tightly. “Just as the people of Solis believe in them.” “But not everyone within Solis follows King Jalara and Queen Ileana,” Alastir pointed out. “There are many who have seen the truth, who support Atlantia.” “You’re right. The Descenters.” I exhaled slowly. “I know I’ve had my suspicions throughout my life. I’m sure many others have, as well, but for whatever reason, their eyes haven’t been fully opened. I imagine a lot of that has to do with the stability of what one knows, even if it isn’t comfortable. And I suppose a lot has to do with fear of acknowledging what is truly around us, what it means for us and those we care for.” Alastir leaned back, eyeing me. “It’s admirable.” “What is?” “Your utter lack of fear when speaking to me—talking to any of us—when you know what we are,” he said. “What we are capable of.” I met his stare. “I’m not foolish enough to not feel fear when I know that any of you could kill me before I even have a chance to take my last breath. But fearing what you’re capable of doesn’t mean I fear you.” Casteel leaned in, his voice in my ear. “Still so incredibly brave,” he murmured, and that inexplicable warming returned to my chest. “I like her,” Alastir said to Casteel after a heartbeat, and I thought he might actually mean that. Then, I did what Kieran had suggested. I used my abilities once more. My senses stretched out, connecting to Alastir. I didn’t sense anger from him, but there was the tanginess I often associated with sadness. I wasn’t sure what could’ve evoked that response, but I thought he was being honest. “But back to how you and the Prince met at this…unique establishment. How was that possible?” Alastir’s fingers tapped idly on the table, and I swore there was a collective sigh of relief that the topic had moved on. “With the Ascensions being tied to you, I was under the impression that you were well guarded and kept…” He trailed off as if he searched for the right word to use. “Sheltered?” I suggested. “Caged? I was. For the most part,” I added. “I wasn’t permitted to travel freely, only allowed to leave my room with one of my guards or my companion, and that was only to attend classes with the Priestess or to walk the castle grounds during certain times.” Emil stopped, his cup halfway to his mouth, his brows knitting together. His eyes were a vibrant gold. “And the rest of the time, you were expected to remain in your room? Even for meals?” I nodded. The Atlantian looked stunned, and someone murmured under their breath. “But you found a way to sneak out. I imagine that’s extremely risky behavior. Someone could’ve taken you at any time during those explorations,” Alastir pointed out. What I felt from him was…more guarded than a few moments before, but I still didn’t detect the acidic burn of anger or hatred. If anything, he was more reserved then the last time we’d spoken, as was I. “Someone did take her. Obviously,” Casteel spoke up then, his thumb now tracing a distractingly slow, steady circle. “Ah, yes, you did take her.” Alastir inclined his chin. “But do you really intend to keep her?”