“The Maiden’s guards are good men.”
I lifted my gaze from the glass of whiskey I held to the man standing by the empty fireplace. “Good men die all the time.”
“True,” Griffith Jansen, the Commander of the Royal Guard, replied.
He’d been in Solis longer than most Atlantians could tolerate, managing to keep his true identity hidden. He was the only reason my men were now firmly rooted in the Royal Army, serving both at the Rise and in the city.
But he would be killed or worse if anyone ever learned where Jansen’s
loyalties lay or what he was. “But far too few good men are left in Solis.” “That, we can agree on.” I watched Jansen for several moments. “Is one
less good man going to be a problem?”
His gaze met mine. “If it was a problem, I wouldn’t be here. I’m just saying it will be a shame to lose one of them.”
“Shame or not, I need to get close to her.” I took a drink of whiskey. The smoky liquor went down far smoother than any other spirit this miserable land had to offer. “Being on the Rise won’t help me. You know that. You also understand what is at stake here.” My head tilted. “And since there’s no current opening in those who guard her, we need to make one.”
“I do understand.” Jansen dragged a hand over his head, his shoulders tight under the plain brown tunic he wore. “That doesn’t mean I have to like what must be done.”
I smiled faintly at his response. “If you did, then you would be of better use to the Ascended since they enjoy pain and senseless death.”
His chin rose slightly at the reminder that we may be casually discussing the death of an innocent man. However, we were not the enemy. No amount of evil from me would surpass what the Ascended had done to our people or theirs.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
“What do you know of the Maiden?” Jansen asked after a moment.
I almost laughed because what a silly fucking question. There wasn’t much to know about her.
I knew her name was Penellaphe.
I knew her parents had been killed in a Craven attack.
I knew she had a brother who’d Ascended—one I had eyes on in the capital.
But what I knew next was all that mattered. She was the Queen’s favorite, and that made her the only thing in this entire kingdom that could be used as leverage against the false Crown. She was the only possible
route to preventing war.
“I know enough,” I stated.
Jansen stretched his neck from side to side. “She’s favored by many people, not just the Queen.”
“How is that possible?” the other who stood by the window asked. “She is rarely seen in public, and even more rarely does she speak.”
“He makes a good point.” Which was likely a shock to everyone in the chamber.
“To be honest, I don’t know. But many speak of her kindness,” Jansen answered. “And her guards care for her. They protect her because they want to, whereas most of the Royal Guards protect their charges because it puts food on their family’s tables and keeps their heads on their shoulders. That’s about it.”
“And the same people believe she was Chosen by the gods—which we both know is impossible since they’ve been at rest for several centuries. I’m sorry if I don’t necessarily trust their judgment regarding what they think of the Maiden.”
Jansen gave me a wry grin. “My point is, when she goes missing, it’s going to cause a stir. Not just with the Ascended. People will be looking for her.”
“What will cause a great stir is my father’s armies descending on Solis and laying waste to every city and village he comes across. All in retribution for what the Ascended did to me and are currently doing to
Prince Malik,” I told him. “Now, tell me, which stir would you rather see? Questions about a missing Maiden? Or war?”
“What I want to see is the godsdamn Ascended eradicated,” Jansen snapped. The only reason I allowed that was what came out of his mouth
next. “They killed my children. My first son and then my second—” He cut himself off with a thick swallow, briefly looking away as he did whatever
he needed to help contain the kind of pain that never healed. “I will do anything to stop them and protect our kingdom.”
“Then give me the opening I need.” I dragged my thumb over the rim of my glass. “Once I free the true Prince, I will kill the false King and Queen. That, I promise.”
Jansen exhaled roughly, and it was obvious he didn’t like this. My respect for the man grew. None of this business was pleasant. If someone enjoyed any part of this, they were living on borrowed time. “She walks the garden every night at dusk,” he said.
“I already know that.” I’d stalked her and her guard through the gardens many times at nightfall, getting as close as I could without being seen.
Which, unfortunately, wasn’t nearly close enough.
“But do you know she goes to see the night-blooming roses?”
I stilled. I didn’t know that. Oddly unsettled by the revelation that she sought flowers native to Atlantia, I shifted on the settee. Throughout the day, I’d often found myself wondering what she found so interesting in
those gardens.
I now knew.
“Or is it that they’re located near the jacaranda trees?” Jansen added.
A smile slowly tipped the corners of my lips. “Where a section of the interior wall has collapsed.”
Jansen nodded. “The same part I’ve told the Teermans to repair a time or five hundred.”
“Lucky for me, they haven’t.”
“Yes.” Jansen moved from the fireplace. “Do what you must, and I will take care of the rest.”
“You’re sure you can secure his spot as a Royal Guard?” the wolven spoke up again, stepping out from the shadows.
“I can.” Jansen glanced at the wolven with the shaggy dark hair and then refocused on me. “You have such glowing accolades from the capital,” he replied dryly, referencing the recommendations he’d fabricated. “And
the Duchess finds you…pleasant to look upon. It won’t be hard.”
My lip curled in disgust as I looked at the wolven. “You know what to do, Jericho.”
He smiled and nodded. “She’ll be less one guard after her next visit to the garden.”
“Good.” The sooner, the better went unsaid.
“Anything else?” Jansen asked, and I shook my head. He stepped forward, clasping my forearm. “From blood and ash.”
“We will rise,” I promised.
Jansen bowed his head slightly, then turned. My gaze lifted to the men
as they reached the door. Jericho was a bit of a wild card, more so than most of his kind, but of all those who’d traveled with me, he was unknown to the guards. The wolven wouldn’t be recognized. “No harm comes to the Maiden. Do you understand me?”
The Commander remained quiet as Jericho nodded.
I held the wolven’s pale blue gaze. “I mean it, Jericho. She is to be unharmed in this.”
His jaw, covered with a hint of a beard, lifted. “Message clear.”
Watching them leave, I admitted to myself that my demands made little sense as I leaned back on the settee.
I planned to take the Maiden from everything and everyone she knew.
Kidnapping her wouldn’t exactly be pleasant business, but the idea of harming a woman made my skin crawl. Even when I had to. Even when it was an Ascended. But what I planned for her was far better than what my father would do if he got his hands on her. He’d send her back to the Blood Crown in pieces—and my father was someone Commander Jansen would also consider a good man.
“I don’t like him.”
Looking up from my glass of whiskey, I raised my brows.
Kieran Contou leaned against the wall; the warm beige brown of his
features set in an ever-present mask of indifference. He had been so silent during the meeting that I doubted Jansen even realized he was there. The wolven couldn’t look more bored if he tried, but I knew better. I’d seen him look as if he were an instant away from falling asleep, then rip out the throat of whoever was speaking a second later.
“Which one?” I asked.
He cocked his head. “Why would I have a problem with the Commander?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Jansen asked a lot of questions.”
“If he hadn’t, you’d rethink working with him,” Kieran replied. “I don’t like Jericho.”
“Who does? He’s reckless, but he has no qualms when it comes to killing.”
“None of us do. Not even you.” Kieran paused. “At least when we’re awake.”
But when we slept, a far different story could be told.
“I can kill Jericho,” he offered, his tone the same as if he were asking if I wanted to grab a bite to eat. “And take care of the guard.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I suspect he’ll end up dead at some point anyway.”
“I have a feeling that’s true.”
I smirked. Kieran’s feelings often had a way of becoming a reality. Just like his father. “Besides, with you in the City Guard, you risk being recognized if things go south.”
Kieran nodded, and a moment passed. “It is a shame, though. From what I’ve heard of the Maiden’s guards, Jansen is right. They’re both good men.”
“It’s the only way,” I repeated, thinking of Hannes. He’d been taken out before I arrived in Masadonia. His replacement had opened the door for me to enter the Rise Guard. The death of another personal guard was simply
one more door opening.
I glanced back at Kieran. We were dressed the same, wearing the black of the Royal Army and carrying weapons bearing the heraldry of our
enemies—a circle with an arrow piercing the center. The Royal Crest of the Kingdom of Solis. Supposedly, it stood for infinity and power, but in ancient Atlantian, in the language of the gods, the symbol represented something else.
Death.
Which was also fitting for the Blood Crown.
“By becoming one of her personal guards, I would have the closest thing to unfettered access to her, and you know we can’t simply grab her and run,” I reminded him. “We’d be lucky to make it out of the city. And even if we did, we wouldn’t make it far.” I leaned, draping my arm along the back of the settee. “Getting close to her allows me to gain her trust so that she won’t put up a fight and slow us down when we do make our
move.”
Turning his gaze to the darkened city streets beyond the window, Kieran was quiet. He knew if we moved now, we wouldn’t make it past the Rise encircling Masadonia before our deeds came to light. And that meant the only way out was with a whole lot of blood and death.
Because I would not be captured. Ever again.
And if that meant slaughtering innocents, then so be it. I was trying to avoid that, though. Kieran understood. He wasn’t that bloodthirsty. Jericho, on the other hand…
“We don’t have much longer to wait,” I assured him. “I know. The upcoming Rite.”
I nodded. The Rite provided us with the perfect opportunity to strike.
Most of the Ascended would be at the castle, which meant the most skilled and seasoned guards would be there, leaving the Rise and the city poorly guarded. My lips curved up. Those guards would find themselves occupied, dealing with the distraction the Descenters created, and we’d make our
move then. The key was gaining the Maiden’s trust so that when I told her I’d been given orders to remove her from the city, she wouldn’t question me. Eventually, she would, but by then, we would be on our way to a more secure location where we could negotiate with the Blood Crown.
The plan would work, but it would also take time. And it would cost more lives.
Kieran’s shoulders rose with a deep breath. “It’s just that…it’s too bad so few of the guards can be called good, and we’ll be causing those
numbers to be even less.” That we would.
“Have you learned anything that explains why the Maiden is so important to the Blood Crown?” he asked. “Other than her supposedly being a child of the gods.”
“All I can figure is that she is somehow key to the Ascensions of all
those Lords and Ladies in Wait. Why? Not even Jansen, who has been here for years, can answer that, so your guess is as good as mine.” I snorted, knocking back a strand of hair that had fallen forward. “I assume you haven’t learned anything new, either?”
“You assume correctly. Anytime I casually bring up the Maiden, it
incites suspicion. You’d think she was some sort of benevolent goddess
based on how people speak of her. Even the City Guard.” He glanced to where I’d placed my weapons by the door. “It has to be the shroud.”
I raised a brow. “Come again?”
“You’ve heard that she was born in a shroud.” “I have.” I frowned.
“Then you also know what that means.”
It was believed that Atlantians born in a shroud at birth—a caul—were Chosen by the gods. Blessed. There hadn’t been an Atlantian born in one since the time of the gods. But besides that… “She doesn’t have Atlantian
blood in her, Kieran.” I stated the obvious. There was no way she was even half-Atlantian, unless her brother wasn’t related to her by blood. But none of the digging we’d done had indicated that he was a half-brother. “She’s mortal.”
“No shit,” Kieran replied dryly. “But who’s to say mortals cannot be born in such?”
Who was to say? “I suppose it’s not impossible,” I decided. “But since the vamprys are pathological liars, I’m sure this is yet another lie.”
“True,” Kieran murmured. “But there has to be a reason they keep her cloistered and well-guarded at all times.”
“Perhaps that is something I will discover once I become one of her guards.”
“I would fucking hope so.”
I cracked a grin. “And if not, maybe we will find our answer in one of the Ascended we…befriend.”
“Befriend?” Kieran scoffed. “What a lovely way to frame capturing and torturing vamprys for information.”
“Isn’t it?”
Shaking his head, he scratched at his jaw. “By the way, exactly how are you going to earn the trust of someone you haven’t even spoken to?” he asked.
“Besides using my irresistible charm?” “Besides that,” he replied dryly.
“I’ll use any means necessary.”
Kieran’s stare sharpened. “I think you mean that.” I lifted my chin. “I do.”
“She could be innocent in all of this,” he stated.
I tamped down my rising irritation. Kieran’s words came from a good place. They almost always did. “You’re right. She could be, but her possible innocence or even her complicity doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is being able to use her to free Malik without setting the entirety of Solis on fire. That’s all that matters.”
Silent, he eyed me for several moments, his head cocked. “Sometimes I forget.”
My brows knotted. “Forget what?”
“That the Dark One was a fabrication the Ascended created to frighten the mortals. That you really aren’t that.”
I laughed, but it didn’t sound right to my ears. Nothing about the rough, low noise did.
I looked away, my jaw clenching. The Blood Crown had spun tales about the murderous and violent Dark One long before I arrived in Solis. They created a shadow figure to showcase the supposed evil of Atlantians, using the mere threat of such a specter to further frighten and control the kingdom’s people.
But how far off were they?
My hands were soaked in blood. I’d racked up more kills than all my men combined. The ones I struck down upon my arrival in Solis. The high-ranking guards in Carsodonia. The lives I took in the town of Three Rivers. The throats I slit in countless villages. Hannes. The yet unnamed guard who would also find their life cut short. Some of them deserved it. Too many were simply in the way.
I wanted to regret taking those lives.
In the bright light of day, I thought I did. At least for those who were merely obstacles between me and freeing my brother. But at night? In the silence, when there was no liquor to quiet the thoughts or a warm body to forget what I’d experienced and what I’d lost at the Blood Crown’s hands? I didn’t think I felt a damn bit of guilt then.
And didn’t that make me a type of tulpa—created in the minds of others and then willed into existence? Because the truth was, the Dark One hadn’t been real. Not in the beginning.
But he existed now.
