Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12

Early afternoon, the following day, I sat in the airy, sun-drenched atrium with Tawny and not one but two Ladies in Wait, wondering how I’d ended up in this situation.

My trips outside my chambers were always well timed, especially when I came to the atrium, so no one but me would be in the room. When I arrived some thirty minutes ago, it was empty as usual.

That had changed within minutes of sitting down and picking at the tiny sandwiches Tawny had confiscated from another room. Loren and Dafina had arrived, and while I sat as I’d been groomed to do—hands clasped lightly in my lap, ankles crossed, and feet tucked behind the ivory hem of my gown—I shouldn’t be in the room.

Not while the Ladies in Wait were present since they’d cozied up to the table Tawny and I had sat at. The situation could easily be construed as me interacting with them, which was one of the many things expressly forbidden by the Priests and Priestesses. Interaction was, in their words, too familiar.

I wasn’t interacting, though. I imagined I was the picture of well-bred serenity. Or I could easily be mistaken for one of the statues of the veiled Maidens. I may appear calm on the outside, but internally, I was nothing more than an exhausted, frazzled ball of nerves. Some of it had to do with the lack of any restful sleep the night prior—well, to be honest, for the last several days. It was also partly due to the fact that I knew I was going to be blamed for Dafina’s and Loren’s presence. I didn’t even know if I was allowed to be in the atrium. It had never been an issue before, and no one had ever spoken to me about it. However, no one other than a stray servant or guard had ever shown up in the atrium while I’d been here before. They weren’t the only reasons I was a mess of anxious, restless energy, though.

The primary cause stood catty-corner from where I sat, hand braced on the hilt of his sword, amber-colored eyes constantly alert.

Hawke.

It was strange to glance over and see him standing there. And it wasn’t just because it was usually Rylan who watched over these afternoon brunches Tawny and I sometimes took in the atrium. It was how different it was with Hawke being here. Normally, Rylan had stared out into the garden or spent the majority of the time speaking with one of the other Royal Guards who were nearby as he lingered just inside the entrance. Not Hawke. He found the one area in the room where he had a view of the entire brightly lit space and the gardens outside the atrium.

Luckily, the windows didn’t face the roses.

Unluckily, I often found myself staring at the fountain of the veiled Maiden.

In just one day, it had become almost painfully evident how lax Rylan had gotten in terms of security. Granted, there hadn’t been an attempt before, but he had softened. I hated even acknowledging that. It felt like a betrayal to do so, but that wasn’t the only thing that made this brunch so very different from the ones before.

Another thing that made it so different was the appearance of the two Ladies in Wait. I suspected that this was the first time they’d even been in the atrium since they’d arrived at Castle Teerman after their Rites.

Dafina, a second daughter of a rich merchant, fluttered a silk, lilac-hued folding fan as if she were attempting to end the life of an insect only she could see. While late-morning sun poured in through the windows, the atrium was still cool, and I doubted Dafina had grown overheated between eating cucumber sandwiches and sipping tea.

Beside her, Loren, the second daughter of a successful trader, had all but given up on sewing the tiny crystals onto her mask that was to be worn during the upcoming Rite, and had fully committed herself to watching every move the dark-haired Royal Guard made. I was confident she knew just how many breaths Hawke took in a minute.

Deep down, I knew why I hadn’t risen and left the room like I was supposed to, like I knew Tawny waited for me to do. I understood why I was so willing to risk censure for simply sitting and minding my own business.

I was enthralled by the antics of the two Ladies in Wait.

Loren had already done several things to catch Hawke’s attention. She’d dropped her pouch of crystals—which Hawke had gallantly assisted her in retrieving—while she pretended to be engrossed with a blue-winged bird hopping along the branches of a tree close to the windows. That had provoked Dafina to feign a faint, due to what, I had no idea. Somehow, the neckline of her blue gown had slipped so far, I wondered how she managed not to fall out of it.

I couldn’t fall out of my dress if it was on fire.

My gown was all flowing sleeves, tiny beads, and a bodice that nearly reached my neck. The material was far too thin and delicate for me to sheathe the dagger to my thigh. As soon as I could change into something else, the blade would be back where it belonged.

Ever the gentleman, Hawke had escorted Dafina to the chaise and had brought her a glass of mint water. Not to be outdone, Loren then swooned from a sudden, inexplicable headache that she’d quickly recovered from once Hawke had brandished a smile, the one that showed the dimple in his right cheek.

There’d been no headache, just as there’d been no faint. I’d opened up my senses out of curiosity and felt no pain or anguish from either of them other than a thread of sadness. I thought that it might be due to Malessa’s death, even though neither spoke of her.

Dafina sent her a meaningful look. “You know the kind, where men and women often go to play cards and other games.”

Tawny’s brows lifted. “You’re talking about the Red Pearl?”

I almost laughed at Dafina’s attempt to shield me from the knowledge of such a place. I wondered what she’d do if she knew I’d been there.

Tawny knew exactly what Hawke did at the Red Pearl.

I wanted to kick her…like a Maiden, of course.

I was going to replace the sugars Tawny loved to dump into her coffee with coarse salt.

She knew I wouldn’t chime in, that I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to speak to the Ladies, and I still hadn’t spoken to Hawke or around him. And other than Hawke asking if I wished to do anything after supper last night, to which I had shaken my head no, he hadn’t spoken to me either.

Like before, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

Tawny choked on her tea, and behind the veil, my eyes rolled.

She was.

Miss Willa Colyns was a woman who’d lived in Masadonia some two hundred years ago. She’d apparently had a very…active love life. Miss Colyns had detailed her rather scandalous affairs quite explicitly in her journal, and it had been filed away in the city Atheneum as some sort of historical account. I made a mental note to ask Tawny to retrieve that journal for me.

I did know what that meant.

Because of him.

My gaze drifted to where Hawke stood. The black breeches and tunic molded to his body like a second skin, and I couldn’t blame Dafina or Loren for how their gazes seemed to find their way back to him every couple of minutes. He was tall, with lean muscle, and the sheathed sword at his waist, along with the one at his side, said he was prepared for more than just fainting ladies. The white mantle of the Royal Guard was a new addition, draped over the back of his shoulders.

But he also filled the air with a certain type of unquantifiable tension, as if the room were electrified. Anyone around him had to be aware of that.

My gaze drifted over his chest, and the memory of how hard it had felt, even without the armor, sent heat creeping into my cheeks. A newly familiar heaviness settled in my chest, making the silk of my dress feel coarse against my suddenly sensitive and flushed skin.

Maybe one of those stupid fans would be useful.

Swallowing a groan, I wanted to smack myself in the face. But since that wasn’t exactly an option, I took a sip of my tea, trying to ease the inexplicable dryness in my throat, and focused on Dafina and Loren once more. They were talking about the Rite, their excitement a heady hum. The celebration was just a week away, on the night of the Harvest Moon.

Their excitement was infectious. With it being my first Rite, I would be there, masked and not in white. Most would have no idea that I was the Maiden. Well, the two guards who were sure to be with me at all times would probably give me away to those paying attention. Still, a thrill of anticipation-laced uncertainty curled its way through me as my gaze slowly ticked its way back to Hawke.

My stomach tumbled.

If he saw me in the mask, would he know I was the one who’d been in the room with him? Would that even matter? By the time of the Rite, he would have to know I was one and the same, wouldn’t he? If he hadn’t realized it already.

He stood with feet shoulder-width apart, his gaze on our little group. The sunlight almost seemed drawn to him, caressing his cheekbones and brow like a lover. His profile was flawless, the line of his jaw as chiseled as the statues that adorned the garden and the castle foyer.

My head snapped in her direction in shock. I had no idea what she was talking about or how the subject had come up, but I couldn’t believe she had actually spoken his name aloud. My lips parted. No one other than the Descenters would dare utter his actual name, and I doubted that any of them would even speak it in the castle. It was treasonous to call him a prince. He was the Dark One.

Dafina was frowning. “Because of the…” She glanced at me, her brows knitted. “Because of the attack?”

It was only then that I realized they must’ve been talking about the attempted kidnapping while I’d been…

Well, while I’d been doing exactly what they had been doing earlier—staring and thinking about Hawke.

Dafina laughed. “Everything?”

She nodded as she lowered her voice. “People speak about anything in front of them. No matter how intimate or private. It’s almost like they are ghosts in a room. There is nothing they don’t overhear.”

Loren had a point. I’d seen it myself with the Duchess and the Duke.

Loren’s dark eyes flicked to me and then moved back to Tawny. “She said that Prince Casteel had been spotted in Three Rivers. That it was he who started the fire that took Duke Everton’s life.”

I resisted the urge to snort. Atlantians looked just like us.

Loren nodded as she knotted the crystal to her mask. “She said that was how he gained access to Goldcrest Manor.” Her voice dropped. “That Duchess Everton developed a relationship of a physical nature with him without realizing who he was, and that was how he was able to move freely through the manor.”

Britta sure talked a lot, didn’t she?

Loren’s laugh was light. “I’m not worried. I’m not foolish enough to say such things where I can be overheard, and I doubt anyone present will say anything.” Her gaze flicked to me, brief but knowing. She knew I couldn’t say a word because I’d have to explain how I was even a part of the conversation.

Which, for the record, I wasn’t.

I was just sitting here.

The shock of her statement caused me to forget who I was and where I was. All that I managed to do was keep my voice low when I spoke. “So, a good old rebellion may liven things up for you? Dead men and women and children are a source of entertainment?”

Surprise flickered across both her and Dafina’s faces. It was probably the first time either had ever heard me speak.

Loren swallowed. “I suppose I…I might’ve misspoken, Maiden. I apologize.”

I said nothing.

Loren nodded emphatically, but I didn’t doubt that she’d meant exactly what she said. A rebellion would break up the monotony of her day, and she hadn’t thought of the lives affected or lost because she simply hadn’t cared to.

It happened then, once more without any warning, causing my body to jerk forward and my spine to stiffen. My gift reached out on its own, and before I even realized it was happening, that invisible link formed between Loren and me. A sensation came through the connection, a mixture that reminded me of fresh air on a warm day and then something acrid like bitter melon. I focused on the sensations as my heart thumped against my ribs. They felt like…excitement and fear as Loren stared at me as if she wished to say something additional.

But that couldn’t be what I was picking up on from Loren. It didn’t make any sense. Those emotions had to be coming from me, and somehow, influencing my gift.

Dafina grabbed her friend’s arm. “Come, we should be on our way.”

Not given much choice, Loren was hauled out of her seat and quickly escorted out of the room with Dafina whispering in her ear.

Lifting a trembling hand, I took a quick sip of the sweet lemon drink. I had no idea what had just happened.

I nodded as I carefully placed the cup down. “Yes, I’m just…” How could I explain it? Tawny didn’t know about the gift, but even if she did, I wasn’t sure I could have put it into words, or be sure that anything had actually happened.

I looked over at her and opened my senses. Like at first with Dafina and Loren, all I felt was a twinge of sorrow. No deep pain or anything I shouldn’t be feeling.

My heart slowed, and my body relaxed. I sat back, wondering if it was just stress causing my gift to behave so oddly.

Tawny stared at me, concern creeping into her expression.

I nodded, thinking that whether or not she meant anything by it didn’t exactly matter. I took another sip of the drink, relieved to find that my hand wasn’t trembling. Feeling measurably more normal, I chalked up the weirdness to stress and lack of sleep. My thoughts returned to the Dark One. He could be behind the attacks and might very well be after me, but none of that meant he was actually within the city. However, if he were…

Unease trickled through me as I thought about Goldcrest Manor. It wasn’t impossible for something like that to happen here, especially considering an Atlantian and a Descenter had already infiltrated the castle grounds.

She tilted her head. “You do realize you will have to actually speak in front of him at some point.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re whispering, Poppy. I can barely hear you.”

She looked as if she wanted to kick me under the table again. “I have no idea how you haven’t confronted him yet. I understand the risks involved, but I would have to know if he recognized me. And if he did, why hasn’t he said anything?”

I stiffened as Hawke’s gaze connected with mine and held. He was looking straight at me, and even though I knew he couldn’t see my eyes, it still felt like he could. There was no way he could hear Tawny and me, not from where he stood and with as quietly as I was speaking, but his stare was piercing as if he could see not only through me, but into me.

I tried to brush off the sensation, but the longer he held my gaze, the more the feeling increased. It had to be his eyes and their color. Such a strange, stunning golden hue. One could imagine all sorts of things while staring into those eyes.

He broke eye contact, pivoting toward the entryway. My breath left me in a ragged exhale, my heart hammering as if I were running across the Rise once more.

I blinked, giving a shake of my head as I turned to her. “What?”

I could feel warmth creep into my cheeks. “He’s just doing his job, and I…I just lost track of what I was saying.”

Tawny lifted her brow. “Is that so?”

My shoulders stiffened. How much had he overheard?

Tawny made a poor attempt to smother her giggle with a napkin. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

His gaze flicked to her, and the dimple in his right cheek appeared. “Your faith in my skills warms my heart,” he said, glancing at me. “Poppy?”

My eyes widened behind the veil as I clamped my mouth shut.

Tawny sighed. “It’s her nickname. Only her friends call her that. And her brother.”

I nodded.

I gave him a tight smile to match how the muscles in my lower stomach suddenly felt.

Tawny grew so very still I wasn’t sure if she took another breath. Ice drenched my insides. Summoned by the Duke so quickly after yesterday? I knew it wasn’t for idle conversation. Did Lord Mazeen make good on his threat and go to the Duke? Or was it because of how I’d stared back at the Duke and smiled when I was unveiled? Had he found out that I had stabbed the man who attempted to kidnap me? While most would celebrate that I’d been able to thwart the abduction, Duke Teerman would focus solely on the fact that I’d been carrying a dagger. Could someone have seen me in here and already reported back to him? Had he found out about the Red Pearl? My stomach dropped as I stared up at Hawke. Had he said something?

Gods, the options were truly limitless, and none of them were good.

Stomach churning as if I’d swallowed spoiled milk, I managed to plaster a smile on my face as I rose from the chair.

Hawke waited until I was past him before falling in step slightly behind me, a position that allowed him to react to threats from the front and back. I led us out into the hall, where shimmering white and gold tapestries hung from the walls, and servants in maroon gowns and tunics scurried, carrying out various tasks that kept the large household running.

He didn’t lead me toward the banquet hall. He aimed for the staircase, and my stomach sank even further.

We crossed the foyer and had neared the foot of the wide stairs before he asked, “Are you all right?”

I nodded.

And I would’ve liked to have lasted at least an entire day.

I braced myself as I snuck a peek at him.

He stared, expression utterly unreadable. If he recognized my voice, he showed no sign whatsoever.

That strange mixture of disappointment and relief hit me once more as I stared straight ahead. Did he seriously not know it had been me in that room? Then again, should I be surprised? He’d believed that I’d been Britta at first and had no problem continuing on when he realized I wasn’t her. Who knew how many random women he…

He looked over at me then—well, he looked down at me, even though I was a step higher than he was. He was still taller, which seemed unfair. One dark brow rose, his gaze questioning.

I took a deep, even breath. “My gratitude was not insincere.”

I didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning, and I’d bet that stupid dimple was gracing the world with its presence. He fell quiet then, and we reached the third-floor landing in silence. One hall led to the old wing—to my chambers and many of the household staff. To the left was the newer wing. Stomach full of tiny lead balls, I turned left. My mind was now so fixated on what awaited me that I wasn’t all that focused on Hawke’s apparent lack of recognition or what it meant if he did realize it was me and just wasn’t saying anything.

Hawke reached the wide, wooden doors at the end of the hall, his arm brushing my shoulder as he opened one side. He waited until I had entered the narrow spiral staircase. Sunlight poured in through the numerous oval-shaped windows. “Watch your step. You trip and fall here, you’re likely to take me out on your way down.”

I huffed. “I won’t trip.”

I was glad he couldn’t see my face then, and not out of fear of recognition, but because I was sure my eyes were so wide they took up my entire upper face. He was speaking to me in a way no other guard did—besides Vikter. Not even Rylan had been so…familiar. It was as if we had known each other for years instead of hours…or days. Whatever. The comfortable way he was talking to me was disconcerting.

He eased past me, reaching the entryway to the fourth floor. “I’ve seen you before, you know.”

My breath hitched, and only by the grace of the gods did I not trip again.

Heat blasted my cheeks. That had not been what I’d expected him to say. “I wasn’t watching you. I was—”

Surrounded by the earthy, woodsy scent of him, my breath caught. We were nowhere near as close as we were the night of the Red Pearl, but if I tilted my head to the left just a few inches, his mouth would touch mine. The curling motion inside me returned, settling even lower in my stomach this time. “You are mistaken.”

He let go of my arm, and when I looked up, I saw that the corner of his lips was tipped up. My heart was doing funny, strange things in my chest as I stepped into the airy hall, my pulse thrumming.

Two Royal Guards were stationed outside the private quarters of the Duke and Duchess. There were several rooms on this floor used for greeting various members of the house and Court. Both had their own spaces and suites that connected to bedchambers, but based on where the Royal Guards stood, I knew the Duke was in the main suite.

Unease returned, slithering through my veins. For a brief moment, I’d forgotten about why I could’ve been summoned.

Only then did I realize two things. One, I’d come to a complete standstill in the hall, and I was sure that seemed odd to him. And secondly, he had called me by my name twice now instead of Maiden. He wasn’t Vikter. He wasn’t Tawny. Both of whom only called me by my name when we were alone.

I knew I should correct his use of my given name, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to, and that frightened me as much as what awaited me in the Duke’s office.

Taking a deep breath, I clasped my hands together as I straightened my shoulders and started forward.

The Royal Guards avoided eye contact as they bowed upon our approach. The dark-skinned one stepped aside, his hand on the door. He started to open it.

For some reason, I looked back at Hawke. Why, I had no idea. “I’ll wait for you here,” he assured.

I nodded and then faced forward again, forcing one foot in front of the other, telling myself that I was getting worked up over nothing.

Stepping into the suite, the first thing I noticed was that the curtains had been drawn. The soft glow of several oil lamps seemed to be absorbed by the dark wood paneling and the furniture fashioned from mahogany and crimson-hued velvet. My gaze fell to the large desk and then the credenza behind it, where several crystal bottles of various sizes were full of amber liquor.

Then I saw him.

The Duke sat on the settee, one booted foot resting on the table before him, and a glass of liquor in his hand. Chills swept through me as he looked over at me with eyes so dark, the pupil was almost indistinguishable.

It made me think that when next I saw Ian, his eyes would no longer be green like mine. They’d be like the Duke’s. Pitch-black. Bottomless. But would they be as chilling?

I suddenly realized that the Duke wasn’t alone.

Across from him was Lord Mazeen, seated in an arrogant sprawl. He held no drink in his hands, but his fingers tapped idly on his bent knee. There was a smirk on his well-formed lips, and every instinct in me screamed that I needed to run because there was no fighting what was coming.

The door clicked shut behind me, causing me to jump a little. I hated the response, hoping that the Duke hadn’t seen it, and knowing that he had when I saw him smile.

Teerman rose from the settee in one fluid, boneless movement. “Penellaphe, I am so incredibly disappointed in you.”

Chapter 13

Cold to my very core, I drew in a short, measured breath as I watched him take a drink from his glass. I knew I had to choose my words carefully. It wouldn’t change what was to come, but it could determine the severity. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” I started. “I—”

Muscles in my shoulders stiffened, and my gaze darted from the silent Lord to the corner of the suite, where several, narrow pieces of reddish-brown wood were propped against a bookcase. They were fashioned from a tree that grew within the Blood Forest. When I looked back at Lord Mazeen, I saw that he was smiling. I was beginning to think that he had reported something back to the Duke, but if I was wrong about that, it would only add to my problems.

And Lord Mazeen knew this as he watched me. He gave no indication of the role he played in this. Even if his part was only to bear witness. He rarely spoke when he attended these lessons. While his silence would typically give me relief, it only heightened my anxiety now.

I forced the next words out even though they rolled off my tongue all wrong. “I don’t, but I’m sure, whatever it is, I am at fault. You’re never disappointed in me without cause.”

That was so not true.

There seemed to be times when the way I walked or how I cut my food at supper was a disappointment to the Duke. I was sure how many breaths I took in a minute could be of offense to him.

My stomach turned over as sweat dotted my brow. Dear gods, had he learned of my time at the Red Pearl?

I’d feared that Hawke would say something, had obsessed and stressed over it. A part of me must not have wanted to believe it was possible, though, because the ripe feeling of betrayal tasted like spoiled food in the back of my throat. Hawke most likely had no idea what went down in this room, but he had to have known there would be consequences. Wouldn’t he? He probably thought I’d receive nothing more than a stern lecture. After all, I was the Maiden, the Chosen.

I would receive a dressing down.

But I doubted Hawke had any idea that the Duke’s lessons were not…normal.

Teerman took a step toward me, and all my muscles tensed up. “Remove your veil, Penellaphe.”

I hesitated for only the span of a few heartbeats, even though it was not uncommon for the Duke or the Duchess to request such a thing while in their presence. They didn’t like speaking to half a face. I couldn’t blame them, but normally, the Duke made me keep it on when Lord Mazeen was present.

Of course, not.

Willing my hands steady, I lifted them and undid the fine clasps of the veil near my ears. The headdress immediately loosened. Keeping my gaze lowered as I knew he preferred, I slipped it off, over where my hair had been bound in a simple knot at the nape of my neck. My exposed cheeks and brows prickled. Teerman came forward, taking the veil from me and placing it aside. I clasped my hands and waited. I hated doing so.

But I waited.

The tips of his fingers pressed into the skin under my chin, tilting my head to the left and then to the right.

He clucked his tongue. “Such a shame.”

And there it was.

I said nothing as my focus shifted to the large oil painting of the Temples, where veiled women knelt before a being who was so bright, he rivaled the moon.

I didn’t give a Craven’s ass what Lord Mazeen thought.

I swallowed, resisting the urge to pull away when his fingers left my chin to trail down the two ragged indentations that started at my left temple and continued downward, skirting my eye to end just beside my nose.

The Lord didn’t speak, but I imagined he shook his head no.

My gaze flew to his in shock. He knew my mother? He’d never—not once—mentioned that before. “You knew her?”

His eyes met mine, and it was hard to stare into the never-ending darkness. “I did. She was…special.”

Before I could even question that, he said, “You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise? Wouldn’t have spoken the truth.”

I flinched as my chest hollowed.

Having spotted the reaction, the Duke’s smile returned. “I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could’ve been far worse.”

The damage could’ve included a missing eye, or worse, death.

But I didn’t say that.

My gaze shifted back to the painting, wondering how his words could still sting after all these years. When I was younger, they’d hurt. His words had cut deep. But the last couple of years, there’d been nothing but numb resignation. The scars were not something I could change. I knew that. But today, they sliced through me as they had when I was thirteen.

Bile clogged my throat and crawled across my skin like thousands of spiders. Only by sheer will, was I able to hold myself completely still.

Wait. What?

My heart started to slow as confusion surfaced. The Priestess? What could she possibly have to say about me?

Irritation flared, but I knew better than to cave to it. Besides, if this was what he was upset over, it was far better than what I’d feared. “My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite,” I lied. The real reason I didn’t engage in their conversation was because the women spent the entire time speaking poorly of the Ladies in Wait and how they were not deserving of the gods’ Blessing. “I must’ve been daydreaming.”

He was lying. The Duke never overlooked any perceived poor conduct.

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

Knowing this was coming, I remained silent. I just hadn’t realized he would find out so quickly. Someone must have been watching. Perhaps his steward or one of the other Royal Guards.

Dipping my chin, I stared at the floor. I could tell him the truth. That I hadn’t said more than one sentence to the Ladies, and that this was, as far as I knew, the first time they’d visited the atrium. It wouldn’t matter, though. The truth didn’t work with the Duke.

I could practically feel my tongue sharpen, but I softened my words as much as I could. “I’m sorry. I should’ve left when they entered, but I didn’t.”

My spine stiffened as he turned, straightening the veil he’d draped over a chair. The back of my skull tingled as I said, “Tawny has been a wonderful lady’s maid, and if my kindness and gratefulness has been mistaken for anything else, then I apologize.”

He slid a long look in my direction. “I know it may be hard to keep boundaries with someone you spend so much time with, but a Maiden does not seek intimacies of the heart or the mind with those who serve them, not even those who are to become members of the Court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were Chosen by the gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

The words I forced past my lips scratched at my heart. “I understand.”

Teerman took another drink.

How much had he already consumed? My heart rate tripled. Once, when I’d upset the Duke, his lesson had been carried out after he’d indulged in what I’d heard the guards call “Red Ruin,” a liquor brewed in the Cliffs of Hoar. The Lord had been with him then.

That was the time he’d struck me, and it had taken several days before I’d been able to resume training with Vikter.

I flinched once more, my stomach hollowing.

The air I inhaled did nothing to inflate my lungs. That wasn’t his name.

I ignored him.

Teerman cocked his head. “You mean his name was Rylan?”

I sucked in air that seemed to go nowhere.

Now, I truly wanted to inflict physical harm.

My fingers spasmed where I twisted them. Anger rose so swiftly, I was surprised that I didn’t breathe fire when I exhaled. That was the last thing Teerman hoped for. If he couldn’t find a reason to give me a lesson, then he’d have a complete breakdown.

He cut me a sharp look and a long, tense moment passed. “I believe four lashes should suffice.”

Before I could remind myself who I was, what Teerman was, fury burned through my blood, seizing control. Nothing he’d taken me to task for mattered. None of that had anything to do with the Descenters and the Dark One being behind my attempted abduction and Rylan’s murder. The gods blessed the Ascended with near immortality and unfathomable strength, and they spent their time worrying about who I was speaking to? I couldn’t stop myself. “Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.”

His gaze hardened. “How does seven sound?”

Apprehension flickered through me, but I’d received ten before.

The Duke looked back to me. “You know where to go.”

Holding my chin high, it took everything in me to walk past him and not lay him flat on his back. That was the worst part as I walked to the shiny, cleared surface of his desk. The Ascended were stronger than even the most skilled guard, but neither Teerman nor Mazeen had raised a hand in combat since the War of Two Kings. I could easily knock him flat on his back.

But then what?

There’d be more lessons, and word would make its way back to Queen Ileana. She’d be disappointed, genuinely so, and unlike the Duke, I cared about what the Queen thought and felt. Not because I was her favorite, but because it had been she who had taken care of me as a wounded, terrified child. Her hands had changed my bandages and held me when I screamed and cried for my mother and father. And it was Queen Ileana who had sat with me when I could not sleep, terrified of the dark. She’d done things no Queen needed to do. Without her caring for me as my own mother would have, I would’ve been lost in a way I doubted I could have ever recovered from.

I stopped in front of the desk, hands shaking with barely leashed rage. I believed in my heart of hearts that if Queen Ileana knew what the Duke did in this room, things would not end well for the Ascended.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Lord lean forward as Teerman picked up the red, narrow cane, smoothing his hand down its length.

But the Queen wouldn’t know.

Letters sent to the capital were always read, and I wouldn’t see her until I returned. But then? Then, I would tell her everything.

Because if he did this to me, I was sure he did this to others, as well. Even if no one ever spoke of it.

He came to stand beside me, that glint of eagerness now a shine in his eyes. “You’re not ready, Penellaphe. You should know better by this point.”

Clamping my jaw shut, I looked away as I lifted my hands to the row of buttons. My fingers only trembled once and then stilled as I undid the bodice, all too aware that Mazeen had picked his seat with knowledge of what was to come. He had an unobstructed view.

The Duke remained at my side, watching as the bodice of my gown gaped, revealing the all-too-thin undergarment underneath. Both slipped down my shoulders until the clothing pooled at my waist. Cool air washed over my back and chest, and I wanted to stand there as if I was wholly unaffected by the entire ordeal. Wished I could be strong and brave and unmoved. I didn’t want them to see how humiliating this was, how much it bothered me to be seen like this, and not by someone of my choosing—someone worthy.

But I couldn’t.

Cheeks burning and eyes stinging, I folded an arm over my chest.

He almost sounded like he believed what he said, as if he weren’t doing this simply because it excited him to inflict pain. But I knew better. I knew what Mazeen would do if he could, and I’d seen the look in the Duke’s eyes. I saw it far too many times before when I made the mistake of looking. The kind of look that told me if I wasn’t the Maiden, he would inflict a different kind of pain. Just like I knew Mazeen would. I couldn’t suppress the shudder that followed that thought.

A moment later, I felt his hand on my bare shoulder, and everything in me recoiled. It wasn’t just the touch of his too-cool skin against mine, but it was also what I didn’t feel.

I felt nothing.

No faint trace of anguish that all people carried within them, no matter how long ago the source of the hurt that had inflicted its damage. There was no pain of any kind, and it was that way for every Ascended. While that should bring me some sort of relief that I wouldn’t pick up on pain, it only left me with the feeling of crawling skin.

It was a reminder of how different the Ascended were from mortals, what the Blessing of the gods did.

I planted a palm on the desk.

The room was silent except for the sound of the Lord’s deep breaths, and then I heard the soft whistle of the cane cutting through the air a second before it struck my lower back. My entire body jerked as fiery pain rippled across my skin. The first strike was always a shock, no matter how many times it had happened before or that I knew what was coming. Another strike landed across my shoulders, pushing out a rough burst of air as fire swept across them.

Five more.

Another blow landed, and my body trembled as I lifted my gaze. I will not make a sound. I will not make a sound. My hips knocked against the desk with the next hit.

The settee creaked as Lord Mazeen rose.

Skin burning, I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. I stared through the haze of tears at the painting of the veiled worshippers, wondering how horrible the Atlantians must’ve been for men like the Duke of Masadonia and Lord Mazeen to receive the Blessing of Ascension from the gods.

Chapter 14

The gods had granted me one small favor when I left the Duke’s suite. Hawke hadn’t been waiting for me, and that had been a blessing. I had no idea how I could’ve hidden what had happened.

Instead, it was Vikter who stood silently by the two Royal Guards. Neither looked at me as I stepped into the hall, skin pale and covered in a sheen of cold sweat.

Did they know what had happened in the Duke’s chamber? I hadn’t made a sound, not even when Lord Mazeen had come to stand beside the desk and pulled my arm away from my chest to place it beside my other. Not even when the sixth and seventh blows had felt like lightning streaking across my back, and Mazeen had watched every lash absorbed by my body with eager eyes.

If the guards were aware, there was nothing I could do about that or the bitter bite of shame that somehow burned worse than my back.

But Vikter knew. The knowledge was in the deep lines bracketing his mouth as we walked toward the staircase, each step tugging at the inflamed skin. He waited until the stairwell door closed behind us and then stopped on the landing, concern settling into his light blue eyes as he stared down at me.

My hands trembled as I pressed them against the skirt of my gown. “I’m fine. I just need to rest.”

I truly didn’t, but admitting how bad it was felt like I was giving Teerman what he wanted. “It could’ve been worse.”

Vikter’s nostrils flared. “It shouldn’t happen at all.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Vikter stared at me, struck silent for a moment. “So, this is why he took the cane to you?”

I nodded, gaze falling to the nearest oval-shaped window. The sun had drifted away while I’d been in the suite, the stairwell not nearly as bright and airy as it had been. “And he didn’t like my attitude during the meeting yesterday. It’s not nearly the most minor offense he has punished me for.”

Vikter’s golden skin paled.

I lifted my chin, holding his gaze. “And being able to defend my home, those I care for, and my life is worth the risk of whatever may happen.”

He was quiet for a moment and then his wintery blue eyes closed. He might’ve been thinking of a prayer for patience, something I’d known him to do many times before.

That brought another small smile to my lips. “I’m careful, Vikter.”

I shivered as I started down the stairs. “Because then I couldn’t be subjected to the Duke’s lessons?”

That was something to look forward to, especially since I planned on telling the Queen everything.

They always knew who was in with the Duke. They just hadn’t wanted Vikter to know, and I…I didn’t either. “He was alone.”

He didn’t answer, and I wasn’t sure if that meant he believed me or not. I decided it was time to change the subject. “How did you know where I was?”

Vikter moved only a step behind me. “Hawke sent one of the Duke’s stewards for me. He was…concerned about you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Over what?”

My lips twitched at that. “I’m sure that went over well.”

We rounded the next floor, the knowledge that I was getting closer to my bed keeping me going as I mulled over what Hawke had done. “He is…quite observant, isn’t he? And intuitive.”

Three dozen torches blazed beyond the Rise, their flames a beacon of light in the vast darkness, a promise of safety to the slumbering city.

I cast a longing look toward the bed, letting out a tired sigh as I twisted the ends of my braid. Nightmares from a different night had driven me from sleep, leaving my skin slick with a cold sweat and my heart thrumming like a rabbit caught in a snare.

Luckily, I hadn’t woken Tawny with my screams. She’d been up late the past two nights. The first night, she’d spent a good part of the evening doing everything possible to make sure the welts healed, and last night, she’d been summoned by the Mistresses to assist with preparations for the Rite.

Tawny had used a concoction the Healers swore by and which the guards frequently used for their numerous injuries, rubbing the mixture of pine and sage-scented arnica and honey onto the inflamed skin of my back. It was the same stuff the Healer had used the night of the abduction. The ointment had cooled my skin and eased the ache almost immediately. Still, we knew from previous experience that it had to be applied nearly every other hour to achieve the desired effect.

And it had worked. By yesterday evening, there was only a twinge of discomfort, even though the skin was still pinker than normal.

I hadn’t been making light of what had occurred when I told Vikter and then Tawny that it could’ve been worse. The welts would most likely be gone by the morning, and there’d be little if any pain. I was lucky I always healed quickly, and even luckier that Teerman hadn’t been drinking Red Ruin the afternoon of my summons.

The Duke had known my mother. How? As far as I knew, she’d never been to Masadonia, so that had to mean that the Duke had met her in the capital. It was rare for the Ascended to travel, especially such a great distance, but they’d obviously met.

There had been such a strange look on Teerman’s face when he spoke of her. Nostalgia mixed with…what? Anger, perhaps? Disappointment. Had whatever interactions he’d had with her caused the way he behaved toward me?

Or was I just looking for a reason for his treatment, as if there had to be something to explain his cruelty?

There wasn’t a lot that I knew about life, but I knew that, sometimes, there was no reason. A person, whether Ascended or not, was who they were with no explanation.

Sighing, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I’d been holed up in my room the last two days, mainly because rest ensured that the ointment worked as fast as possible, and also because I was avoiding, well…everyone.

But especially Hawke.

I hadn’t seen him since I’d stepped into the Duke’s private office, and knowing that he’d sensed that something was wrong left me with a gurgling feeling of anxiety and embarrassment, even though what Teerman had done wasn’t my fault. I just didn’t want Hawke to figure out that something was wrong, and he was observant enough to do so.

Granted, staying in my room for two days would probably also send up a red flag, but at least he hadn’t borne witness to how carefully I had to move while my back healed.

I didn’t want Hawke to see me as weak, even though as the Maiden, he would expect exactly that.

And maybe it had to do with the weird mix of relief and disappointment I felt every time he showed no recognition that he’d met me at the Pearl.

Dragging my gaze from the bed, I returned to watching the torches beyond the Rise. The fires were calm tonight, as they had been for several nights, but when the flames danced like mad spirits, driven by the winds of twilight? It meant the mist would not be far behind. And sweeping, terrible death followed the thick, white fog.

Absently, my hand slipped through the thin folds of the dressing gown to the bone handle of the dagger strapped to my thigh. My fingers curled around the cool hilt, reminding me that I would be ready if and when the Rise fell.

Just as I would be ready if the Dark One tried to come for me again.

My hand drifted from the handle to a few inches above my knee, brushing over the patch of uneven skin on my inner thigh. Hawke had come so incredibly close to touching the scar. What would he have done if he had? Would he have jerked his hand away? Or pretended as if he hadn’t felt anything?

I pulled my hand away. I wasn’t going to think about that. I curled my fingers into a fist as I cut off those thoughts. There was no reason to go down that road. Nothing good would come from doing so. It didn’t matter if he recognized me or not if I was just one of many girls he’d kissed in dimly lit rooms. It also didn’t matter if he had gone back to the Red Pearl like he’d promised—

I shook my head as if I could scatter my thoughts, but it didn’t work. One thing I’d discovered over the last two days of near isolation was that I could continue telling myself it didn’t matter, over and over, but it did.

Hawke had been my first kiss, even if he didn’t know that.

Silvery moonlight seeped through the chamber as I crept silently toward the west windows. Placing my fingers on the cool glass, I counted the torches. Twelve on the Rise. Twenty-four below. All aflame.

Good.

That was good.

I pressed my forehead to the thin glass that did very little to keep the chill from finding its way into the castle. In the west, where Carsodonia was nestled between the Stroud Sea and the Willow Plains, there was no need for glass windows. Summer and spring were eternal there, where autumn and winter forever reigned here. It was one of the things I looked forward to when I returned to the capital. The warmth. The sunshine. The scent of salt and sea, and all the glittering bays and coves.

Tawny, who had never seen the beaches, would absolutely love them. A tired grin tugged at my lips. When she’d been summoned by one of the Mistresses, Tawny had sent me a look that said she might’ve been happier scrubbing the bathing chambers than spending the evening attempting to please the unappeasable.

I often felt the same when it was time to meet with the Priestess. I’d rather spend the evening plucking my own body hair from very sensitive areas than spend hours with that dragon of a woman.

Perhaps I needed to be better at hiding how I felt when it came to her and the other Priestesses.

I still couldn’t believe she’d gone to the Duke, all because I didn’t spend half of my day listening to her and the others complain about everyone else.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I wished for what felt like the hundredth time that my brother was still in Masadonia. Ian had nightmares too, and if he were still here right now, he’d distract me with silly, made-up tales.

Did he still have nightmares after his Ascension? If not, then wasn’t that something else to look forward to?

My gaze traveled along the Rise, catching sight of a guard patrolling along the top of the wall.

I’d rather be out there than in here.

The Ascended would be shocked to hear such a thing, as would most others. To even think it—that I, the Maiden, the Chosen, who would go to the gods, would want to exchange places with a commoner, a guard, would be an affront to not only the Ascended but also to the gods themselves. All over the kingdom, people would do anything to be in the presence of the gods. I was…

I was privileged no matter what I suffered, but at least if I were out there, on the Rise, I could be doing something productive. I’d be protecting the city and all those who enabled me to have such a comfortable life. Instead, I was in here, reaching an all new height of self-pity when in reality, my Ascension would do more than protect one city.

It would ensure the entire future of the kingdom.

Wasn’t that doing something?

I wasn’t sure, and I wanted nothing more than to be able to close my eyes and find sleep, but I knew it wouldn’t come. Not for hours.

On nights like this, when I knew sleep would evade me, I caved to the urge to sneak out and explore the silent and dark city until I found places that didn’t sleep, spots like the Red Pearl. Unfortunately, that would be the height of stupidity after the attempted abduction. Even I wasn’t that reckless and—

A flame beyond the Rise began to dance, snapping me forward. I pressed both palms to the window, staring at the fire and refusing to blink. “It’s nothing,” I told the empty room. “It’s just a breeze—”

Another flash moved, and then another and another, the whole line of torches beyond the wall rippling wildly, spitting sparks as the wind picked up. I took a breath, but it seemed to go nowhere.

The one in the middle was the first to be snuffed, sending my heart slamming against my ribs. The others rapidly followed, pitching the land beyond the Rise into sudden darkness.

I took a step back from the window.

Dozens of fiery arrows shot into the air, arcing high above the Rise and then racing downward, slamming into the tinder-filled trenches. A wall of fire erupted, running the entire length of the Rise. The flames were no defense against the mist or what came with it.

The fire made what was in the fog visible.

Returning to the window, I threw the latch and flung it open. Cold air and a kind of unearthly silence poured into the chamber as I gripped the stone ledge and leaned out, squinting.

Smoke wafted up and weaved through the flames, spilling into the air and onto the ground.

Smoke didn’t move like that.

Smoke didn’t creep under the tinder, a thick, murky white against the black of night. Smoke didn’t blanket flames, suffocating them until they were extinguished and all that remained was a heavy, unnatural mist.

The mist wasn’t empty.

It was full of twisted shapes that had once been mortal.

Horns blared from all four corners of the Rise, shattering the tense quiet. Within seconds, what few lights had shone through windows went dark. A second call of warning went out, and the entire castle seemed to shudder.

Snapping into action, I grabbed the window and latched it into place before I spun around. I’d have roughly three minutes, possibly less, before all exits were sealed. I started forward—

A moment later, the adjoining door swung open, and Tawny burst in, her white nightgown flowing around her and the mass of brown and gold curls spilling over her shoulders.

Ignoring her, I raced over to the chest, throwing open the heavy lid and rooting around until I found the bow. Rising, I tossed it onto the bed.

I retrieved the curved bow by the grip. “I’m positive Vikter left for the Rise the moment he heard the horns.”

She followed me as I crossed the room. “Penellaphe Balfour, stop!”

Surprised, I spun around and found her standing right behind me. “I have less than two minutes, Tawny. I will be trapped in here—”

I grasped her shoulder with my free hand. “If they breach the walls, they will take the city, and they will find a way into the castle. And then there will be no stopping them. That, I know. They got to my family. They got to me. I will not sit and wait for that to happen once more.”

Her eyes frantically searched mine. “But you didn’t have the Rise to protect you then.”

That was true, but… “Nothing is infallible, Tawny. Not even the Rise.”

She drew in a deep breath, her shoulder sagging under my hand. “All right. If anyone comes, I’ll tell them you’re ill with fright and have locked yourself in the bathing chamber.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you will.” I let go of her shoulder. “There are several bloodstone daggers in the chest, and a sword under the pillows—”

I nodded.

I cracked a grin. “I will return.”

Old hinges creaked as I opened the door. The pathways allowed me to move undetected throughout the castle. Over the last years, I’d used them to meet with Vikter in one of the old, unused rooms for training, and it was also how I was able to slip out of the castle without being seen.

But, most importantly, the old stairs and halls could provide a quick escape if necessary.

Confusion rose for only a moment, and then I realized that my face was unveiled.

Stone slid against metal as thick, iron doors rattled and began their descent as I raced down the cracked, uneven stone steps. My slippers weren’t the best footwear for such a thing, but there hadn’t been time to ferret out the only boots I owned from their hiding place, tucked under the head of the bed. If the maids found them, they would be sure to talk, and eventually, whatever they said would make its way back to someone.

I had less than a minute to get out.

Dust and small rocks drifted from above as the castle continued to tremble. Moonlight broke through the cracked, dusty windows as I rounded the final set of steps, slipping over the bottom two and all but sliding out into the empty pantry. The movement caused nothing more than a dull flare of pain where the welts were healing.

Thrusting the bow into the folds of the cloak, I darted into the chaotic kitchen where servants clamored for access to the hidden safe rooms that doubled as food storage. Guards rushed for the main entrance, where the largest shield would be locking into place within seconds. No one paid me any mind as I ran for the back hall, where one of the iron doors was already halfway down.

Spitting out a curse that Vikter would’ve turned red at, and Rylan would’ve…he would’ve smiled at if he were still here, I picked up speed and then dipped. The silk and satin slippers aided in the descent. I slid under the door, nearly losing my balance as I skidded out into the night air. The heavy door groaned as it settled into place. I backed away and then turned, my lips curving into a broad smile Tawny would’ve found not only concerning but also disturbing.

I’d made it to the bridge.

Not wasting time, I raced across the narrow walk high above the houses and shops. I didn’t dare look to my sides as there was no railing. One slip, and well…

What was in the mist would no longer be a concern.

Reaching the wider ledge of the Rise, I tossed the bow onto the top and then hoisted myself up. The healing skin of my back stretched, causing me to wince as the cloak and the gown parted, revealing nearly the entire length of my leg. I yearned for the thin breeches often worn under certain styles of gowns, but there hadn’t been enough time.

I grasped the bow and started toward the western wall, arriving as the mist seemed to become a solid mass, carrying with it the scent of metal and decay. Ahead, archers waited in their nests of stone, like birds of prey, their bows and arrows steady. I knew not to get too close, as a guard from the Rise would surely notice and ask questions. And while Tawny had exaggerated the killing me part, I would face yet another lesson from the Duke.

I cast a quick look around. The city had gone completely quiet and dark, except for the Temples. Their flames were never extinguished. Tearing my gaze from them and the unsettled feeling they often roused, I searched for an empty battlement until I found one. If it were to be manned by a guard, someone would already be in it.

Keeping close to the shadows clinging to the walls, I eased inside the enclosure. My smile returned when I saw several quivers resting near the short ladder. Perfect. Bloodstone arrows, their shafts made of wood from the Blood Forest, were not easy to come by when you were a Maiden who wasn’t supposed to have a need for them. Grabbing several of the quivers, I scurried up the ladder.

Partially hidden behind the stone wall, I set the quivers beside me and pulled out an arrow. A sound came then, raising the hairs all over my body.

It started as a low howl, reminding me of the wind during the coldest part of winter, but the moaning gave way to shrill shrieks. Goosebumps pimpled my skin, and my stomach twisted with nausea even as I nocked an arrow. I would never forget that sound. It haunted my dreams, forcing me awake, night after night.

Shouts erupted from the ground, a call to fire. Sucking in a breath of awe, I watched the sky light up with burning arrows. They ripped through the encroaching mist as fires sprang to life once more, all around the Rise, turning the night to silvery dusk.

Guards waited on foot in front of the Rise, their black armor making them nearly indistinguishable as I searched out the familiar white cape of a Royal Guard. There. I found pale blond hair and a weathered face the color of sand. My heart skipped a beat. Toward the center stood Vikter. I expected to see him where death now gathered, but a knot of fear still gathered in my breast. Vikter was the bravest man I knew.

What about Hawke? I had no idea if he was in the castle, stationed outside my door, believing I was inside, or on the Rise. Or, like Vikter, perhaps he was beyond it. The knot expanded, but I couldn’t let it grab hold of me.

Keeping an eye on Vikter, I curled my fingers around the string, pulling back as he donned his helmet. Another volley of arrows went up, these reaching farther. When they cut through the mist, I heard the screams.

And then I saw them.

Their pale bodies a milky white, leached of all color, their faces sunken and hollow, eyes burning like fiery coal. Mouths opened wide, revealing two sets of jagged, serrated teeth. Their fingers were elongated into claws, and both their fangs and their claws could flay skin like the softest butter.

I had the scars to prove it.

They were what Marlowe and Ridley would’ve become if their lives hadn’t been ended before it was too late.

They poured out of the mist, the source of my nightmares, the creatures sent by the Dark One over a decade ago to rob my brother and me of our parents in a blood-soaked massacre. They were the evil ones who’d nearly killed me before my sixth birthday, clawing and biting in a frenzy of bloodlust.

The Craven were here.

Chapter 15

And now, they swarmed the guards outside the Rise, crashing into them in a wave that knew no fear of death. Screams of pain and terror tore through the night, and my breath seized. In a matter of seconds, I lost sight of Vikter.

I found him, holding his ground as he cleaved his sword through the air, slicing off the head of a Craven as another launched itself at him. He spun, narrowly avoiding a swipe that would have torn through his breastplate.

There was no time for relief. My gaze shifted as an archer’s bloodstone arrow slammed into the head of a Craven, knocking it backward. Dark, inky blood spewed out the back of its skull. I focused on another Craven, calming my breath until it was deep and slow like Vikter had taught me. Years of training steadied my hand, but so did experience. This wasn’t the first time I had aided the guards on the Rise.

And that was all it could be.

Trusting my aim, I released an arrow. It flew through the air, striking a Craven in the heart. I nocked another before what was once someone’s child or parent even hit the ground. I found another, a Craven who had a guard on its back, tearing at its armor. I let the bow string go, smiling when the projectile burst through the Craven’s head. Loading the next arrow, I caught sight of Vikter, his sword slick with dark blood as he shoved it deep into a Craven’s stomach and then drew it upward with a shout—

A Craven rushed Vikter from behind as he yanked the sword out. I pulled back the string. The bolt sliced through the air, catching the creature in the back of its patchy-haired skull. The thing fell forward, dead before it even hit the ground.

Vikter’s head whipped around, and I swore he looked straight at me—knew who had sent down that arrow. And although I couldn’t see his face, I knew he wore the expression he always did when he was proud yet irritated.

Grinning, I readied another arrow and…and for what felt like a small eternity, I lost myself to the killing, taking down one Craven after another. I went through two quivers before one of the Craven broke through the line of guards. Hitting the wall, its clawed hands dug into the stone, gaining purchase.

For the briefest heartbeat, I stood transfixed as it tore its hand free and then slammed it down again, higher, pulling itself up the wall.

The Craven let out a screeching wail, tearing me out of my stupor. I took aim, firing the arrow directly down into its skull. The impact knocked it off the wall—

A shout to my right jerked my head around. An archer fell forward, bow slipping from his hands as a Craven gripped him by the shoulders, sinking its jagged teeth into the guard’s neck.

Good gods, they had reached the top.

Spinning around, I nocked an arrow and quickly let it go. The arrow didn’t deliver a fatal blow, but the impact knocked the Craven free from the guard, sending it back to the ground below. It wasn’t the only one that fell. The guard tumbled backward into nothing but air. I swallowed a cry, telling myself that the man was already dead before the loud, fleshy smack caused me to briefly squeeze my eyes shut.

The Craven’s minds may be rotted, but they had enough sense to go for the archers. Vikter had once said that the only thing that rivaled their thirst for blood was their survival instincts.

A high-pitched scream jolted me into action. To my right, another Craven had reached the edge of the Rise, seizing an archer. The guard dropped his bow and embraced the Craven, pushing forward.

He fell to the ground outside the Rise, taking the Craven with him.

A round of fiery arrows lifted once more into the air, reaching high above the wall. They came down, striking mortal and monster alike. Over the sound of unearthly howls and screams, hooves pounded off cobblestone and dirt, but I still stared at where the archer had fallen, his body swarmed by Craven.

The guard had sacrificed himself. This unnamed, unknown man had chosen death over allowing the Craven to reach the other side of the Rise.

Blinking back sudden tears, I gave a wordless shake of my head as battle cries erupted, forcing me into motion. Rising just enough to see over the ledge, I looked over my shoulder as more guards on horseback spilled out from the gate, brandishing sickle blades. They split into two directions, attempting to seal off access to the Rise. As soon as they cleared the entrance, the gates closed behind them.

A Craven launched itself at a guard, powering through the air like a large jungle cat would. It slammed into the guard, throwing him from his horse. They hit the ground.

I caught him at the top of his patchy-haired skull, knocking him from the wall. I quickly nocked another arrow, searching out the Craven who were at the Rise. They were the clear threat.

It quickly became obvious that these Craven were different. They looked less…monstrous. Still, their appearance was nothing short of nightmare fodder, but their faces were less hollow, their bodies less shriveled. Were they newly turned? Possible.

The battle below was lessening, bodies falling on top of one another. Catching sight of Vikter as he thrust his sword through the head of a fallen Craven, I dropped down to one knee so I could peer over the wall. The cloak parted, exposing nearly the entire length of my leg from my calf to my thigh to the chilled air.

There was only a handful of Craven remaining, half of them feeding on and tearing into wounded guards, unaware of anything around them. I could see no more near the Rise. Setting an arrow against the bow, I took aim at one who had torn through armor and into the cavity of a stomach, exposing thick, ropey innards. Bile clogged my throat. The guard was already dead, but I couldn’t let the Craven continue desecrating the fallen man.

Focusing on the blood-and-gore-smeared mouth, I sent the arrow flying straight into it. The contact snapped the Craven back. Whatever satisfaction I felt was tempered by sorrow. The mist had begun to dissipate, revealing the carnage left behind. So many had fallen tonight. Too many.

The stone cold under my bare knee, I reached for another arrow as I searched—

Sucking in a sharp breath, I spun around on my knee, the cape and gown whirling around my legs. My arrow locked and ready, I aimed at—

Hawke.

Oh, gods…

My stomach tumbled with relief and dismay as I stared down. He stood under a beam of moonlight as if the gods themselves had blessed him with eternal light. Inky blood dotted his broad, high cheekbones and the straight line of his jaw. His wide, expressive lips were parted as if he were only able to take the thinnest breath, and those strange, beautiful eyes seemed to almost glow in the moonlight.

He held his blood-soaked sword at his side. His leather had been clawed, showing how close he’d come to falling.

Hawke had been beyond the Rise, and like Vikter, as a Royal Guard, that wasn’t required. But he went out there, nonetheless. Respect blossomed in my chest, warming me, and I reacted without thought, reaching out with my senses to see if he was injured.

I felt the barest hint of the anguish that lingered in him. The battle had eased it, giving him an outlet in the same way my touch would. Temporary, but still effective. He wasn’t injured.

I jolted, shocked. He’d said that I was beautiful before once he saw my face, and he sounded like he’d meant it then. But now? He’d spoken words which too often meant nothing and too rarely meant everything. And he said them in such a manner that there was a tight, tense curling sensation low in my stomach even though he had no idea who he spoke to. My heavy hood remained in place.

I needed to get away.

I glanced behind him, searching for the easiest path to escape. I swallowed hard. Hawke may not have realized yet that I was the girl who’d been at the Red Pearl, but there was no way I could let him know it was me up here now. I had no idea what he would do if he realized I was the one on the Rise.

Why did he have to have such a…charming grin? It was the kind I knew numerous others had fallen prey to.

I doubted any of them regretted that fall.

I knew I didn’t.

He extended his gloved hand. “May I be of assistance?”

Swallowing a snort, I lowered the bow, shifting it to one hand. I stayed silent in case he recognized my voice, motioning for him to back up. With an arch of one dark brow, he placed the offered hand over his heart and took a step back.

Hawke bowed.

He actually bowed, with such elaborate flourish that a laugh crept up my throat. I managed to squelch it as I placed the bow down on the lower ledge, propping it against the wall. Keeping my gaze on him, I scooted to the ladder and slowly climbed down, not giving him my back.

The sounds of fighting had all but ceased down below. I needed to get back to my room, but there was no way I could enter the castle the way I’d come out, not with Hawke here. That would rouse suspicion. I slipped the bow under my cloak, hooking it to my back. I flinched as it rested against the still-healing welts.

Below, the heavy gates groaned as they reopened for the wounded and dead to be recovered. The Craven would be burned where they lay. I moved to exit the battlement—

Hawke smoothly blocked my path, and my heart turned over heavily as my hands tightened into fists. I forced my fingers to relax. The playful light in his eyes had faded. “What are you doing up here?”

Whatever patience his curiosity had brought was gone. Brushing past him, I knew I would have to go to the ground and lose him in the crowd as people began to leave their homes to take stock of the losses.

I didn’t make it far.

Hawke caught me by the arm. “I think—”

Instinct sparked, seizing control. I spun and twisted under the arm that held mine, ignoring the faint burn along my back. The shock flickering over his face brought a savage smile to my lips. Popping up behind him, I dipped low and kicked out, sweeping his legs out from under him. He dropped my arm to throw out his hands, stopping his fall.

His curse rang in my ears as I took off, racing out of the battlement and onto the inner ledge of the Rise. The closest stairs were several yards—

Something caught my cloak. The force spun me around and jerked me back against the wall. I started to pull away but didn’t make it more than a few inches. Looking down, I saw a dagger embedded deep in the wall, catching my cloak. Stunned, my mouth dropped open.

Hawke stalked toward me, his chin lowered. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Well, he wasn’t going to think this was very nice either.

I gripped the handle of the dagger, wrenching it free. Flipping it so I held it by the blade, I cocked my arm back—

I threw the dagger directly at his annoyingly handsome face. He spun, just as I knew he would—

He caught the dagger by the handle, plucking it out of the air like it was nothing, and that was…impressive. And I was jealous. No way could I have done that. I didn’t even think Vikter could.

Eyes glittering like chips of gold, he tsked softly and started toward me once more.

Pushing off the wall, I started running again, seeing the stairs up ahead. If I could make it to them—

A dark form dropped down in front of me. My feet skidded, and I slipped, losing my balance. Damn slippers and their smooth, soft sole! I went down hard on my hip, swallowing the cry of pain as it lanced up my lower back. At least I hadn’t landed on my back.

Hawk rose from a crouch, the dagger held at his hip. “Now that really wasn’t nice at all.”

How had he…? My gaze flicked to the narrow ridge of the wall above. He’d run along that? It couldn’t be wider than a few inches.

He was insane.

My aim had been spot-on.

With a silent snarl, I waited until he was close enough, and then I kicked out, catching him in the lower leg. He grunted as I jumped to my feet, ignoring the ache of what was surely a bruised hip and rear. I whirled to the right, and he jumped to block me, but I darted to the left. He came right back at me, and I kicked out once more—

Hawke caught me by the ankle. I gasped, arms pinwheeling until I steadied myself. Wide-eyed, I stared at him. He raised his brows as his gaze traveled the length of my bare leg. “Scandalous,” he murmured.

A growl of annoyance burst from me.

He laughed. “And such dainty little slippers. Satin and silk? They’re as finely tailored as your leg. The kind of slipper no guard of the Rise would wear.”

How astute of him.

Air seized in my lungs at the sudden contact. My breasts were flattened against the hard leather and iron of his stomach. The warmth of his body seemed to bleed through his armor, sinking through my cloak and the thin gown underneath. A flash of heat rolled through me as I dragged in a deep breath. Beyond the rot of Craven blood, he smelled of dark spice and lush smoke. A flush crept into my cheeks.

His nostrils flared, and as crazy as it sounded, the hue of his eyes seemed to deepen to a striking amber color. He lifted his other arm. “You know what I think—”

The blade pressing into the skin of his throat silenced him. His lips thinned as he stared down at me. He didn’t move or release me, so I pressed the tip of the dagger in just enough. A bead of blood swelled just below his throat.

Chapter 16

The dagger. Damn it. I’d forgotten that he’d seen the knife at the Red Pearl. Gods, how could I forget that? I jerked the blade away, but it was too late.

And it was also a mistake.

Hawke’s other hand moved lightning-quick, catching the wrist of the hand that held the weapon. “You and I have so much to talk about.”

I said nothing to that.

I pulled on my arms. “Let me go.”

Tiny coils of tension formed in my stomach. Part of me wanted to be reminded of what I surely had not forgotten. Thank the gods, the smarter, logical part of me won out. “There was nothing worth remembering.”

I choked on my next breath. Did he not realize who he was speaking to? Was the sound of my voice so common that he had no idea it was me? But if he hadn’t figured it out yet, that meant I still had the advantage. A small one, but still. “How generous of you,” I retorted.

Groaning, I pulled at my arms, and he chuckled in response, eyes reminding me of pools of warm honey. “Why do you insist on holding me like this?”

His lips curled up on one side, but there was no dimple. “What were you doing up here, Princess?” he repeated.

Anger hit my blood like wildfire. “Desperate? Why would my presence on the Rise signal desperation when, as you’ve seen, I know how to use a bow? Oh, wait. Is it because I happen to have breasts?”

I would’ve liked to know where this group of rather amazing-sounding women lived—wait. Far less beautiful breasts?

Clamping my mouth shut, I refused to answer.

Anger flooded my system once more, overwhelming me. I thrust my knee up, aiming for a very sensitive part of him—the one that somehow made him more qualified than I was to fight.

Hawke sensed my move and shifted, blocking my knee with his thigh. “You’re so incredibly violent.” He paused. “I think I like it.”

I lifted my hips off the wall, attempting to throw him off, but all I accomplished was pressing a very sensitive part of my body against the hard length of his thigh. The friction created a sudden, jarring rush of heat that was so powerful, it was like being struck by lightning. Sucking in a startled breath, I stilled.

Hawke had done the same against me, his large body filling with tension. His chest rose and fell against mine. What…what was happening? I felt hot despite how far up we were and that we stood in the cold night air. My skin seemed to buzz as if fine currents of energy were dancing along my flesh, and hard, pounding heat had replaced the aching coldness in my body.

Several too-long moments stretched out between us and then he said, “I came back for you that night.”

The noise from below was beginning to calm. At any moment, someone could come up here, but I was so incredibly reckless and foolish because I let my eyes drift shut as his words cycled through me.

He had come back.

A smidgen of guilt formed within me, and I wasn’t sure if it was for lying to him, or the throwing the dagger at his face part. Probably both. “I…I couldn’t.”

A harsh, bitter-sounding laugh escaped me. “You know nothing.”

A small measure of unease crawled across my skin.

Hawke bent his head, pressing his cheek to the left side of my hood. “Do you really think I have no idea who you are?”

Every muscle in my body tensed as my mouth dried.

Dammit.

I exhaled noisily, unsure if I was relieved or afraid that I no longer had to wonder if he knew. The confusion spiked my irritation into uncharted territories. “Are you just now figuring that out? If so, I’m concerned about you being one of my personal guards.”

He chuckled deeply, the sound infuriatingly infectious. “I knew the moment you removed the veil.”

My lips parted on a thin inhale. “Why…why didn’t you say something then?”

His very logical reasoning for not saying anything carried a bitter bite of disappointment, and I didn’t even want to delve into why. “As you can see, I can keep myself safe.”

His gaze searched the darkness of my hood for a moment, and then he looked over his shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “You said you wouldn’t betray me—”

Ice drenched my skin.

My chest seized with panic, and I blurted out, “You have no idea what he’d do if you went to him. He’d—” I cut myself off.

Taking a slow, even breath, I lifted my chin. “It doesn’t matter. Do what you feel you need to do.”

Hawke stared down at me for so long it felt like a small eternity had passed and then he let go of me, stepping back. Cold air blew in between us. “You better hurry back to your chambers, Princess. We’ll have to finish this conversation later.”

Confusion held me in its grip for only a few moments, but then I snapped out of it. Easing away from the wall, I ran, and even though I didn’t look back, I knew he didn’t take his eyes off me.

Slipping through the old servants’ access, I wasn’t surprised when I found that Tawny was still in my chambers, even though it had taken me nearly an hour before the gates were lifted and I could sneak back in.

She gasped. “I thought you were never going to come back.”

I closed the creaky door behind me and faced her, slowly reaching up to pull the hood down.

Tawny drew up short. “Are you…are you okay?” Her gaze searched mine, and I saw a faint tremor radiate through her. “Was it bad? The attack?”

Opening my mouth, I had no idea where to start, recalling all that had happened. I leaned against the door. My confrontation with Hawke still had my heart pounding. My mind was a confusing mess, and my stomach churned with the knowledge that the Craven had reached the top of the Rise.

I decided to start with the most important. “There were a lot of them. Dozens.”

Her chest moved as she took in a deep breath. “And?”

I wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know, but to be in the dark was far more dangerous than fear of the truth. “And several of them reached the top of the Rise.”

Tawny’s eyes flew open. “Oh, my gods.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “But the shields have lifted—”

Tawny sat down on the edge of the bed. “Did you…kill any of them?”

Toeing off my slippers, I looked over at her. “Of course.”

There would be. Each house that had lost a son, a father, a husband, or friend would raise the flag in memoriam. Commander Jansen would visit each and every one of them over the next day or so. Many pyres would be lit.

And I feared that some of those who’d bravely faced down the Craven tonight would return to their homes or the dorms, bitten. It happened every time after an attack.

I plopped down on the bed, catching the scent of burnt wood in my hair. Before I could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

Heart slamming against my ribs, I jumped up from the bed and spun around just as Hawke came through the door. My mouth dropped open, mirroring Tawny’s expression.

Hawke kicked the door shut behind him. “It’s time for that talk, Princess.”

Chapter 17

The blood had been wiped from Hawke’s face, and his dark hair was damp, curling against his temples and forehead. His broadsword was absent, but the two shorter swords were still attached to his waist. Standing in my chambers with his booted feet braced shoulder-width apart, and the curve of his jaw hard, Hawke reminded me so very much of Theon, the god of Accord and War.

He appeared no less dangerous than he had on the Rise.

And it was clear by the fiery burn of his amber gaze that he wasn’t here to make peace.

He glanced over to where Tawny stood, struck as silent and still as I was. “Your services are no longer needed this evening.”

Tawny’s mouth dropped open.

Snapping out of my stupor, I had a very different reaction. “You don’t have the authority to dismiss her!”

She turned to me. “I have a feeling I’m missing an important piece of information.”

Tawny lifted her brows.

Beside her, Hawke snorted. “I’m sure it was one of the most important things to have happened to you in a long time.”

My eyes narrowed. “You have an over-inflated sense of involvement in my life if you really think that.”

Tawny’s gaze snapped back and forth between us.

He smiled, showing off the dimple in his right cheek. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Princess.”

Hawke lifted an eyebrow. “Did that make you feel good?”

Oh, my gods.

My hands curled into fists. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Tawny crossed her arms. “Yes, she will, but that’s not nearly as entertaining as witnessing it.”

I sighed. “It’s okay, Tawny. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She stared at me. “Seriously?”

A short, light giggle left Tawny.

I ignored the comment. “And I would like to get some rest before the sun rises.”

Tawny exhaled loudly. “Fine.” She glanced over at Hawke. “Princess.”

Hawke watched Tawny, waiting until she had slipped through the adjoining door before saying, “I like her.”

His gaze slid back to me. “You have beautiful hair.”

I blinked. My hair was unbound, and without seeing it, I knew it was a mess of crimped waves. I resisted the urge to touch it. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

It was at that exact moment I remembered that not only was my face uncovered, but I was also wearing only a thin sleeping gown. I knew that with the light of the fire and the oil lamps behind me, very little of the shape of my body was hidden from Hawke. The flush deepened, became headier. I started for the robe lying at the foot of the bed.

Hawke’s lips twisted into a knowing half-smile that sent a bolt of irritation streaking through me.

I stopped, meeting his gaze and holding it. Hawke might not have seen all the shadowy areas visible beneath the flimsy white gown, but he’d done more than just feel a few of them with his hands. There was a tiny part of me that thought about moving my hair to cover the left side of my face, but he’d seen the scars already, and I wasn’t ashamed of them. I utterly refused to allow what the Duke had said about Hawke saying that I was beautiful to have any impact on me. Hiding my face or covering myself was rather pointless, but more importantly, I swore I saw a challenge in his gaze. As if he expected me to do both things.

I would not.

A long, tense moment passed. “Was that all you were wearing under the cloak?”

Something flickered across his face, reminding me of the look Vikter often gave me when I bested him, but it was gone too quickly for me to be sure. “Feels like it should be,” he said.

The rasp of his voice caused a wave of goosebumps to break out over my skin. “That sounds like your problem, not mine.”

He stared at me with that strange expression again. The one that made me think he was caught between amusement and curiosity. “You’re…you’re nothing like I expected.”

The way he said that sounded so genuine that some of my irritation eased. “Was it my skill with an arrow or the blade? Or was it the fact that I took you to the ground?”

I snorted. “I imagine not.”

His lashes lifted, and there was a wealth of questions in his stare. I didn’t think there’d be any avoiding them this time around.

Suddenly too tired to stand there and argue, I walked over to one of the two chairs by the fire, all too aware of how the sides of my gown parted, revealing nearly the entire length of my leg.

And all too aware of how Hawke tracked every step.

He remained where he stood. “But you knew who I was,” he said, and that wasn’t a question.

My lips twitched as I watched the flames curl and ripple over the thick logs of wood. “Why I decided to stay in the room isn’t up for discussion.”

I thought back to that night and remembered what he had said. He’d seemed to sense that I was there to experience, to live. Now that he knew what I was, it would make sense.

But that still wasn’t something I was willing to discuss. “What are you going to do about me being on the Rise?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he walked to where I sat, his long-legged prowl full of fluid grace. “May I?” He gestured to the empty seat.

I nodded.

Sitting across from me, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees. “It was Vikter who trained you, wasn’t it?”

My pulse skipped, but I kept my face blank.

He had a very good point there. “I’m not going to answer your question.”

He inclined his head. “I said I should, not that I would.”

My fingers curled inward. “It doesn’t matter.”

I looked away, staring at the fire. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Hawke was quiet for a long moment. “Both you and Tawny reacted strangely to his summons.”

There was another pause. “Why were you in your room for almost two days after being summoned by him?”

Sharp, biting pain radiated from where my nails dug into my palms. The flames were dying, flickering softly.

Suffocating shame crept up my throat, tasting acidic. “Why do you even care?”

My head turned before I realized what I was doing. He’d sat back, hands curled around the arms of the wingback chair. “You don’t know me—”

Heat creeped into my cheeks. “That doesn’t mean you know me, Hawke. Not enough to care.”

He tipped forward again, lowering his voice. “I saw you during the City Council. You didn’t agree with the Duke and Duchess. I couldn’t see your face, but I could tell you were uncomfortable. You felt bad for that family.”

I couldn’t exactly argue that point, but what he had seen was me briefly losing control of my gift. However, that didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t okay with what was happening to the Tulis family.

I shook my head. “Those things are just traits. They don’t mean you know me well enough to care about what does and doesn’t happen to me.”

His eyes fixed on mine. “Would you care what happens to me?”

I snapped my mouth shut. Dammit.

Hawke lowered his gaze. “I’m many things. Decent is rarely one of them.”

I had no idea how to respond to that little bit of honesty.

I almost laughed. I was confident that was one thing no one would ever speak about. “If you think so.”

His gaze met mine again, and I felt a hitch in my chest. I couldn’t look away. I felt…ensnared. “How it feels like I’ve known you longer. You feel that, too.”

I wanted to deny it, but he was right, and it was weird. I said none of that because I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Doing so felt like a start down a road I couldn’t travel. Knowing that caused a deep, twisting sensation in my chest, and I didn’t want to acknowledge that either.

Because it felt a lot like disappointment. And didn’t that mean I’d already begun to travel that road? I broke eye contact, my gaze falling to my hands.

Easing open my fingers, I slipped two of them under the sleeve of my right arm. They skimmed my skin until the tips brushed over two jagged tears. There were others, along my stomach and my thighs.

It would be easy to lie, to come up with any number of reasons, but I wasn’t sure if there was any harm in the truth. Was three instead of two knowing the truth somehow earth-shattering? I didn’t think it was.

I closed my eyes. “They came at night, in the mist. There was no time once they appeared. My father…he went out onto the street to try and fend them off while my mother hid us, but they came through the door and the windows before she could even step outside.” The memory of my mother’s screams forced my eyes open. I swallowed. “A woman—someone who was staying at the inn—was able to grab Ian and pull him into this hidden room, but I hadn’t wanted to leave my mom and it just…” Dark and disjointed flashes of the night attempted to piece themselves together. Blood on the floor, the walls, running down my mother’s arms. Losing my grip on her slippery hand, and then grabbing hands and snapping teeth. The claws… And then the soul-crushing, fiery pain until, finally, nothing. “I woke up days later, back in the capital. Queen Ileana was by my side. She told me what had happened. That our parents were gone.”

Understanding flickered across Hawke’s face. “And you want that chance.”

I nodded. “I won’t…I refuse to be helpless.”

Blowing out a little breath, I stilled my fingers. “You saw what happened tonight. They reached the top of the Rise. If one makes it over, more will follow. No Rise is impenetrable, and even if it were, mortals come back from outside the Rise cursed. It happens more than people realize. At any moment, that curse could spread in this city. If I’m going down—”

I nodded.

My gaze lifted to him in stunned silence. It took me a moment to formulate a response. “You sound so many years older than what you appear.”

I ignored the nickname. “But many died.”

Letting my head rest against the back of the chair, I wiggled my toes toward the fire. “As long as an Atlantian lives, there will be Craven.”

I opened my mouth. Dammit. How would I know that?

Shit.

His gaze slid to me. “It’s not spoken about a lot, and when it is, it’s only whispered.”

Unease stirred. “You’re going to need to be more detailed.”

I didn’t know if I should be relieved that was all he’d heard and that he hadn’t brought up my gift. But the fact that he, someone who hadn’t been in the city all that long, had heard such rumors wasn’t exactly reassuring.

If Vikter found out that Hawke had heard such a thing, he would not be happy. Then again, I doubted if Vikter would allow me to assist him after the last time anyway.

I schooled my features. “Well, you should’ve stuck with your initial reaction. They’re mistaken if they think I would commit outright treason against the Crown.”

His gaze flickered over my face. “Didn’t I just tell you that I was a good judge of character?”

My lips parted as my stomach steadied, but my heart flipped and flopped around like a fish out of water.

I didn’t know what to say as I stared at him. He was speaking my own thoughts, and I knew there were others out there who believed the same. Obviously. But to know that he was willing to risk high treason to do what was right…

I arched a brow. “That is all you have to say about me being on the Rise?”

Chapter 18

Hawke hadn’t reported my presence, but he did tell someone.

I discovered that when I woke up only a few hours after he’d left and went to see if Vikter was up for training. There wasn’t a single part of me that was surprised to find him waiting for me and more than ready to get physical. I’d wanted to talk to him about what had happened with the Craven reaching the top of the Rise.

Vikter wanted to talk about what Hawke had told him. Apparently, after he’d left my room, he went straight to Vikter. I wasn’t exactly mad about that. Mostly just annoyed with Hawke feeling the need to tell Vikter anything. But it confirmed that Hawke figured Vikter would be aware of my presence on the Rise, or at the very least, not surprised or angered by it.

Hawke had miscalculated the whole not-being-angered part.

Vikter frowned as he prowled around me, eyeing my stance. He was checking to make sure my legs were braced, and my feet were planted shoulder-width apart. “You shouldn’t have been on the Rise.”

My lips thinned. “My hand-to-hand fighting skills aren’t bad.”

Keeping my chin low, I threw a punch. He blocked with his forearm, and I pulled back, looking for an opening, though not finding one. So, I made one. I shifted as if to kick, and his arms dropped a fraction of an inch. My opening appeared, and I swung, slamming my fist into his stomach.

He grunted softly. “Nice move.”

I dropped my arms, smiling. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Vikter smirked, but it faded quickly. “I know you’re probably tired of me saying this,” he started, “but I’m going to say it again. You need to be more careful. And you’re throwing punches with your arm instead of your core.”

I was getting tired of hearing him say that. “I am careful, and I’m throwing a punch like you taught me.”

I nodded and did what he said. I missed, but I could feel the difference in the swing. “Hawke isn’t going to report me to His Grace.”

A few days ago, I would’ve agreed, but not anymore. Not after what he’d confessed the night prior. “I don’t think he’s going to, Vikter. I don’t have anything to worry about, and neither do you. I didn’t tell him you were the one who trained me.”

I knew what he’d said about the Red Pearl, and I was sure it also applied to the Rise. But it was more than that. The fact that Hawke was willing to risk being charged with high treason to help those who’d been cursed spoke volumes about who he was as a person. It didn’t feel right sharing that with Vikter, though. There was a reason we didn’t know the identities of others in the network.

So, I went with, “He said that if he had, he knew I wouldn’t trust him, which would make his job harder. You have to admit, he has a point.”

He blinked. “Thanks.” A pause. “I think.”

Vikter sighed heavily as he looked away. “He hasn’t given us any reason to doubt him. I know that. It’s just that we don’t know him, and you’re important to me, Poppy. Not because you’re the Maiden, but because you’re…you.”

A knot of emotion formed in my chest and fought its way up my throat. I didn’t give him a chance to realize what I was doing. I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” I murmured against his chest.

Vikter was as stiff as a guard on the Rise for their very first time, but then he put his hands on my back. And patted me.

I grinned.

I hugged him tighter.

He patted me again. “I worry about you. Partly because it’s my job, but mostly because it’s you.”

His chuckle was rough as he dropped his chin to the top of my head. “Your punches are weak when you’re not doing them correctly.” He pulled back, clasping my cheeks. “But, girl, your aim is deadly. Don’t ever forget that.”

I’d never known His Grace to address the people like this. He and the Duchess were never in front of so many, not even during the Councils or the Rite. I couldn’t have been more surprised when both Vikter and Hawke arrived after supper to escort me to the balcony.

Then again, how many years had it been since such a significant movement of Craven reached the Rise?

Black flags had been raised over too many homes, and too many funeral pyres had been lit at dawn. The air was still choked with ash and incense.

Standing back, next to Tawny, and flanked by Vikter and Hawke, I wondered exactly how the gods’ Blessing had kept the wall from falling. It had been the guards, men like the archer, who had chosen death over allowing the Craven to come over the top.

Behind the veil, my brows lifted. Over my right shoulder, I heard Hawke murmur dryly, “That will surely ease fears.”

My lips twitched.

Ever since they’d arrived to escort Tawny and me, they had been doing this. One of them would say something. Anything. The other would disagree, only for the one who’d spoken first to have the last word. It started with Hawke commenting that it was surprisingly warm this evening and that I should enjoy it, to which Vikter had followed up by stating that the temperatures would surely drop too rapidly for that. Hawke had proceeded to ask Vikter where he’d gained such prophetic knowledge of the weather.

In the span of an hour, it had only progressed from there as they attempted to out-snark each other.

Hawke was winning, by at least three comebacks.

Even after I had defended him to Vikter—and I hadn’t been lying when I told him that I trusted Hawke—there was still a small part of me that couldn’t believe what he’d said. He hadn’t told me never to go on the Rise again. He hadn’t demanded that I stay in my room, where it was theoretically safer. Instead, he’d listened to my reasons for why I needed to be out there and accepted them, only asking that I wear more suitable shoes.

And additional clothing.

The latter annoyed and excited me, which was altogether confusing. And was definitely not something that I’d shared with Vikter that morning.

My gaze slid to the Duchess as she stepped forward. “The gods didn’t fail you,” she repeated, placing her hands on the waist-high railing beside her husband. “We didn’t fail you. But the gods are unhappy. That is why the Craven reached the top of the Rise.”

A murmur of dismay swept through the crowd like a rainstorm.

The whispers turned to outright cries of denouncement, startling the horses. The guardsmen quickly calmed the equines’ nervous prancing.

I shifted uncomfortably as dozens and dozens of gazes landed on me. Then, one by one, as if the faces were dominos stacked side by side, they looked to each other as if seeing neighbors and familiar faces for the first time.

I tensed. Immediately, the image of Mr. and Mrs. Tulis formed in my mind. He hadn’t said their names, but he might as well have screamed them from the top of Castle Teerman. I didn’t see them in the crowd, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

And yet, not a single Ascended—not the Duke or Duchess or any of the Lords or Ladies—had raised one hand to defend the Rise. All of them were faster and stronger than any guard. I imagined they could’ve taken down double the amount of Craven I had with a bow, and just like Hawke had said, they had a higher likelihood of surviving an attack.

It happened again.

I felt my senses stretch out from me, and that wasn’t too surprising. With a crowd like this, it was hard to keep myself locked down, but I didn’t… I didn’t just feel pain.

Something touched the back of my throat, reminding me of what I’d felt in the atrium with Loren.

Terror.

I felt terror swelling and rising, coming from so many different directions as my gaze skittered from face to face. Another sensation reached me. It was hot and acidic. It wasn’t physical pain. It was anger. My heart started thumping. I wasn’t feeling pain, but I…I had to be feeling something. It didn’t make sense, but I could sense it pressing against my skin like a hot iron. My throat dried as I swallowed hard. People clasped their hands under their chins and prayed to the gods. I took a small step back. Others stared, their expressions hard—

Vikter’s hand touch my shoulder as he murmured. “Are you all right?”

Yes?

No?

I wasn’t sure.

Anxiety-spiked adrenaline flooded my system as icy ghost fingers danced along the back of my neck. Pressure clamped down on my chest. I wanted to run. I needed to get as far away from people as I could.

But I couldn’t.

Closing my eyes, I focused on my breathing as I struggled to rebuild my mental walls. I kept breathing, in and out, as deeply and slowly as I could.

His comment jarred me out of my spiral of panic, the utter dryness of his words cutting the cord that connected me to the people. My senses reeled back, and it was like a door slamming shut, locking.

I felt…I felt nothing but my pounding heart and the sheen of sweat on my forehead. What he had done did more than loosen the hold the public’s fear had on me, it not only created a crack in its grip, it obliterated it. The feelings had vanished so quickly that I almost wondered if I had felt them at all. If it had just been my mind playing tricks on me as the faces before me became clear once more, a continuous onslaught of different shades of fear and panic—

My gaze sharpened as I took another look at the crowd, focusing on the faces that showed no emotion. Unnerved by their blank features, a trickle of unease curled its way down my spine. I focused on one of the men. He was younger, blond hair falling to his shoulders. He was too far away to make out his eye color, but he stared up at the Duke and Duchess, lips pressed firmly together, jaw a hard, broad line, while those who stood around him exchanged looks of terror.

I recognized him.

He’d been at the City Council. He’d had that same expression then, and that thing had happened—the weird flood of sensations I shouldn’t be able to feel.

Or I didn’t know I could.

I checked out the crowd once more, easily picking up on the ones like him. There were at least a dozen that I could see.

My gaze slid back to the blond man as I thought about what I’d felt when I’d been with Loren. What I’d felt from her made sense now, given what had occurred. She had been excited about the possibility of the Dark One being nearby, as disturbing as that was. And she would have reason to fear that I would say something. This man may not show emotion in his features, but if he hadn’t agreed with what was being done to the Tulis family, it would come as no surprise that he’d feel anger now.

Maybe it was all in my head. Perhaps something was happening to my gift. Was it possibly evolving so I could feel other emotions besides pain? I didn’t know, and I needed to find out, but I had to say something now just in case.

I turned my head to the right, toward Vikter. “Do you see him?” I whispered, describing the blond man.

My brows rose. He was so very observant.

I nodded when her gaze briefly met mine, hoping she was reassured. My hand brushed my thigh. My dagger was sheathed under the white, floor-length tunic. The feel of the bone handle helped to ease whatever panic lingered.

The Duke was still mesmerizing the crowd with tales of gore and horror while I kept my focus on the blond man. He wore a dark cloak over his broad shoulders, and any number of weapons could be hidden underneath.

I knew that from personal experience.

Cheers rang out, the mood of the crowd shifting rapidly, but the blond man still showed no reaction.

There was another round of cheers, and then someone yelled out, “We will honor them during the Rite!”

His and Her Grace stepped back from the balcony then, side by side, almost touching but not quite as they both lifted their hands on opposite sides of the bodies and began to wave—

Time seemed to stop. Everyone froze.

Then there was a sound, a sharp intake of breath that came from everywhere, both inside and outside of me.

The blond man’s cloak parted as he yanked out his hand. There was a shout—a scream of warning—from below. A guard astride a horse turned, but he wasn’t fast enough. The blond man cocked back his arm and—

The man threw something. It wasn’t a dagger or a rock. It was too oddly shaped for that as it ripped through the air, headed straight toward the Duke of Masadonia. He moved incredibly fast, becoming almost nothing but a blur as Vikter shouldered me back. Hawke’s arm folded around my waist, and he hauled me against him as the object flew past us, smacking into the wall. It thumped off the ground, and my gaze lowered to where it came to rest.

It was…it was a hand.

Vikter knelt, picking it up and rising, the line of his mouth tense. “What in the name of the gods?” he muttered.

But it wasn’t just any hand. It was the clawed, grayish hand of a Craven.

I looked at the blond man. A Royal Guard had him on his knees, arms twisted behind his back. Blood smeared his mouth.

The Duke turned back to the crowd and laughed, the sound cold and dry. “And just like that, the gods have revealed at least one of you, haven’t they?”

Chapter 19

Hawke quickly ushered Tawny and me back inside the castle, while Vikter moved to talk to the Commander.

Neither did I, but the appendage might have been from a cursed who’d turned inside the Rise. I kept that to myself as we passed several servants. “I can’t believe he said what he did about the children—the third and fourth sons and daughters.”

What a terrible thing to claim. Those children, many who were adults by now, were in the Temples, serving the gods. While I didn’t agree with there being no exceptions, insinuating that they were being stolen as if done for nefarious purposes was outrageous. There only needed to be a few words spoken for them to behave like an infection, tainting a person’s mind. I didn’t even want to imagine what the parents of those children were now thinking.

He had a point, but…

No.

I didn’t think that would.

Glancing at Tawny, I saw her staring at Hawke as we strode down the second-floor hall, headed toward the older portion of the castle. “What do you think?” I asked.

Tawny blinked as she looked over at me. “I think you are both saying the same thing.”

A half-grin formed on Hawke’s face, and I didn’t say anything as we climbed up the staircase. Hawke stopped us near Tawny’s door. “If you don’t mind, I need to speak to Penellaphe in private for a moment.”

My brows lifted behind the veil while Tawny sent a poorly concealed glance between us as the corners of her lips tilted up. She then waited for me to signal whether it was fine or not.

Tawny nodded and then opened her door, stopping long enough to say, “If you need me, knock.” She paused. “Princess.”

I groaned.

Hawke chuckled. “I really do like her.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I ignored the stupid organ. “Would you be sad if I said no?”

I snorted. “I’m sure.” We reached my door. “What did you need to talk about?”

He motioned to the room, and figuring what he had to say was something he didn’t want overheard, I went to open the door—

A chill danced down my spine as Hawke entered the room. Two oil lamps had been left burning by the door and bed, and wood had been added to the fireplace, casting the room in a soft, warm glow. I didn’t stare too long at the bed, which meant that I somehow ended up staring at Hawke’s broad back as he scanned the room. The edges of his hair brushed the collar of his tunic, and those strands looked so…soft. I hadn’t touched them that night at the Red Pearl, and I wished I had.

I needed help.

Hawke looked over his shoulder. “It’s not dust bunnies I’m worried about. Steps, on the other hand? Yes.”

I folded my arms over my chest, chilled despite the fire. I watched as he circled back to the door, quietly closing it.

Hawke faced me, one hand on the hilt of a short sword, and the flipping in my chest doubled. His face was so strikingly pieced together. From the wide set of his lips, the upward slant of his eyebrows, to the shadowy hollows under his high, broad cheekbones, he could’ve been the muse for the paintings that hung in the city’s Atheneum.

I made a mental note to remember exactly how observant Hawke was. “I was…” I started to say that I’d been fine, but I knew he wouldn’t believe that. “I got a little dizzy. I guess I haven’t eaten enough today.”

His intense gaze tracked over what he could see of my face, and even with the veil, I felt unbearably exposed when he looked at me like he did then. “I hate this.”

Hawke didn’t respond immediately. “I hate talking to the veil.”

He tilted his head to the side. “What does it feel like?”

Air hitched in my throat. No one…no one had ever asked me that before, and while I had a lot of thoughts and feelings about the veil, I wasn’t sure how to put them into words even though I trusted Hawke.

Some things, once spoken, were given a life of their own.

I walked to one of the chairs and sat on the edge as I tried to figure out what to say. Suddenly, my brain sort of spit out the only thing that came to mind. “It feels suffocating.”

Hawke drew closer. “Then why do you wear it?”

My lips twitched.

I shook my head no.

He was, of course, correct.

Hawke arched a brow.

I sighed. “I don’t wear my veil when I’m in my room, and I don’t expect anyone to come in other than Tawny. And I don’t wear it then because I feel…more in control. I can make—”

Nodding, I was more than a little stunned that he’d nailed it.

His gaze searched the veil, and a long moment passed. He then nodded and rose slowly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

A strange lump formed in my throat, making it impossible for me to speak. I remained where I was as he left the room, staring at the closed door once he was gone. I didn’t move. I didn’t remove the veil. Not for a long time.

Not until I no longer wanted.

The following evening, I stood outside the Duchess’s receiving room on the second floor. It was at the opposite end of the hall from the Duke’s, and I kept my back to his room. I didn’t want to see it, let alone think about it.

Two Royal Guards stood outside Jacinda’s room while Vikter waited beside me. I’d told him that morning what had really happened during the Duchess’s and Duke’s address to the people, and how I wasn’t sure if I had actually felt something or not. He suggested that I speak with the Duchess, since the Priestess was unlikely to give me any useful information, and the Duchess, depending on her mood, was more likely to speak openly.

I just hoped she was in a talkative mood.

Neither Vikter nor I spoke in the presence of the other Royal Guards, but I knew he was concerned over what I shared. About what it could mean if it was my gift evolving, or if it was my mind.

I knew Vikter worried that if it was my mind, that it would somehow be held against me, but I didn’t want to wait until it happened again. I’d rather know now if it was my gift or not so I could react better.

The door opened, and one of the Royal Guards stepped out. “Her Grace will see you now.”

Vikter remained outside as planned since knowledge of my gift was supposed to be limited to the Duke and Duchess and the Temple clergy.

I broke so many rules, it was no wonder that Hawke had seemed surprised when I wouldn’t remove my veil the night before. That’s what I was thinking as I walked into the receiving room. I filed those thoughts away as I looked around.

I’d always liked this room with its ivory walls and light gray furnishings. There was something peaceful about it, and it was also warm and inviting despite there being no windows. It had to be all the dazzling chandeliers. My gaze found the Duchess seated at a small, circular table where she was drinking from a small cup. Garbed in a gown of the palest yellow, she reminded me of spring in the capital.

She looked up, a slight smile on her ageless face. “Come. Have a seat.”

Walking forward, I took the chair across from her, noting the plate of pastries. All that was left were the items with nuts. The chocolate scones were probably the first to be devoured. The Duchess had the same weakness as Vikter.

I nodded. “Yes. I know you’re very busy, but I was hoping that you’d be able to help me with something.”

Her head inclined, sending soft, russet-colored waves tumbling over her shoulder. “I must admit, you have me curious. I cannot remember the last time you came to me for assistance.”

I could. It was when I’d asked for my chambers to be moved to the older part of the castle, something I was sure she still didn’t quite understand. “I wanted to talk to you…” I drew in a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about my gift.”

There was a slight widening of her pitch-black eyes. “I was not expecting that to be a topic. Has someone discovered your gift?”

Picking up the napkin from her lap, she wiped her fingers. “What, then? Please, do not keep me in suspense.”

Slowly, she placed the napkin on the table. “You were using your gift? You know the gods have forbidden you to do so. Not until you have been found worthy of such a gift are you to use it.”

Good gods, no. “It doesn’t happen often. I swear, and it has only happened recently. I will double my efforts to control it, but when it happened earlier, I think I…I think I felt something other than pain.”

The Duchess stared at me, unblinking for what felt like a small eternity, and then she rose from her seat. A little unnerved, I watched her go to the white cabinet against the wall. “What do you think you felt?”

She poured a drink from a decanter. “Have you felt anything else that seems abnormal to you?”

I blinked from behind the veil. “You want me to use my gift on you?”

She nodded.

Despite finding her request more than strange, I did what she requested. I opened my senses, felt the cord stretch out between us, and…and connect with nothing but vast emptiness. A shiver danced over my skin.

Closing down the connection, I shook my head. “I don’t feel anything, Your Grace.”

The Duchess exhaled sharply through her nostrils, and then she downed her drink in one impressive gulp.

My eyes widened as my mind rapidly processed her reaction. It was almost as if she…expected me to feel something from her, but I’d never been able to. I didn’t think I ever would be able to.

She clucked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. For a moment, it appeared as if she were about to say something, but then she changed her mind. “Yes, I do believe so, but I…I would not speak to His Grace about this.”

Tension crept into my shoulders at the thinly veiled warning. I was never sure if the Duchess knew about her husband’s…predilections. I couldn’t imagine how she could be completely blind to them, but there was a part of me that hoped she was. Because if she knew and did nothing to stop him, did it make her any better? Or was I even being fair to her? Just because she was an Ascended didn’t mean she held power over her husband.

Shocked, I stared up at her. I had not been expecting her to bring up the first Maiden, the one before me—the only other Maiden I knew of. “Did this…happen with the previous Maiden?”

Or why it mattered whether or not my developing gift reminded the Duke of her.

There was? Priestess Analia had never told me anything. She ignored any questions about her or my Ascension.

She nodded as her stare seemed to penetrate my veil. “I will break the rule just once and pray that the gods forgive me, but I will tell you this in hopes that your future does not end the same as the first Maiden’s did.”

I had a really bad feeling about where this was going.

My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “Was she…found unworthy by the gods?”

If she hadn’t been found unworthy, then why was she never spoken about? Surely, she couldn’t have been that bad if she hadn’t been found unworthy.

Chapter 20

My fingers tightened around the leather binding. The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis was well over a thousand pages, and every week, I was forced to read several chapters during my sessions with the Priestess. I’d probably read the entire tome aloud over a dozen times, and I swore that each time, the Priestess changed the way Skotos was pronounced.

I didn’t say that. Instead, I took a deep, long breath and tried to ignore the almost overwhelming urge to throw the book at her face. It would do some damage. Probably break her nose. The image of her clasping her bloodied face brought forth a disturbing amount of glee.

I smothered a yawn as I concentrated on the text. Having been up most of the night thinking about what the Duchess had told me, I’d gotten little sleep.

And like I’d told Vikter, I’d gotten few answers. But it had been a relief to learn that what was happening wasn’t something that my mind was conjuring up. My abilities were maturing, whatever that meant. The Duchess hadn’t wanted to discuss it further. So, while I knew that what was happening was somewhat normal, I was also left with the knowledge that the first Maiden had done something that had put her on a path to interact with the Dark One, who’d killed her.

That wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Neither was the knowledge that the first Maiden was somehow connected to the Duke. Was that why he treated me as he did? Perhaps it had nothing to do with my mother.

I drew in a shallow breath. “‘‘Which sat at the foot of the Skotis Mountains—’”

My eyes widened behind the veil as I looked over to Hawke. His face was all but devoid of expression. I glanced at the Priestess, who sat across from me on an equally hard, cushion-less wooden stool.

I had no idea how old the Priestess was. Her face was bare of makeup and smooth, but I thought that she might be at the end of her third decade of life. There were no gray strands in her brown hair that was sharply pulled back and held in a bun at the nape of her neck, causing her face to remind me of the hawks that I sometimes saw perched up high in the Queen’s Gardens. A shapeless red gown covered her from just under her neck, leaving only her hands visible.

I’d never seen the woman smile.

And she was definitely not smiling now as she looked over her shoulder at Hawke. “And how would you know?” Derision dripped from her tone like acid.

I was confident that my eyes were about to pop out of my face in response to the obvious insult. I bit down on my lip to stop myself from grinning.

Priestess Analia’s already stiff shoulders jerked back as she stared at Hawke. I could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. “I did not realize I asked for your thoughts,” she spoke, tone as withering as her stare.

She nodded. “Apology—”

Oh, my gods…

I wanted to laugh. It was building in my throat, threatening to burst free, but I couldn’t let it. My grip loosened on the edges of the book. “‘Which sat at the foot of the Skotos Mountains, the gods had finally chosen a side.’” When the Priestess said nothing, I continued. “‘Nyktos, the King of the gods, and his son Theon, the God of War, appeared before Jalara and his army. Having grown distrustful of the Atlantian people and their unnatural thirst for blood and power, they sought to aid in ending the cruelty and oppression that had reaped these lands under the rule of Atlantia.’” I took a breath.

I nodded.

Her fingers were turning pink from how tightly she’d balled her hands where they rested in her lap. “Continue.”

I didn’t dare look at Hawke. “‘Unwilling to see the failure of Jalara of Vodina Isles, Nyktos gave the gods’ first Blessing, sharing with Jalara and his army the blood of the gods.” I shuddered. That was also another gentle term for drinking the blood of the gods. “Emboldened with the strength and power, Jalara Of Vodina Isles and his army were able to defeat the Atlantians during the Battle of Broken Bones, therefore ending the reign of the corrupt and wretched kingdom.’”

I started to turn the page, knowing the next chapter dealt with the Ascension of the Queen and the building of the first Rise.

Confused, I looked over at her. “Why, what?”

I hadn’t realized my action had been so noticeable. “I…” I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t irritate the Priestess and end with her running back to the Duke.

Pleasurable? My face flamed red-hot, and I was grateful for the veil. “It’s just that…the Blessing seems to be similar to how the Atlantians became so powerful. They drank the blood of the innocent, and the Ascended drink the blood of the gods—”

The moment her skin touched mine, I locked down my senses. I didn’t want to know if she felt pain or anything else.

For as long as I could remember, everyone said that—even Vikter—and it grated on my nerves and sat like a boulder on my shoulders. “The future of the entire kingdom rests on me being given to the gods upon my nineteenth birthday?”

Her already thin lips became almost non-existent.

I sucked in a sharp gasp as the Priestess cocked her hand back. It wouldn’t be the first time she had smacked me, but this time, the stinging blow didn’t land.

Hawke had moved so fast that I hadn’t seen him leave the corner. But now, he had the Priestess’s wrist in his grasp. “Remove your fingers from the Maiden’s chin. Now.”

Priestess Analia’s eyes had grown wide as she stared up at Hawke. “How dare you touch me?”

I might’ve stopped breathing as I watched them. No one had ever intervened during one of the Priestess’s tirades. Tawny couldn’t. If she did, she would face worse, and I’d never expect nor want that. Rylan had often turned in the other direction, as did Hannes. Even Vikter had never been so bold. He’d usually find a way to interrupt, to stop the situation from escalating. But I’d been slapped on more than one occasion in front of him, and there was nothing he could do.

But Hawke now stood between us, clearly prepared to follow through on his threat. And while I knew I would most likely pay for this later, as would he, I wanted to jump up and hug him. Not because he had protected me—I’d been slapped harder by stray branches while walking through Wisher’s Grove. There was a far pettier reason. Seeing the Priestess’s usual smugness vanish under the weight of shock and witnessing the way her mouth hung open and how her cheeks mottled with red was almost as satisfying as throwing the book in her face.

Vibrating with rage, she let go of my chin, and I leaned back. Hawke released her wrist, but he remained there. Her chest rose and fell under the gown as she placed both hands flat on her legs.

She turned her head to me. “The mere fact that you would even speak such a thing shows that you have no respect for the honor bestowed upon you. But when you go to the gods, you’ll be treated with as much respect as you have shown today.”

I saw Hawke’s eyes narrow, and I stood, placing the book on the stool as I spoke before Hawke could. “I’m ready to return to my chambers,” I said to him and then nodded at the Priestess. “Good day.”

She didn’t respond, and I started for the door, relieved when Hawke fell into step behind me. I waited until we were halfway across the banquet hall before speaking.

Eyes widening, I stopped and looked at him. His eyes were like shards of amber, his jaw just as hard. “Is it worth losing your position over and being ostracized for?”

He glared down at me. “If you even have to ask that question, then you don’t know me at all.”

I started to tell him that he was being ridiculous and was missing the point, but he wasn’t being ridiculous. This world we lived in was messed up, and the gods knew that wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. But it had never hit me with such clarity before.

Silent, I turned from him and started walking. He was right beside me. Several moments passed. “It’s not like I’m okay with how she treats me. It took everything in me not to throw the book at her.”

I almost laughed. “If I had, she would’ve reported me. She’ll probably report you.”

I snorted. “You don’t know the Duke.”

The disbelief and anger filling those golden eyes sent a wave of nausea through me. Oh, gods. Realizing what I’d basically just admitted, I felt the blood drain from my face and then rapidly flood back in. I pulled at my arm, and he let go. “I didn’t say that.”

He was staring straight ahead, his jaw flexing. “What were you saying?”

Hawke glanced down at me, his lashes lowered. “I must’ve misread what you said then.”

I nodded, relieved. “Yes. I just don’t want you to get into trouble.”

I sighed. “Yes.”

Nearly choking on my laugh, I looked away. “She…she is something, and she’s always disappointed in my…commitment to being the Maiden.”

I almost jumped on him in that moment and wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t, because it would be grossly inappropriate. Instead, I gave him a sedate nod. “I’m not quite sure. It’s not like I’m trying to run away or escape my Ascension.”

My heart lurched in my chest as I stopped in the narrow, short hall and approached one of the windows that faced the courtyard. I stared up at Hawke, and everything about him said that it was, in fact, a genuine inquiry. “I can’t believe you’d ask that.”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. He’d pointed out all that I didn’t have, and made it so painfully clear. I looked away.

I frowned, not even sure I wanted to know why he’d asked that, but I answered honestly anyway. “I know Vikter cares about me. He’s like…he’s like I imagine my father would have been if he were still alive. And I’m like Vikter’s daughter, who never got to take a breath. But he would stop me.”

Hawke said nothing.

I coughed out a short laugh. “You know, I actually believe that.”

Pressure settled on my chest as I looked at him. He was staring out the window. “Why would you ask?”

The sadness that thought brought forth meant that it was far past time to change the subject. “I’ve never been to a Rite.”

I dipped my chin. “I’m offended that you’d even suggest such a thing.”

He chuckled. “How bizarre that I could think that you, who has a history of misbehaving, would do such a thing.”

I grinned at that.

Warmth infused my cheeks. Yes, I did know that, and how kind of him to remind me. “You shouldn’t bring that up.”

His head tilted. “No one is close enough to overhear.”

I started to say yes, but something stopped me. I pulled my gaze from his. Outside the window, the violet-hued butterfly bushes stirred softly in the breeze.

Hawke was quiet for several moments before asking, “Would you like to go back to your room?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not particularly.”

The corners of my lips lifted. I liked that he’d included me, acknowledging that I could hold my own. “I used to love the courtyard. It was the one place where, I don’t know, my mind was quiet, and I could just be. I didn’t think or worry…about anything. I found it so very peaceful.”

Neither of us spoke for several minutes as servants and others passed behind us. Several Ladies in Wait had stopped and pretended to take in the view of the garden while talking about the Rite, but I knew they were lingering near where we stood not because of the stunning flowers and lush greenery or because it was so rare for me to be seen, but because of the beautiful man who stood beside me. He seemed unaware of them, and even though I kept my gaze forward, I could feel his stare every couple of moments. Eventually, one of the Mistresses came along, shooing the Ladies away, and we were left alone once more.

My lips parted on a soft inhale. I didn’t dare look at him. If I did, I feared I’d do something incredibly stupid. Something that the first Maiden could’ve done that had made the Duchess feel that she was unworthy.

I opened my mouth, but as was becoming commonplace where Hawke was concerned, I didn’t know what to say. It felt like I should discourage such statements, but those words wouldn’t come to the surface either, just as they hadn’t before.

So, I did the only thing I could think of. I changed the subject. “I remember you said your father was a farmer.” I cleared my throat. “Do you have any other siblings? Any Lords in Wait in the family? A sister? Or…” I rambled on. “There’s only Ian for me—I mean, I only have one brother. I’m excited to see him again. I miss him.”

Hawke was quiet for so long that I had to look to make sure he was still there and still breathing. He was. He stared down at me, his amber eyes cool. “I had a brother.”

He’d lost a brother.

I reacted without thought to what he would think or to the fact that we were not alone. It was an uncontrollable urge, as if the gift itself had a hold of me.

I touched just his hand with mine and squeezed it in hopes that it would be construed as a gesture of sympathy. “I’m sorry,” I said, and I thought of warm beaches and salty air. Those thoughts quickly changed to how I’d felt when Hawke had kissed me.

The taut lines of Hawke’s expression smoothed out as he stared out the window. He blinked, not once but twice.

Lifting my fingers from his, I clasped my hands together, hoping that he hadn’t realized that I’d done something. He stood there, though, as if he’d been struck immobile. I lifted my brows. “Are you okay?”

He blinked again. This time, he laughed softly. “Yes. It’s…I just had the strangest feeling.”

Hawke nodded as he rubbed the palm of his hand over his chest. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Now I was starting to worry that I’d somehow done something other than relieve his pain. What, I wasn’t sure, but if my gifts were evolving, anything was possible. I reached out with my senses once more, and all I felt in return was warmth. “Is it a bad feeling? Should we find a Healer?”

Now it was my turn to blink repeatedly. “Oh? I just thought…” I trailed off.

Thinking it was far past time for me to lock myself away before I did yet another reckless thing, I shook my head. “I think I would like to go back to my room now.”

He hesitated for a moment but then nodded. Neither of us spoke as we made our way. Apparently, Hawke was trying to figure out why he felt…happier, lighter. And I was left wondering what exactly had happened to his brother to cause that kind of reaction, especially if his brother was still alive.

Chapter 21

It took less than twenty-four hours for me to, yet again, do something utterly reckless. This time, however, I may end up regretting it. Of all the ways I’d thought I might die, it had never occurred to me that it could happen while borrowing a book from the Atheneum.

There were far more dangerous things I’d done in my eighteen years of life, times where I would’ve been more likely to die in the process. Utter heaps of examples where even I had been a bit surprised that I’d walked away with my limbs and life intact. But here I was, one wrong step away from plummeting to my death, clutching the supposed diary of one Miss Willa Colyns, the book that Loren and Dafina had been talking about. Obviously, the book would most definitely be the type of reading material Priestess Analia would expressly forbid. And if I were caught with it in my possession, it would be yet another reason for her to believe that I wasn’t respectful of my duty as the Maiden.

So, of course, I had to read it. I’d been so very bored all day.

I’d already read every book Tawny had snuck me at least three times, and I couldn’t bring myself to read another too-familiar page even one more time. She had yet again been commandeered by the Duchess and the Mistresses, and I knew I might not even see her the following morning. So, I had another day of staring—uninterrupted except for my training with Vikter—at four stone walls. And the longer I stayed in my room with nothing to occupy my mind, the more I thought about what Hawke had said about all the rights that had been stripped away from me.

It wasn’t like I didn’t already know that, but it wasn’t something that others appeared to even acknowledge. Maybe it was because they were with me constantly, so everything had become the norm. But to Hawke, who was new, none of this was normal.

And that was what led me to travel unaccompanied through Wisher’s Grove to the Atheneum while Hawke stood outside my chamber door, thinking I was inside. Vikter was…well, I had no idea where he was. I had a feeling based on how tired and sad his eyes had looked this morning, that he’d been called upon the night before to take care of one of the cursed and hadn’t invited me.

I also had a feeling that he wasn’t going to involve me going forward, which irritated me. Of course, I planned to discuss that with him the first chance I got. I wouldn’t be cut out when I could help people. And he would just have to deal with it.

But right now, I needed to focus on not dying, or worse yet, getting caught.

Cold night air whipped around me as I stood plastered against the stone wall, praying to any god that the foot-wide ledge I stood on wouldn’t cave under my weight. I doubted when it was built that they had taken into consideration that, at some point, an entirely stupid Maiden would find herself standing on it.

How had this gone so terribly wrong?

Sneaking into the Atheneum hadn’t been hard. With my shapeless black cloak, my trusty mask in place, and my face hidden under the hood, I doubted anyone on the streets of Masadonia had been able to tell if I was male or female, let alone the Maiden as I hurried down the alley toward the back entrance of the library. Moving along the grid of narrow halls and staircases without being seen was easy, too.

I knew how to be like a ghost when needed, quiet and still.

The problem started when I found the leather-bound journal of Miss Colyns. Instead of leaving and going back to the castle like I knew I should, I’d ducked inside an empty room.

I just…I had been going stir-crazy in that room and had dreaded going back. And the thickly cushioned settees called to me. The stocked liquor cabinet, something I found odd to discover in a library, confused me, however. But I’d sat by the large windows overlooking the city below and cracked open the worn book. My cheeks had been scalded by the end of the first page, having discovered what occurs when someone kisses one not on the mouth or on the breast like…like Hawke had done before he knew who I was, but some place far more intimate.

I couldn’t stop reading, practically devouring the cream-hued pages.

Miss Willa Colyns lived a very…interesting life with many, many other…fascinating people. I had gotten to the part where she spoke of her brief fling with the King, which I could not even begin to picture, nor did I want to, when I heard voices outside the room—one in particular I’d never thought to hear in the Atheneum.

The Duke’s.

Hearing his voice meant that I’d been so caught up in the diary, I hadn’t even realized the sun had set.

I hadn’t been summoned to meet with him the night before or today. With the preparations for the Rite, I’d been given a temporary reprieve, and I assumed Hawke had as well since he was still my guard. But that reprieve would come to a swift end if the Duke discovered me.

Which was why I was now perched on a ledge outside what turned out to be the Duke’s personal room in the Atheneum. The only grace I’d been given was that the window I’d climbed out of wasn’t the one facing the street but rather the one blocked by Wisher’s Grove.

Only the hawks could see me…or witness my fall.

The sound of ice clinking against glass caused me to swallow a groan. He’d already been in the room for at least thirty minutes, and I was betting that he was on his second glass of whiskey. I had no idea what he was doing. With the Rite kicking off in just hours, I imagined he was busy meeting with the new Ladies and Lords in Wait, and the parents who would be giving their third sons and daughters to the Temples. But no, he was here, drinking whiskey by himse—

A knock on the door sounded. I closed my eyes, lightly banging the back of my head against the wall. Company? He was going to have visitors?

Maybe the gods had been watching me this whole time, and this was yet another punishment.

Oh, dear. I recognized that cold, flat tone. The Duke was not pleased.

They were talking about the Descenter—the one who’d thrown the Craven hand while the Duke and Duchess had spoken to the people after the attack.

The Duke chuckled, and the sound turned my stomach. “What else have you learned?”

A wealth of relief rose and spread through me even as the wind lifted the edges of my cloak.

If so, the knowledge sat heavy in the pit of my stomach. Descenters needed to be dealt with harshly, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about family members being used to coerce information.

I turned my head toward the window, all but holding my breath. I would love to know what he thought was happening.

That statement was a wee bit excessive, but I hadn’t considered that there may be Descenters in the network.

There wasn’t an immediate response, but then the Duke asked, “Does the Descenter still breathe?”

My brows lifted.

Now that surprised me.

I almost laughed. Descenters weren’t given an actual trial. They were put on public display while their charges were leveled against them. Execution quickly followed.

The meaning was clear. If there was no trial, that meant there’d be no public execution, and the only reason that would occur would be if the Descenter was already dead. That had happened before while they’d been imprisoned. Normally, it was believed to have been by their own hands or by an overzealous guard. But could it be that the Duke was meting out justice himself?

The same Ascended who I doubted had gotten a speck of blood on his hands since the War of Two Kings?

I shouldn’t be surprised by that. He had a cruel streak and viciousness within him a mile wide, but he always kept that well hidden under a mask of civility. I also shouldn’t be bothered by the idea of the Descenter being killed without the farce of a trial. They supported the Dark One, and even if some of them hadn’t engaged in the riots and bloodshed, their words alone had sown the seeds that had caused blood to spill on more than one occasion.

But I…I was bothered by the idea of anyone being killed in a dark, dank cell, at the hands of an Ascended who was barely better than an Atlantian.

Finally, the door opened and closed, and there was nothing but silence. I waited, straining to hear any sound. I heard nothing. Wondering why the Duke had decided to have this meeting here and surprised by how aware of the network he was. I inched along the ledge toward the window. Clutching the journal to my chest with numb fingers, I neared the window—

There was a clicking sound from inside the room. I froze. Was that the door closing? Or was it locking? Oh, my gods, if it had been locked, I would have to bust through it—wait, the door could only be locked from the inside. Had someone else come into the room? Was it the Duke? There was no way he knew that I was out here unless he could suddenly see through walls. Who else—?

My lips parted as my eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Hawke. It was Hawke. In that room. I couldn’t believe it.

A heartbeat later, Hawke stuck his head out and looked up at me. The soft glow of the lamp glanced off his cheekbone as he raised a brow.

He stared at me a moment. “Get inside.”

I didn’t move.

With a sigh so heavy it should’ve rattled the walls, he extended his hand toward me. “Now.”

His eyes narrowed. “There are a whole lot of things I could say to you that you should be grateful I’m keeping to myself.”

He waited, but when I didn’t take his hand, he disappeared back into the room, grousing under his breath. “If you fall, you’re going to be in so much trouble.”

Had that been the first time he’d called me that? I thought so as I carefully inched across the ledge. Gripping the upper windowsill, I ducked down. Hawke was standing by the settee, but the moment he spotted me, he moved incredibly fast. Startled, I jerked back, but I didn’t fall. He had an arm around my waist. A second later, I was inside the room, my feet on solid ground, and the journal stuck between his chest and mine. There was still a lot of full-body contact. My stomach and legs were pressed against his, and when I drew in a breath, I could practically taste his dark spice and pine scent on my tongue. Before I could say a word, he reached up and fisted the back of my hood.

Too late.

He yanked it down. “A mask. This brings back old memories.” His gaze roamed, flickering over the strands of hair that had escaped my braid and now fell against my cheeks.

I flushed as I tried to pull away. He didn’t let go. “I understand you’re probably upset—”

The last thing I wanted to tell him about was the old servants’ entrance. I tried to put space between us. “You can let me go.”

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t fall.”

Hawke blinked, and then he laughed—he guffawed deeply, and the sound rumbled through me, eliciting a sharp wave of hot, tight shivers. Thankfully, he seemed unaware of the reaction. “You had the situation under control? I’d hate to see what happens when you don’t.”

I said nothing to that because I doubted whatever I would or could say would do me any favors. And neither did our proximity. Like on the Rise, the way he held me against him reminded me of our time at the Red Pearl, and that was something I didn’t need help remembering. It was hard to think clearly when he held me this close. I wiggled, trying to slip free, but it resulted in our lower bodies being more in contact.

Hawke’s arm tightened around me, and his hold felt like it had changed. As if he were no longer keeping me in place but…but holding me. Embracing me. My stomach dipped as I slowly lifted my gaze to his.

He stared down at me, the lines around his mouth taut as the silence stretched between us. I knew I should demand that he let me go. Better yet, I should make him. I knew how to escape a hold, but I…I didn’t move. Not even when he lifted his other hand and placed his fingers just below the mask. Standing here, allowing this, was possibly the sweetest torture I’d ever put myself through. He hesitated, and I wondered if he was waiting to see what I’d do, what I would say. When I still did nothing, his eyes shifted to a fierce, burning amber. His fingers drifted from the mask and slowly traced the curve of my cheekbone. My skin hummed as his stare followed the path that his fingertips took. He glided them down my face and over my parted lips. I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest suddenly feeling too tight.

His chin dipped, and my breath caught as he lowered his head. Every muscle in my body seemed to tense with a heady mix of panic and anticipation. There was intent in the way his lashes lowered, and how he leaned in. He was going to kiss me. My heartbeat danced as his lips glided across my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I knew what I should do, but I didn’t. Maybe Hawke had been right when he’d said how I could have anything I wanted when, with a mask, I could pretend that no one knew who I was. He had to be.

Because my eyes closed, and I didn’t move. Hawke had been my first kiss, but if he kissed me now, this…this would be our real first kiss. He knew who I was now. He’d seen me unveiled. He knew.

And I wanted this—wanted him.

Chapter 22

My heart was pounding so hard as his fingers drifted to my chin. He tilted my head back, and I felt like I was falling. His mouth moved to my ear, and his warm breath sent hot tingles through me.

His fingers slid down my throat. “How did you get out of the room without me seeing you?”

My eyes popped open. “What?”

It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t trying to kiss me. He was just trying to distract me. Feeling about seven different kinds of foolish, I cursed under my breath and pulled at his hold. This time, he let go.

Face flaming, I stepped back. I retreated several steps, lowering the journal as I dragged in a deep breath.

I was so incredibly…stupid.

Desperate to not let him see how close I’d come to letting him kiss me or the fact that I thought he was going to, I lifted my chin. The rawness was still there, though, and I felt no relief. “Maybe I walked right past you.”

Frustration spiked as I turned back to the window, welcoming the cool air drifting in. I was perhaps foolish enough to get caught, but I was not stupid enough to realize that I could get away with not telling him. “There’s an old servants’ access to my chambers.” My grip tightened on the journal. “From there, I can reach the main floor without being seen.”

I snorted as I turned back to him. “If you want to know that, you have to find out for yourself.”

He lifted a brow. “All right.”

Holding his stare, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that there still wasn’t any relief. There was just…gods, there was only disappointment that he hadn’t kissed me. And if that was an indication of anything, it was that I needed to get control of myself.

He cocked his head. “How many people know about this entrance?”

Hawke took a step toward me. “Because it’s a safety concern, Princess. In case you’ve forgotten, the Dark One wants you. A woman has already been killed, and there has already been one abduction attempt that we know of. Being able to move unseen through the castle, directly to your chambers, is the kind of knowledge he’d find valuable.”

A shiver crept across my shoulders. “Some of the servants who’ve been at Castle Teerman for a long time know about it, but most don’t. It’s not a concern. The door locks from the inside. Someone would have to break down the door, and I’d be ready if that happened.”

I exhaled noisily. There was no point in lying about this now. “Yes. I cut him. More than once. He was wounded when he was called off. I hope he died.”

Hawke laughed again, the sound deep and real. “You really aren’t all that self-aware.”

What he said caught me off guard. “Did you really?”

His brows lifted.

Hawke nodded. “Why would I lie about that?”

Hawke was quiet, and when I glanced over at him, I saw that he was closer, leaning against the settee. “How did you end up on the ledge?”

I sighed. “I came to find something to read, and I stopped inside this room. I…I didn’t want to go back to mine yet, and I didn’t realize that anything about this room was special.” I eyed the liquor cabinet. That alone should have been a warning. “I was in here, and I heard the Duke outside in the hall. So, hiding on a ledge was a far better option than having him catch me here.”

I shrugged once more. “He didn’t, and that’s all that matters.” I quickly moved on. “He had a meeting here with a guard from the prison. At least, I think that’s who it was. They were talking about the Descenter who threw the Craven hand. The guard got the man to talk. He said that the Descenter didn’t believe that the Dark One was in the city.”

Something about his tone snagged my attention. I glanced at him. “You don’t believe him?”

Unfortunately, he had a point. “I think…I think the Duke is going to kill the Descenter himself.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Does that bother you?”

It was so freaking irritating how correct he was…and how often. “I just don’t like the idea of someone dying in a dungeon.”

I stared at him. “Not exactly, but at least then it’s being done in a way that feels…”

I inhaled heavily. “At least then it doesn’t feel like it’s something being hidden.”

Hawke stared back at me, almost curiously. “Interesting.”

The corners of my lips turned down. “What is?”

He nodded and then moved, his hand striking out. Before I even knew what he was doing, he had a hold of the book.

Maybe he couldn’t read.

Please, let it be that he could not read.

The grin slowly slipped from his face.

Of course, he could read. Why was life so unfair?

His dark brows rose as he flipped through the pages. I knew what was on the first page. Miss Willa Colyns had been painfully detailed about the intimate kiss. “What interesting reading material.”

My face was burning with the fire of a thousand suns, and I wondered how mad Hawke would get if I threw my dagger at his face.

Again.

The grin returned, and so did the dimple. “Penellaphe.” He said my name with so much shock, my eyes would’ve rolled if I weren’t so incredibly mortified. “This is…just scandalous reading material for the Maiden.”

Annoyance hitting a record high, I lifted my chin. “There’s nothing wrong with me reading about love.”

I snapped my mouth shut. The truth in that statement stung, and I lashed out. “That’s right. Your visits to the Red Pearl have been the talk of many servants and Ladies in Wait, so I suppose you do have a ton of experience.”

He snorted as he returned to skimming through the book.

Irritated, I turned to the liquor cabinet. A short glass remained out. “Just because you have more experience with…what goes on at the Red Pearl, doesn’t mean I don’t know what love is.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t been in love.”

I hadn’t expected an answer, so when he gave me one after a few moments, I was more than surprised. “Yes.”

There was an odd twisting motion in my chest that I didn’t quite understand as I looked over my shoulder at him, causing me to realize that the aching coldness had eased. I had no idea what it was about him that did that to me. It probably had to do with the fact that he irritated me. “Someone from your home?”

Do you still love her?

That was the second question bubbling to the surface, but by the grace of the gods, I managed to refrain from asking that question.

He chuckled, and then his lips curved up in a small half-smile. The dimple made an appearance in his right cheek, causing the twisting motion inside me to increase. “How much of this have you read?”

Wait.

Was he going to read from it?

No.

Please, no.

My eyes widened.

Concern flickered across his face as he lowered the book. “Now that, I believe.”

He and I were never going to speak about this diary again.

But I did bring it with me when I followed him to the door. It was only when he reached for the handle that it struck me. “How did you know where I was?”

Hawke looked over his shoulder at me, a faint smile playing at his lips. “I have incredible tracking skills, Princess.”

And that was true.

Tawny’s hair was twisted up with a few tight curls framing her face. Her lips matched her mask and gown, a deep and vibrant shade of red. The thin, sleeveless dress hugged her lithe form. She wasn’t just beautiful as she walked toward where I stood by the fireplace. She was confident and at ease with her body and herself, and I was in awe of her.

A flutter erupted in my chest and spread to my belly. “Do I?”

I shook my head no.

Tawny stared at me. “So, you put on the dress—this absolutely beautiful, tailor-made dress—and haven’t even looked at yourself? Not only that, you let me do your hair. I could’ve made it look like a nest for birds.”

A nervous giggle left me. “I really hope you didn’t.”

She shook her head. “You are so…weird sometimes.”

I was. Admittedly. But it was hard to explain why I hadn’t looked at myself yet. It was so rare that I saw myself in anything other than white, and even when I dressed differently to sneak out, I didn’t really look at myself. And this was still different because it was allowed. Because some who knew me would see me.

Hawke would see me.

The flutter turned into large birds of prey that began pecking away at my insides. I was so…nervous.

I almost closed my eyes, as silly as that was, but I looked. I stared at my reflection, not quite sure I recognized myself, and it had nothing to do with the lack of veil and the red domino mask that had been delivered along with the gown.

What did I think? I felt…naked.

The gown was beautiful. No doubt there. The crimson gossamer sleeves, shaded just enough to hide the scars on my inner arms, were long and flowing, and had a delicate lace edge at the cuffs. The flimsy fabric was opaque at the breast and down to my thighs, the gown skimming my curves and shielding those areas. The skirt was loose, and a thicker band of gossamer created the illusion of tiers every few inches, but everything else was as translucent as a nightgown.

I really should’ve tried the dress on. It had been hanging in my wardrobe for long enough. I had no idea why I hadn’t.

Lies.

I knew that if I tried it on, I probably would’ve sent it back.

Tawny had talked me into keeping most of my hair down. Only the sides were pulled back from my face, secured by tiny pins. The rest fell to the middle of my back in loose waves.

Hawke would see me in this dress.

Tawny returned to my side, a pot in one hand, and a slim brush in the other. “Keep your lips parted and hold still.”

I did as she ordered and held completely still as she painted my lips the same shade as my dress. When she was finished, she stepped aside. My lips were…bright.

I’d never worn paint on my lips or eyes before. Obviously, it wasn’t allowed for me. Why? My skin was supposed to be as pure as my heart or something. I had no idea. Once, the Duchess had explained it to me, but I might’ve zoned out halfway through that conversation.

No.

Not at all.

But I needed to be. The Rite would begin at dusk, and the sun was already setting.

Pulse pounding, I nodded. Tawny smiled at me, and I think I smiled back. Or at least I hoped I did as I followed her out into the main chamber. I felt a little dizzy as she reached for the door, opening it. Hawke would be out there with Vikter, and I wanted to turn back and run—to where, I had no idea. Maybe to the bed, where I could wrap the blanket around—

Vikter stood alone.

I looked up and down the hall, expecting to see Hawke, but the corridor was otherwise empty.

The corners of his lips turned up as he focused on me. “You sure you’re ready, Poppy?”

He nodded, and then the three of us started down the hall. Was Hawke not working tonight? I figured both of them would be on duty with me being at the Rite, but what if I’d assumed wrong? But he’d said he was…curious to see me. Didn’t that mean that even if he wasn’t on duty, he’d be here?

My heart thumped as we walked down the stairs to the second floor. It shouldn’t matter if he was here or what he’d said. I wasn’t dressed for him.

But where was he?

I told myself not to ask. I reminded myself over and over, but I blurted it out anyway. “Where’s Hawke?”

Relief swept through me, and on its heels came the almost sweet thrill of anticipation. I exhaled roughly. If my question or reaction appeared odd to Vikter, he didn’t show it. Tawny, on the other hand, squeezed my arm. I glanced at her.

She grinned, and if the mask hadn’t covered her eyebrows, I knew one of them would be raised.

We made our way to the foyer, and there were many people—commoners and Ladies and Lords, both fully Ascended and those in Wait, and staff, all forming a sea of crimson. Cologne and perfumes mixed with the sounds of laughter and conversation.

It was…a lot to take in as we passed one of the statues. The first thing I did was lock down my gift, fortifying my walls. But my heart was still pounding as we entered the hall of banners. The archway of the Great Hall loomed ahead, brightly lit.

Air seemed to leak in and out of my lungs as we then entered the Great Hall.

Gods…

There were so many people. Hundreds stood before the raised dais, between the pillars, and in the windowed alcoves. Normally, I would be on the dais, removed from the throng, but not tonight. It still shocked me that the Duke and Duchess hadn’t demanded that I join them, but there simply hadn’t been any space. Not when there were at least half a dozen Temple clergy on the dais, including Priestess Analia, and just as many Royal Guards.

I looked around, trying to control my breathing. The white and gold banners usually hanging between the windows and behind the dais had been replaced by the deep crimson banners of the Rite, embossed with the Royal Crest. Deep red blossoms flowed from urns, variations of roses and other similarly hued flowers. Up by the dais there was a break in the color, a splash of white amongst the red. For once, it wasn’t me who stood out. Dressed in white tunics and gowns, the second sons and daughters stood with their families. Behind them, the parents of the third sons and daughters crowded, their children in their arms. All of them, even the parents, bore wreaths of red roses and twine upon their heads.

Most paid us no mind as we walked among them. Only a few did a double-take when their gazes passed over us. Eyes rounded around their masks as they either recognized Tawny or Vikter, knowing that I had to be the one in between them. My cheeks heated, but there were so few of them that noticed. To everyone else, I was…just like them. For the most part, I was blending in. I was no one.

The pressure eased in my chest as my pulse slowed. Breathing became so much easier, and the mental walls blocking out my gift no longer felt as if they were seconds away from crumbling.

I wasn’t the Maiden right now.

I was Poppy.

Briefly closing my eyes, muscles strung tight as a bow relaxed. This…this was what I’d been looking forward to—when I could just be Poppy.

And that made this moment, this night, a little magical.

Opening my eyes, I looked up at the dais again, ignoring the far left of the stage where the Priestess stood. I spotted the Duchess, speaking with one of the Royal Guards I recognized. I generally saw him outside the Duke’s office. I scanned the dais, but I didn’t see the Duke. I wondered where he was when one of the Priests joined the Duchess and the Royal Guard. My gaze dropped to those before the dais, and my excitement dimmed as I thought of the Tulis family. They had to be up there with their son, preparing to say goodbye to yet another child. Tonight would not be a celebration for them, not—

The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I looked over my shoulder, already knowing who I would see.

Lord Brandole Mazeen.

Chapter 23

Besides the Duke and the Dark One, he was the last person I wanted to see standing behind me. Like Vikter, his red tunic was sleeveless, and behind his mask, his pitch-black eyes seemed to glimmer. I managed to keep my voice level as I said, “My Lord.”

A sardonic, tight-lipped grin twisted his mouth as his gaze flickered over me, lingering in a way that really made me wish that I were covered head to toe in a sack. Finally, he tore his gaze away and nodded at Tawny and Vikter. Then his attention settled back on me. “I hear that a certain Priestess is very unhappy with you.”

The tension returned, sinking its rigid claws into my neck as I stared up at him.

The Lord stepped in close—too close for any level of propriety. “I do believe you’re in for another lesson, my dear.”

I inhaled sharply, almost overcome by some kind of thick, musky cologne. My gaze flew to his as his scent triggered a memory. He hadn’t smelled of cologne the night he’d trapped me in an alcove—the night Malessa had been murdered.

He’d smelled of something else then—something sweet and musky.

Jasmine.

He’d smelled of jasmine.

My mind immediately went to the petal I’d found under the chair in the room Malessa had been found in. There hadn’t been jasmine in that room, unless it had been replaced by the lilies, but hadn’t Tawny—?

Tawny’s lips pinched. “Yes. I did.”

She blinked. “I…I don’t know. I know they were white.”

The petal in the room had been white, and it had definitely been jasmine. My stomach dipped.

Her gaze searched mine. “Why are you asking?”

He could’ve been with Malessa before she died, or it could be a coincidence, but an Atlantian had killed her. That much was clear. Nothing else could’ve made such a wound without getting blood everywhere.

I nodded. I would speak to him later about it, but I wasn’t even sure what I was thinking.

And he still wasn’t here. The Duchess kept pacing to her left where the dais could be accessed by the back entrance.

I turned the same time as Vikter, and another shock greeted me as I recognized the woman standing there.

It was Agnes.

Oh, my gods…

My eyes widened as she glanced nervously between Vikter and me. She was wearing red, like everyone else, a skirt and blouse dyed to match. She looked better than the last time I had seen her, but there were deep shadows under her eyes that told me that her grieving had not been easy.

She nodded without looking up, and not for one second did I think she didn’t realize who I was.

Vikter’s gaze met mine. “I’ll be right back.”

Vikter started to deny her request, but people were beginning to pay attention, sending sharp looks of reprimand in our direction. “It’s okay,” I said quickly. “We can step outside.”

Who is that? Tawny mouthed at me, and I forced a casual shrug. “I’ll be here,” she said.

Vikter quickly escorted Agnes out into the nearly empty corridor. There were a few stragglers as they hurried into the Hall. He led us to an alcove near one of the open archways that led out to the garden. “It’s very unwise for you to approach us,” he began almost immediately.

Vikter’s head jerked in my direction, his mask doing very little to hide his disbelief. The fact that she’d identified me when she hadn’t seen my face was worth the risks.

Well, that was another thing I could hate Lord Mazeen for. Not that there needed to be another reason.

Agnes’s throat worked on a swallow. “If I could speak to her in private—”

Trepidation flickered across the woman’s flushed face.

She clasped her hands together. “You…I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did.” She glanced around before continuing. “What you did for my husband and for me.”

Vikter was obviously wondering the same thing based on the way his eyes squinted.

A cheer rose inside, and I glanced toward the entrance. Names were being announced. Ladies and Lords in Wait, who would be handed over to the staff.

Agnes dampened her lips. “People have said that it was the Dark One coming for you.”

That wasn’t exactly news, but goosebumps still broke out over my skin.

Agnes briefly met my gaze. “I only want to make sure you’re safe.”

She nodded. “Especially in crowds like this. There are so many people, and if he…he got in here once before, he could do it again. Others could, too.”

Her mouth opened, but then she closed it.

She nodded once more.

I looked sharply at Vikter.

She shook her head. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. I should be going.” She started backing up. “I’m sorry. Just…” Her gaze met mine. “Be careful. Please.”

Agnes turned, hurrying off toward the front of the castle. Vikter started after but stopped. “Dammit,” he growled. “Where is Hawke?”

I wasn’t so sure if he really believed that, but I let him guide me back into the Great Hall and to Tawny’s side.

Tawny glanced at Vikter and then said, “They’re almost done with the third sons and daughters.”

I checked out the dais. “The Duke still hasn’t arrived?

It was very odd. Had something happened when he went to see the Descenter the night before? If so, then something would’ve been announced. Between the missing Duke, my suspicions concerning Lord Mazeen, and Agnes’s unexpected presence, my mind was all over the place as the ceremony continued. Honest to the gods, it sounded like the Priest was speaking a different language. Maybe he was. I was unable to pay attention, and that was a shame because I’d always been curious about the—

The back of my neck tingled, and the strongest sense of awareness swept over me. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew that when I looked over my shoulder, I would see him.

Hawke.

And I was right.

The next breath I took seemed to go nowhere as my gaze swept over the crimson-hued breeches and red tunic that showed just a hint of skin below his throat, as well as the carved line of his jaw and his lush lips. The curve of the red domino mask drew the eye to the rise of his cheekbones. A strand of dark hair tumbled over his forehead, brushing the stiff fabric.

He was…

Hawke looked like I imagined one of the gods waiting in the Temples appeared—striking and unattainable, alluring in a way that was a little frightening.

And I knew that he was looking at me just as intently as I was him. A wave of shivers followed his gaze as it tracked over me with such concentration that it felt like a caress. Every inch of my skin, what was exposed and what wasn’t, became hyperaware. The flutter was back with a vengeance.

One side of his lips kicked up, and that dimple of his made an appearance. “You look…lovely,” he said, and my stomach dipped in the most pleasant way possible. He turned to Tawny. “As do you.”

Tawny smiled. “Thank you.”

He glanced at Vikter. “You, as well.”

Vikter snorted, and I smiled while Tawny giggled. “You do look exceptionally handsome tonight,” she said, and I swore Vikter’s cheeks deepened in color as I turned back to the dais.

I wanted to ask if anyone had said anything to him about what had happened with the Priestess. Still, if I said it in front of Vikter, he’d have questions, and I didn’t want him to worry.

As those given to the Court and to the Temples were led out, the Duchess stepped off the dais, stopping to speak to the families and then some other Court members. Next to the dais, music began to play, and servants entered from the access doors, carrying trays of champagne. Ladies and Lords, along with those in Wait, broke into smaller groups. Merchants and other commoners joined them.

Vikter was eyeing the front before he turned to me. “I need to speak to the Commander,” he said. When I nodded, he turned to Hawke.

Expecting Vikter to challenge the statement, I was surprised when he accepted the answer. Was he coming around to liking Hawke? Trusting him? Or did he just want to catch the Commander before he lost sight of him?

Probably the latter.

That reminded me. I looked at Tawny. “Did they call out the Tulis family?”

Her brow creased. “You know, I don’t think they did.”

Did that mean they hadn’t come? If so, that would be considered treason. Guards would go to their home, the child would still be sent to serve the gods, and Mr. and Mrs. Tulis would most likely be imprisoned.

The only way they’d have a chance was if they left the city, but no one came in and out of the city without the Royals knowing. They’d have to be incredibly well connected to even attempt such a feat, and even if they did, where would they go? Word would be sent to all surrounding cities and towns to be on the lookout for them.

Knowing all of that, I still understood why they’d take the risk. It was their only child.

My attention shifted as the Duchess drew near, flanked by several Royal Guards who, like Vikter and Hawke, had swapped out their white mantles and typical black garb.

She nodded at Tawny and Hawke, her gaze lingering on him for a few seconds. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. “Are you enjoying the Rite?”

Considering I only saw a few minutes of it, I nodded. “Is His Grace not attending?”

Her dark eyes briefly met mine, and then she was on her way, like a jeweled hummingbird, buzzing from one group of people to the next. Laughter rang out from the floor, drawing my attention. I saw Loren and Dafina.

I inclined my head. “Yes?”

My grin faded.

For several minutes, none of us spoke. I lost sight of the Duchess, and the Duke still hadn’t appeared from what I could tell.

I sighed as I glanced at Tawny.

She really did look absolutely beautiful tonight, the red complementing the richness of her brown skin. I knew what she was so vividly focused on without following her gaze. Her expression could only be described as wistful as she watched couples pair off for some waltz I probably would never have been able to master even if I’d been allowed. Her eyes tracked their movements fervently, and I knew for a fact that she knew every step of that dance. Why was she here and not out there with the rest of them?

Of course, I knew the answer.

It was because of me.

Guilt settled in my chest like a stone. “Tawny?”

She twisted toward me. “Yes?”

Tawny’s gaze flicked over my shoulder. “You really only have one. Vikter is still with the Commander.”

Her gaze searched mine, and I could tell that she was waffling. Before she could decide not to, I lied, “I’m actually feeling very tired. I didn’t sleep all that well last night, so I don’t plan to be down here for much longer.”

I nodded.

Tawny’s entire body practically vibrated with the effort required not to throw her arms around me, but she managed a subdued nod as I released her hand. She gave me one last long look and then headed down the steps, crossing the floor to where Dafina and Loren stood with three Lords in Wait.

I smiled, relieved. I hoped she let herself enjoy her night, and to ensure that, I knew I needed to leave. If I stayed down here for any amount of time, standing between the enormous, red geraniums, she would come back.

I felt Hawke step closer before he even spoke, and a shivery wave of warmth danced over my skin. I turned my head to the right, to where he stood no more than a few inches behind me.

No. “Of course.”

I turned, eyes narrowing as he stepped aside. “You need to stop calling me that.”

Brushing past him, I lifted the hem of my skirt as I stepped onto the slight rise. “But I don’t.”

I shook my head as I skirted around the groups of smiling, masked faces. None looked in my direction, most having thought twice about whether they’d seen the Duchess speak with me.

The air was much cooler outside the Great Hall, courtesy of the breeze coming through the open garden entrances. I spared only a quick glance out into the garden before I started down the hall.

Stopping, I turned to him in confusion. “Back to my rooms, as I…” I trailed off.

Hawke’s amber eyes were assessing as they roamed over me, lingering where my hair lay draped over my shoulders. His gaze traveled over the tiny scalloped lace along the bodice of my gown. The neckline wasn’t as low as I’d seen some of the Ladies in Wait wear, and just the upper swells of my breasts were visible, but that…that was a lot for me, considering my normal gowns had a neckline up to the throat.

His words brought forth such a sharp, swelling emotion that my control over my gift snapped, and my senses reached out before I could stop them. I didn’t feel pain from him other than the hum of sadness. My gaze flew to his face. I felt…something else. Two separate emotions. One reminded me of lemon—tart against my tongue. The other sensation was heavier and…spicy, a bit smoky. I thought the first might be confusion or maybe uncertainty. As if he were unsure of something. The other…

Gods.

It took a few moments for my senses to zero in on what that was. It made me feel hot and…and achy. It felt like arousal.

He nodded. “It doesn’t involve returning to your room.”

Anticipation and excitement rose, but… “I’m confident that unless I remain at the Rite, I would be expected to return to my room.”

My heart skipped at the same moment it twisted. “I don’t know. It…”

I stared up at him. “I’m not following where you’re going with this.”

He stepped closer, dipping his chin. “You can’t change what happened in there. Just like you can’t change the fact that the courtyard used to give you peace. You just replace your last memory—a bad one—with a new one—a good one—and you keep doing that until the initial one no longer outweighs the replacement.”

I opened my mouth, but then I really thought about what he’d said. My gaze traveled to the darkness beyond the door. What he’d said actually made sense. “You make it sound so easy.”

I’ll be there with you, and not just watching over you.

My startled gaze lifted to his face. His words struck a chord I tried to never touch. Gods, I couldn’t even begin to know the number of times I’d felt alone since Ian had left, even though I rarely ever was by myself. But those around me the most were sometimes just there because they had to be. Even Tawny and Vikter. That acknowledgement didn’t lessen how much I knew they cared for me and how much I cared for them, but it also didn’t change that while they were with me, they were sometimes not present. Nor did it change the fact that I knew a lot of it was in my head. That small, very insecure part of myself that worried that our friendship would be non-existent if Tawny wasn’t my lady’s maid never really went away. I worried she’d be like Dafina and Loren and the other Ladies in Wait.

How did Hawke know that? Or did he know I felt that way? I wanted to ask, but again, it was something I didn’t like to touch or talk about. Loneliness often brought with it a heavy, coarse blanket of shame, and a cloak constructed of embarrassment.

But with Hawke, even in the short time I’d known him, I didn’t feel alone. Could it be simply his presence? When he was in a room, he seemed to become the center of it. Or was it more? I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to him, forbidden or not.

And I didn’t want to return to my room, left to confusing thoughts that I couldn’t act upon. I didn’t want to spend another night wishing I was living instead of actually doing it.

Was it wise, though, if I was right about what I’d felt from him? I could’ve been wrong, but if I wasn’t? Did I have the willpower to remember what I was? I shouldn’t even attempt to find out

But I…I wanted.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I reached for his hand but stopped. “If someone saw me…saw you—”

He chuckled. “I doubt anyone will recognize us in the courtyard. Not with both of us masked, and just the moonlight and a few lamps to light the way.” He wiggled his fingers. “Besides, I have a feeling anyone out there will be too busy to care.”

My vast imagination filled in what could possibly cause others to be too busy to care.

Hawke curled his fingers around mine. The weight and warmth of his hand was a pleasant shock. “Only the bad can be influenced, Princess.”

Chapter 24

He chuckled as he started toward the garden archway. “My logic is never faulty.”

Cold night air greeted us as we stepped outside, and my heart kicked up at the familiar, sweet scent of flowers and rich, damp soil.

My gaze bounced around a little wildly as I looked for something to be off, to be different than the last time I had been here. There had to be. Oil lanterns were spaced throughout the main pathway, but the sections that branched off were dark—the moonlight couldn’t even penetrate them. My steps slowed as the soft breeze rattled the bushes and lifted strands of my hair.

Hawke spoke softly. “One of the last places I saw my brother was a favorite place of mine.”

That snagged my attention, and I stopped scoping out every bunch of flowers we passed, looking for what, I had no idea. It was like I expected to see wilted petals dripping blood, or waited for the Duke to finally make his appearance. Hawke’s earlier anguish over his brother had given me the impression that this was something he didn’t want to discuss, so the topic surprised me.

The veiled Maiden fountain was only a few feet from us, the sound of trickling water surrounding us. “I lost both of them,” he said, his eyes shadowed, but his gaze no less powerful. “My brother when we were younger, and then my best friend a few years after that. The place that was once filled with happiness and adventure had turned into a graveyard of memories. I couldn’t even think about going back there without them. It was like the place became haunted.”

I didn’t need to open my senses to know that the pain was festering in him, and it wasn’t exactly a good idea to use my ability twice on him, especially when it was evolving. But through our connected hands, I dwelled on the all-too-shallow well of happy thoughts and let it briefly flow through him.

I felt his hand tremble slightly, and then I spoke, hoping to distract him. “I understand. I keep looking around, thinking that the garden should look different. Assuming there’d be a visible change to represent how it now feels to me.”

Hawke cleared his throat. “But it is the same, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

A half-smile appeared in the sliver of moonlight cutting across his face as he shook his head. The lines of his face had relaxed. “Haven’t gotten a chance, but I plan to.”

I lowered my gaze to where his hand still held mine. My grip was loose and yet rigid, fingers sticking out instead of gripping. I wanted to curl the digits around his. “Sometimes, I think…I think it’s a blessing that I was young when Ian and I lost our parents. My memories of them are faint, and because of that, there’s this…I don’t know, level of detachment? As wrong as this will sound, I’m lucky in a way. It makes dealing with their loss easier because it’s almost as if they’re not real. It’s not like that for Ian. He has a lot more memories than I do.”

I shook my head. “He writes as often as he can. Usually, once a month, but I haven’t seen him since the morning he left.” Pressing my lips together, I curled my fingers around his, and my stomach dipped a little. He wasn’t holding my hand any longer. We were holding hands. To a lot of people, that would be nothing. Some would probably even find it silly, but it was huge to me, and I cherished it. “I miss him.” I lifted my gaze, discovering that Hawke was looking down at me. “I’m sure you miss your brother, and I hope…I hope you see him again.”

His head tilted slightly, and his mouth opened as if he were about to say something, but then it closed. A moment passed, and he lifted his other hand, catching a strand of my hair. I sucked in a startled, sharp breath as a wave of shivers followed the glide of his knuckles across the bare skin above my chest. Those shivers didn’t stop there. They traveled down to below my breasts and lower.

Flushed, I dropped his hand and stepped back, turning away. My pulse thrumming, I clasped my fingers together. Was it normal to have such a strong response to a brush of the skin? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t imagine that it was. I took a few steps, searching for something to say. Anything.

I thought about it, about the silky black petals and the deep violet blooms of the jacaranda trees…and the blood that had pooled on the pathway. The way it had filled the cracks in the stone reminded me of a different night. “I…I don’t think so.”

I glanced over my shoulder as he came to stand by my side. “You have a favorite place?”

Knowing I shouldn’t, but somehow unable to stop myself, I placed my hand in his. Hawke was quiet as he led me around the fountain and down the main path. It wasn’t until he veered off to the left where the mild, sweet scent of lavender filled the air, that I knew where he was leading me.

The willow.

At the very edge of the southern side of the Queen’s Garden was a large, several-hundred-year-old weeping willow. Its branches nearly reached the ground, creating a thick canopy. In the warmer months, tiny, white blossoms clung to the leaves.

He nodded. “Never saw one until I got here.”

I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t seen one in the capital. The trees, with their shallow roots, were known to break through the ground, but I wondered what village he’d lived in that had farming and caverns but no weeping willows. “Ian and I used to play inside. No one could see us.”

I cracked a grin. “Well, yes. I would hide, and Ian would tag along like any good big brother.” I looked up at him. “Have you gone under it? There’re benches, but you can’t see them now.” I frowned. “Actually, anyone could be under there right now, and we wouldn’t know.”

My brows lifted above the mask. “How can you be sure?”

I wondered if his certainty had to do with his excellent tracking skills. I easily navigated the low, stone wall, trailing behind him as we passed one of the lanterns. Hawke reached out with his free hand, brushing aside several of the leafy branches. I stepped inside and, within a handful of seconds, we were pitched into almost complete darkness as the branches drifted back into place. The moonlight couldn’t break through the heavy fall, and only the faintest glow from the nearby lanterns seeped into the willow.

I looked around, seeing only the outline of the trunk. “Gods, I forgot how dark it is in here at night.”

I grinned, his words reminding me of Ian. “You should see it when it’s warmer. The leaves bloom—oh! Or when it snows, and at dusk. The flakes dust the leaves and the ground, but not a lot makes it inside here. Then it really is like a different world.”

Fully aware of how close he was standing now, I nervously dampened my lips. “But will we be here? The Queen could summon me to the capital before then,” I said, acknowledging something I had tried not to think of.

I laughed then. “I think it will be hard to sneak off anywhere in the capital, not with me…not with me being so close to the Ascension.”

I laughed again. “Sure.”

I stared at the shadowy form of what I assumed was the back of his head. “How in the world do you see those benches?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re just saying you can see them, and we’re probably a second away from tripping—”

I was left staring, my mouth hanging open. Then I realized that it was quite possible he could see me gaping like a dying fish, so I closed my mouth. Maybe his eyesight was better than mine.

Or my eyesight was poorer than I realized.

I had no words. He was still holding my hand, and I was sitting in his lap, and all I could think about was that part in Willa Colyn’s journal, where she described being in a man’s lap. There had been less clothing—

It was.

And it wasn’t.

I stared at what I thought might be his throat. “This is incredibly inappropriate.”

I blinked once and then twice. “And what if I didn’t want to?”

Another chuckle sent an acute shiver through me. “Princess, I’m confident that if you didn’t want me to do something, I’d be lying flat on my back with a dagger at my throat before I even took my next breath. Even if you can’t see an inch in front of you.”

Well…

I sighed. “I do.”

I drew my head back, putting space between my upper body and his. “Is this why you led me out here to this place?”

His hand glided over the thin, gauzy material of the gown. “So, there you have it.”

Even those stolen kisses weren’t forgivable, at least according to the Duke and Duchess—and the Queen. Then again, if the gods were to intervene, wouldn’t they have done so already? I thought about what Tawny had once said about not being sure whether the rules imposed upon me were a decree from the gods.

And if I had interpreted what the Duchess had said about the first Maiden correctly, she’d done a lot of forbidden things.

She hadn’t been found unworthy.

I grinned. “You are such a bad influence.”

Another hot, tight shiver curled its way down my spine, and I had the sudden urge to squeeze my legs together. Somehow, I refrained.

I resisted him, despite knowing how I would’ve let him kiss me the night before.

My eyes flew open in shock. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Oh.

Oh, gods.

My chest swelled so fast and full, it was a small miracle that I didn’t float right out of his lap and into the willow. What he’d said…

It had to be the sweetest and most perfect thing anyone could say.

I hit his shoulder—or chest. Some extremely hard part of him.

Hawke grunted. “Ouch.”

I so did not hit him hard enough for that. “You’re fine.”

My breath caught. “That doesn’t matter.”

A short, harsh laugh left me. “It doesn’t, and that’s another thing that isn’t the point. You could—”

The corners of my lips started to turn down.

You intrigue me.

His forehead rested against mine, startling me. “Nothing is ever simple. And when it is, it’s rarely ever worth it.”

My heart dropped. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Hawke. You—”

Poppy.

His hand flattened against my cheek, and a sigh shuddered through him. “And I’m not…I’m not being a good friend or guard right now. I’m not…” His hand slid, and his fingers curled around the nape of my neck for a few seconds before he slipped his hand away. “I really should get you back to your room. It’s getting late.”

I exhaled raggedly. “It is.”

He was going to take me back—to that room where I was the Maiden, the Chosen. Back to where I wasn’t Poppy but a shadow of a person who wasn’t allowed to experience, need, live, or want. I would no longer be who he saw.

Chapter 25

Hawke had gone so still against me that I wasn’t sure if he even took a breath. My request had shocked him—shocked me.

I think I might’ve stopped breathing.

Before I had a chance to respond, his lips brushed over mine. I gasped at the soft contact, and I swore I could feel his lips curve against mine in a smile. I wished I could see it because it seemed like a full grin, the kind that lifted both sides of his mouth and made both dimples appear, but then he moved his mouth along mine, painstakingly slow as if he were mapping out the curve of my lips with his. I held completely still, my heart feeling like a trapped butterfly as he retraced the path he’d just made. Tiny shivers hit every part of my body. I trembled as my hands curled into the front of his tunic, no doubt wrinkling the fine material.

This touch was barely a kiss, but gods, the gentleness, the sweetness of it shook me, rattled me to the core.

Then Hawke tilted his head, increasing the pressure, deepening the kiss. Suddenly, everything changed. This kiss—its rawness—left me breathless. Resulted in both of us gasping when we parted, our chests rising and falling quickly. I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but I could feel his penetrating stare.

I wasn’t thinking about what I was in those seconds. I wasn’t thinking about what was forbidden and what was right. I wasn’t thinking at all, truth be told, and I didn’t know who moved first. Hawke? Me? Both of us at the very same moment? Our lips touched again, and this time, there was no hesitation. There was just want, so much of it, and a hundred other powerful, forbidden things that pounded through me. His lips scorched mine, heated my blood, and set fire to my senses. His hands moved to my shoulders, sliding down my arms. Hawke shuddered, and a sound emerged from the back of his throat, sort of like a half-growl, half-moan. It sent little shivers of pleasure and panic darting through me as he parted my lips. The hunger behind our kiss should’ve scared me—and maybe it did a little because it felt like too much and not nearly enough all at the same time. I moaned as his hands drifted down my sides. It felt like my body was sparking, igniting—

He gripped my waist, lifting me and settling me again so my knees fell to either side of his hips with me pressed against him. His breeches and my gown served as no real barrier. I could feel him, and I shuddered as a sharp, pulsing ache throbbed through me. His answering moan, another deep, rough sound, shattered whatever hesitancy I had. I placed my hands on his chest, marveling at the way his body jerked as I slid them up over his shoulders and then around his neck. I did then what I wished I’d done at the Red Pearl. I sank my fingers into his hair, and the strands were as soft as I’d thought they would be. No other part of him felt that way. He was all hard heat against me.

Hawke’s arms moved around me, pulling me so tightly against him that there was barely any space between us. He kissed me again, kept kissing me, and I knew this was more than a kiss. It went beyond that, beyond how he felt and how he made me feel.

His words had touched the deepest part of me, and it was thrilling. I felt alive, like I was finally waking up.

And I never wanted it to stop.

Not with the rush of sensations flowing through me. I knew in the back of my mind that I’d lost control of my gift. My shields were wide open, and there was no way to tell if what I felt belonged to him or me or both of us.

Instinct took over, guiding my body—my hips to push and roll—and he shuddered again, catching my bottom lip between his. He grabbed fistfuls of the skirt of my gown, lifting until his hands touched my calves. A tremor went through me like lightning.

I nodded, seeking his mouth in the darkness. When I found him, I wondered how I’d made it this long without kissing him again.

I wondered how I could go on without doing it more.

That thought threatened to dampen the heat, but his hands were moving again, skimming over my skin and sending a rush of heated blood to every part of my body. I shifted forward until our hips were melded together. I moved. We moved. And I thought I whispered his name before I kissed him again, slipping my tongue between his lips, against his teeth—

Hawke jerked his head back, panting as he rested his forehead against mine. “Poppy,” he said in a way that made my name sound like both a prayer and a curse.

I grinned. “I am.”

He drew the tips of his fingers down the side of my neck. “Do you want me to be blunt?”

My senses were still open. I knew that because I felt a foreign sensation coming through the connection, but it was too brief for me to figure out what it was.

And then he kissed my temple, and I thought about the odd, ashy feeling that had coated my throat. “I was seconds from taking you to the ground and becoming a very, very bad guard.”

Air caught in my throat as a pulse of warm heat went straight through me. I didn’t know a lot, but I knew enough to know what he meant. “Really?”

I should’ve felt relief that he’d stopped, and I did. But I also didn’t. What I felt was a confusing mess. But I knew one thing for sure.

Hawke’s body shook as he moaned. “You’re not helping.”

Instead of being offended—because there was no way, even if I didn’t count tonight, that I could deny that—I laughed and was rewarded by his arm coming back around me. Hawke pulled me back to his body, sliding his hand to my nape. I settled my cheek against his shoulder as his grip briefly tightened, and then his fingers moved, working the muscles of my neck. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed there like that, quiet and hidden away under the willow, but I did know that it was far past the point where my blood had cooled, and my heart had slowed. I didn’t move then, and neither did Hawke. I thought that maybe…maybe being held like this, so close and so tight, felt just as good as the kissing and the touching.

Perhaps even better, but in a different way.

But it was getting late, and unsurprisingly, Hawke was the responsible one. He kissed the crown of my head, causing my heart to squeeze in a way that was so sweet, it was almost painful.

He chuckled, and I grinned into his shoulder. “You have to let me go, though.”

He was silent for so long that I feared that I’d said the wrong thing, but then his arm tightened around me again. When he spoke, his voice was strangely rough. “Neither do I.”

I almost asked why we had to, but I managed to stop myself. Hawke stood then, taking me with him, and I reluctantly lowered my legs. We stood there for another all-too-short moment, his arm around me, my arms stretched above me, and our bodies still connected.

Then I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and took a step back. I couldn’t see him, but I wasn’t surprised when his hand found mine, and he led me toward the willow branches.

He stopped. “Ready?”

Not at all, but I said yes, and we walked out from underneath the willow, my chest threatening to become heavy. I refused to let that happen. At least not right this moment. I had all night for everything I felt to become memories.

I had many nights ahead for that.

We found our way back to the gas-lamp-lit walkway, the garden silent except for the sound of the wind and our steps. I looked down the shadowy paths, wondering what had happened to the hushed conversations and soft moans. We rounded the corner, nearing the fountain—

And came face to face with Vikter, sans mask.

My heart lurched in my chest as I stumbled back a step. Hawke turned as if to catch me, but I gained my footing. “Oh, my gods,” I whispered, looking up at Vikter. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

He stared at me for a long moment and then turned to Hawke. A muscle in his jaw clenched as he looked down to where Hawke still held my hand.

Oh, shit.

Slowly, Vikter looked up while I tried to pull my hand free. Hawke held on for a moment and then let go. I clasped my hands together, my eyes wide behind my mask.

I winced at his tone.

Vikter’s head snapped in his direction. “I know exactly what you were in the process of doing.”

My mouth dropped open.

Which was the wrong thing to say. “You think I don’t know?” Vikter stepped into Hawke’s space, and while Hawke was an inch or two taller, they were eye to eye. “It only takes one look at both of you to know.”

One look at both of us? Blinking, I lifted my fingers to my lips that were still humming and felt puffy. My gaze flew to Hawke’s mouth. His lips did look swollen.

Hawke held his ground and Vikter’s stare, and I really had no idea what he could say. “Nothing happened, Vikter.”

Well…

I blinked.

I stepped forward. “Vikter—”

I gasped, spinning back around. “Vikter.”

Hawke’s chin dipped. “I get that you’re protective of her. I understand that. But I’ll tell you just one more time, you’re way out of line.”

Hawke smiled then, one side of his lips curling up. There was no dimple. His features seemed to sharpen in the moonlight, creating shadows under his eyes and on his cheekbones. “She thinks of you as a father,” he said, his voice so soft it sent a chill down my spine. “It would hurt her greatly if something unfortunate were to happen to you.”

They didn’t look away from each other, and it was almost like I wasn’t there. Finally, Vikter stepped back. I didn’t know if he saw something in Hawke’s face, or if it was me tugging on his arm, but he took another step away, his skin unusually pale in the moonlight.

Hawke smirked, and I shot him a glare he didn’t even seem to notice. He said nothing as Vikter took my arm and turned. I went with him, having taken only a couple of steps before I looked over my shoulder.

The space where Hawke had stood was empty.

I looked around quickly, not seeing him. Where had he—?

It seemed as if he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Hearing him curse caught my attention. I looked up as he stalked along, bringing me with him.

Vikter stopped, looking down at me with wide eyes and lifted eyebrows.

I ignored that. “After you left to speak to the Commander, I felt bad because Tawny wouldn’t leave my side. I knew that as long as I stayed at the Rite, she would feel as if she had to stay with me. So, I told her I was going back to my room so she could have fun.”

At this point, I knew I couldn’t continue lying, at least not about everything. “We walked around, and Hawke showed me a place he enjoyed in the garden. I…I asked him to kiss me.”

Vikter looked away, jaw locking.

Shock flickered over his face.

I made an effort to lower my voice. “This whole stupid thing is the point. The fact that I can’t do anything is the point. That I can’t have one night to do something normal and fun and enjoyable. That I can’t experience anything without being warned to remember what I am. That every privilege you have, and Tawny has, and everyone else has, I don’t have.” My voice cracked as the back of my throat started to burn. “I have nothing.”

His expression softened. “Poppy—”

Breathing heavily, I tried to rein my emotions back in, but I couldn’t. Something in me snapped, broke wide-open, and I couldn’t stop. “I don’t even know if I’ll have a future beyond my Ascension. In less than a year or even sooner, I may lose every chance I have to do everything everyone else takes for granted. I have no life, Vikter. Nothing.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I smacked my hands over my lips. Vikter’s eyes snapped open, and for a long moment, we stared at one another, the truth a double-edged sword between us.

I danced out of his reach, curling my fingers against my mouth. It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t going to be all right. I’d said it. The truth. Out loud. Heart thumping and stomach churning, I turned and started walking toward the castle. I thought I might be sick. “I want to go back to my chambers,” I whispered, lowering my hands. Vikter started to speak. “Please. I just want to go back to my room.”

He didn’t respond, thank the gods, but he followed directly behind me. All I could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. If I didn’t, the angry, messy, and violent ball of emotion lodged in my throat would erupt. I would erupt. That was how I felt. I would explode everywhere in a shower of sparks and flames, and I didn’t care what I looked like when we entered the hall and moved into the light, or what people saw if they looked at me and realized that I was the Maiden. My entire body was trembling with the force to keep—

A loud, cracking sound reminding me of wood splintering drew us to a halt. We turned to the Great Hall just as a shout sounded, followed by screams—piercing screams, one after another. My heart dropped.

Someone—a Lady in Wait—backed out of the Great Hall, her red gown fluttering around her feet as she pressed her hands to her mouth.

Vikter started toward the entryway but stopped. He turned to me, and I knew he was going to take me back to my room, but the screams kept coming, followed by shouts of panic and horror. Another joined the Lady in Wait. Then another, a servant carrying an empty tray. He turned and vomited.

The set to his jaw said that he couldn’t care less. He moved to grab me, but I was fast because he’d taught me how to be when I needed speed. I evaded his reach as I raced for the entryway, his muttered curse ringing in my ears.

A rush of people came out of the entryway, knocking into my shoulder. A blur of masked faces came from every direction. I was thrust to the side, my slippered feet slipping on the polished floors, but I pushed forward. Tawny was still in there. That was all I could think as I broke through the panicked crowd.

I slid to a stop, my gaze landing on the dais, to what was behind the dais. “Oh, my gods,” I whispered.

I knew what had made the cracking sound. One of the wooden rods that held the heavy banners had cracked. The Rite banner had fallen, pooling on the floor of the dais, but red still streaked the wall.

I saw what had broken the rod, what hung from the remaining one. Rope stretched arms outward, and so much red streaked pale skin. I knew who it was. I knew why the Duchess stood in the center of the Great Hall, her arms at her sides, and why everyone else was frozen in shock. It was the hair so blond that it almost looked white.

It was the Duke.

Even from where I stood, I knew what had been shoved into his chest—through his heart. I would recognize it anywhere.

It was the cane he’d lashed me with.

And above him, written in red—in blood—was the mark of the Dark One.

From Blood and Ash….

We Will Rise.

Chapter 26

The Duke of Masadonia was dead.

Murdered.

I couldn’t pull my gaze from him, not even when I became aware of Vikter coming to stand beside me. He said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the pounding of my own heart.

The Duke had been staked through the chest in the same manner the cursed or a Craven would be killed—with wood fashioned from a tree that had grown in the Blood Forest.

With the same cane he’d often stroked lovingly right before it whistled through the air, bruising my back and sometimes even splitting the skin.

Dumbly, I wondered how someone could get the cane through the Duke’s chest. The ends were not sharp but smooth and rounded. The effort and strength that would’ve required... Not to mention, the Duke would’ve fought back unless he’d been incapacitated beforehand.

Only an Atlantian could’ve accomplished that.

Vikter touched my arm, and slowly, I tore my gaze from the Duke’s remains. “He’s dead,” I said. “He’s really dead.” A very inappropriate giggle welled up, and I clamped my mouth shut as I turned back to where the Duke was impaled.

I didn’t think it was funny. Not at all. I didn’t like the man—frankly, I hated him with every fiber of my being—but an Atlantian had gotten into Castle Teerman yet again, and that was frightening. Because of that, this wasn’t funny.

It also wasn’t sad.

Gods, I truly was unworthy, and probably a terrible person, but I sighed softly, a sound of…relief passing my lips. No more lessons. No more lingering stares and touches. No more pain at his hands. No more heavy, sticky shame. My gaze shifted to where a tall, dark-haired Ascended joined the Duchess. No more Lord Mazeen.

Without the Duke, he had little sway over me, and I almost smiled again.

Movement to my left snagged my attention, and I turned, seeing Tawny pushing through a group of Ascended and the Lords and Ladies in Wait. She hurried across the room, her eyes wide behind her mask.

Curls bounced off her cheeks as she shook her head. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” She clasped my hands, glancing toward the dais. Shuddering, she quickly looked back at me. “This can’t be real.”

Vikter stepped in then. “I think it’s time that I get you back to your chambers.”

It probably was, so I nodded and started to turn—

Glass shattered. I spun toward the sound as pieces flew through the air. It was one of the windows facing the garden. Tawny’s grip tightened on my arm. Another window broke, this time to our left, and we both whirled to see shards piercing, cutting into the group standing there—the gathering Tawny had been a part of. Screams of shock gave way to ones of pain as jagged chunks of glass sliced into skin. A girl stumbled out from the scattering group, her hands trembling as she lifted them to her bloodied face. Numerous tiny cuts marked her cheeks and brow. It was Loren. She doubled over, screaming as the blond girl in front of her slowly turned around.

Glass jutted from her eye, and red streamed down her face. She crumpled like a paper sack.

I snapped out of the shock and lurched forward, grabbing Tawny’s arm as a Lord in Wait dropped to his knees and fell forward. Had he been hit by glass, too? I wasn’t sure. She cranked her head around. “What? I have to go to her. She needs help—”

Tawny’s eyes glistened. “But—”

Something whizzed through the air, striking a Lord. The impact spun him around, and Tawny screamed. An arrow had struck him through the eye. He was an Ascended, but he went down, dead before he hit the floor. Blood pooled under him.

The Ascended could die.

Their head and heart were as vulnerable as a mortal’s, and whoever had released that arrow knew just that.

Short sword unsheathed, Vikter shoved Tawny and I behind him as the Duchess, surrounded by Royal Guards, screamed, “Get her out of here! Now! Get—”

An arrow pierced the Royal Guard standing in front of her. Blood spurted from his neck as he reached for the arrow, his mouth open and closing soundlessly.

Gods…

I staggered into Tawny as Vikter turned us around and herded us toward the opening. We started forward as I reached for the dagger on my thigh—

The shrieks that came from outside the Great Hall stopped all of this for just a handful of seconds. The sounds…

Pain.

Terror.

Death.

Then a wave of people rushed the Great Hall, Ascended and mortal, commoner and Royal alike, all running toward us. The gowns and tunics of some were a deeper red now, faces either leached of color or splattered with crimson. Some fell before they made it to the steps, arrows and…knives embedded deep into their backs. Others toppled down the stairs in their panicked run.

We were about to be overrun.

I didn’t even reach for my dagger. I couldn’t fight them. They weren’t the enemy.

Grabbing hold of Tawny by both her arms, I tugged her against me and wrapped my arms around her, holding her as tightly as I could. Vikter’s arms went around me. Guards pressed in, and because of how close I held Tawny to my body, they were forced to form a barricade around both of us.

It was like being hit by falling rocks.

Bodies slammed into the guards from seemingly every direction, pushing them into Tawny and me. Hilts of swords cracked into ribs and other bones. Elbows knocked against flesh. Vases shattered. People broke. The crush of the crowd, of the hundreds who had fled the Great Hall and now returned was too much—

It was as if a massive wave rolled across the floor, tearing free one guard and then another and another until I felt Vikter’s grip loosen. And then he was gone, and something—someone—hard hit me, crashed into Tawny and me. She was ripped away, carried off with the wave of screaming, shrieking people as they ran from whatever it was that had scared them.

That was my last thought as the room seemed to turn upside down. My feet left the floor, and I experienced a boneless, airy moment. I saw the painted gods on the ceiling, then terror-stricken faces and blood and foam. I came back down, slipping and cracking my knees on the hard floor.

I tried to push up, knowing I couldn’t stay down. “Tawny!” I screamed, looking for her, but all I saw was red…everywhere.

A knee connected with my ribs, knocking the air out of my lungs. A booted foot landed on my back, slamming me to the floor. Pain shot down my spine. I scrambled blindly over spilled food, crushed roses, and gods…oh, gods, over wet and warm bodies as I tried to stand. Something caught my skirt, causing me to fall forward.

I came face-to-face with Dafina, and it seemed like time stopped as I stared down at her one beautiful blue eye open and glazed over. That mask of hers, just as gaudy as Loren’s, more red than any other color now that it was drenched in blood. I reached forward, wanting to wipe the blood from the crystals—

I saw Loren then, curled into herself behind Dafina, her arms over her head. I scrambled forward, grabbing her arm. Her head jerked up. Alive. She was alive.

Screaming as someone fell over me, I grabbed Loren by her dress, her arm, her hair—anything I could grab onto and pulled her over Dafina. My senses had cracked wide-open, and terror and pain came from her, came from everywhere. I gained my footing, hauling Loren to her feet. I saw a pillar and headed for that.

A knot lodged in my throat as I kept pulling Loren toward the pillar. I couldn’t think of Dafina and that mask and that one beautiful remaining eye. I couldn’t think about the bodies I crawled over. I couldn’t. “We’re almost there.”

Someone fell into us, but I held on—Loren held on, and we were almost there. Just a few more steps, and we’d be out of the crush. We’d be—

Loren jerked, and something wet and warm sprayed the right side of my face and my neck. Loren’s arms loosened, and I caught her, her sudden weight pulling at the tender skin around my ribs. “Hold on,” I told her. “We’re almost there—” I looked down, peered at her because she was falling, and I couldn’t hold her.

She fell, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I refused to reconcile what I saw as I was jostled to the left and then to the right. There couldn’t be an arrow through the back of her head, the fletching vibrating.

A piercing whistle sounded from outside, followed by another and another. Slowly, I lifted my chin and stared out into the shadows of the garden, some deeper and darker than others. They drew closer.

I’d just been out there with Hawke. Had he gotten out in time? Or had he been felled by—

I couldn’t think like that. He must have left. He had to.

Someone grabbed my arm, spinning me around.

I blinked slowly, numbly. “Vikter, Tawny. I must find them—”

Holding onto her, I looked over her shoulder and met Lord Mazeen’s icy stare. “Good to see you’re still alive,” he said.

Before I could respond, Vikter shoved through, pulling me away from Tawny. “Are you hurt?” he shouted, wiping at the blood on my face. “Are you injured?”

My lips parted. I saw the Duchess behind us, surrounded by guards. Beyond them, I saw the Duke.

Flames crawled and licked up his legs, climbing over his torso and spreading across his arms.

They stood in the entryway and at the broken windows, dozens dressed in the ceremonial garb of the Rite, their faces shielded by silver masks. Wolven. Their facial coverings had been designed with the characteristics of the wolven—ears, snouts, elongated fangs. Those at the entryway were armed with daggers and battleaxes. Those at the windows had been the ones to fire the arrows. There were Descenters, possibly even Atlantians among the masked.

It struck me then.

They had been among us the entire night. I thought of Agnes, of what she had said and how nervous she’d looked, and how Vikter had felt as if there’d been more she hadn’t told us. Had she known and tried to warn me? Not the guards and the commoners who lay injured and dead on the floor. Not the Ascended who’d fallen. Not Loren and Dafina, who’d never harmed a single person.

My hands curled into fists.

Another yelled. “We will rise!”

Vikter grabbed me as I took hold of Tawny’s hand. “We need to move fast,” he said, nodding at the Commander, who was now beside the Lord.

The Royal Guards surrounded the Duchess and us, pushing back through the masses. Every part of me was sickened as they guided us through the crowd toward the open door, where people were being thrown back. We were escaping, and they were being held in.

Ahead of me, the Duchess’s head whipped around, and her black eyes met mine. “The Royals will take care of them.”

Normally, I would’ve laughed at that. The Royals? The Ascended, who never seemed to raise a hand, would take care of them? But there was something in her eyes, almost where her pupils would be if I could see them. It was like burning coal.

We went through the doorway, and…and others went out into the Great Hall. They weren’t guards. They were Ascended, male and female, their eyes carrying that same unholy light.

Racing along, I looked over my shoulder as the last of the Ascended swept through the door, her crimson gown like a cape. A Royal Guard closed the door behind her and then stood with his back pressed against it, his short swords crossed.

Guards streamed past us then as we ran through the foyer, around the statues, and I looked at every one of them, hoping and fearing that I’d see Hawke. Each face that passed me was unfamiliar.

And then the screams from the Great Hall ceased.

My steps faltered. Tawny looked back, too. The screams had simply…stopped.

We spilled into the banquet hall. A guard came running over, his face and arm spotted with blood. “They’re at the back entrance, surrounding the whole damn castle. The only way out is through them.”

The skin around Vikter’s mouth tightened, and we exchanged looks. He shook his head. I held onto Tawny’s hand as we crossed the room and moved into one of the greeting rooms. In the back of my mind, I was at least grateful that it hadn’t been the room Malessa had been murdered in.

Because there was a good chance that we were all going to die in here.

The Commander remained outside, sword drawn, and I knew he was going back to the Hall. My dagger practically burned against my thigh.

As the door closed behind us, I let go of Tawny’s hand and looked around. There was only one window, but it was far too small for anyone but a child to climb through.

The Duchess dropped into a settee, her lips pressed into a firm line. Lord Mazeen went to her, and I saw that several Royal Guards remained inside.

Tawny glanced at me, and I gave her a discreet nod. She drew in a shallow breath and then joined the Duchess, who turned to the Lord. “Bran, why don’t you pour us some of the whiskey.”

As the Lord rose to obey the Duchess, I looked at Vikter and whispered, “This is incredibly stupid.”

His jaw flexed.

He turned from the Duchess as he nodded. “Are you armed?”

My gaze lifted to his in question.

Exhaling slowly, I nodded, and then there was only the sound of glass clinking against glass and then nothing more. The guards remained focused on the door, and I stayed near Vikter, checking on Tawny every so often. She was staring straight ahead, the drink virtually forgotten in her hand. Each time I looked, the Lord was staring back at me.

How unfair that he still breathed when so many others did not.

I didn’t care how unworthy that thought was. I meant it. I didn’t know how much time passed, but my thoughts wandered to Hawke. Fear trickled through my blood like ice.

Lightly touching Vikter’s back, I waited until he faced me. “Do you think Hawke is okay?” I whispered.

A lot of the guards who’d fallen had been good at killing. All the talent in the kingdom meant nothing when an arrow came out of nowhere.

I forced myself to take a deep, slow breath. The Duke was dead. Masadonia had become the next Goldcrest Manor, but Tawny was okay. So was Vikter. And Hawke had to be. This…this wasn’t going to turn out like the night the Craven had come, when my mother—

Something hit the door, causing Tawny to gasp. She clasped her hand over her mouth.

Vikter lifted his finger to his lips. I held my breath. It could’ve been anything. No need to panic. Yes, we were fish in a barrel, but we were—

The door rattled with the next impact, shaking the hinges. Tawny rose, as did the Duchess. The guards moved to block the entryway, drawing their swords.

Wood cracked and splintered as the deadly edge of a battleax breached the portal.

A chunk of wood fell. We were not fine.

Vikter looked over his shoulder at me. Our eyes met, and I let go of the breath I had been holding. I turned, planting my foot on the seat of an empty chair. I gathered up my skirt—

My gaze met his as I unsheathed the dagger, wishing I could shove it through his heart. He must’ve seen that in my stare because his nostrils flared.

A high, panicked giggle snuck out from around Tawny’s hand where it covered her mouth, and her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Duchess Teerman shook her head. “What are you doing with a dagger, Penellaphe?”

Knowing I would hear about this later—if there was a later— I turned back to the door. The hall had quieted. Nothing moved beyond the gash in the wood. One of the Royal Guards crept forward and bent down to peer out.

His head tilted to the side. “Shit,” he exclaimed, turning. “Get back!”

I jumped, as did Vikter, but two of the guards weren’t fast enough. The door blew off its hinges and smacked into them, taking one of them down while the other was caught in the chest by the battering ram. I heard a sickening crunch.

Vikter swung his sword, cutting through bone and tissue. The battering ram hit the ground, along with an arm. A man screamed, stumbling back as blood pumped from the severed limb. He fell to the side, and then they swarmed, swallowing Vikter and the guards. There was no time to give in to panic or fear as one of the Descenters stalked forward, flipping the battleax in his hand. I had no idea if they were here for me or to just shed blood, but with the mask and how I was dressed, they had no idea that I was the Maiden.

The man behind the wolf mask chuckled. “Pretty dagger.”

They had no idea I knew how to use it.

He raised the battleax, and I thought the Duchess screamed. Maybe it was Tawny. I wasn’t sure, but the sounds they made faded into the background as I let instinct take over.

Waiting until the axe blade whistled through the air, I then shot forward, darting under his arm. I spun behind him just as he turned, slamming the dagger into the back of his neck, right in the area I used to end the cursed.

He was dead before he even realized that I’d killed him.

As he fell forward, I saw the Duchess staring back at me, her mouth hanging open.

Whirling around, I hit the ground as another axe swept through the air. I kicked out, sweeping the man’s leg out from under him. He went down just as Vikter turned, his sword arcing through the air as he brought it down. I popped to my feet as a Descenter moved to shove a dagger into Vikter’s back.

I shouted a warning, and Vikter threw out his elbow, catching the man under his chin, snapping his neck back.

A Descenter rushed me, axe swinging. I darted to the left just as something—a glass—smacked into the Descenter’s metal mask. I glanced over my shoulder to see Tawny sans glass, but she wasn’t emptyhanded for long. She grabbed the decanter, holding it like a sword.

I shot forward, thrusting the dagger deep into the Descenter’s chest. He went down, taking me with him. I landed on him with a grunt and started to rise. A booted foot kicked out, catching my hand. Fiery pain erupted as the dagger was knocked from my grasp.

It hurt and punched the air from my lungs. Gods, it stung. I reared, falling on my butt. I looked up, scrambling backward. My aching hand rubbed over the handle of an axe.

Above me, the Descenter lifted a sword with two hands, prepared to bring it down. My heart lurched in my chest.

What the…?

The Descenter hesitated.

Hand tightening around the handle of the axe, I shot forward, dragging the heavy weapon through the air. He tried to move back, but I caught him in the stomach. Blood sprayed as he shouted, dropping the sword to cradle his midsection, his—

Bile hit the back of my throat as I brought the axe down on his neck, ending what would’ve surely been a painful death from disembowelment.

Hand aching, I gripped the axe as a Descenter took down one of the guards and then moved toward Tawny, his sword dripping blood. Lifting the axe over my head, I did just as Vikter had taught me. I made sure the blade was perfectly straight as I brought it back over my head and then heaved it forward, releasing it. It winged through the air, striking the Descenter in the back. He toppled forward, his sword falling to the floor.

Breathing heavily, I turned back to the door just as Vikter thrust his sword through the last Descenter. Only one other guard remained standing. I lowered the sword, my chest rising and falling as I stepped over the body…parts. “Is that all?”

Vikter glanced out to the hall. “I think so, but we shouldn’t stay here.”

There was no way in the world I would stay in this room. The Duchess and the Lord could do whatever they wanted. I turned to Tawny.

I was two seconds away from showing him just how unbecoming I could be.

Vikter touched my arm, drawing my attention to him. Later, he mouthed. “Come.” He glanced at Tawny. “This isn’t safe.”

Vikter’s gaze shifted back to me, and even though his cheeks were more red than golden, he smiled. “You make me proud.”

I’d wanted to throw something at him while we’d been in the garden, but now I wanted to hug him. I stepped toward him just as Tawny shouted.

Time slowed to a crawl, and yet there wasn’t enough time to stop any of what was happening.

Vikter twisted at the waist, facing the door, looking to where a wounded Descenter had risen to his feet, his sword lifted. It hummed through the air, the blade shiny with blood.

The sword found its target.

Vikter’s body jerked, his back bowing as the sword punched through his chest, just above his heart. Shock crawled across his face as he looked down. I stared too, unable to process what I was seeing.

The Descenter tore the sword free, and my own weapon slipped from my hand as I tried to catch Vikter. He couldn’t fall. He couldn’t go down. He staggered as I wrapped my arms around him, his mouth opening and then closing.

His legs went out from under him, and he toppled. He fell. I didn’t remember joining him as I pressed both hands against the wound. I looked up, tried to call for help.

Without warning, the Descenter’s head flew in the opposite direction of his body, and I saw Hawke standing there, his eyes a fiery amber, his cheeks speckled with blood and…and soot. Behind him were more guards. As Hawke’s gaze swept the room, it landed on us and then stopped. I saw the look on his face, in his golden eyes as he lowered his bloodied sword.

Hawke’s eyes closed.

Hawke knelt at Vikter’s side, placing a hand on Vikter’s shoulder. “Poppy,” he said quietly.

Vikter’s grip tightened on my hand, and when I looked down, I saw the pain settling into his features. I felt his pain through the gift. I was so shocked, so thrown, I hadn’t even thought to use it. I tried taking his pain, but I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t find those happy, warm memories. I couldn’t do anything.

Opening my eyes, I shuddered at what I saw. Blood darkened the corners of his too pale lips.

His face blurred as I stared at him. The blood wasn’t pouring from the wound as freely now. “You have protected me. You still will.”

His dulling eyes fixed on me. “Please.”

Vikter shuddered.

His hand slipped from mine.

I drew in air, but it went nowhere as I lifted my head, looking down at him. I frantically searched his face. His eyes were open, his lips parted, but he didn’t see me. He didn’t see anything anymore.

My name was whispered softly. It was Hawke. He placed his hand over mine. I looked at him and shook my head.

A wave of ice swept from the top of my skull and moved down my spine as Hawke looked up at the Lord. His mouth moved, and I thought he said something, but the world simply fell away. I couldn’t hear Hawke over the buzzing in my ears, over the absolute burning rage pounding through my veins.

Forgive me.

I failed you.

Forgive me.

I failed you.

I was moving, my hand finding metal. I rose from the blood, turned around. I saw Lord Mazeen standing there, barely a speck of blood on him, hardly a strand of hair out of place.

He looked at me.

Forgive me.

He smirked.

I failed you.

Forgive me.

The sound that tore from me was a volcano of fury and pain that cut so deep, it irrevocably fissured something inside of me.

I was quick, just like Vikter had taught me to be. I swung the sword around. Lord Mazeen was unprepared for the attack, but he moved as fast as any Ascended could, his hand snapping out as if he planned to catch my arm, and I bet he thought he could. The smirk was still there, but rage was faster, stronger, deadlier.

Fury was pure power, and not even the gods could escape it, let alone an Ascended.

I cut through his arm, through tissue, muscle, and then bone. The appendage fell to the floor, useless like the rest of him. The surge of satisfaction was bliss as he howled like a pitiful, wounded animal. He stared at the blood geysering from the stump just above his elbow. His dark eyes went wide. There was shouting and screaming, so much yelling, but I didn’t stop there. I brought the sword down over his left wrist, severing the hand that had held mine down on the Duke’s desk, ripping away the last shred of modesty I had as the Duke brought the cane down on my back.

I failed you.

The Lord stumbled back against the chair, his lips peeling back as a different sound came from them, one that sounded like the wind when the mist came in. Spinning the sword, I swept it in a wide arc. This sword—Vikter’s sword—found its target.

Forgive me.

I sliced Lord Brandole Mazeen’s head from his shoulders.

His body slid to the floor as I raised the sword and brought it down, hacking into his shoulder, his chest. I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t until he was nothing but pieces. Not even when the screams and shouts became all I knew.

An arm came around me from behind, hauling me back as the sword was wrestled from my hands. I caught the scent of pine and woods, and I knew who held me, knew who pulled me back from what was left of the Lord. But I fought—clawing, swinging to be free. The hold was unbreakable.

Kicking back, I caught him in the shin and then the thigh. I reared, causing him to stumble.

Forgive me.

Hawke crossed his arms around me, lifting me up and then bringing me down so that my legs were trapped under me.

I failed you.

The screaming was so loud it hurt my ears, my head, my skin. In a distant, still-functioning part of my brain, I knew I was the one screaming like that, but I couldn’t make myself stop.

A flash of light exploded behind my eyes, and oblivion reached for me.

I fell into nothingness.

Chapter 27

Half resting on the inner ledge, I stared out the window at the torches beyond the Rise, eyes aching and weary with the pressure of tears that wouldn’t fall.

I wished I could cry, but it was like the cord that had connected me to my emotions had been severed. It wasn’t that Vikter’s death didn’t hurt. Gods, it ached and throbbed every time I even thought his name, but that was almost all I’d felt in the week and a half since his death. A sharp slice of pain that cut through my chest. No sorrow. No dread. Just pain and anger…so much anger.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t gone to his funeral. I hadn’t made it to any of the funerals, and there had been so many dead that ten or more were held at a time—or so I had heard from Tawny.

It hadn’t been my choice not to attend the services. I’d been asleep. I’d been sleeping a lot this week. Entire days just gone in a blur of sleep and drugged consciousness. I didn’t even remember Tawny helping me bathe away the blood and gore or how I got back to bed. I knew she’d talked to me then, but I couldn’t recall a single thing she’d said. I had this weird impression that I hadn’t been alone while I slept. There was a sensation of callused palms against my cheek, fingers brushing hair back from my face. I had the faintest memory of Hawke talking to me, whispering when the room was filled with sunlight and when it had been taken over by night. Even now, I could feel the touch against my face, my hair. It had been the only grounding connection I’d had while I slept.

I squeezed my lids shut until the phantom sensations vanished, and then I reopened my eyes.

It wasn’t until about four days after the attack on the Rite that I’d learned that Hawke had used some kind of pressure point on my neck to render me unconscious. I’d woken up sometime later in my room, unable to use my voice. The screaming…it had torn up my throat. Hawke had been there, so had Tawny, the Duchess, and a Healer.

I was offered a sleeping draught, and for the first time in my life, I took it. I might’ve kept taking it if it hadn’t been for Hawke removing the powder from my room four days ago.

It was then I learned that the attack on the Rise hadn’t been the only one that night. The Descenters had set fire to several of the opulent homes along Radiant Row, drawing guards from the Rise and the castle. That was where Hawke had been after he’d left the garden, which explained the soot on his face.

The fires had been a smart move by the Descenters. I had to give them that. With the guards distracted, the Descenters were able to move through the night, taking out guards stationed around the castle before they even knew they were there. They were able to commence wholesale slaughter before the guards who’d gone to Radiant Row could even be summoned.

No one could be positive what message the attack on the Rite had been meant to send, or even if they had been searching for me. None of the Descenters were taken alive that night, and any of those who had escaped, had slipped back into the shadows.

The Ascended had done what the Duchess said they would do. They got their hands dirty, but their assistance had come too late. Most who’d been left in that room had died. Only a few had survived, most so traumatized that they couldn’t even recall what had happened.

Well over a hundred had died that night.

Gods, I’d rather be asleep than awake.

At least when I slept, I didn’t think about the Duke burning from where he had been hung and impaled. I couldn’t think about Dafina’s one blue eye, or how Loren had tried to go back to her friend, only to be struck down. I wouldn’t remember how it had felt to crawl over people who were dead or dying, unable to do anything to help him. The metal wolf masks didn’t haunt my sleep. Neither did that smile Vikter had given me, or how he’d told me that he was proud. Asleep, I didn’t think about how the last words he’d ever spoken were a plea for forgiveness for him not protecting me. And I couldn’t remember how my gift had failed me when I needed it the most.

I wished I had never said what I did in that garden.

I wished…I wished I’d never gone to the Rite or gone out into the willow. If I’d been in my room where I was expected to be, we wouldn’t have been in the thick of it. The attack still would’ve happened, and people still would’ve died, but maybe Vikter would still be here.

However, a tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered that the moment Vikter learned of what was happening, he would’ve gone down there anyway, and I would’ve followed. Death had come for him, and that voice also whispered that death would’ve found a way.

In the days I spent lost to the deep nothingness, I couldn’t acknowledge what I’d done to Lord Mazeen and how I felt about it now.

Or how I didn’t feel.

There wasn’t an ounce of regret. My nails dug into my palms. I would do it again. Gods, I wished I could, and that disturbed me.

When I was out of it, I didn’t think, and I didn’t care about anything.

But now I was awake, and all I had were my thoughts, the pain, and the anger.

I wanted to find every single Descenter and do to them what I’d done to the Lord.

I’d tried the second night I was awake. I donned my cloak and mask and grabbed the short sword Vikter had given me years before since my dagger was lost to the chaos of that room the night of the Rite. I’d planned to pay Agnes a visit.

She’d known. Nothing could convince me otherwise. She’d known, and her attempts to warn me hadn’t been enough. The blood that had been spilled that night was on her hands—Vikter’s blood tainted her skin. My mentor and friend, who’d drunk her hot cocoa and comforted her. She could’ve stopped all of this.

Hawke had caught up to me halfway through Wisher’s Grove and all but dragged me back to the castle. The chest of weapons had been removed from my room at that point, and the servants’ access barred from the stairwell.

And so, I sat. I waited.

Each evening I’d been awake, I waited for the Duchess to summon me. For punishment to be rendered. Because I’d done something so expressly forbidden that it made everything I’d ever done before an afterthought.

I’d killed an Ascended.

Maiden or not, there had to be some kind of punishment for that. I had to be found unworthy.

A knock drew my gaze from the window. The door opened, and Hawke strode in, closing the door behind him. He was dressed in the uniform of the guards, all black except for the white Royal Guard mantle.

No one had replaced Vikter’s position yet. I didn’t know why. Maybe after seeing what I was capable of, the Duchess realized that I no longer needed as much protection. But protecting myself would be kind of hard to do without access to any weapons. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d already gone through three guards in one year. Or it could be because so many had died during the attack, and they were shorthanded.

My back tensed as Hawke and I stared at one another from across the room.

Things had been weird between us.

I wasn’t sure if it was because of what had happened in the garden and then with Vikter, or if it had been what I’d done in that room after Vikter’s death. It could’ve been all of that. But he was quiet when he was around me, and I had no idea what he was feeling or thinking. My gift was hidden away behind a wall so thick that it couldn’t even crack.

He said nothing as he stood there. Just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me. He’d done that a time or five hundred since I woke. Probably because when he tried to talk to me, all I did was stare at him.

Which was also probably why things were weird.

My eyes narrowed as the silence stretched between us. “What?”

My brows furrowed. “Progress with what?”

I wasn’t mad at Hawke. I was just angry with…everything.

When I looked at him, I saw that he’d moved closer, and I hadn’t heard him. He was only a few feet from me now. “You do?” I lifted my brows. “You understand?”

Hawke stared at me, and in that moment, I felt something other than anger and pain. Shame burned through me like acid. Of course, Hawke knew, at least to some extent. But still, he probably knew better than a lot of other people.

Every muscle in my body locked up. “Hawke—”

I did, but that changed nothing, so I said, “Ten.”

His brows knitted. “What?”

One side of his lips tipped up. The faintest trace of the dimple appeared. “I like calling you that, but I like calling you Princess more.”

He dipped his chin. “It’s okay, you know?”

My breath caught as my chest squeezed, and it wasn’t just pain doing that. It was something lighter, something warmer. How he knew was proof that, in some way, he’d been where I was right now. I didn’t know if I moved or if he did, but my arms were suddenly around him, and he was holding me just as tightly as I was him. My cheek was plastered to his chest, below his heart, and when his chin dropped to the top of my head, I shuddered in relief. The tender hug didn’t fix the world. The pain and anger were still there. But Hawke was so warm, and his embrace was…gods, it felt like hope, like a promise that I wouldn’t always feel this way.

We stood there for some time before Hawke pulled back, and as he did, he smoothed the unruly strands of hair back from my face, sending a shiver of recognition through me.

I blinked. So, it was time. “And you’re just telling me now?”

Hawke frowned at me. “If I thought I was delivering you for punishment, I wouldn’t be taking you there.”

Surprise flickered through me, proving it was yet another emotion I could feel. “Where would you take me?”

It felt strange when Tawny arrived to help me with the veil, to be wearing it after everything, and even more weird to realize that the castle looked the same as it had before the attack. All except for the Great Hall. It had been barricaded from what I could gather. One brief glance at the room Vikter had died in told me that the door had been replaced.

That was all I needed to know.

The Duchess wore white, like I did, but while I wore the clothing of the Maiden, she wore the color of mourning. She sat behind what had been the Duke’s desk, looking over a piece of paper. Not the desk that had been in the Duke’s more private office. If we’d been meeting there, I had no idea what I would’ve done.

I still couldn’t believe how the Duke had been killed. Surely, the weapon had been coincidental, but it still pecked away at something in the back of my mind.

The Duchess glanced up as the door closed behind us. She looked…different. It wasn’t the color, or that her hair was pulled back sharply from her face in a simple twist. It was something else, but I couldn’t place it as I walked past the benches. There were two other people in the room, the Commander, and a Royal Guard.

Her gaze flickered over me, and I wondered if she could tell that I had left my hair down beneath the veil. “I hope you’re doing well.” She paused. “Or at least better than the last time I saw you.”

Tawny sat beside me, but Hawke remained standing to my left. I did everything in my power not to think about how Vikter belonged here.

The message must have been sent through carrier pigeon to the capital, but only a Huntsman would deliver a Royal message here. He had to have ridden night and day, changing horses along the way to have made it back. It generally took several weeks to travel that distance.

I knew this was coming. Since the abduction attempt, I’d accepted that there was a high chance that the Queen would summon me to the capital, and I knew that could mean an earlier than expected Ascension. That was probably why I wasn’t surprised, but it didn’t explain the lack of dread and fear.

All I felt was…acceptance. Maybe even a little relief because this castle was now the last place I wanted to be, and I wasn’t thinking about what could happen when I got to the capital. I wasn’t even thinking about seeing Ian again. I knew what else I felt, though. And that was confusion.

Hawke turned to me, and without looking, I knew he probably had the same expression on his face that Vikter would have had.

The Duchess didn’t respond for a long moment until she said, “I assume you’re speaking about Lord Mazeen.”

My stomach tightened as I nodded.

Her head tilted. “Do you think you should be punished?”

I started to respond as I would’ve two weeks ago before the attack, back when I was still trying so damn hard to be what I was beginning to believe I was never meant to be. “I don’t think I can answer that question.”

Tension radiated from Hawke as I felt him move just the slightest bit toward me.

My mouth dropped open.

The Duchess leaned back as she picked up a quill. “I’ve known Bran for many, many years, and there is very little about his…personality that I am unaware of. I had hoped that he would’ve known better given what you are. Apparently, I was wrong.”

I tipped forward. “Did you—?”

Chest rising and falling, I snapped my mouth shut and sat back. She knew. She’d always known about the Lord and the Duke. Maybe not what they’d done exactly, but she knew. My fingers dug into the skirt of my gown.

I stared at her as her white-knuckled grip on the quill eased. It struck me then. If the Duke had treated me as he did, why had I assumed he would treat his wife any differently? After all, I’d never seen them being loving towards one another, and that went beyond the almost cool nature of the Ascended. I’d never seen them touch. Being an Ascended didn’t mean you were no longer in a position to be abused.

Lowering my gaze, I nodded. “When…when do I leave for the capital?”

Chapter 28

We were in my chambers no more than thirty minutes after we’d left the Duchess’s office. We also had an audience. Tawny was there. So was the Commander, but it was like they weren’t even in the same building.

Hawke and I had been arguing for the last ten minutes.

That statement threatened to sting, so I whirled on Hawke and did the only completely immature thing I could. I took it out on him. “You seriously expect me to leave her here? Where Descenters are murdering people left and right?”

Tawny stepped forward. “If I may—”

Trepidation had my stomach dipping. “I know.”

In his place was a Royal Guard Vikter would’ve been proud of. There was no stopping that sting. Hawke wasn’t my friend or…or whatever he was to me in this moment. He was a Royal Guard duty-bound to keep me alive and deliver me safely to the Queen and King.

He dipped his chin, eyes latched to mine. “If we take Tawny with us, we may as well just send her ahead and use her as Craven bait.”

I gaped at him. “That was possibly the most absurd statement ever.”

I threw up my hands. “That sounds like your problem, not mine.”

Jaw working as he stared down at me, he barked out a short laugh and then turned to where Tawny stood. “I know you want to accompany her. I understand that, but this is not going to be like a normal caravan. There won’t be dozens of guards, and we won’t be staying at the finest inns. Our pace will be fast and hard, and there is an extremely high likelihood that the Rite will not be the last time you see bloodshed.”

I turned to Tawny, but before I could speak, she said, “I know. I understand.” She came forward. “I appreciate that you want me to come with you, Poppy, but I can’t.”

A feather could’ve knocked me over. “You…you don’t want to?” She’d been so excited about seeing the capital.

But if I wasn’t here, then her time would become hers, at least a good majority of it. I pressed my lips together.

I…I wanted to believe her.

She brought our joined hands up to her chest. “Not only that, but what Hawke said is true. So many guards are…they are gone. And the ones going with you cannot be focused on me. I can’t fight. Not like you can. I can’t do what you did.”

What I did? Did she mean when I defended myself or…or what I’d done to the Lord?

Closing my eyes, I exhaled raggedly. She was right. So was Hawke. It would be irresponsible and illogical for Tawny to travel with us. And while I was worried about leaving her behind in a city in such a state of unrest, I was arguing because…because…

I was leaving everything familiar behind.

So much had happened. So many losses. And while I didn’t have the brain space or the emotional capacity to worry about the possibility of the Ascension moving up or even being found unworthy by the gods, I wasn’t borrowing tomorrow’s problems. But everything kept shifting and changing, and Tawny was…she was the last of what used to be.

What if I didn’t see her again?

Drawing in a shaky breath, I couldn’t let myself think like that. I couldn’t let Tawny think that. I opened my eyes. “You’re right.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate being right.”

My head shot in his direction. “No one asked you for your input.”

Commander Jansen whistled under his breath.

Eyes closed and chin lifted to the rising sun, I reveled in the feel of the cool morning air kissing my bare cheeks and brow as I stood beside the black walls of the Rise. It was such a small thing, but it had been years since the sun and wind had touched every part of my face. My skin prickled pleasantly, and even the reason I was able to do this didn’t tarnish the moment.

The veil made me a very obvious moving target as we traveled to Carsodonia. The best way for us to avoid Descenters and the Dark One was to ensure that no one we came into contact with realized who I was, which was why our group was gathering near the Rise, and I wore a plain dark brown cloak with a heavy sweater underneath it, and my lone pair of breeches and boots. I had no idea what people would think when they saw me, but they definitely wouldn’t think of the Maiden.

It was also why I’d said my goodbyes to Tawny in my room. The few castle staff that would be moving about may recognize Tawny as my companion, and Hawke was taking no chances by ignoring the possibility that Descenters could still be among those who worked in the castle.

And that made it even harder to say goodbye to Tawny. Anything could happen between now and when she joined me in the capital, and I’d have no idea until someone decided to tell me. That caused my stomach to twist with helplessness because there was nothing I could do about any of that. I could only hope that I would see her again. I could believe that I would.

But I wouldn’t pray.

The gods had never answered my prayers before.

And it no longer felt right to ask them for anything when I…I could no longer deny what Vikter had claimed.

That I wanted to be found unworthy.

I sighed, concentrating on the sensation of the wind lifting the wisps of hair from around my forehead and temple.

The Duchess hadn’t come to say goodbye.

It didn’t surprise me. And it didn’t hurt like it had before. There wasn’t even disappointment, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Opening my eyes at the sound of Hawke’s voice, I turned around and almost wished I’d kept my eyes closed.

Hawke wasn’t dressed like a guard as he stood next to a massive black horse. His dark brown breeches hugged his long legs, showcasing the strength of his body. His tunic was heavy and long-sleeved, suited for cold weather, as was the fur-lined cloak. In the sunlight, his hair was the color of a raven’s wings.

Somehow, he looked even more striking dressed as a commoner.

And he was staring at me, one eyebrow raised while I was…well, I was just gawking at him. My cheeks heated. “It feels nice.”

I nodded.

Biting down on my lip, I reached out and lightly rubbed the side of the horse’s nose. “He’s beautiful. Does he have a name?”

I smiled at that. “Named after Theon’s warhorse?” Setti nudged my hand for more pets. “He has big hooves to fill.”

I shook my head no. “I haven’t been on one since…” My smile widened. “Gods, it was three years ago. Tawny and I snuck out to the stables and managed to climb on one before Vikter arrived.” My smile faded as I dropped my hand and stepped back. “So, no, I can’t ride.”

My heart skipped over itself as I looked over at him. “And why is that intriguing? And torturous?”

One side of his lips curved up. The dimple appeared. “Besides the fact that it will allow me to keep a very close eye on you? Use your imagination, Princess.”

My imagination didn’t fail me then. “That’s inappropriate,” I told him.

My gaze met his, and the surge of anticipation and relief proved that under the pain and anger, other emotions simmered. “And what of when I arrive at the capital? I will become the Maiden once more.”

I waited, wondering what it could be since the only thing I’d been able to pack was underclothing and two additional sweater-tunics.

Opening one of the leather bags, he reached inside and pulled out something folded in a cloth. He unwrapped it as he turned to me.

My heart stopped and then sped up when I saw what he held in his hand, recognizing the ivory-hued handle and the reddish-black blade.

The fact that he was making sure I was equipped to defend myself in case it was needed meant the world to me. But the fact that he’d found the dagger and kept it safe for me…

The clog dissipated, and all I could do was nod as I carefully sheathed the dagger and then secured it to my right thigh. It took a moment for me to speak. “Thank you.”

Hawke didn’t respond. When I looked up, I saw a small group approaching. Two unfamiliar men on horses and six other men, leading their mounts toward us.

I recognized two of the guards immediately. I’d played cards with them at the Red Pearl. Phillips, and I believed the other was called Airrick. If they recognized me, it didn’t show as they greeted me with curt nods, neither meeting my eyes.

My scars tingled, but I resisted the urge to touch them or to turn so they weren’t visible.

I was surprised to see them, knowing that they weren’t Huntsmen, but I supposed there hadn’t been enough available to join us, and I was happy to see Phillips. He was someone who’d faced Craven time and time again and was still standing.

It was the guard who’d knocked on the door the night at the Red Pearl. It was like a reunion, I thought as I finally got to see him. He looked to be about the same age as Hawke, his dark hair trimmed close to the skull. His eyes were a striking shade of pale blue, reminding me of the sky during winter, a startling contrast to his warm, beige skin, reminding me of Tawny.

He looked toward Hawke, the angles of his face sharp and more than pleasing to the eye. “We need to be on our way if we have any hope of crossing the plains by nightfall.”

Hawke turned to me. “Ready?”

I glanced west, toward the center of Masadonia. Castle Teerman reached high above the Lower Ward and the Citadel, a sprawling structure of stone and glass, of beautiful memories and haunting nightmares. Somewhere in there, Tawny roamed, and the Duchess assumed control of the city. Somewhere in there, my present had become the past. I turned to the Rise. Somewhere out there, my future awaited.

Chapter 29

Within a few hours of our trek across the Barren Plains, I no longer had to rely on my imagination to know what Hawke had meant when he’d said that I’d be riding with him.

There was little space between our bodies. It hadn’t started out that way as the heavy doors of the Rise had opened and we passed the torches. Aware that the men traveling with us knew who I was, I sat straight and desperately ignored the feeling of Hawke’s arm around my waist, but the pace was hard. It wasn’t a dead run, but unused to how a horse moved, the stiff position quickly became awkward and painful. With each passing hour, I ended up closer to Hawke until my back was pressed to his chest, and my hips were cradled by his thighs. The hood of my cloak had slipped at some point, and I left it down, partly because I wanted to feel the wind on my face.

And in part because I could feel Hawke’s warm breath against my cheek every time he leaned down to speak to me.

I’d been right. For a Maiden, this was wholly inappropriate. Or, at least the way it felt to be held by him was inappropriate for a Maiden.

But after a while, I relaxed and cherished the sensation of being in his arms, knowing that when we reached our destination, this would be over, no matter how well Hawke believed his skills were.

Things would be different in the capital.

I stared out over the empty land. At one time, there’d been farms here, and inns where people could stop and rest. But now, there was nothing but endless grass, bent and twisted trees, and tall reeds climbing over the broken ruins of farmhouses and taverns.

I was convinced that everyone we passed was haunted.

The Craven had destroyed the Plains, tainting once fertile ground with blood, and slaughtering anyone who dared to set down roots outside the Rise.

And so close to the Blood Forest.

I kept my eyes peeled for the first glimpse of the forest and did everything not to think about where the sun was currently at and where we’d end when night fell.

Hawke shifted, and somehow, half of his arm ended up slipping between the folds of my cloak. My mouth dried as the horse slowed. Hawke’s palm was against my hip, and although the wool sweater and my pants separated our skin, the weight of his hand was like a brand.

He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it in a couple of days.”

We’d snacked on cheese and nuts as we rode, and while I’d typically have had a much larger lunch by now, I wasn’t sure I could learn how to eat while being jostled by the horse. I nodded, noting that Kieran and Phillips, who were at the front, had also slowed. They’d been speaking to one another on and off, but they’d been too far away from me to hear what they said.

My brows knitted. “Then why are we slowing?”

My lip curled. Barrats weren’t your average rodents. Rumored to be the size of a boar, they were the things of nightmares. “I thought they were all gone.”

Didn’t that say something? I shuddered. “How many do you think are out here?”

I looked at Airrick.

He averted his gaze.

Airrick nodded as Hawke’s thumb continued moving. “He grew corn and tomatoes, beans and potatoes.” A faint smile appeared. “He would tell me that the barrats used to be nothing more than a nuisance.”

Airrick nodded as he scanned the horizon. “Now, anything they come across is food.”

I let myself grin because no one was watching, and I wanted to. “Why am I intriguing now?”

Another shudder made its way through me. “That is not helping.”

He laughed. “You know what I would love right about now?”

Hawke squeezed me, and I felt a dip in my chest. “Besides that.”

I snorted.

I ignored that and reached inside. My fingers brushed over something smooth and leather. Frowning, I grabbed hold of it and pulled it out. The moment I saw the red cover, I gasped and shoved it back into the bag.

Hawke burst out laughing, and ahead, Kieran looked over his shoulder at us. Could he see how red my face was?

Lots of questions.

I rolled my eyes.

That was even worse. “That’s not necessary.”

His laugh was low and soft against my neck. “How far did you get, Princess?”

I pressed my lips together and then sighed. “I almost finished it.”

That wasn’t likely to happen. I couldn’t believe he’d not only found that damn book but had also packed it. Out of everything he could’ve brought with him, he’d grabbed the diary. The corners of my lips twitched, and before I knew it, I was smiling and then I was laughing. When his arm tightened around me again, I relaxed against him.

Hawke was…intriguing.

Our pace picked up after that, and it almost felt like we were racing the moon. I didn’t have to look ahead to know that we were losing.

And then I saw it.

Ice drenched my skin at the first glimpse of red. And then it rose into sight. A sea of crimson stretched as far as the eye could see.

We’d reached the Blood Forest.

The horses carried us forward even though every instinct in my body screamed in warning. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the forest, even though it felt like a sight that would haunt my dreams for many, many years to come. I’d never seen it up close, having come to Masadonia through a different route that would’ve added days to our trip. What I saw was a twisted mass of red and a deeper shade that reminded me of dried blood. Under the pounding hooves, the ground became rockier. Something crunched and snapped. Was it twigs? Branches? I started to look down—

I couldn’t stop myself.

My stomach churned. The ground was littered with sun-bleached bones. Skulls that belonged to deer and smaller animals. Perhaps rabbits? There were also longer bones, too long for an animal, and—

Sucking in a sharp breath, I tore my gaze away. “The bones…” I said, swallowing. “They’re not all animal bones, are they?”

My hand went to the arm around my waist. I held on. “Are they the bones of Craven who died?” If they didn’t feed, they withered away until there was nothing left but bones.

A tremor coursed through me.

But I had.

Just like I couldn’t close my eyes now. The red leaves glistened in the fading sun, looking like a million leaves had captured tiny pools of blood. It was a sight as horrifying as it was disturbingly beautiful.

The horses slowed, and Airrick’s mount reared, shaking its head, but he pushed forward. We advanced, my heart thundering as the branches stretched toward us, their slick leaves rippling softly, seeming to beckon us forward.

The temperature dropped the second we passed under the first branches, and nearly all the sun that remained couldn’t penetrate the leaves. Goosebumps pimpled my skin as I looked up. Some of the branches were so low that I thought I could possibly reach up and touch one of the leaves shaped like the ones found on a maple tree. I didn’t, though.

No one spoke as we fell into line, two by two, side by side, following the path that had been worn into the ground. Everyone kept their eyes peeled. Since there was no crunching, I felt safe looking down.

I scanned the rapidly darkening floor of the forest. “There are no leaves on the ground. It’s just grass. How is that possible?”

Hawke leaned back. “We will need to stop soon. The horses need rest.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest, and my grip on Hawke’s arm increased. I knew my fingernails were beginning to dig into his arm, but I couldn’t make myself let go.

I exhaled raggedly and saw my breath in the air.

We rode for another hour, and then there was nothing but silvery streaks of moonlight when Hawke signaled to the group. The horses slowed to a trot and then eventually stopped, their breathing heavy.

The strangest urge to giggle hit me, but there wasn’t anything funny about what we were about to do.

We were going to spend the night here, inside the Blood Forest, where the Craven roamed.

Chapter 30

I didn’t think I’d ever been this cold before.

The bedroll did nothing to stop the chill from seeping up from the ground, and the blanket, as heavy as the fur was, couldn’t fight back the iciness in the air. My fingers felt like ice cubes inside my gloves, and no amount of shivering warmed my skin.

It had to be at least twenty degrees cooler at night inside the Blood Forest, and I imagined if it rained, it would turn to snow here.

For the last twenty or so minutes, I’d tried to will myself asleep. Because if I were unconscious, I wouldn’t be so worried about turning into a chunk of ice. But every crunch of grass and stir of wind had my hand going to the dagger stowed under the bag I was using for a pillow. Between the cold, the possibility of free-roaming barrats, and the threat of a Craven attack, there was no way I was getting any asleep tonight. I didn’t know how anyone would. I’d barely been able to eat any of the food during our quick, quiet supper.

Four guards slept. Four guards stood watch several yards away, one at each corner of the camp. Hawke had been speaking to one of them, but now he was striding toward me. A tiny part of me thought I should pretend to be asleep, but I had a feeling he’d know.

Stopping in front of me, Hawke knelt. “You’re cold.”

A moment later, I felt his ungloved fingers brush my cheek. I tensed. “Correction. You’re freezing.”

He let his hand dangle between his knees. “You’re not used to this kind of cold, Poppy.”

That was true. I stared at the shadowy shape of his hand. For such rough, callused hands, his fingers were rather long and graceful. Digits that belonged to an artist and not a guard. A killer.

Hawke rose, and for a moment, I thought he might walk off to join the others keeping watch, but he didn’t.

Holding the coarse blanket as close as I could around me, I watched him unhook the rolled blanket from his bag and then drop the bag on the ground. Without saying a word, he stepped over me like I was nothing more than a log. Before I could take my next breath, he was lying down behind me.

I cranked my head around. “What are you doing?”

The heavy weight of his appendage settled at my waist, stunning me for a few precious moments. “What do you call this, then?”

My eyes opened wide. “How is that any different?”

I stared at the darkness, every part of my body focused on the feel of his arm around me. “You can’t sleep with me, Hawke.”

Heat blasted my cheeks. “I don’t want anyone to sleep with me.”

In the darkness, his gaze found mine, and when next he spoke, his voice was even lower. “I know you have nightmares, Poppy, and I know they can be intense. Vikter warned me about them.”

Sorrow pierced the embarrassment before it could even form, shattering it. “He did?” My voice was thick, hoarse.

My eyes squeezed shut against the burn of pain. Of course, Vikter would’ve filled Hawke in. He’d probably done so the very first night Hawke had to watch over me. I knew in my heart of hearts that Vikter had shared this information for my benefit instead of preparing Hawke for the night one of the nightmares drove me from sleep. He’d done it so Hawke wouldn’t react in a manner that would cause me embarrassment or stress.

Vikter was…gods, I missed him.

He didn’t need to finish. If I screamed, I could draw nearby Craven.

A hundred refusals rose to the tip of my tongue, but I was cold, and if I did have a nightmare, someone needed to be nearby to stop me before I started screaming bloody murder. And Hawke’s heat…the warmth of his body was already seeping through the blanket wrapped around us, sinking into my chilled skin and bones.

Besides, all he was doing was sleeping beside me. Or sleeping with me, as he’d said. But neither of those things was forbidden.

And it wasn’t like we hadn’t already done things I should’ve protested or avoided. Compared to the night at the Red Pearl and during the Rite, this was extraordinarily chaste, no matter that I shivered now for an entirely different reason than the cold.

Exhaling as loudly and obnoxiously as I could, I plopped my cheek back onto the bag and winced. The material had chilled significantly while I had my head up. I ended up staring straight ahead, focusing on the vague shape of one of the guards standing in the moonlight.

I closed my eyes, and immediately, my entire focus went to where Hawke’s body touched mine.

Hawke’s arm was all but curled around my waist, but his hand didn’t touch me. It must’ve dangled in the space in front of me. That was surprisingly…polite of him. His chest rested beside my back, and with every breath he took, it brought his body more into contact with mine.

The only sound other than my pounding heart—which I wondered if he heard—was the rattle of the wind stirring the leaves, reminding me of dry bones rubbing together, and the soft neighing of the horses.

Was Hawke asleep already? If he was, I was going to be so irritated.

His answering chuckle stroked my nerves in all the wrong—and right—ways. “More inappropriate than you masquerading as a wholly different kind of maid at the Red Pearl?”

My jaw snapped shut so quickly and tightly, I was surprised I didn’t crack a molar.

Hawke sighed. “Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry about it at all.

Oh, my gods….

I moved to jab him with my elbow, but forgot I was currently wrapped in one blanket and draped with another. All I managed to do was uncover the front of my body, revealing it to the cold air.

Hawke laughed.

I had no response to that.

He ignored that. “You like me.”

My brows knitted together as I stared out over the small clearing.

The corners of my lips tipped up as I lifted the edges of the blanket above my chin. “I’m not pretending none of that stuff happened,” I admitted in a low voice. “It’s just that…”

I didn’t want to say that. I felt like once I did, I couldn’t take it back. “It’s just that I’m not supposed to…do any of that. You know that. I am the Maiden.”

Hawke was quiet for several moments. “And how do you really feel about that, Poppy?”

After several false starts when I tried to answer him, I closed my eyes and just answered truthfully. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to be given to the gods and then, after that, if there is an after part, I don’t want to be married off to someone I’ve never met, who will probably…”

I swallowed hard. “Who will probably be…” I sighed. “You know how Royals are. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and flaws, well, they are unacceptable.” Warmth finally crept into my cheeks. The words tasted like ash. “If I end up as an Ascended, I’m sure whoever the Queen pairs me with will be the same.”

Hawke didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I was so grateful, I almost rolled around and hugged him. Nothing he could’ve said would’ve made what I said any less humiliating to admit.

A shocked laugh burst from me, loud enough that I saw the pacing guard stop. “Oh, gods, that was loud.”

Grinning into the blanket, I said, “He was definitely that, but it’s…even if I didn’t have these scars, I wouldn’t be excited. I don’t understand how Ian did it. He barely even knew his wife, and I…I don’t think he’s happy. He never speaks about her, and that’s sad, because our parents loved each other. He should have that.”

I should have that, Maiden or not.

A slight frown pulled at my lips. His voice sounded off. I couldn’t explain it exactly, but it made me wonder if he’d seen someone and had fallen in love with them after just one conversation. I thought of how he’d admitted to being in love before.

The center of my chest burned.

His question was so soft, it was almost…seductive. “Life.”

I closed my eyes again. “I just want to experience things before my Ascension.” Before whatever happened during the Ascension. “There’s so much I haven’t experienced. You know that. I didn’t go there looking for anything in particular. I just wanted to experience—”

My nose wrinkled. “I’ve never understood why it is the way it is.” I opened my eyes. “All because of the way I was born.”

Someone different. Someone other than the Maiden. Thinking it was one thing. Saying it out loud was another. I’d come close to admitting it to Vikter, but that was as close as I would let myself get with those words.

It was far past time to switch gears. “Never mind. And I don’t sleep well. That’s another reason why I was at the Pearl.”

The question caught me off guard. No one other than maybe Tawny—not even Vikter—had ever asked me that. Ian would’ve if he were still near. “Lately, it’s been the Ascension.”

I snorted like a piglet. “Far from it. It actually terrifies—” I sucked in a sharp breath, shocked that I had so willingly admitted that out loud.

My stomach shifted with unease. “It’s the gods—their Blessing. They make themselves seen during the Ascension. To even look upon them changes you,” I explained, but my words sounded uncomfortably hollow.

I wasn’t.

Most would look forward to meeting the gods, to possibly becoming an Ascended. Ian did, just like Tawny, and all the Ladies and Lords in Wait, but not me or my mother, and that made us different. Not in a unique way. Not in a special way. But in a way that made it…difficult to be who we were, even if our reasons were vastly different.

I shook my head. “I should be asleep. So should you.”

I smiled into the night.

I snorted again, rolling my eyes.

My eyes narrowed. “That may be true, but that is one thing I do know.”

The hand that had been dangling in the air was suddenly flat against my upper stomach, startling me.

My head jerked back around. “What are you doing?”

I started to tell him that he didn’t need to show me anything, but then his hand began to move in slow, small circles. My mouth fell shut. Somehow, he’d gotten that hand between the folds of my blanket, through the cloak, and under the sweater to move against my thin undershirt. He moved those fingers in circles, first in small, tight ones, and then larger arcs until his fingers reached below my navel and his thumb almost brushed the undersides of my breasts. All he was doing was rubbing my belly, but it was new and different and it felt like…like more than that. A warm, shivery sensation radiated from his hand.

I did what he said only because of how close his mouth had been to mine.

An answering warmth bloomed under his hand and spread lower. I sent a nervous glance to the guard. “I…I don’t think this should happen.”

I opened my mouth, but his lips brushed the curve of my cheek, stealing my words.

My eyes closed briefly and then reopened, fixed on the guard.

I could barely breathe around the sharp swirl of sensation that settled low in my stomach and made my chest feel heavy, achy.

And then he was no longer just palming me. He was touching me, rubbing two of his fingers over the seam of the pants, over the very center of me. A rush of damp heat flooded me. My gaze dropped, and I almost expected to see what he was doing under the blanket.

I saw nothing in the darkness.

But I felt everything.

How did we get here? I couldn’t quite figure it out, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I’d had a taste before of what I was feeling now, and just a tease seemed so unfair. And wasn’t that what living meant? Taking more than a sip here and small bite there. It was all about gulping and swallowing as much as you could.

I wanted to feel as much as I could, especially after feeling nothing but pain and anger for so long. I felt none of that now.

I would be in the capital soon, and it was quite possible that my Ascension would happen sooner than expected. And if I came back from it, I knew beyond a doubt that whoever I ended up with wouldn’t make me feel half of what Hawke always seemed to elicit from me, whether it be irritation and anger, laughter and amusement, or this—this consuming, rippling wave of acute pleasure.

His fingers toyed with the stitching, pushing in just hard enough that I felt the touch all the way to the tips of my toes. Every part of my body became hyperaware.

How did he think this was going to help me sleep?

I was wide-awake now, pulse pounding and heart crashing, and he was touching, rubbing me in a way that caused my hips to twitch.

He dragged his hand up the front of the breeches. His palm brushed along the bare flesh of my lower stomach. Those long fingers settled over a throbbing point and moved in slow, steady circles. “I bet you’re soft and wet and ready.” His voice was a lush growl in my ear. “Should I find out?”

I shuddered, half afraid that he would.

Partly scared that he wouldn’t.

The friction of his fingers, the rough material against my flesh…and his words… Oh, gods, they were decadent, purely sinful, and I never wanted it to end.

Eyes open only a slit, I watched the not-too-distant shape of one of the guards slowly patrolling the north-facing side of the camp, my skin and body flaming with forbidden heat as my hips moved again. This time, it wasn’t only a reaction I couldn’t control. I moved them purposefully, rocking them against that slow, steady circling of his fingers. I reveled in the spike of aching, biting pleasure that followed.

I shouldn’t allow this. Not even in the privacy of a room, and surely not where someone could just turn around. I imagined if they paid close enough attention, they’d know that something was happening. I was almost positive that the guard closest to us, the one I watched even now, was Kieran. He seemed as alert as Hawke.

This was wrong.

But how could it…how could it feel so right, then? So good? I was becoming a being of liquid, pulsing fire, all due to just two long, graceful fingers.

I nodded.

I shuddered.

Oh, gods….

I bit down on my lip as my grip eased off the blanket. I reached down, placing my hand over his forearm. He stopped. He waited. Wordlessly, I lifted my hips to his hand as my fingers dug into his skin. The ache was becoming unbearable.

His fingers started moving again, and I almost cried out. “I would work in another finger. You’d be tight, but you’re also ready for more.”

My breath was coming out in quick, shallow pants as I felt the tendons in his arm flex under my hand, as my hips moved in the same circles he was making against me.

That’s what I was doing, shamelessly so. Clutching his arm, I rocked against his hand, chasing that unbelievable tension that kept building and tightening.

Before I could even feel disappointment, before I could truly process the silky promise in his words, he shifted his hand lower, pressing his fingers against the very center of me while his thumb rolled over the part that throbbed. There was nothing slow about his movements then. He knew exactly what he was doing with all that swirling, inescapable tension. Hawke shifted beside me, somehow, working his other arm under my shoulders. He hauled me flush against his front, and I was no longer just moving against his hand, but against him, the rolls of my hips erratic and sharp. Soft, low moans escaped my lips. I felt trapped, wonderfully pinned between his hand and the hard, unyielding length of his body. Something…something was happening. It was what his kisses and brief touches before had hinted at and promised. My body suddenly went as tight as a bowstring taking aim, and my lips parted a second before Hawke folded his hand over my mouth, silencing the moan I wouldn’t have been able to suppress. His hot mouth moved against the side of my throat, his lips, his teeth. There was a wicked sharpness—

The tension broke. I broke. Pleasure whipped out, intense and sudden. It was like standing on a ledge and then being pushed over. I fell, shuddering in pulsing, throbbing waves, and I kept falling until the hand between my legs slowed and then stopped. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or when Hawke’s fingers slipped from my thighs or his hand eased away from my mouth. My heart was only beginning to slow when I became aware of his hand pressed against my stomach, and his arm curled around my shoulders, keeping my boneless body snug against his.

I thought maybe I should say something but…what? Thank you seemed inappropriate. And I thought that it wasn’t entirely fair that he had given me this, while I gave him nothing of the sort. Plus, I thought that I should probably look to see if Kieran or any of the other guards had noticed what Hawk had done—what we’d done under the blankets, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t get any words out.

My lips curved into a faint, sleepy smile.

He was right.

Again.

Chapter 31

When I woke just before dawn, I couldn’t believe how soundly and deeply I’d slept. It was as if I hadn’t been lying on the hard ground but in the lushest of beds.

I didn’t think I would’ve woken up on my own if it hadn’t been for the sound of hushed conversation near me.

There was a lot of Descenter activity at Three Rivers, so that made sense. I blinked open my eyes. Through the gloom, I saw them standing a few feet from me. I flushed when my gaze lifted to Hawke. There wasn’t much I could see of his face, but I thought about what we’d done.

My heart kicked against my chest. Immediately, my mind conjured up the image of Kieran patrolling while Hawke had whispered such indecent, wicked words in my ear. Had Kieran seen us?

Oh gods. My skin prickled and turned hot, but under the embarrassment, I was surprised to find there wasn’t a single ounce of regret. I wouldn’t take back a second of what I felt.

Hawke didn’t answer, and my mind quickly went to the worst-case scenarios. Did he regret it? What we’d done wasn’t just forbidden for me. While I wasn’t aware of the exact rules established for Royal Guards, I was pretty sure that what Hawke and I had done, what we’d been doing, wasn’t something the Commander would overlook.

But Hawke had to know that.

Just like I knew. And yet, I still did it.

Kieran stared at Hawke and repeated. “Remember what your task is.”

Hawke started to turn toward me, and I closed my eyes, not wanting them to realize that I’d heard their conversation. I felt him stop, followed a moment later by the touch of his fingers on my cheek.

I opened my eyes, and I had no idea what to say as I looked up at him. All thoughts scattered as he dragged his thumb along the curve of my cheek and then over my lower lip, sending a shivery wave of awareness through me.

I grinned even as my cheeks heated and despite the conversation I’d overheard. “You were right.”

My body woke up and was fully on board with that idea. However, my brain also started functioning. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Hawke’s hand found mine after I peeled myself free from the blanket. He helped me stand, straightening the tunic I wore. His hands lingered on my hips in a familiar, intimate way that tugged at my chest. My gaze lifted to his, and even in the shadows of the Blood Forest, the intense way he looked down ensnared me.

Surprise flickered through me. “I feel like I should be thanking you.”

It was.

He stepped closer to me, and all I could smell was that pine and dark spice of his. “And it is an honor that you’d take that risk with me, Poppy. So, thank you.”

That sweet, swelling motion swept through me, but there was a strange heaviness to his voice. With our hands joined, I opened my senses, something I hadn’t done since the night of the Rite.

I felt the now-familiar razor-sharp sadness that cut so deep inside him, but there was something else. It wasn’t regret, but it tasted lemony. I concentrated until his emotions became mine, and I could filter through them and understand what I was feeling. Confusion. That was what I felt. Confusion and conflict, which wasn’t surprising. I felt a lot of that myself.

Severing the connection, I nodded as I let go of his hand. “I should get ready.”

Feeling his gaze on me as I stepped to the side, I looked up. The faintest gray light was filtering through the leaf-heavy branches. My gaze connected with Kieran’s.

He’d been watching us the entire time, and the set to his jaw said that he wasn’t happy.

Kieran looked concerned.

Whatever worry I had that the conversation with Kieran would change Hawke’s behavior faded before it could even take form. The relief swirling through me should’ve been a warning that things were…well, they were escalating.

They had already escalated.

I shouldn’t be comforted. If anything, both of us being reminded of our duties was very badly needed, but I wasn’t just relieved. I was thrilled and hopeful.

But what could I be hopeful for? There was no future for us. I may be Poppy now, but I was still the Maiden, and even if I was found to be unworthy upon the Ascension, that didn’t mean there’d be a happily ever after for me with Hawke. I’d most likely be exiled, and I would never expect anyone else to suffer that.

It wasn’t like I thought that what we were or what we meant to one another had grown to a place where Hawke would go into exile with me. That was silly. That was…

That sounded like the kind of epic love my mother had felt for my father.

Either way, last night had felt like a dream. That was the only way I could describe it. And I wasn’t going to let the what-ifs or the consequences ruin the memory and what it had meant to me. I’d cross that bridge when it came time to do so.

Right now, all I could really focus on was not falling off Setti.

My cheeks stung from the icy wind as we traveled through the Blood Forest, the red maple leaves and gray-crimson bark a blur.

We had moved into the heart of the forest, where the trees were less dense, allowing more light rays to come through. The sun didn’t warm the air, though. If anything, it got cooler the farther in we went, the trees even odder.

Trunks and branches twisted, spiraling upward, their boughs tangling. It couldn’t be the wind. All the trees stood straight, and the bark…it seemed wet, almost as if the sap was leaking.

I’d been right earlier about snow falling if it rained. A few hours into the ride, flurries swirled and drifted, blanketing the lush, vibrant green grass on either side of the beaten path. I’d put my gloves back on, but I didn’t think my fingers had ever thawed from the night. I secured my hood, but it could only shield my face to a certain degree, and I had no idea how much longer we had to go. The forest seemed endless.

We slowed as thick, gnarled roots broke free from the ground and climbed across our path as if they were trying to reclaim the patch of earth used by the living.

Loosening my grip on the pommel, I looked down, somewhat awed by the strength of the roots as the horses carefully navigated the obstruction. Something along the ground caught my attention. I looked to my right, beyond Airrick’s horse. Next to one of the trees was a pile of rocks placed so neatly, that I couldn’t imagine they’d naturally gotten that way. A couple of feet farther, there was another grouping of stones. But this time, they weren’t in a pile but placed in a perfect pattern. To my left, I saw another pristine circle of stones. There were more, some with a rock placed in the center, others empty, and even some where the stones had been placed in a way that looked like an arrow slashing through the circle.

Like the Royal Crest.

Unease trickled down my spine. There was no way these stones had fallen in these patterns naturally. I turned in the saddle to point them out to Hawke—

Suddenly, one of the horses up front reared, nearly throwing Kieran from his seat. He held onto the lead, calming the horse as he rubbed its neck.

Phillips lifted his finger, silencing the group. Holding my breath, I looked around. I didn’t hear or see anything, but I felt Setti’s muscles twitch under my legs. He began to prance, backing up. I placed my hand on his neck, trying to calm him as Hawke pulled on the reins. The other horses started to move nervously.

Hawke quietly tapped the area where my dagger was attached, and I nodded. Reaching into my cloak, I unsheathed the blade and took hold of it. I scanned the trees, still—

It came out of nowhere. A burst of black and red, leaping into the air and slamming into Noah’s side. Startled, the horse rose up, and Noah went down, hitting the ground hard. Suddenly, the thing was on top of him, snapping at his face with jagged teeth as he struggled to hold it off.

It was a barrat.

I managed to stifle the scream that had climbed into my throat. The thing was huge, bigger than a boar. Its slick, oily fur rose along its curved spine. Ears pointed and snout as long as half my arm, its claws dug into the grass, ripping it from the ground as it tried to get at the Huntsman.

Phillips turned in his seat, bow in hand and arrow nocked. He let it go, the projectile whizzing through the air, striking the creature in the back of its neck. The thing shrieked as Noah tossed it from him, its legs kicking as it rolled, attempting to dislodge the bolt.

Scrambling to his feet, Noah pulled his short sword free. The bloodstone glinted in the beam of sunlight as he brought it down, silencing the beast.

From every direction, it sounded like the forest had come alive. A rustling grew louder, coming from the right.

I jerked back, all but plastering myself to Hawke as the horde did indeed arrive. Noah cursed as he leapt to a low-hanging branch, pulling his legs up as the rodents burst from the shrubs and moved in between the trees.

They didn’t attack.

They ran past us, darting between the agitated horses. There had been dozens of them, chattering and squeaking as they crossed the roots and then disappeared into the brush and trees.

Nothing about what had just happened gave me relief. If they were running, it was because they were running from something.

Glancing at the ground, I saw thick tendrils of mist gathering. Tiny hairs all over my body rose. The sudden scent…

It smelled like death.

Noah dropped to the ground in a crouch, his feet disappearing in the rapidly thickening mist. My heart leapt into my throat as I leaned forward, gripping the pommel. I felt Setti tense under me as Noah ran to his horse, grabbing the reins near the horse’s neck with one hand, his sword with the other. He lifted the blade into the air.

The Craven was as fast as the arrow that had struck the barrat, rushing out from between the trees. His torn and ragged clothing flapped as he caught Noah, digging clawed fingers into the Huntsman’s chest as it latched on to his neck. Crimson poured down Noah’s front as he screamed and fell back, dropping his sword as his horse ran, blowing past the guards at the front of our group.

A howl turned my blood to ice, and my stomach seized as it was answered by another and another—

Heart thumping, I knew what that meant. The mist was now at our knees, and our luck had run out.

I gave a curt nod, and then he swung one leg off Setti, dropping to land on the roots. I slid from the horse, stepping down so I wasn’t in the twisted mass. I glanced to see the others doing the same. Airrick spotted the dagger in my hand, his brows raised.

He gave me a boyish grin. “For some reason, I’m not surprised.”

He was right.

They flew from the trees, a mass of gray, sunken flesh, and decayed clothing. There was no time to feel panic. Despite being almost nothing more than skin and bones, they were frighteningly fast.

I braced myself, seeing nothing but blood-stained fangs, and then one came straight for me. Snapping forward, I slammed a hand into its shoulder, ignoring how the skin and bone seemed to cave under my palm, and then shoved the dagger into its chest. Rotten blood spurted as I yanked the blade free. The Craven fell, and I spun, grabbing the torn shirt of another Craven who was making a run for Setti. Shoving the dagger into the base of its skull, I grimaced as I pulled the blade free.

I looked up, my gaze snagging with Hawke’s. He gave me a tight smile that hinted at the dimple. “Never thought I’d find anything having to do with the Craven sexy.” He swung, lopping off the head of the one nearest him. “But watching you fight them is incredibly arousing.”

My blade was effective. Unfortunately, however, it required close contact. I quickly scanned the area and saw Kieran moving with the grace of a dancer, a sword in each hand as he took down one Craven after another. Luddie was making great use of his spear, as was Phillips with his bow. Airrick stayed close to me, the mist now to our thighs.

Wailing, a Craven rushed me. Grip tightening on the wolven bone handle, I waited until he was within grasp and then darted to the left as I shoved the bloodstone up under its chin. Sucking in a sharp breath, I took a step back as I willed my stomach to settle. The smell…

I loved the dagger, but the lightweight bloodstone sword was far more useful in this situation. Able to keep a bit of distance, I cut down another Craven as my heart thumped against my chest. The back of my leg bumped into something, and I jerked to my right, putting my foot down. My boot slipped into the roots as I swung out, catching the Craven in the chest. It wasn’t a clean blow. I’d missed its heart. I yanked the sword free and shifted my legs to brace myself as I went for his neck.

I’d forgotten about the roots.

Foot snagged, I tripped and tried desperately to catch myself, but I went down as someone crashed into me, knocking me free of the roots. Airrick. He caught the Craven as I fell, tackling him as they both disappeared under the mist.

My head slipped under the fog, and for a moment, there was nothing to see but a white film. Panic exploded in my stomach. My free hand hit the ground. It was too slick under my palm. I was thrown back through the years, to when I was tiny and frightened, my grip on my mother desperate and slipping—

I heard Vikter’s voice in my mind. A warning he’d given me in training at the very beginning. Never cave to panic. If you do, you die. He’d been right. Fear could heighten the senses, but panic slowed everything down.

I wasn’t a child.

I wasn’t tiny and helpless anymore.

I knew how to fight back, knew how to protect myself.

With a shout, I pulled myself free of the memory and pushed to my feet just as a hairless Craven reached me. I jammed the sword forward, slicing into its heart. It didn’t even so much as whimper as its soulless eyes met mine. All it did was shudder and then fall backward. I turned to find Airrick, realizing that the mist had retreated, slipping down our legs and thinning. That was a good sign as I stalked toward a now visible, wounded Craven crawling across the ground toward one of the horses. I planted my boot on its back, shoving it to the ground as it howled. I jabbed down with the sword, silencing it. The mist was all but gone now.

Breathing heavily as Hawke thrust his sword through the chest of the last remaining Craven, I turned to survey the damage. Only five guards were standing, not including Hawke. I saw Kieran and Luddie above a Huntsman who was very clearly dead. I saw the guard whose sword I held, and I knew that Noah had been gone the moment the Craven had sunk its teeth into his neck. I kept turning until my gaze found Phillips. He knelt beside…

Airrick.

No.

He was on his back, both his and Phillips’ hands pressed against his stomach. His pale skin made his brown hair seem so much darker, and there was…there was so much blood. Lowering the sword, I walked over to where Airrick lay, stepping around the fallen Craven.

Phillips glanced up at me, his brown skin taking on a shade of gray. His eyes were somber as he nodded. “She’s more than okay.”

Heart sinking, I lowered to my knees and placed the sword beside me. “You saved me.”

His eyes flicked to me, and he coughed out a bloody, weak laugh. “I don’t…think you…needed saving.”

Hawke knelt beside Phillips, his gaze meeting mine. He shook his head, not that I needed to be told. This wasn’t a survivable wound, and it had to be so painful. I didn’t need my gift to tell me that, but I opened my senses, shuddering at the raw agony pulsing through the connection.

Keeping my attention focused on Airrick, I picked up his hand and folded both of mine around it. I couldn’t save him, but I could do what I hadn’t been able to do with Vikter. I could help Airrick, and make this easier. It was forbidden and not exactly wise to do it when there were witnesses, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t sit here and do nothing when I knew I could help.

So, I thought of the beaches and how Hawke made me laugh, how he made me feel like I was living, and I pushed that warmth and happiness through the bond and into Airrick.

I knew the moment it hit the guard. The lines of his face relaxed, and his body stopped trembling.

He looked at me, his eyes wide. He looked so terribly young. “I don’t…hurt anymore.”

He stared at me, and I knew Phillips and Hawke were watching. I knew without even looking at them that they realized his sudden relief had nothing to do with the stages of death. No one with that kind of wound slipped away peacefully.

Surprised, the smile became real. “Yes, we did. How did you know?”

He laughed again, the sound even weaker. “Yeah…they were bad hands. Thank…” His gaze shifted to my shoulder. Whatever he saw was beyond me, beyond all of us. It was welcome. Airrick’s lips trembled as he smiled. “Momma?”

His chest didn’t settle. It rose, but it didn’t come back down. Airrick passed some seconds later, his lips still curved into a smile, his eyes now dull but glistening. I didn’t know if he saw his mother, saw anything, but I hoped he did. I wished for him that his mother had come for him and not the god, Rhain. It was nice to think that loved ones were there to greet those passing over. I wanted to believe that Vikter’s wife and their child had been waiting for him.

Slowly, I lowered his hand and placed it on his chest. I looked up then to find both Phillips and Hawke staring at me.

I said nothing.

I didn’t need to. Phillips said it for me. “It’s true. The rumors. I heard it, but I didn’t believe it. Gods. You have the touch.”