The relentless throbbing in my left hand had all but gone away, replaced by the gnawing ache that started in my gut and spread to my chest.
Tilting my head back, I managed a dry, scratchy-as-hell swallow and opened my eyes to the gloom of the cell. The flickering candles did very little to cast light, but it still caused my eyes to ache.
And that was a bad sign. I needed… I had to feed.
I shouldn’t. Not this soon after feeding from Poppy. That hadn’t been too long ago, had it? We’d been on the ship, on the way to Oak Ambler. After I’d feasted on all that liquid heat between her pretty thighs as she read from Miss Willa’s diary.
Damn. I loved that fucking book.
One side of my lips curled up. I could still hear her reading from the journal, her voice becoming breathier with each sentence, every lick. I could still see the flush in her cheeks, deepening with each paragraph, every wet kiss. The feeding had come after that when I’d tugged that luscious ass of hers to the edge of the desk, and my dick and fangs had sunk deep into soft, sweetly scented flesh, reminding me of a light mist of jasmine. Her blood…
Gods, nothing tasted like it—nothing.
I should’ve known the first time I tasted her that she was more than part Atlantian. The taste of her had been strong even then, too potent for someone only of Atlantian descent. But as she came into her power, especially after her Ascension? Her blood was a sultry aphrodisiac and produced a high stronger than any drug one could crush into a powder and smoke. My stare fixed on the candles, tracking the melting wax.
Her blood was pure power—the kind I instinctually knew I needed to be careful with. Because the taste of her, the way it made me feel, it could become the kind of addiction I would drown in.
The roof of my mouth throbbed as my mouth dried more. I could almost taste her now—ancient and earthy, thick and decadent.
Groaning, I bit out a harsh curse as I shifted. I needed to stop thinking about Poppy’s blood. And I really needed to stop thinking about how she tasted between her thighs. A hard cock was so not appreciated at the moment.
How much time had passed? A couple of weeks? Close to a month? More? Time neither existed nor let up in the darkened cell, both an enemy and a savior. But so far, it hadn’t been that bad. Last time, I may have escaped with all my limbs and appendages intact, but that was about all.
But what was a killer was the damp, dark quiet and the worry. The fear. Not for me. But for her. Last time, there had been Shea. And I had worried about her because I cared. I’d worried for my family then. But this was different. Poppy was out there, at war, and the need to have her back, to protect her even though she needed no protection, raked at my flesh with sharp, taunting nails.
Dull pain settled into my brow and temples as I squinted, letting my head roll away from the candlelight. I could go months without feeding if necessary. It was a risk to push it that long, but I could. Though, normally, I was actually eating enough to keep my energy levels up and didn’t have my blood siphoned into small vials routinely.
Having the finger chopped off sure hadn’t helped. I doubted the Craven bite did either.
I looked down at the bloodstained gauze wrapped around my hand and wondered if the Blood Crown had given up on using golden chalices. That was what they’d used to collect my blood before. I wiggled my fingers carefully. One of the Handmaidens had oh-so-kindly applied the bandage while that golden Rev named Callum had made sure I allowed it. Not that I would’ve stopped her. The damn stump of a finger bled like a stuck pig. Stains still streaked my chest and covered the thighs of my breeches. And every so often, fresh blood spread across the once-white and now-rust- colored wrappings, reminding me that the severed skin hadn’t healed itself.
I wasn’t as special as a Rev, who would’ve apparently grown the damn finger back. But the skin should’ve closed over the wound by now, at least.
Yet more proof that I needed to feed.
My gaze flicked to the metal hip bath that had been brought in at some point today by a small legion of Handmaidens. The damn thing had looked heavy as hell. They had filled it with steaming, hot water that had long since cooled. The Rev Callum had done something to lengthen the chain, allowing me to reach the tub and bathe.
Fuck that.
I knew better than to make use of it, even though I was beyond filthy. The bath was one of two things: a reward or a prelude to punishment. And since I hadn’t done a damn thing to earn it, that left option two. The last time they’d offered me baths was when the Blood Queen’s friends wanted to play with something fresh and clean. Something that didn’t resemble a dirty, chained animal.
So, I would sit in my filth. Gladly.
I lowered my hand to my lap. The breeches were stiff with dried blood. Staring at my hand, seeing the dirtied bandages and what they meant, my heart thudded. Anger trenched itself deep, turning my cold skin feverish. I slammed my bare foot down on the damp, uneven stone. The act served no purpose other than to cause the shadowstone shackles to tighten and for my foot to throb.
I didn’t give a fuck about the finger. My entire hand could be gone for all I cared. It was the ring that was now gone that bothered me. It was what I knew that bitch had done with it and the finger.
She’d sent it to Poppy.
My right hand closed into a fist as my lips peeled back over my fangs. I would rip out her entrails and feed them to her because I couldn’t…
Pressing my head back against the wall, I shut my eyes. Neither did anything to erase the knowledge that Poppy must have seen that. She had to know what that bitch had done, and there was nothing—absolutely, fucking nothing—I could do about it.
But she has Kieran. He would be there for her. And she would be there for him. Knowing that made it a little easier to breathe. To let go of some of the rigid tension in my body. They had each other, no matter what.
Slowly, I peeled back the edge of the soiled gauze, just enough to reveal the faintly shimmering golden swirl across my palm. I exhaled roughly at the sight—at what it meant.
She lived.
I lived.
The sudden click of heels echoed through the dark hall outside the cell. Alert, I let go of the gauze and looked to the rounded entryway. The sound was strange. No one, not even the free-roaming Craven, made that much noise. The Handmaidens were like silent little worker bees. Isbitch’s steps were much lighter, only audible when she was right near the cell. The damn golden Rev was generally as quiet as a wraith. This sounded like a barrat in heels—a barrat in heels that hummed—very poorly.
What the…?
A moment later, she swept into the cell, the clacking of her shoes almost overpowering whatever she was trying to hum. Or maybe she was actually groaning because the sound she made carried no tune. She held a lantern— well, she swung a lantern much like a child would, sending light dancing across the walls.
I recognized her immediately, even though I’d seen her only once, and reddish-black paint shaped like wings had covered her cheeks and most of her forehead as it did now. It was her height. She was shorter than the rest, and that stood out to me because I’d seen how easily she’d handled Delano, a wolven who was at least a foot and a half—if not more—taller than her in his mortal form. It was also her scent. Not the rotten blood smell I picked up from her, but something sweeter. It was familiar to me. I had even thought that when we’d been in Oak Ambler.
It was the Rev who had been at Castle Redrock. No one else followed her now. No Handmaidens. No Golden Boy. No Queen Bitch.
“Hello!” she chirped, giving me a rather jaunty wave as she plopped the lantern on a stone ledge halfway up the wall. Yellow light slowly beat back the shadows in the cell and drifted over the mess of tangled, inky black curls falling over her shoulders.
She turned to me, clasping her hands together. Her arms were bare, and I saw marks there—strange shapes that had to be drawn or inked onto her skin and not in her skin. “You don’t look so well.”
“And you can’t hum for shit,” I replied.
The Handmaiden stuck out her lower lip, pouting. “That was rude.” “I would apologize, but…”
“You don’t care. It’s okay. Don’t worry. You’re totally forgiven.” She came forward, her steps far quieter now. My eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t care either if I was chained to a wall in an underground cell, all alone and
—” She crouched before me, the sides of her gown parting to reveal a long, lethal dagger strapped to one thigh and a shorter dagger sheathed to the shaft of her boot. Both blades were black. Shadowstone. She gave the air a dainty sniff. “Stinky. You smell like rot. And not the fun kind that usually accompanies the Craven.” She paused. “Or a night of bad life choices.”
I stared at her.
Her gaze dropped to my bandaged hand. “I think you have an infection.”
I probably did, but was it the hand or the Craven bite? “So?”
“So?” Her eyes widened behind the painted mask, causing the white to stand out starkly. “I thought you Atlantians didn’t suffer from such mortal ailments.”
“Do you expect me to believe that you haven’t been around injured Atlantians before?” I held her stare. “That I’m the first you’ve seen here?”
“You’re not the first, but I don’t normally go near the Queen’s pets.”
My lips peeled back against my fangs. “I may be chained, but I am no pet.”
The wing on the left side of her face rose as she lifted a brow. “I suppose not when you make such growly sounds. If so, you’d be the kind of pet one would need to put down.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
She laughed—and I stiffened. Her laugh. It sounded… “You are so suspicious. That’s not why I’m here,” she said, and I blinked, shaking my head. “Honestly, I’m kind of bored. And I made a promise.” The Handmaiden rose swiftly, glancing at the hip bath. “If you think you’re not in need of a bath, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you are.”
“I have no plans to make use of that.” “Whatever. It’s your life. Your stench.” “What kind of promise did you make?”
“An annoying one.” The Handmaiden went to the other side of the hip bath and then lowered herself to her knees. She tapped her fingers over the surface of the water, creating small waves. “Though bathing may help with that wound of yours.”
When I didn’t answer, she tapped the water some more as she eyed me with those pale, barely blue eyes. “Is it because you need to feed?”
Could I feed off Revs? I didn’t know if it would be the equivalent of feeding off a mortal. Hell, I wasn’t sure if they were dead or alive. Or really
what the fuck they were.
Her head tilted to the side, sending a mess of hair tumbling over an arm. “I bet that’s it. Your brother gets cranky when he needs to feed.”
Everything in me zeroed in on her. “Where is my brother?”
“Here. There. Probably everywhere instead of where he’s supposed to be.”
My jaw clenched because that sounded like the Malik I knew, but I was beginning to think that the process of becoming a Rev addled the brain and was why the other Handmaidens didn’t speak. What was coming out of her mouth now was pure nonsense. “You must be around him a lot to know when he needs to feed.”
Her head straightened. “Not really.”
“Then that would be a strange thing to notice.”
“I’m just observant.” Those eyes… They were so dull, nearly lifeless. Fucking eerie to look upon for too long. “And I’m also not trying to get him killed, which would happen if I was around him a lot.”
“Are Handmaidens not allowed to spend time with those of the opposite sex?”
She let out a not so delicate snort. “Handmaidens are allowed to fraternize with any members of any sex they see fit.”
“Then is it because your Queen wants Malik all to herself?” My stomach churned.
“She has no interest in him.” Her expression hadn’t changed, but I noticed that she gripped the edges of the tub. Interesting. “Not in a long time.”
I didn’t believe that for one second.
The Handmaiden dipped her arm into the water and began scrubbing at her skin. The odd symbols were quick to disappear. She moved on to the other side.
“Did you know these tunnels and chambers have been here for hundreds and hundreds of years?” Rising from the tub, her fingers dripped water as she walked across the chamber. “They existed when the gods walked among men. Of course, they’ve been expanded, added to, and now travel the length of the city, but these walls…” She placed her palm against the damp stone. “These walls are ancient, and only a few have ever been allowed inside them.”
I knew about the chambers underground beneath the Ascended’s homes, but not any tunnels that traveled the length of the city. “I don’t give a fuck about these walls.”
“You should.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “Gods walked these tunnels. As did the Primals. They walked other tunnels in other cities, connecting doorways and creating magical wards made of Primal essence that could keep things out—or in.”
I watched her run her palm over the uneven stone, wondering exactly what in the hell she was talking about.
“A god born a mortal, carrying the blood of the Primal of Life and the Primal of Death upon Ascension was foretold,” the Handmaiden whispered. “Or so they say—and they say a lot. Either way, she broke those Primal wards when she Ascended into her godhood.”
It was clear that she was speaking about Poppy.
She rested her cheek against the wall. “And anything that was kept in can now get out.” Eyes not so dull met mine. “Two questions remain. When and where. Not even he knows.”
I didn’t even know what to say to any of that, but I caught how her lip curled when she said he.
“Who?”
“Callum.”
“The golden boy Rev?”
Her laugh was throatier, more real, and strangely familiar. “He’s old.
Real old. Be careful of that one.”
“Fuck him.” Impatient, I leaned forward—farther than usual because of the loosened chains. “What in the hell are you rambling on about? And what does it have to do with Poppy’s Ascension?”
“I do ramble, don’t I? Ian said Penellaphe rambles.” She turned sharply, facing me as she leaned against the wall. “Is that true?”
My eyes narrowed. “Why? Why do you want to know that?” Her shoulder lifted. “Just curious.”
“Odd thing to be curious about.”
“Is it true?” she persisted. “Does she ramble, too?”
I unlocked my jaw. “Her thoughts tend to wander about…out loud.
Frequently and sometimes randomly.”
The corners of her lips turned up as she toyed with an edge of stone by her hip. “I…I didn’t know the Queen would do that to Ian. I—” Her jaw
tightened. “I didn’t expect that.”
I believed her. Only because the look of shock on her face and on my brother’s when that bitch had ordered Ian killed couldn’t have been fabricated. “I would tell you that I would kill Isbeth for that, but my Queen is a god. She will kill her.”
Her fingers stilled on the stone.
“Yeah, I figured that out in Oak Ambler,” I told her. “She’s going to kill that bitch for sure.”
The faint smile returned, surprising me, and I didn’t think anything could still surprise me. “I saw her afterward. Penellaphe.”
My breathing. My heart… Stopped.
“I stayed behind, figuring she’d be angry upon waking. And she was. She came at Oak Ambler, and she is powerful. For a moment, I thought she was going to destroy the Rise and the entire city.” She continued rubbing her fingers over the sharp edge of a stone. “But she stopped. Maybe she’s not like her mother.”
“She’s not,” I snarled. “There’s no one like her.”
“You’re actually right when you say that.” Her gaze flicked to me. “But you don’t really know her. I doubt she even knows herself.” Her chin dipped, and her stare chilled my skin. “She carries the blood of the Primal of Life and the Primal of Death.”
“I know. She knows she’s descended from Nyktos—”
“If you think that Granddaddy is the true Primal of Life and the true
Primal of Death, then you know nothing.”
My eyes narrowed. What was she up to? Nyktos was the true Primal of Life. The gods Rhain and Rhahar oversaw the dead, but Nyktos was the Primal. The King of Gods. That meant he was the true Primal of Death, too. “Then educate me.”
“I’m not that bored.” She pushed off the wall. “Plus, I have things to do. People to see. Kill. Whatever. I did as I promised.” Turning, she started for the entrance but stopped. She looked down. “The Queen has her plans.”
“The whole remaking the realms bullshit?”
“To remake something, one must first destroy it.”
A cold wind hit the length of my spine. “The Blood Queen is not that powerful.”
“She may not be.” The Handmaiden’s back was unnaturally stiff. “But she knew how to bring to life something that was.”
 |
Poppy
The conversation around me was nothing more than a hum as I sat in the receiving chamber. The others clustered around Hisa Fa’Mar, one of the Crown Guard’s commanders, and the map of Oak Ambler she’d been working on.
Word of the remaining armies’ advancement had come shortly after we returned to Cauldra Manor—in the form of nineteen draken cresting the Pinelands.
There had been a lot more running about and screaming from the locals. They’d only calmed when the draken had landed around Cauldra and in the pines surrounding the manor, doing nothing more than watching the mortals scurry about.
I couldn’t help but wonder what the draken thought of the reaction. Had it been like that when they were awake before? Or had they been accepted? Then again, had they only remained in Iliseeum? I hadn’t thought to ask Reaver.
Their arrival had momentarily distracted me from what I carried in the pocket of my sweater coat. The draken’s arrival meant we could expect Valyn and the remaining armies tomorrow.
I exhaled long and slow. We were right on schedule. The day after tomorrow, we would take Oak Ambler, and then I would leave for Carsodonia.
For Casteel.
I’d met with Vonetta after the draken’s chaotic arrival to speak about the Crown Regent position. She accepted, although she wasn’t entirely happy about the idea of not joining Kieran and me. Still, I thought she looked forward to bossing some of the Atlantians around, especially a certain auburn-haired one, who would also remain with her. I’d also spoken with Reaver about going to the capital. He’d been in his draken form and had nodded his large, horned head.
Vonetta and Naill were not among us now. They, along with Emil, had gone out into the pines to take care of what had been in that wooden box. But before that, we’d spent hours hashing out what was to come after seizing Oak Ambler.
We’d decided that moving with any type of large group would draw too much attention. Conversation grew…tense when I announced that only Kieran and Reaver would be traveling with me. None of the others were thrilled about that, each demanding they accompany us. But what we’d planned was too risky.
Isbeth wanted me alive.
That desire didn’t extend to anyone else, and I already wasn’t happy about endangering Reaver and Kieran. I wouldn’t budge on this.
And being that I was Queen, I didn’t have to.
Besides, I wanted Vonetta to have all the support possible in case she got any pushback. And given that Aylard wasn’t part of any of these conversations, that was likely. She would have Naill and Delano, Emil and Perry, along with Hisa and the wolven, to support her. What she would be doing was just as important as what I would be embarking on.
What we all did agree on was that it was seriously unlikely that the Queen would hold Casteel in the same location as before. Isbeth was smarter than that.
Finding him would be one of the most difficult parts of our plan. Wayfair Castle itself was extraordinarily large, with similar underground chambers as Redrock. It was where I’d seen…my father when I was younger. But I didn’t think Casteel would be held there, either. Explaining away what appeared to be a cave cat to a wandering noble or a young girl like me was easier than explaining a captive Atlantian King.
Then there was the Wayfair land with its gardens and grottos, sprawling estates, and protected forests. Not to mention the city itself, with its endless places to hide someone.
It would be like searching for a ghost.
Feeling the outline of the ring inside the pocket, I looked up to the hall.
All that you and those who follow will find here is death.
My fingers stilled as the Duke’s words resurfaced. “Excuse me,” I murmured, rising.
Both Kieran and Delano glanced over at me, but neither made any moves to follow. I knew one would eventually, though. I walked out into the
drafty, dim hall and to the door at the other end of the manor.
I entered the small sitting area of the suite and into the bedchamber, sectioned off by heavy drapes. Moving to the small table, I saw the card from the box. I hadn’t read it yet.
I did now.
Beloved Daughter,
It pains me to know that this gift will bring you heartache. For that, I am deeply sorry, but you left me no choice. What’s done is done. He lives. Do not forget that while we look to the many tomorrows together but apart. The future of the kingdoms and that of the True Crown of the Realms depends on us.
Love, Mother
The words didn’t change, no matter how many times I read them. I didn’t gain any sudden understanding of how she could do something like this and then apologize. Or how she could carry out such terrible deeds as if she had no control over them. She’d blamed me for Ian’s death. And now, she blamed me for her hurting Casteel? I’d provoked her. I’d guided her hand. But it was still her hand.
Mother.
I couldn’t believe she’d signed it that way.
Footsteps neared, and I looked up to see Vonetta sweeping the curtain that divided the chambers aside.
“Kieran said you were probably here,” she said, letting the heavy cloth drift back into place. “It’s been taken care of. We…burned it.”
I inhaled through the sting. “Thank you.”
“I wish you were thanking me for something else.” “Me, too,” I said.
“Of course.” Vonetta peered over my shoulder to look at the note. “There is something majorly wrong with that woman.”
“I said the same earlier.”
“It makes you wonder if she’s always been like this. And if so, what in the hell did Malec see in her?”
“I don’t know if she was always like this or if losing Malec and their son did this to her.” I thought of what Reaver had said earlier. “I think it’s
possible that Malec was attracted to that.”
“He seemed like a real gem,” she replied, and a wry grin tugged at my lips. “I wanted to ask how you’re dealing with…well, with everything related to her being your mother. But it’s always seemed like a stupid question. You know? Like I know you’re not everything is fine when it comes to her.”
“It’s not a stupid question.”
“Really?” Two arched brows rose as she leaned against the wall.
I nodded. “To be honest, I don’t know how I’m doing when it comes to her. All I know is that I…I don’t think of her as my mother. Because she wasn’t.” I glanced down at the card. “I used to struggle with who she was to me and the monster she was to Casteel and everyone else. I don’t anymore. Not after Ian.” My chest tightened, and I swallowed. “You talked to him when he came to Spessa’s End?”
“Yeah.” Vonetta pressed her lips together. Several moments passed. “I haven’t met a ton of Ascended. I can count the number I have on two hands. But he was nothing like I expected. He was polite—and not the fake kind. He was.…warm, even if his skin wasn’t. Does that make sense?”
Inhaling a shaky breath, I nodded.
“And he was kind of flirty, but not in a creepy way.” A small smile appeared briefly. “When he came to Spessa’s End, looking for you, the Guardians didn’t want to let him leave, believing he was a threat. I watched over him, and he spent the time telling me a story about Stygian Bay and the Temples of Eternity—how many of the Temples in Solis had been around since the gods walked the realm. They weren’t just places of worship but also places of profound power, able to neutralize gods. He also said they were gateways to Iliseeum, where gods ferried mortals through.” She picked up a braid, running it between her fingers. “Which I don’t think is remotely true. But what he said was interesting. He had a way of telling the story where you couldn’t help but get invested in it. I mean, he had me totally hooked on this tale about a girl picking flowers who had been startled by a god, falling to her death from some cliff. Anyway, Ian told me that he used to tell you stories, too, when you were lonely or upset…or when he was bored—which he claimed was often.”
I knew that story. Sotoria and the Cliffs of Sorrow. Ian had shared it with me in one of the letters he’d written after his Ascension. “He could spin tales at the drop of a hat. Take something common like an old, dull
sword and transform it into one once wielded by the first mortal king.” My laugh trembled. “He had the wildest imagination.” I lifted my gaze to the gently rippling curtains over the windows. “I wonder if Coralena and Leo were his parents. But since she was a Revenant, I don’t even know if she could have children. Hell, I’m not sure…” I opened my mouth, closed it, and tried again. “I don’t know if my father was willing. If they put him in that cage before or after me.”
Vonetta’s disgust reached me, mirroring mine. “We will find him, too.” “We will.” With my mind shifting from Ian to my father to…to Casteel,
I summoned the eather, just a tiny spark that took little energy, then let it flick from my fingertips. There were no shadows in the silvery glow as it washed over the note. I let what remained of the card, nothing more than ash, fall from my fingers. “And we will make sure she cannot hurt anyone else.”
