I inhaled sharply. “But—”
“We gave them a chance before,” Queen Eloana interrupted as she reached out, touching one of the roses. “The entire kingdom of Atlantia did. We allowed the vamprys to grow and flourish, believing that it would be the best for all, as long as they could control themselves. We were foolish to believe that. That choice—that optimism—will not be made again by the generation who already lived through that heartbreaking failure.”
Every part of me focused on her words as anger hummed in my chest. “And you? Do you want to make war?”
“Very few men don’t want to make war, while nearly every woman wants to end it. Most would believe the former causes the most bloodshed,” she said, running a finger over the ruby petal. “They’d be wrong. The latter is always the bloodiest, and always requires a great sacrifice. But, sometimes, no matter how many measures one takes, or how much they are willing to compromise, war cannot always be prevented.”
I stilled—every part of me going quiet. What she said was so similar to the voice—that strange, smoky voice—I had heard when we neared the city limits of Saion’s Cove. It had to be a coincidence because that voice had not been hers. “But what measures has Atlantia taken to compromise since the end of the last war?”
“Some would say allowing Solis to exist would be the greatest compromise we ever offered,” she returned.
“I would say that doesn’t sound like a compromise at all,” I stated. “It sounds like Atlantia basically closed their borders and spent centuries preparing for war, biding their time instead of trying to negotiate with Solis, despite the failures of the past. Meanwhile, the Ascended continued to grow, to kill, and to terrorize. So, no, that doesn’t sound like a compromise. It sounds like complicity to me. And trust me, I would know since I was complicit for years. The only difference is that I didn’t know the truth—and
that is a poor excuse when all I had to do was open my eyes to what was really happening. However, those within Atlantia always knew the truth and did nothing, allowing the Ascended to take root.”
A sense of wariness radiated from Kieran as Queen Eloana left the blossom alone and looked at me. But if my words angered or upset the Queen, I truly did not care at the moment. She had basically just told me that my brother would be killed—that it didn’t matter if any of the Ascended were capable of change. And yes, I had my doubts, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t. And the innocent people who would die were sure as hell worth at least trying.
“Brave,” the Queen murmured. “You are very brave.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if it’s bravery or not. I know that Atlantia’s involvement would’ve been complicated, but neither Casteel nor I want war.”
“But you said—”
“I said I wanted to see the Ascended destroyed,” I cut in. “And I do. I want to see the Blood Crown destroyed, but that does not mean I want an all-out war. I may not have been alive during the last war, but I know the innocent will suffer the most—the people of Solis and the Atlantians. Maybe those within Atlantia cannot feel sympathy for those in Solis, but they are not the enemy here. They are also victims.”
“Part of what you said is correct. We have been biding our time,” she said after a pause of silence. “But what you are wrong about is our lack of empathy toward the people of Solis. We know that they are victims. At least, the vast majority of us know that.”
“I hope that is true.” “But?”
I said nothing.
One side of her lips curled up. “You haven’t had the greatest experiences with the people of Atlantia. I can’t blame you for doubting that.”
That did factor into my disbelief, but it wasn’t the only reason. “If the Atlantians are sympathetic to the people of Solis, then they should be willing to try to prevent war.”
“But again, the ones who make that decision are those who have lived through the last war or grew up in its aftermath. Their thirst for retribution
is as strong as an Ascended’s hunger for blood,” she countered, and once more, her word choice snagged my attention.
“What are you really saying to me, Your Majesty?” I asked.
“Call me Eloana,” she offered, and I blinked, not exactly understanding at what point in our conversation we’d gone from formal titles to intimate names. “What if your ultimatum fails?”
The fact that she didn’t answer my question didn’t go unnoticed. “Then, like you said, sometimes war cannot be prevented.” A chill that was hard to ignore swept over me as I said those words. “But at least we tried. We didn’t just take our armies into Solis and set the kingdom on fire.”
“And that’s what you think we will do?” “Isn’t it?”
“We want to be able to make use of those lands, Penellaphe. We do not want a dozen more Wastelands on our hands,” she pointed out. “But we would burn Carsodonia. Cut the head off the snake. It is the only way.”
I stared at her, aghast. “Millions of people live in Carsodonia.”
“And millions could die,” she agreed, exhaling softly. I felt a spike of anguish, one I didn’t think had anything to do with Malik. “I don’t want that. Neither does Valyn. Gods know we have both seen enough blood— spilled enough of it. But we have decided, as have the Elders, to go to war. It is done,” she advised. My heart thumped heavily in my chest. I hadn’t expected to hear this today. I could sense that Kieran hadn’t either. His shock was just as potent as mine as Eloana’s jaw clenched and then relaxed. “Only the King and Queen can stop war from happening now.”
“Then stop it,” I exclaimed.
Slowly, she turned her head to me, and the next breath I took hitched in my throat. I knew what she was saying without vocalizing the words—I knew what she meant when she continued saying that her generation wouldn’t give the Ascended the chance to negotiate—that neither she nor King Valyn could do that again.
Whereas Casteel and I could.
Her focus returned to the roses. “I love my kingdom almost as much as I love my sons and my husband. I love each and every Atlantian, no matter how much Atlantian blood courses through their veins. I would do anything to keep my people safe, healthy, and whole. I know what war will do to them, as does Valyn. I also know that war is not the only thing my people have to fear or worry about. A different kind of battle will be brewing soon
within the Pillars of Atlantia, between those who cannot trust a stranger ruling over them and those who see you as the rightful Queen—the only Queen.”
My hands clenched in my lap once more.
“It wouldn’t matter if you absconded. The divisiveness will be as destructive as war, and it will only serve to weaken Atlantia,” she continued, confirming what Casteel had said and then proving just how well she knew her son. “Casteel loves as fiercely as his father and I do, and given what little I know of your past, he will not force this choice onto you. I also know what that means. I could potentially lose both of my sons.”
My heart twisted sharply in my chest.
“And I do not bring this up for you to carry that burden. From what I can tell, you already carry enough. I have a feeling if you were asked to take the Crown today, you would refuse.”
I stared at her. “Would you want me to accept it?” “I want what is best for my kingdom.”
I almost laughed again. “And you think that’s me? I’m not even nineteen. I barely know who I am or understand what I am. And I don’t know a single thing about ruling a kingdom.”
“What I think will be best for my kingdom is my son and you.” Amber eyes met mine. “Yes, you are young, but so was I when I became Queen. And when mortals ruled the lands before our kingdoms existed, there were Kings and Queens younger than you. You’re a deity, descended from the King of Gods. That is who you are now, and no rules prevent you from discovering who you will become while you rule.”
She made it sound so simple, and yet she had to know it wasn’t.
“I also have to disagree with you saying that you know nothing about ruling a kingdom,” she continued. “You have proven that is not the case in just this conversation with me.”
“Just because I don’t want to make war doesn’t mean I am fit to rule.” “Because you are willing to think of the people, speak your mind, and
do what is necessary even if it kills a tender part of you, means you are fit enough to wear the crown,” she returned. “Ruling a kingdom can be learned.”
All I could do was stare at her. I was willing to consider taking the Crown, but I hadn’t expected her to support it.
“Why do you not want to be Queen?” she asked.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just never considered such a thing.” I’m afraid. But I didn’t say that. Sharing that with Casteel was one thing. “It’s not what I chose.”
“I’m going to be blunt once more,” she advised, and I wondered when she’d stopped. “I am sorry for everything that was forced upon you in your life. I can imagine that your need for freedom and to have control over your life is as great as the need many have for retribution. But I honestly do not care.”
Oh. Okay. That was really blunt.
“That may sound cruel, but many have had horrific things forced upon them throughout their lives—their freedoms, their choices, and their lives unfairly stripped away from them. Their tragedies are no greater than yours, and yours is no greater than theirs. I am empathetic to what you have suffered, but you are a descendant of a god, and because of what you have experienced in your short life, you of all people can wear the weight of a crown.” She didn’t mince words. Not once. “But if you do decide to take what is yours by birthright, then all I ask is that you do it for the right reasons.”
It took me a moment to gather enough of my wits to respond. “What do you consider to be the right reasons?”’
“I don’t want you to take the Crown just to find my son or your brother. I don’t want you to take the Crown just so you can save lives or even stop the Ascended,” she said. I was thoroughly confused now since they all seemed like excellent reasons to take the Crown. “I want you to take the Crown because you love Atlantia, because you love her people and her land. I want you to love Atlantia as much as Casteel does, as much as his father and I do. That is what I want.”
I leaned back, a little surprised that I didn’t fall off the bench.
“If you don’t love Atlantia now, I don’t blame you. Like I said, you haven’t had the greatest of experiences, and I fear that you will not have the time to fall in love before you must make your choice.” Concern broke through the grief. She was worried about this—gravely so.
I felt like my heart was beating too fast. “How long do I have?” “Days, maybe. A little over a week, if you’re lucky.”
“If I’m lucky?” I laughed, and it sounded as dry as bones. Casteel had insinuated that we didn’t have long. But days?
“News of your arrival and who you are has already reached the capital. The Elders know. There are questions and concerns. I’m sure some doubt your heritage, but after yesterday—after what you did for that little girl— that will change,” she told me, and I tensed. Her eyes narrowed. “Do you regret what you did? Because of what it confirms?”
“Gods, no,” I asserted. “I will never regret using my gifts to help someone. The Ascended wouldn’t allow me to use them, giving me excuses, but I now know why they didn’t want me to use my abilities. What I could do revealed too much. I hated it—hated being unable to help someone when I could.”
“But did you? Did you find ways to help people without being caught?”
I nodded. “I did. If I could find a way, I helped people—eased their pain. Most never knew what was happening.”
Approval drifted through her, reminding me of buttery cakes, and a quick smile appeared. “We cannot leave the people of Atlantia hanging in limbo for too long.”
“In other words, the plans to enter Solis with your armies will happen in a few days?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Unless…” Unless Casteel and I stopped it.
Good gods.
“I know you got to see a little of Atlantia yesterday, but you didn’t meet nearly enough people. You don’t have long, but you can leave today for Evaemon. You’d arrive tomorrow morning and could then take as many days as we have to explore what you can of Atlantia. To talk to the people. Hear their voices. See them with your eyes. Learn that not all of them would’ve taken part in what happened at the Chambers or would stand by Alastir and the Unseen.” She reached over, placing her hand over mine. “You don’t have much time, but you can take what you do have to give the people of Atlantia the chance you are willing to give our enemies. My son’s plans and yours can wait a few days, can they not?”
Casteel was definitely his mother’s son.
I looked at the gently swaying spikes of purple and blue flowers. I wanted to see more of Atlantia, and not just because I was curious to see the capital. I needed to because I had a choice to make—one I’d never planned
on, but one I had to come to terms with sooner rather than later. I swallowed, turning back to the Queen.
Before I could speak, the sound of footsteps reached us. We both turned to the path we’d followed and stood. My hand drifted to the hem of my tunic as Kieran stepped out from the tall cones of blossoms, only a few feet from me.
“It’s Casteel and his father,” he told me.
“Well,” the Queen said, smoothing her hands over the waist of her dress, “I doubt they grew bored enough to interrupt us.”
Neither did I.
A moment later, they rounded the corner, the sun turning Casteel’s hair a blue-black. A heavy, thick feeling followed by a tart taste reached me. He was concerned. And conflicted.
It was not just him and his father who came down the cobbled pathway. A tall, striking figure was behind them, her skin the beautiful shade of night-blooming roses and thin, narrow braids hanging to her waist.
Vonetta.
Confusion rose as I glanced at her brother. He appeared just as surprised as I was by her presence. She had remained in Spessa’s End to help protect and build the city, only planning to return when her mother gave birth.
My gaze shot back to Casteel. Muscles tensing with awareness, I drew in a deep breath. Visions of the Duchess’s gifts filled my mind, along with the fires they’d set at Pompay. “What happened?”
“A convoy of Ascended has arrived at Spessa’s End,” he answered.
“Does it still stand?” I asked, fighting back the horror his response triggered.
He nodded, his eyes locked with mine. “They have not attacked. They wait,” he said as a different kind of dread filled me. “For us. They have requested an audience.”
“Is that so?” His mother’s hands lowered to her sides as she let out a short, harsh laugh. “A random Ascended thinks they have the right to ask for such a thing?”
“It wasn’t a random Ascended,” Vonetta spoke as she stepped forward. Casteel’s jaw flexed. Unease coated her skin, and I knew that whatever she was about to say, she didn’t want to. “He claims to be your brother. Ian Balfour.”
