Dawn arrived in vivid streaks of pink and blue as we followed a tree- heavy path around the Temple of Saion, along with the realization that the pleasure derived from retribution was unfortunately short-lived.
It wasn’t that I regretted taking Alastir’s life or not ensuring that his death was a quick one. It was just that I wished it wasn’t necessary. As the sun rose, I wanted it to be rising on a day not overshadowed by death.
I didn’t realize that I was still clutching the wolven dagger until Casteel quietly pried it from my fingers and slipped it into the sheath at his side.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
His gaze flew to mine, his eyes a glittering shade of topaz. I thought he was about to speak, but he said nothing as wolven rose from among the bushes and trees. There were so many of them, some large, and others small, barely bigger than Beckett. My chest squeezed as I watched them prowl alongside us. All of them were alert, their ears perked.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had done to Alastir and the others—the sounds of flesh tearing and bones cracking. Tonight would stay with me for a long, long time. I wondered if such an act upset their digestion.
I didn’t ask, though, because I figured that was a rather inappropriate question.
But right now, I was more focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Every step took energy I was quickly running out of. The exhaustion could’ve stemmed from the lack of sleep as we traveled across the Skotos for the second time, the lack of rest from our first trip, or from everything that had happened from the moment I arrived in Atlantia. It could’ve been a combination of all those things. Casteel had to be equally exhausted, but the good news was that I was once more exposed to sunlight, and my skin wasn’t decaying or doing anything equally disturbing.
So that was a plus.
“You hanging in there?” he asked in a low voice as we approached Setti, the horse’s coat a gleaming onyx in the morning sun. He grazed in the grass.
I nodded, thinking this likely wasn’t the homecoming Casteel had wanted. How long had it been since he’d even seen his parents last? Years. And this was how he had to greet them, with an attack on him, me, and a potential wedge being driven between him and his father.
A heaviness settled in my chest as one of the Guardians led Setti to us.
I looked up at the looming Skotos to see a canopy of glistening red.
The landscape of Atlantia had been forever changed, but what did it mean?
“Poppy?” Casteel’s voice was quiet.
Realizing that he was waiting for me, I dragged my gaze from the mountains and reached up, grasping Setti’s saddle. I didn’t find out if I had the strength to pull myself up as I’d done outside the hunting cabin. Casteel lifted me and then quickly followed.
Kieran joined us, having returned to his mortal form, now dressed in the clothing Niall had brought back with us. He mounted one of the horses, and I saw the shadows gathering under his eyes. We were all tired, so it was no surprise that we rode away from the Temple in silence, followed by the wolven. I didn’t see Emil or Naill when we left, nor did I catch sight of Quentyn.
It took some time for us to navigate the cliffs and come upon the field of pink and blue wildflowers. I looked at the trees at the other end of the field but couldn’t see the Chambers of Nyktos from the road. I wondered what kind of shape the Temple was in. Sighing, I faced forward. My heart skipped in my chest as I looked ahead and saw the Pillars of Atlantia once again. The marble and limestone columns were so high they nearly reached the clouds. Shadowy markings etched the stone in a language I couldn’t read. This was the resting place of Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his sister Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance. The columns were connected to a wall that was as large as the Rise that surrounded the capital of Solis and continued on as far as I could see.
Home.
I still felt that way. It was the skip in my chest. The sense of rightness. I looked over my shoulder at Casteel to tell him as much, but I picked up on
the anger brewing inside him. It pooled in my mouth like acid, and his concern was a too-thick cream in the back of my throat.
“I’m okay,” I told him.
“I wish you’d stop saying that.” His grip tightened on the reins. “You’re not okay.”
“Am, too,” I insisted.
“You’re tired.” Casteel looped his arm loosely around my waist. “You’ve been through a lot. There’s no way you’re okay.”
I stared at his grip on the reins. Sometimes I wondered if he could feel my emotions or read my thoughts. He couldn’t, but he knew me better than those who’d known me for years. It was sort of amazing how that had happened in such a relatively short period of time. But right now, I almost wished he didn’t. I blinked back the hot rush of pointless tears. I didn’t even understand why I suddenly felt so emotional, but I didn’t want it weighing on his mind. I started to reach for him but stopped, dropping my hand into my lap instead. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?”
I swallowed hard as I lifted my gaze to Kieran’s back. “Just…for everything.”
Casteel stiffened behind me. “Are you serious?” “Yes?”
“What exactly is this everything you’re apologizing for?”
I doubted repeating the word would suffice. “I was just thinking about how you haven’t seen your parents in years, and how your homecoming should’ve been a good one—a happy one. Instead, all of this happened. And Alastir…” I shook my head. “You knew him far longer than me. His betrayal has to bother you. And I was also thinking about the Chambers of Nyktos and wondering how damaged it must be now. I bet the Temple has been there for thousands of years. And here I came and—”
“Poppy, I’m going to stop you right there. Part of me wants to laugh
—”
“Same,” Kieran commented from up front. My eyes narrowed on the wolven.
“The other part of me finds absolutely nothing funny about you
apologizing for things you have no control over.” “I also second that,” Kieran tossed out.
“This conversation doesn’t involve you, Kieran,” I snapped.
The wolven shrugged a shoulder. “Just chiming in with my two cents.
Carry on. My father and I will pretend we can’t hear either of you.”
I scowled at him as I glanced to where Jasper rode past us in his mortal form. I had no idea when he’d shifted.
“Look,” Casteel said, his voice low, “we’re going to need to talk about a lot when we’re somewhere private, and I’ve had a chance to make sure your injuries have healed.”
“What injuries?”
Casteel sighed behind me. “Since you apparently didn’t notice, you were still covered in bruises after you rested in the hunting cabin.”
After he’d Ascended me into…whatever I was now. “I’m—” “Don’t tell me you’re fine again, Poppy.”
“I wasn’t,” I lied.
“Uh-huh.” He shifted me closer to him, so I leaned into his chest. “What you need to know now is that none of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong, Poppy. None of this is on you. You understand that? Believe that?”
“I know that. I did nothing to cause any of this,” I told him, speaking the truth. I didn’t blame myself for other people’s actions, but I was still a disruptive presence, whether I intended to be or not. It was a different kind of guilt.
We fell silent as my gaze shifted beyond Kieran to the sprawling city of Saion’s Cove. Ivory and sand-colored buildings—some square and others circular—gleamed under the fading sun, dotting the sweeping, rolling hills and valleys. Some structures were as wide as they were tall, sitting closer to the ground. Once again, it reminded me of the Temples in Solis, but these were not made out of the black, reflective stone that those were. These captured the sun, worshipped it. Other buildings were taller than even Castle Teerman, their sleek towers sweeping gracefully into the sky. And every rooftop I could see was covered in green. Trees rose from them, and vines spilled from the rooftops, all bursting with vivid pink, blue, and purple flowers.
Saion’s Cove was nearly the size of Carsodonia, and this was just one of Atlantia’s cities. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Evaemon, the capital of Atlantia, must look like.
The first signs of life we saw were from the farms just outside the city. Cows and fluffy sheep grazed in the fields. Goats nibbled at weeds and low-
hanging branches near the road. Orchards bearing yellow fruit were mixed among various crops, and seated back from the main road, cream-colored walls of homes peeked out from behind mossy cypress trees. Many buildings were there, among the trees, all of them spaced apart and large enough to house a decent-sized family. This was nothing like Masadonia or Carsodonia, where sprawling manors and estates were prevalent, and the workers either traveled from the city or stayed in barely livable huts on the properties.
The livestock took no notice of the wolven that followed us as we passed the farms. Perhaps they were used to their presence or sensed they were of no threat to them. Had the farmers or people in the city heard the wolven in the middle of the night as they came to the Temple of Saion? That must have been a sound to wake up to.
But thoughts of the wolven’s howls fell to the wayside as nervous energy jolted my system. The city suddenly appeared before us.
There were no gates, no inner walls or buildings heavily stacked upon one another. The scent of people forced to live in cramped, narrow spaces didn’t stain the air. That was the first thing one smelled when entering either Masadonia or Carsodonia. It always reminded me of misery and desperation, but Saion’s Cove smelled of fruit from the nearby orchards, and salt from the sea. The farmlands and moss-strewn cypresses simply transitioned into the city, and that was a statement.
There was no separation between those who fed the city and the tables that food sat on.
Seeing that brought forth a rush of faith and possibility, and I sat a little straighter. I didn’t know much about Atlantian politics, and I knew the kingdom wasn’t without problems. They were quickly becoming overpopulated, something Casteel hoped to alleviate through negotiations with Solis officials and by reclaiming the lands east of New Haven—a large and mostly uninhabited chunk of Solis. Some may not even notice how significant this one difference was, but it was huge. And it was proof that if Atlantia could do it, so could Solis.
But how could that happen? If Casteel and I were successful in overthrowing the Blood Crown, Solis would remain as it was, only safer for mortals because only the Ascended who agreed to control their thirst would survive. But the power remained with the wealthy. And the wealthiest were
among the Ascended. They thrived in a stratified system, which would be harder to break than stopping the Rites and the murders of innocents.
And could the majority of the Ascended be trusted to change? Would the new King and Queen who replaced the ones who currently ruled the Blood Crown even agree? Would Solis really be any different? We had to try, though. It was the only way to avoid war and prevent further destruction and countless deaths. First, we had to convince Queen Ileana and King Jalara that, unlike what the Duchess had claimed about my union with the Prince, it would be the Ascended’s undoing and not the downfall of Atlantia. Both the Duchess and Alastir were wrong—and dead.
In a way, the Ascended had kickstarted their downfall by creating the Maiden and convincing the people of Solis that I had been Chosen by the gods—gods the mortals believed were very much awake and constantly vigilant. The Ascended had made me their figurehead and a symbol of Solis to the people they controlled through manipulation. My marriage to Casteel would serve two purposes. It would prove that the Atlantians were not responsible for the plague known as the Craven—another lie the Ascended had spun to cover their evil deeds and to incite fear to make controlling people easier. And the people of Solis would believe the gods had approved of the Chosen joining with an Atlantian. Because of their lies, we held the upper hand. The only way any Ascended could remain in power was if they understood that. Because if they turned against me, their entire kingdom of lies would crack underneath them. Casteel had been right when he’d said that Queen Ileana was clever. She was. She had to agree. We would prevent a catastrophic war and maybe be able to reshape Solis in the process—for the better.
But a voice inside me, a strange one that sounded a lot like mine but wasn’t and came from the same place that ancient thing in me had seemed to awaken, existed deep in the very core of my being. What that voice whispered left me unsettled and cold with dread.
Sometimes war cannot be prevented.
 |
Two large coliseums sat on either side of the road we traveled on, reminding me of the ruins in Spessa’s End. Statues of the gods lined the interior of the columns and the outer walls farthest from the road were higher, full of rows and rows of seats. Bouquets full of bright purple flowers sat on each of the steps leading into the structures. They were empty, as were the smaller pavilions we passed, their gold and blue canopies rippling softly in the warm breeze, and in the windowed and roofed buildings, but it didn’t stay that way.
“Casteel,” Kieran said, his voice carrying a tone of warning.
“I know.” Casteel’s arm tightened around me. “I was hoping we’d be able to make it farther before we were noticed. That’s clearly not going to happen. These streets are about to fill.”
That odd voice inside me and the unease it stirred quickly faded as people slowly and cautiously ventured outside. Men. Women. Children. They didn’t seem to notice Jasper or Kieran, as if the sight of the former shirtless on horseback was a common occurrence. And maybe it was. Instead, they stared up at Casteel and me with wide eyes. Confusion radiated from anyone I looked at. Everyone appeared frozen, and then an older man in blue yelled, “Our Prince! Prince Casteel! Our Prince returns!”
A gasp went through the crowd like a gust of wind. Doors of shops and homes alike opened down the road. They must not have known that Casteel had recovered from the shadowshade flower. I wondered exactly what knowledge they had of what had occurred in the Chambers of Nyktos. Had the blood rain not fallen on the city? Surely, they had seen the trees of Aios, even though soaring buildings now blocked the mountains.
Shouts of excitement and cheers filled the streets as people clamored and spilled out of buildings or leaned from windows above. Arms rose and trembled as some yelled Casteel’s name, and others praised the gods. An older man dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together against his chest. He wept. And he wasn’t the only one. Women. Men. Many openly cried as they yelled his name. Casteel shifted behind me as my eyes grew to the size of the sun. I…I’d never seen anything like this. Ever.
“They…some of them are crying,” I whispered.
“I think they feared I was dead,” he remarked. “It has been quite some time since I’ve been home.”
I wasn’t sure if that was the reason. From what I’d seen in New Haven and Spessa’s End, he was well loved and respected by his people. My throat
tightened as I looked around, seeing a blur of ecstatic, smiling faces. Nothing like this happened when the Ascended rode through their towns. Not even when the Queen or King moved about in public, which if I remembered correctly, had been rare. There had always been silence.
People jerked to a stop, their cheers falling to whispers. At first, I didn’t understand what the cause was.
The wolven.
They must’ve fallen back at some point, but now they returned to our sides. They prowled the street and swept over the sidewalks, moving between mortals and Atlantians alike. They didn’t snarl or snap, but their bodies were clearly tense.
My skin prickled with awareness as gazes moved from Casteel to the wolven and then to me. I stiffened, feeling their stares on my bloodied and dirtied clothing and the bruises surely visible. The scars.
“I would’ve taken a different route to Jasper’s home if it was possible,” Casteel told me, his voice low as we turned onto a road where the buildings reached for the clouds, and the crystal-clear waters of the Seas of Saion began to peek out from behind structures. I’d forgotten the offer Jasper had made at the Chambers. It was telling that Casteel rode there and not to his family’s holdings. “But this is the least populated way.”
This was the least populated area? There had to be…gods, there had to be thousands on the streets now, appearing in windows, and coming to stand out on ivy-smothered balconies and terraces.
“I know this is a lot,” he continued. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t delay this.”
I reached down to where his hand rested lightly on my hip. This time, I didn’t stop myself. I folded my hand over his and squeezed.
Casteel turned his hand over, returning the gesture. We didn’t let go of each other’s hands.
Part of me wanted to look away, to not allow myself to sense what the people were feeling, but that would make me a coward. I let my senses remain open, to stretch out just enough to get the briefest glimpse of their emotions in case I lost control of…whatever I was truly capable of. My pounding heart and wild thoughts made it difficult to concentrate, but after a few moments, I tasted…the tartness of confusion, and the lighter, springy flavor of curiosity coming from the people of Atlantia.
There was no fear.
No hatred.
Just curiosity and confusion. I hadn’t expected that. Not after the Temple. My body sank against Casteel’s, and I rested my head against his chest. The crowd’s emotions could change once they learned what I’d done, and what I may or may not be. But right now, I wasn’t going to worry about that. I started to close my eyes when deep blue fabric snagged my attention. A white-haired woman stood on a balcony of one of the high-rise buildings, the wind tugging at the blue gown she wore. Holding onto a black railing, she slowly lowered herself to one knee and placed her fist over her thin chest. Her head bowed as the wind whipped her snowy hair.
On another balcony, a man with gray hair in a long, thick braid, did the same. And on the sidewalks…
Men and women whose skin and bodies bore the signs of age lowered themselves to their knees, among those who stood.
“Liessa!” a man shouted, slamming a hand against the sidewalk, startling me. “Meyaah Liessa!”
Setti’s head reared as two children raced out from one of the buildings
—one of them no more than five years old—their long, brown hair streaming out from behind them. One of them shifted right there, pitching forward as white-and-brown-streaked fur erupted from the skin. The wolven was so tiny as it yipped and bounced, ears flopping as the older child by only a year or so ran beside the pup.
Casteel’s grip on Setti tightened as the child shouted, “Liessa! Liessa!” Liessa. I had heard that before when I’d had that nightmare in the
Skotos Mountains and heard Delano’s voice. He’d said those words. Or I had dreamed him saying them, at least.
An older child grabbed the younger one and turned, chasing after the one who’d shifted. Younger men and women appeared on the sidewalks and above, babies held to their hips as they lowered to their knees. Shock rolled out from others in icy waves as the chant of “Liessa” grew in volume.
“What does that mean?” I asked Casteel as another small child shifted into a fuzzy little thing that was nudged back onto the sidewalk by one of the larger wolven following us. The little girl or guy nipped and then promptly started chasing its tail. “Liessa?”
“It’s old Atlantian. The language of the gods,” Casteel said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat as he squeezed my hand again. “Meyaah Liessa. It means: my Queen.”
