“Casteel!” I shouted, my heart slamming against my ribs. Twisting in the saddle, I gripped the bow as I looked down.
Rolling out of the path of Setti’s hooves, Casteel rose to his knees. My stomach dropped at the sight of the arrows jutting out of his back. One was lodged in his left shoulder. Another was near the center of his back, just to the right. Blood already darkened his black cloak.
“Solis bastards!” someone shouted from the trees. “You’re going to die today!”
Another arrow blew past my face, missing me by inches. Panic exploded in my chest as Setti pranced in a tight circle, startled. He’s okay, I told myself as I gripped the saddle horn with my other hand. He was Atlantian. Two arrows couldn’t take him down. He’s okay. I’d stabbed him in the actual heart, and he’d been fine. He’s okay—
Setti reared. My grip on the pommel slipped. I had no idea how to control a horse, and if I let go to grab the reins, I would fall. I was no way near as fast as Casteel. My wild gaze darted over the heavy tree line as Naill shouted a curse, taking an arrow to the leg. Setti slammed down on his front hooves, rattling me to my very bones. I lost my grip and slipped. The sky turned sideways—
An arm snagged me from behind. The scent of rich spice and citrus in fresh snow enveloped me. Casteel yanked me down as Delano suddenly appeared on Setti’s other side. Catching Setti’s reins, he rose to a crouch on the saddle and leapt onto the horse’s back, keeping his mount’s reins in his other hand. Sliding into the seat, he dug his heels in, urging Setti and his horse into the woods to the right.
A blur of fawn-colored fur shot past us, into the woods. Kieran. Several heartbeats later, I heard a yelp and a high-pitched scream as Casteel all but carried me into the trees to the right.
“Fucking wolven!” a man hooted, his enthusiastic response quite at odds with what came out of his mouth next. “This just became our lucky day, boys! The gods are good!”
Casteel spun suddenly, shielding my body with his. He jerked and growled out a sharp curse, and I knew he’d taken another arrow.
“This is getting extremely annoying,” he snarled, thrusting me behind a tree. He tossed the quiver of arrows I hadn’t seen him grab toward me. “Don’t get shot. That will be even more annoying.”
“How about you try not getting shot again.” An arrow now protruded from Casteel’s lower back, and he was still standing there. In the back of my mind, I knew why. He was Atlantian. But all I could think as I saw the three arrows pierced through him was…what if he weren’t?
He’d be dead, and I…
“But I make wearing arrows look good, don’t I?” Casteel twisted sharply, his hand snapping out. He caught the next arrow intended for him.
I stared at him.
“I don’t know why any of you think this is your lucky day,” he yelled back as he turned around. He shattered the arrow in his fist. “It’s really not. Not when my cloak has been ruined. And I really liked it. It was warm, and now it has godsdamn holes in it. How will that keep me warm?”
Something about him being more upset about his ruined cloak than he was about having multiple holes in his body had a strange, calming effect on me. My hands stopped trembling as I focused on the pines across the road. I knew how to fire a bow. I was very good at it. Vikter had claimed that I was one of the best archers he’d seen. I had the steady hands for it, the watchful eye, and the quick reflexes. That was why Casteel had handed the bow over to me. He knew I could use it.
And I had the steady hands now.
A sound began, a great wave of rattling that reminded me of those wooden toys with beads inside that infants often enjoyed. It seemed to come from all directions, like the rasping of dry bones. The hairs on my neck stood on end.
Rapidly scanning the other side of the road for any movement that wasn’t fawn-colored, I lifted the bow as Naill joined Casteel. My finger curled around the trigger as I kept searching—
A muddied brown shape briefly appeared between the pines, and I didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. I leveled the bow just as my target lifted his weapon, taking aim at Naill. I pressed on the trigger.
The bolt released with a whoosh, flying across the road. I already knew I’d hit my target when I reached for another heavier, thicker arrow.
Movement caught my eyes. I looked just in time to see Casteel launch into the air. He jumped higher than he stood, which was well over six feet. My lips parted as he landed on a limb, shaking free pine needles and snow dust. All I could see was his arm punch into the shadows of the limb. A second later, he yanked a mortal out, tossing him to the ground—
Delano shot out from the forest. In his wolven form, he was nothing more than a streak of white fur. He caught the mortal before he hit the ground, whipping his large head and shaking the man like a dog did its favorite toy. I heard a cracking sound, and then Delano dropped the broken mortal. Blood streaked Delano’s fur as he lunged, catching another clansman around the throat that Casteel had thrown from the tree from… dear gods…from higher up.
Dragging my eyes from what I was unlikely to ever forget, I nocked another bolt, firing at another mortal that popped out from between two trees. Loading the bow, I twisted at the waist, leaned out—
“Damn bloodsuckers! Boys, be fast!” that first voice came again, somewhere from the trees. “We ain’t dealing with just wolven! Aim for the head!”
Okay, the fact that this Dead Bones Clan knew about the wolven and the Atlantians was interesting. And I—
Fiery pain lanced across my skin as an arrow shot by me, grazing my arm. I sucked in a sharp breath as I darted back behind the elm, shaking my wrist as if that would somehow lessen the burn.
It didn’t help all that much.
Screams of pain pierced through the distant snarls. Gritting my teeth, I looked over my shoulder, no longer seeing Casteel or Delano. Naill was gone too. I stayed still until I saw a shifting of shadows and a flash of movement to my left. I zeroed in on it.
I fired the bolt just as the sound of pounding feet whipped my attention to the right. A man ran at me—at least I thought the tall, broad shape was a man, but I couldn’t be sure. His face was covered by something that looked like leather. Clumps of brown hair poked out from the mask. He carried no bow, but rather some sort of club, and he was fast for someone his size.
“Shit,” I whispered, whirling toward the quiver. I grabbed a bolt and nocked it quickly.
The man swung the club before I could fire. I ducked but wasn’t fast enough. His club caught the bow, knocking it from my grip with one
shattering blow. He laughed. “What kind of bitch are you?” he asked as I jumped back. I recognized the man’s voice. He’d been the one shouting, and now that he was only a foot or so from me, I could see why I thought his mask was made of leather.
And I could also see that Casteel hadn’t been joking when he said that the Dead Bones Clan operated on the waste-not-want-not creed.
It was skin.
Human skin that had been stretched to fit over his head, stitched in jagged pieces around the openings that had been created for the eyes and mouth. My stomach churned, but I didn’t cave to the rising nausea.
“Are you part dog, or do you like to suck on things?” he asked, switching the club to his left hand. “If you beg nicely, I got something you can suck on.” He reached down, grabbing what I could only assume he was referencing. “Your face may be a mess, but your mouth looks just fine.”
Heart pounding, I darted out of reach of the club as he swung it again. I reached inside my cloak, unsheathing my dagger. I stilled, waiting as my fingers opened and closed around the handle. I had to be quick and smart. I’d only have one chance.
“I bet you’re one of those wolven bitches. Hear they like their women all cut up.” He made a calling sound, one used to summon a dog, and my grip tightened. “Tell me, girl. What kind of bitch are you?”
He lifted the club again, and I made my move. Shooting forward, I slipped under his arm and grabbed the dirty tunic. Thrusting the dagger up, I used every ounce of strength I had to drive it deep under his chin.
“I’m this kind of bitch,” I growled. The muscles under the mask pieced together by human flesh went lax as I jerked the knife free.
Blood spurted in a hot spray. Whatever he was about to say ended on a gurgle. The club fell from his hand, and then he toppled like a tree, straight and forward, taking me down with him.
I hit the pine-needled, snow-crusted ground with a grunt as air punched out of my lungs. The man was limp, his grotesquely masked face smashed into my shoulder.
“Dammit,” I muttered as his heavy weight sank into me. He smelled like rot and other things I didn’t want to think about. I tipped my head back against the ground. “This is just great.”
A flutter of wings drew my gaze to the sky. My eyes narrowed as that large hawk from before appeared overhead, gracefully circling before
disappearing into the trees. A wing, caressed by the sun, gleamed silver. I really hoped my new cloak didn’t end up drenched in blood.
Sighing, I gathered up my strength and shoved at the man, managing to get him at least partway off my chest. I drew in a deep breath—
The man was suddenly lifted up and tossed aside like he was nothing more than a bag of small rocks. I had no idea where he landed. All I could do was stare at Casteel.
He stood above me, his face splattered with dots of red. “You’re bleeding.”
“You have three arrows sticking out of you.”
“You’ve been injured. Where?” He knelt beside me, ignoring my somewhat unnecessary observation.
“I’m fine.” I sat up, my eyes glued to the arrow jutting from his stomach as I sheathed my dagger. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“The arrows.” I paused as he grasped my left arm, pushing the cloak aside. The arrows that are sticking out of your body.”
“It’s nothing more than an annoyance.” He turned my arm, and I winced. “Sorry,” he said gruffly as he exposed the tear in the sleeve of my tunic.
“They’re inside your body,” I repeated. “How can that only be an annoyance? Is it because you’re from an elemental bloodline?”
“Yes.” His features sharpened as he carefully peeled back the edge of my sweater. “The wounds will heal as soon as I pull the arrows out.”
“Then why haven’t you done that yet?”
“Because they will not fester, unlike your wound if dirt gets into it.” His gaze flicked up, and his eyes snagged my focus. The pupils seemed larger. “Are you worried about me, Princess?”
I clamped my mouth shut.
“You are, aren’t you? I heard you scream my name when I fell from the horse,” he continued, and it was weird for him to tease after riding in silence for hours—and with three arrows sticking out of him. “Your concern warms the same heart you’ve so grievously wounded.”
I shot him a glare. “You’re no good to me dead.”
One side of his lips quirked up as he stared at my arm. “Looks like a flesh wound. You’ll live.”
“I told you I was fine.”
“Still needs to be covered.” He rose, bringing me with him. Stepping back, he tore off a piece of his cloak. “Not the most hygienic of options, but it will work until we reach Spessa’s End.”
The crunch of needles drew my gaze. I saw Delano slinking between the pines, still in his wolven form. Streaks of red stained his fur. His pale- eyed gaze moved from Casteel to me, and then he took off in a powerful lunge, darting between the trees.
“Where is he going?”
“Probably to retrieve the horses,” Casteel answered.
I glanced up at him. He stood beside me, holding my arm in one hand and the cloth in the other, but he made no move to cover the seeping wound. He was just standing there, the hollows of his cheeks shadowed.
The throbbing in my arm fell to the wayside as concern did take root. “Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked. “Maybe you should pull those arrows out or something.”
His throat worked on a swallow, and his lips parted. There was the barest hint of fangs.
“Casteel,” Kieran called out from behind us.
The Prince blinked, lifting his head to look over my shoulder. His pupils seemed even bigger, crowding out the amber of his irises. Instinct sent a shiver of warning through me. “I’m fine.”
“You sure about that?” Kieran asked.
I watched Casteel closely, wondering what was wrong with him. “Your eyes,” I whispered. “The pupils are really large.”
“They do that sometimes.” He cleared his throat, finally moving as he repeated louder, “I’m fine.” He wrapped the strip of cloak around my upper arm. “This may hurt.”
It didn’t feel all that great as he tightened the makeshift bandage, tying it so it stayed in place. Once done, he lowered my arm and draped the cloak over it. I watched him step back and look down at himself, still…well, still concerned for him. “Thank you.”
His gaze flew to mine, and there seemed to be a bit of surprise in those odd eyes. He nodded and then looked at Kieran. “Are there any left?”
“Those alive ran back to whatever homes they’d fashioned for themselves,” Kieran stated. “Naill is scouting up ahead to make sure we don’t run into any more.”
Wanting to know how these people knew what Kieran and Casteel were, I twisted at the waist—
Every single thought fled. My mouth dropped open. “You’re naked!” “I am,” Kieran replied.
And he was.
Like completely naked, and I saw way too much tawny-hued skin. Way too much. I quickly spun around, my wide eyes clashing with Casteel’s.
“You should see your face right now.” Casteel gripped the arrow in his stomach. “It looks like you’ve been sunbathing.”
“Because he’s naked,” I hissed. “Like, super naked.” “What do you think happens when he shifts forms?” “The last time his pants actually stayed on!”
“And sometimes they don’t.” Casteel shrugged.
“Those pants were looser, I suppose,” Kieran stated. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s only skin.”
What I saw was not only skin. He was…well, his body was a lot like Casteel’s. Lean, hard muscle and…
I wasn’t going to think about what I saw.
At a loss for what to say, I blurted out in a whisper, “He has to be cold!”
“Wolven body temperatures run higher than normal. I’m just a little chilled,” Kieran commented. “As I’m sure you noticed.”
Casteel smirked. “I doubt she knows what you’re referencing.”
I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled slowly. “I know exactly what he’s referencing, thank you very much.”
“How do you know that?” Casteel lifted his brows, and I noticed that his pupils seemed to have returned to their normal size. “If you know what that means, then someone has been very naughty.”
“I know that because—” I sucked in air as he yanked the arrow free. “Oh, my gods.”
“It looks worse than it is.” He tossed the arrow aside and then reached for the one in his left shoulder.
I started to turn away but remembered that what was behind me was far more traumatizing. “I hope you have an extra set of clothes,” I said to Kieran.
“I do. As soon as Delano arrives with the horses, I’ll be all prim and proper again.”
I flinched as Casteel pulled the second arrow out. “I don’t think you’ve ever been prim and proper.”
“That’s true,” Kieran said, and I thought he’d moved closer. “You took out the mouthy one?”
I nodded as Casteel cursed when the arrow he’d been pulling on most likely got stuck on something important. Like an organ.
“With your dagger?” Kieran sounded impressed. “That and my sparkling personality.”
The wolven snorted. “It was probably the latter that did him in.”
My stomach twisted as Casteel ripped out the third and final arrow. I swallowed. Hard. “I think he broke the bow, though.”
“But he didn’t break you.” Casteel straightened his tunic, the tension bracketing his mouth easing. “And that’s all that matters.”
 |
Once Delano returned with the horses, and Naill reported back that the road ahead appeared clear, we continued on our way.
With a completely clothed Kieran, thank the gods.
We rode on in silence, everyone watchful and alert for signs of the Dead Bones Clan. The sky was darkening to a midnight blue as the road eventually widened, and the temperatures dropped even more. As soon as the crowd of elms thinned out, I figured it was safe to speak. I was practically bursting to do so. “I have so many questions about the Dead Bones Clan.”
“Shocking,” muttered Kieran, who rode to our left.
Casteel laughed softly, and that was the first sound he’d really made since climbing back onto the horse. I wondered—not worried—that he was still hurting from the arrows, but if I asked, I would then be subjected to his overdramatic teasing.
“Can’t promise we’ll be able to answer those questions, but what would you like to know?” he asked, his arm loose around me.
“Why did the Dead Bones Clan attack like that?” I started there. “I get that they survive outside a Rise that way, but it’s obvious we weren’t Craven.”
“The Dead Bones Clan isn’t just anti-Craven. They are anti… everyone,” Naill said from behind us. “Sometimes, they let people pass on
the road. Sometimes they don’t. We can only hope that Alastir and his group made it through, but they were armed. As will be those who are behind us.”
Gods, I hadn’t even thought of them. I hoped they made it. I liked Alastir, and I really hoped the people of New Haven didn’t run into any more trouble.
“If they got Alastir and that group, they probably wouldn’t have come after us. I’m betting they’re hungry,” Kieran said, and my lips curled.
“I heard one of them talk about how they wanted to make a cloak out of my fur,” Delano said from where he rode to our right. His brows were furrowed. “My fur should be reserved for something far more luxurious than a cloak. I bit him extra hard for that.”
My lips twitched as Casteel said, “From what I’ve learned about them, when the war broke out, they escaped to these woods. I don’t think anyone knows anymore whether they’ve always had a penchant for flesh—eating and wearing it.”
I didn’t want to think about their penchant for flesh. “They knew what you all were,” I pointed out.
“You’ve got to remember that they’re remnants of a time when Atlantia ruled over the entire kingdom,” Casteel said. “I imagine that each generation learned about us through stories told by their elders. With them outside the control of the Ascended, our histories weren’t rewritten or lost.”
“Okay, but they still tried to kill you.”
“Kill us,” Casteel corrected, and my stomach dipped. “This road has seen a lot of Atlantians and wolven throughout the centuries. I doubt their attack-first-and-ask-questions-later mentality fostered any fondness once they realized that we would not be felled by arrows or clubs.” He shifted as if he sought to get more comfortable. “Plus, wolven fur does make for very nice cloaks.”
Naill laughed as the wolven cursed.
“But they used to live in one of the towns near the Blood Forest. At some point over the past several hundred years, they ended up here,” Casteel continued. “I’ve traveled this road before and never had dealings with them until now.”
That explained why I saw the symbols there and then here. “How have they escaped the Ascended’s notice?”
“Who’s to say they have?” Naill countered.
“Well, they’re still alive,” I reasoned. “So, I would think they have.”
Kieran drew ahead. “Due to the Dead Bones Clan often attacking on sight and with what has to be their dwindling numbers, I think they probably aren’t worth the Ascended’s time.”
Looking behind us, I wondered exactly how many lived in the woods. Hundreds? Thousands? If there were thousands, the Ascended would definitely make it worth their time. Thousands could stage a revolt. Maybe not a successful one, but one that could cause many problems, especially since the clan was in possession of the kind of knowledge the Ascended wouldn’t want known.
“And the Ascended don’t often send people out here,” Delano added. “That may change once they realize you’re missing, but only the gods know the last time anyone sent by them came this far or went beyond.”
Something about his voice caused me to look at him. In the fading light, I could see the hard, unyielding lines of his face. “Why is that?”
“You’ll see,” Casteel answered.
And that was all he said—all anyone said as night descended, and the moon rose, casting silvery light over the hills the forest had given way to.
With my mind occupied with everything that had happened and what I’d learned before the first arrow had shot across the road, I didn’t think it was at all possible that I would find myself dozing. But that was exactly what happened as I felt myself easing into the space between Casteel’s arms. At some point, I ended up leaning back against him, and when I realized that, I jerked upright.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, muscles weary as I forced myself to sit straight. I saw that we were spaced out again, Delano and Naill several feet ahead with Kieran keeping pace beside us.
“For what?”
“You were shot.” I smothered a yawn. “At least three times.”
“I’m already healed. You’re fine.” When I didn’t move, he used his arm around my waist to tug me back.
The gods help me, but I didn’t resist.
“Relax,” he whispered atop of my head. “We should reach Spessa’s End soon.”
I stared up at the twinkling stars, wondering how there could be so many. I didn’t know why I asked what I did. “Does it bother you?”
“What, Princess?”
“Having to be so close to someone who represents the Ascended,” I asked. “After they took so much from you.”
A moment passed. “I would do anything for my brother.” Yes, I truly realized that he would.
“And you’re part Atlantian,” he tacked on. “That helps.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but then Kieran spoke about the increasing clouds. The subject changed, I drifted and drifted…
We camped in the meadows we came upon, and in the morning, the first thing I realized was that we didn’t need our cloaks once the sun rose. I knew that meant we had to be getting close. The day was a blur of open fields and unending blue skies, and when the sun fell, we didn’t stop. We continued on.
Then the horses slowed. The first thing I saw was an endless pool of the deepest onyx. It was like the sky had kissed the ground.
“Stygian Bay,” I whispered,
“The rumored gateway to the Temples of Eternity, Rhain’s land,” Casteel answered.
“Are they true? The rumors?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes, Princess?” He tugged me back so I leaned into him once more. “You’re warm,” he offered in way of explanation.
“Thought Atlantians didn’t get cold.” “Don’t point out my inconsistencies.”
Maybe it was because I was tired. Perhaps it was the stillness and the beauty of the Bay. I didn’t know what it was, but I laughed. “It’s not even that cold now.”
He made a sound, a soft rumble that I felt more than heard. “You don’t do that enough. You never have.”
I felt a twist in my chest, one I forced myself to breathe through. “Is the Bay the actual gateway to the real Temples of Rhain?” I asked instead.
His breath was warm against my cheek as he said, “Stygian Bay is where Rhain sleeps, deep below. It borders Pompay, and its southern coast reaches Spessa’s End.”
A jolt of surprise widened my eyes. The god really slept there? “Are we in Spessa’s End?”
“No,” Kieran answered. “We’re about a day’s ride from there. We’ve reached Pompay.”
Pompay—the last Atlantian stronghold.
What I saw taking shape out of the darkness of night stole whatever I was about to say.
First, it was the Rise or what was left of the crumbling walls. Only sections by the entry stood, where no gate existed, stretching dizzying heights into the sky. The rest couldn’t be more than five feet, and most of that was the piles of broken stone.
We rode into a town that no longer existed. Burnt-out homes lined the road, most missing entire walls or were destroyed down to their foundations. No people were about, no candlelight from any windows of the homes that at least had four walls and a roof. Only the sound of the horses’ hooves clattering off the cobblestones could be heard as we traveled farther, past larger buildings with toppled pillars—structures I imagined once held meetings or offered entertainment. Trees were nothing more than skeletons, dead and decaying, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Whatever had happened here hadn’t occurred during the war. The land would have reclaimed the buildings and streets by now if that were the case.
“What happened here?” I winced at the sound of my voice. It felt wrong to speak, to shatter the silence of what appeared to be a graveyard of a town.
“The Ascended feared that with its roots as a once prosperous Atlantian city, Pompay would become a haven for Descenters. But they had little reason to believe that,” Casteel said, his voice hushed. “There were Descenters here, only because there had been no sitting Royal to rule the town after the war, but they were mostly mortals—farmers and the like. But no Ascended wanted to rule so far east, so they razed the town to the ground.”
“What of the people who lived here?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.
Casteel didn’t speak because the answer to my question appeared before me as we rounded a bend in the road. It went on for as far as the eye could see, stone mound upon stone mound, lit only by the silvery moonlight. There were hundreds of them, so many that I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing, even though I knew that what I saw was reality. Pompay was a slaughtered town, truly a graveyard.
“They came in the night some forty or so years ago,” Delano said. “An army of Ascended. They swarmed this town like a plague, feeding upon
every man, woman, and child. Those who were not killed turned into Craven and spilled out from Pompay in search of blood.”
Gods.
“The ones who died were left behind to rot in the summer heat and to freeze in the winter,” Kieran said. “Their bodies remained where they’d fallen. A lone person by a tree, dozens in the street.” He cleared his throat. “Couples found in their beds. Entire families in their homes, mothers and fathers clutching their children to them.”
“We buried them,” Casteel told me. “It took some time, but we buried all that remained. Six hundred and fifty-six of them.”
Good gods.
I closed my eyes against the tide of sorrow and shock that flooded me, but I could not unsee the piles and piles of stones of so many senseless deaths.
Casteel’s exhale was rough. “So now you know why the Ascended don’t often travel this far.”
I did know. I saw.
“I…I don’t know how I’m shocked,” I admitted. “After everything I’ve seen, I don’t understand how I can’t believe this.”
Casteel’s arm tightened around me, but it was Naill who spoke, echoing what the Prince had said earlier. “I don’t think this is something you can ever get used to. At least, I wouldn’t want to. I want to be shocked. I need to be,” the dark-skinned Atlantian told me. “If not, then the line that separates us from the vamprys would be much too thin.”
