Also from Jennifer L. Armentrout

Also From Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Fall With Me

Dream of You (a 1001 Dark Nights Novel)

Forever With You

Fire In You

By J. Lynn

Wait for You

Be With Me

Stay With Me

The Covenant Series

Half-Blood

Pure

Deity

Elixer

Apollyon

Sentinel

The Lux Series

Shadows

Obsidian

Onyx

Opal

Origin

Opposition

Oblivion

The Origin Series

The Darkest Star

The Burning Shadow

The Dark Elements

Bitter Sweet Love

White Hot Kiss

Stone Cold Touch

Every Last Breath

The Harbinger Series

Storm and Fury

A Titan Novel

The Return

The Power

The Struggle

The Prophecy

A Wicked Novel

Wicked

Torn

Brave

The Prince (a 1001 Dark Nights Novella)

The King (a 1001 Dark Nights Novella)

The Queen (a 1001 Dark Nights Novella)

Gamble Brothers Series

Tempting The Best Man

Tempting The Player

Tempting The Bodyguard

A de Vincent Novel Series

Moonlight Sins

Moonlight Seduction

Moonlight Scandals

Standalone Novels

Obsession

Frigid

Scorched

Cursed

Don’t Look Back

The Dead List

Till Death

The Problem With Forever

If There’s No Tomorrow

Anthologies

Meet Cute

Life Inside My Mind

Fifty First Times

Acknowledgments from the Author

Laura Kaye and I were standing in the Cincinnati airport in 2016 when I told her about From Blood and Ash. She was the first person who said, I need you to write this right now. I didn’t. It was a high fantasy, something I’d never written before, and I kept telling myself that I needed time to see if I could take this crazy idea and pull it together into something that made sense. I didn’t find that time, not in 2016, 2017, or 2018. It wasn’t until I was talking with JR Ward about writing books of the heart—books that weren’t exactly what was expected from us, but needed to be written nonetheless. It was that conversation in September of 2019 that gave me the courage to finally say now is the time to write this book. So Laura Kaye and JR Ward, I owe you two a world of thanks. Without both of you, From Blood and Ash would’ve never made it from an idea to a fully fleshed novel.

There were others involved in making sure I finished this book. It was Brigid Kemmerer, whose excitement when I told her about the book, gave me the courage to continue writing something that was unfamiliar to me. It was Hawke’s Harem of Two—Wendy Higgins, who sent the most lovely and inspiring words to me after reading the book. It was Jen Fisher, who fell in love with Hawke by chapter three and provided unmeasurable feedback. It was Andrea Joan who sent me paragraph length texts about the book as she read. It was all the JLAnders who immediately hopped aboard the mystery teaser ship, willing to take this journey with me.

I’d originally planned on self-publishing this book. There were a lot of reasons, but there were two reasons that were most important to me. One was my goal to get this book out to you as soon as possible. The other was the need to write and publish this book without expectations and pressure, but then I heard about Blue Box Press, and knowing all the amazing work they do on their 1001 Dark Nights novellas, I reached out to Liz Berry. I had no idea what she would think when I told her what I was writing and how I wanted to publish it. I really thought she’d “nope” right out the discussion, but she didn’t. In one phone call, she not only wanted the book but, I swear, had a marketing plan that lined up with what I wanted before even reading the book. I knew FB&A was in amazing hands. To MJ, Liz, and Jillian (and Steve, because STEVE BERRY STORY TIME), thank you for taking this unexpected leap with me. Your excitement, love, support and feedback has been invaluable in finishing this story and in getting it into the hands of readers. To the whole team behind this book: Chelle Olson, Jenn Watson, Kim Guidroz, thank you!

Thank you to Sarah J. Maas for your support. I’ll try not to creepily pet your hair the next time I see you. Lexi Blake—without your advice I’m pretty sure we’d still be going back and forth on the back cover jacket. Thank you. And Hang Lee, you are so incredibly talented. I can tell you three things: swords, arrows, and a bloody forest, and with that scarce description, you created the most amazing cover I’ve seen in a long time. You are the bomb diggity. Thank you to Stephanie Brown for taking care of all the things and Ernesto Floofington III for sounding like a little gremlin racing around above my head while I worked. To all the JLAnders Reviewers who knew this book was coming a lot sooner than anyone else, thank you for keeping it quiet and for always giving your honest reviews. Finally, thank you to YOU, the reader who will pick this book up and read it. Without you, none of this would be possible.

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Table of Contents

Book Description

About Jennifer L. Armentrout

Also from Jennifer L. Armentrout

Acknowledgments from the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Discover More Jennifer L. Armentrout

Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Seven

Discover the World of Blue Box Press & 1001 Dark Nights

Special Thanks

Dedication

To You, the Reader.

Chapter 1

I looked up from my cards and across the crimson-painted surface to the three men sitting at the table. I’d chosen this spot for a reason. I’d…felt nothing from them as I drifted between the crowded tables earlier.

No pain, physical or emotional.

Normally, I didn’t prod to see if someone was in pain. Doing so without reason felt incredibly invasive, but in crowds, it was difficult to control just how much I allowed myself to feel. There was always someone whose pain cut so deeply, was so raw, that their anguish became a palpable entity I didn’t even have to open my senses to feel—that I couldn’t ignore and walk away from. They projected their agony onto the world around them.

I was forbidden to do anything but ignore. To never speak of the gift bestowed upon me by the gods and to never, ever go beyond sensing to actually doing something about it.

Not that I always did what I was supposed to do.

Obviously.

But these men were fine when I reached out with my senses to avoid those in great pain, which was surprising, given what they did for a living. They were guards from the Rise—the mountainous wall constructed from the limestone and iron mined from the Elysium Peaks. Ever since the War of Two Kings ended four centuries ago, the Rise had enclosed all of Masadonia, and every city in the Kingdom of Solis was protected by a Rise. Smaller versions surrounded villages and training posts, the farming communities, and other sparsely populated towns.

What the guards saw on a regular basis, what they had to do, often left them in anguish, rather it be from injuries or from what went deeper than torn skin and bruised bones.

Tonight, they weren’t just absent of anguish, but also their armor and uniforms. Instead, they donned loose shirts and buckskin breeches. Still, I knew, even off duty, they were watchful for signs of the dreaded mist and the horror that came with it, and for those who worked against the future of the kingdom. They were still armed to the teeth.

As was I.

Hidden beneath the folds of the cloak and the thin gown I wore underneath, the cool hilt of a dagger that never quite warmed to my skin was sheathed against my thigh. Gifted to me on my sixteenth birthday, it wasn’t the only weapon I’d acquired or the deadliest, but it was my favorite. The handle was fashioned from the bones of a long-extinct wolven—a creature that had been neither man nor beast but both—and the blade made of bloodstone honed to fatal sharpness.

I may yet again be in the process of doing something incredibly reckless, inappropriate, and wholly forbidden, but I wasn’t foolish enough to enter a place like the Red Pearl without protection, the skill to employ it, and the wherewithal to take that weapon and skill and use them without hesitation.

My cards blurred as tiny balls of ice formed in the pit of my stomach. Wild dogs didn’t do that. Not to mention, there weren’t any wild dogs near the Blood Forest, the only place in the world where the trees bled, staining the bark and the leaves a deep crimson. There were rumors of other animals, overly large rodents and scavengers that preyed upon the corpses of those who lingered too long in the forest.

A lady?

Only the Ascended were called Ladies, but I also wasn’t someone anyone, especially those in this building, would expect to be inside the Red Pearl. If I was discovered, I would be in…well, more trouble than I’d ever been in before and would face severe reprimand.

The kind of punishment that Dorian Teerman, the Duke of Masadonia, would just love to deliver. And which, of course, his close confidante, Lord Brandole Mazeen, would love to be in attendance for.

Anxiety surfaced as I looked at the dark-skinned guard. There was no way Phillips could know who I was. The top half of my face was covered by the white domino mask I’d found discarded in the Queen’s Gardens ages ago, and I wore a plain robin’s egg blue cloak I’d, uh, borrowed from Britta, one of the many castle servants who I’d overheard speaking about the Red Pearl. Hopefully, Britta wouldn’t discover her missing overcoat before I returned it in the morn.

Even without the mask, though, I could count on one hand how many people in Masadonia had seen my face, and none of them would be here tonight.

As the Maiden, the Chosen, a veil usually covered my face and hair at all times, all except for my lips and jaw.

I doubted Phillips could recognize me solely on those features, and if he had, none of them would still be sitting here. I would be in the process of being dragged back, albeit gently, to my guardians, the Duke and Duchess of Masadonia.

There was no reason to panic.

Forcing the muscles along my shoulders and neck to ease, I smiled. “I’m no Lady. You’re more than welcome to talk about whatever you wish.”

Airrick lifted his gaze to mine. “My apologies.”

The third guard ducked his chin, studiously staring at his cards as he repeated the same. His cheeks had pinkened, something I found rather adorable. The guards who worked the Rise went through vicious training, becoming skilled in all manner of weaponry and hand-to-hand combat. None who survived their first venture outside the Rise came back without shedding blood and seeing death.

And yet, this man blushed.

I cleared my throat, wanting to ask more about who Finley was, whether he was a guard from the Rise or a Huntsman, a division of the army that ferried communication between the cities and escorted travelers and goods. They spent half the year outside the protection of the Rise. It was by far one of the most dangerous of all occupations, so they never traveled alone. Some never returned.

Unfortunately, a few who did, didn’t come back the same. They returned with rampantly spreading death snapping at their heels.

Cursed.

Sensing that Phillips would silence any further conversation, I didn’t voice any of the questions dancing on the tip of my tongue. If others had been with him and had been wounded by what most likely had killed Finley, I would find out one way or another.

I just hoped it wasn’t through screams of terror.

The people of Masadonia had no real idea exactly how many returned from outside the Rise cursed. They only saw a handful here and there, and not the reality. If they did, panic and fear were sure to ignite a populace who truly had no concept of the horror outside the Rise.

Not like my brother Ian and I did.

Which was why when the topic at the table switched to more mundane things, I struggled to will the ice coating my insides to thaw. Countless lives were given and taken by the endeavor to keep those inside the Rise safe, but it was failing—had been failing—not just here, but throughout the Kingdom of Solis.

Death….

Death always found a way in.

Stop, I ordered myself as the general sense of unease threatened to swell. Tonight wasn’t about all the things I was aware of that I probably shouldn’t be. Tonight was about living, about…not being up all night, unable to sleep, alone and feeling like…like I had no control, no…no idea of who I was other than what I was.

Another poor hand was dealt, and I’d played enough cards with Ian to know there was no recovering from the ones I held. When I announced that I was out, the guards nodded as I rose, each bidding me a good evening.

Moving between the tables, I took the flute of champagne offered by a server with a gloved hand and tried to recapture the feelings of excitement that had buzzed through my veins as I’d hurried through the streets earlier that evening.

I minded my business as I scanned the room, keeping my senses to myself. Even outside of those who managed to project their anguish into the air around them, I didn’t need to touch someone to know if they were hurting. I just needed to see someone and focus. What they looked like didn’t change if they were experiencing some sort of pain, and their appearance didn’t change when I concentrated on them. I simply felt their anguish.

Physical pain was almost always hot, but the kind that couldn’t be seen?

It was almost always cold.

Bawdy shouts and whistles snapped me out of my own mind. A woman in red sat on the edge of the table next to the one I’d left. She wore a gown made of scraps of red satin and gauze that barely covered her thighs. One of the men grabbed a fistful of the diaphanous little skirt.

Smacking his hand away with a saucy grin, she lay back, her body forming a sensual curve. Her thick, blonde curls spilled across forgotten coins and chips. “Who wants to win me tonight?” Her voice was deep and smoky as she slid her hands along the waist of the frilly corset. “I can assure you boys, I will last longer than any pot of gold will.”

Cheeks heating, I quickly looked away as I took a sip of the bubbly champagne. My gaze found its way to the dazzling glow of a rose-gold chandelier. The Red Pearl must be doing well, and the owners well connected. Electricity was expensive and heavily controlled by the Royal Court. It made me wonder who some of their clientele was for the luxury to be available.

Under the chandelier, another card game was in progress. There were women there too, their hair twisted in elaborate updos adorned with crystals, and their clothing far less daring than the women who worked here. Their gowns were vibrant shades of purple and yellow and pastel hues of blue and lilac.

I was only allowed to wear white, whether I was in my room or in public, which wasn’t often. So, I was fascinated with how the different colors complemented the wearer’s skin or hair. I imagined I looked like a ghost most days, roaming the halls of Castle Teerman in white.

These women also wore domino masks that covered half their faces, protecting their identities. I wondered who some of them were. Daring wives left alone one too many times? Young women who hadn’t married or were perhaps widowed? Servants or women who worked in the city, out for the evening? Were Ladies and Lords in Wait among the masked females at the table and among the crowd? Did they come here for the same reasons I did?

Boredom? Curiosity?

Loneliness?

If so, then we were more alike than I realized, even though they were second daughters and sons, given to the Royal Court upon their thirteenth birthday during the annual Rite. And I…I was Penellaphe of Castle Teerman, Kin of the Balfours, and the Queen’s favorite.

I was the Maiden.

Chosen.

And in a little under a year, upon my nineteenth birthday, I would Ascend, as would all Ladies and Lords in Wait. Our Ascensions would be different, but it would be the largest one since the first gods’ Blessing that occurred after the end of the War of Two Kings.

Very little would happen to them if they were caught, but I…I would face the Duke’s displeasure. My lips thinned as a kernel of anger took root, mingling with a sticky residue of disgust and shame.

The Duke was a pestilence of overly familiar hands and had an unnatural thirst for punishment.

But I wouldn’t think about him either. Or worry about being disciplined. I might as well go back to my chambers if I was going to do that.

Dragging my gaze from the table, I noted that there were smiling and laughing women in the Pearl who wore no masks, hid no identities. They sat at tables with guards and businessmen, stood in shadowy alcoves and spoke with masked women, men, and also those who worked for the Red Pearl. They weren’t ashamed or afraid to be seen.

Whoever they were, they had freedom I deeply coveted.

An independence I chased tonight, because masked and unknown, no one but the gods would know I was here. And as far as the gods were concerned, I had long ago decided that they had far better things to do than spend their time watching me. After all, if they had been paying attention, they would’ve already taken me to task over numerous things I’d already done that were forbidden to me.

So, I could be anyone tonight.

The freedom in that was a far headier sensation than I imagined. Even more so than the unripe poppy seeds provided by those who smoked them.

Tonight, I wasn’t the Maiden. I wasn’t Penellaphe. I was simply Poppy, a nickname I remembered my mother using, something only my brother Ian and very few others ever called me.

As Poppy, there were no strict rules to follow or expectations to fulfill, no future Ascension that was coming quicker than I was prepared for. There was no fear, no past or future. Tonight, I could live a little, even for a few hours, and rack up as much experience as I could before I was returned to the capital, to the Queen.

Before I was given to the gods.

A shiver tiptoed down my spine—uncertainty, along with a bite of desolation. I tamped it down, refusing to give life to it. Dwelling on what was to come and could not be changed served no purpose.

Besides, Ian had Ascended two years ago, and based on the monthly letters I received from him, he was the same. The only difference was that instead of spinning tales with his voice, he did so with words in each letter. Just last month, he wrote about two children, a brother and sister, who swam to the bottom of the Stroud Sea, befriending the water folk.

I smiled as I lifted the champagne flute, having no idea where he came up with those things. As far as I knew, it was impossible to swim to the bottom of the Stroud Sea, and there was no such thing as water folk.

Shortly after his Ascension, on the orders of the Queen and King, he’d married Lady Claudeya.

Ian never spoke of his wife.

Was he happy at all in his marriage? The curve of my lips faded as my gaze dropped to the fizzing, pinkish drink. I wasn’t sure, but they’d barely known each other before marrying. How was that long enough when you’d presumably spend the rest of your life with a person?

And the Ascended lived for a very, very long time.

It was still odd for me to think of Ian as an Ascended. He wasn’t a second son, but because I was the Maiden, the Queen had petitioned the gods for a rare exception to the natural order, and they had allowed him to Ascend. I wouldn’t face what Ian had, marriage to a stranger, to another Ascended, one who was sure to covet beauty above all else, because attractiveness was seen as godlike.

And even though I was the Maiden, the Chosen, I would never be viewed as godlike. According to the Duke, I wasn’t beautiful.

I was a tragedy.

Without realizing it, my fingers brushed the scratchy lace of the left side of the mask. I jerked my hand away.

A man I recognized as a guard rose from a table, turning to a woman wearing a white mask like I was. He extended a hand to her, speaking words too low for me to hear, but she answered with a nod and a smile before placing her hand in his. She rose, the skirt of her lilac-hued gown falling like liquid around her legs as he led her from the room toward the only two doors accessible by guests, one at either end of interconnecting chambers. The right went outside. The left door led upstairs, to more private rooms where Britta had said all manner of things occurred.

The guard took the masked woman to the left.

He’d asked. She’d said yes. Whatever it was they did upstairs, it would be welcomed and chosen by both, regardless of whether it lasted a few hours or a lifetime.

My attention lingered on the door long after it had closed. Was that another reason I had come here tonight? To…to experience pleasure with someone of my choosing?

I could if I wanted to. I’d overheard conversations between the Ladies in Wait, who weren’t expected to remain untouched. According to them, there were…many things a woman could do that brought pleasure while retaining their purity.

Purity?

I hated that word, the meaning behind it. As if my virginity determined my goodness, my innocence, and its presence or lack thereof was somehow more important than the hundred choices I made every day.

There was even a part of me that wondered what the gods would do if I went to them no longer an actual maiden. Would they overlook everything else I did or didn’t do simply because I was no longer a virgin?

I wasn’t sure, but I hoped that wasn’t the case. Not because I planned to have sex now or next week or…ever, but because I wanted to be able to make that choice.

Though, I wasn’t quite sure how I’d find myself in a situation where that option would even arise. But I imagine there’d be willing participants who’d want to do the things I’d heard the Ladies in Wait speaking about here at the Red Pearl.

A nervous flutter beat in my chest as I forced myself to take another sip of the champagne. The sweet bubbles tickled the back of my throat, easing some of the sudden dryness in my mouth.

Truth be told, tonight had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Most nights, I couldn’t fall asleep until it was nearly dawn. When I did, I almost wished I hadn’t. Three times this week alone, I woke from a nightmare, with my screams ringing in my ears. And when they came like this, in clusters, they felt like a harbinger. An instinct much like the ability to sense pain, screaming out a warning.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I glanced back to where I’d been looking before. The woman in red was no longer on the table. Instead, she was in the lap of the merchant who’d asked what would happen if two men won. He was inspecting his cards, but his hand was where hers had been heading earlier, delved deep between her thighs.

Oh, my.

Biting down on my lip, I pulled away from where I stood before my entire face caught on fire. I drifted into the next space that was separated by a partial wall, where another round of games was being played.

There were more guards here, some I even recognized as belonging to the Royal Guard, soldiers just like those who worked the Rise but who protected the Ascended instead. This was why the Ascended also had personal guards. People had tried to kidnap members of the Court before for ransom. No one was usually hurt too seriously in those situations, but there had been other attempts that stemmed from far different, more violent reasons.

Standing near a leafy potted plant that sported tiny, red buds, I was unsure of what to do from there. I could join another card game or strike up a conversation with any of the numerous people who lingered around the tables, but I wasn’t all that good at making small talk with strangers. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d blurt out something bizarre or ask a random question that would make little sense to the conversation. So that was off the table. Maybe I should head back to my chambers. The hour had to be growing late and—

A strange awareness swept over me, starting as a tingling sensation along the back of my neck and intensifying with every passing second.

It felt like…like I was being watched.

Scanning the room, I didn’t see anyone paying much attention to me, but I expected to find someone standing near. That was how potent the feeling was. Unease blossomed in the pit of my stomach. I started to turn toward the entrance when the soft, drawn-out notes of some sort of string instrument drew my attention to the left, my gaze landing on the gauzy, blood-red curtains that swayed gently from the movement of others in the establishment.

I stilled, listening to the rise and fall of the tempo that was soon joined by the heavy thump of a drum. I forgot about the feeling of being watched. I forgot about a lot of things. The music was…it was like nothing I’d heard before. It was deeper, thicker. Slowing, and then speeding up. It was...sensual. What had Britta, the servant, said about the kind of dancing that took place at the Red Pearl? She’d lowered her voice when she spoke of it, and the other maid Britta had been speaking to had looked scandalized.

Making my way along the outskirts of the room, I neared the curtains, reaching out to part them—

Startled, I turned at the sound of the voice. A woman stood behind me—one of the ladies who worked for the Red Pearl. I recognized her. Not because she’d been on the arm of a merchant or businessman when I first came in, but because she was utterly beautiful.

Her hair was a deep black, thickly curled, and her skin was a deep, rich brown. The red gown she wore was sleeveless, cut low across her chest, and the fabric clung to her body like liquid.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes swinging back to the woman before me.

Her red-painted lips curved into a smile. “This is your first time here, isn’t it?”

I opened my mouth to deny that statement but could feel the heat spreading across every visible part of my face. That alone was telling. “Is it that obvious?”

She laughed, and the sound was throaty. “Not to most. But to me, yes. I’ve never seen you here before.”

Truly, I had no idea how to respond to that.

A wave of shock rolled through me as my grip tightened on the slippery champagne glass. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m a second daughter—”

I stared at her for what felt like an entire minute before I recovered the use of my tongue. “If that were true, why would that kind of secret be safe?”

Her smile faded as her stare hardened. “I have no need of a favor from an Ascended.”

The way she said that, it was as if I’d suggested that she was courting favor with a pile of mud. I almost believed her, but no one who lived within the kingdom would waste the chance to earn an Ascended’s esteem unless they…

Unless they didn’t recognize Queen Ileana and King Jalara as the true, rightful rulers. Unless they supported he who called himself Prince Casteel, the true heir to the kingdom.

Except he was no prince or heir. He was nothing more than a remnant of Atlantia, the corrupt and twisted kingdom that had fallen at the end of the War of Two Kings. A monster who had wreaked havoc and caused bloodshed, the embodiment of pure evil.

He was the Dark One.

And yet there were those who supported him and his claim. Descenters who had been a part of riots and the disappearances of many Ascended. In the past, the Descenters only caused discord through small rallies and protests, and even then, that had been few and far between due to the punishment that was meted out to those who were suspected to be Descenters. The trials couldn’t even be called that. No second chances. No long-term imprisonment. Death was swift and final.

But things had changed of late.

Many believed the Descenters had been responsible for the mysterious deaths of high-ranking Royal Guards. Several in Carsodonia, the capital, had inexplicably fallen from the Rise. Two had been killed with arrows through the back of their heads in Pensdurth, a smaller city on the coast of the Stroud Sea, near the capital. Others had simply vanished while in the smaller villages, never to be seen or heard from again.

Only a few months ago, a violent uprising had ended in bloodshed in Three Rivers, a teeming trade city beyond the Blood Forest. Goldcrest Manor, the Royal Seat in Three Rivers, had been burned, razed to the ground, along with the Temples. Duke Everton had died in the fire, along with many servants and guards. It was only by some miracle that the Duchess of Three Rivers had escaped.

The Descenters weren’t just Atlantians who were hidden among the people of Solis. Some of the Dark One’s followers didn’t even have a drop of Atlantian blood in them.

My gaze sharpened and zeroed in on the beautiful woman. Could she be a Descenter? I couldn’t fathom how anyone could support the fallen kingdom, no matter how hard their lives were or how unhappy they may be. Not when the Atlantians and the Dark One were responsible for the mist, for what festered inside of it. For what most likely had ended Finley’s life—had taken countless more lives, including my mother’s and father’s, and had left my body riddled with the reminder of the horror that thrived inside the mist.

Pushing aside my suspicions for the moment, I opened myself up to sense if there was some great pain inside her, something that went beyond the physical and stemmed from either grief or bitterness. The kind of pain that made people do horrible things to try and alleviate the anguish.

There was no hint of that radiating from her.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t a Descenter.

The woman’s head tilted. “As I said, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to me. Him? That’s another story.”

She moved to the side as the main door opened, and a sudden gust of cool air announced the arrival of more patrons. A man walked in, and behind him was an older gentleman with sandy blond hair and a weathered face, colored by the sun—

My eyes widened as disbelief thundered through me. It was Vikter Wardwell. What was he doing at the Red Pearl?

An image of the women with the short gowns and partially exposed breasts came to mind, and I thought about why I was here. My eyes widened.

Oh, gods.

I didn’t want to think about the purpose for his visit any longer. Vikter was a seasoned member of the Royal Guard, a man well into his fourth decade of life, but he was more than that to me. The dagger strapped to my thigh had been a gift from him, and it was he who broke with custom and made sure I not only knew how to use it, but also how to wield a sword, strike a target unseen with an arrow, and even when weaponless, how to take down a man twice my size.

Vikter was like a father to me.

He was also my personal guard and had been since I’d first arrived in Masadonia. He wasn’t my only guard, though. He shared duties with Rylan Keal, who’d replaced Hannes after he’d passed in his sleep a little less than a year ago. It had been an unexpected loss as Hannes had been in his early thirties and in prime health. The Healers believed it to have been some unknown ailment of the heart. Still, it was hard to imagine how one could go to sleep healthy and whole and never wake up again.

Rylan didn’t know I was as well trained as I was, but he knew I could handle a dagger. He wasn’t aware of where Vikter and I all too often disappeared to outside the castle. He was kind and often relaxed, but we weren’t nearly as close as Vikter and I were. If it had been Rylan here, I could’ve easily slipped away.

He had a sixth sense that only belonged to parents and made itself known when their child was up to no good.

Glancing back toward the entrance, my stomach dropped as I saw him sit at one of the tables facing the door—the only exit.

The gods hated me.

Truly, they did, because there was no doubt in my mind that Vikter would see me. He wouldn’t report me, but I’d rather crawl into a hole full of roaches and spiders than attempt to explain to him, of all people, why I was at the Red Pearl. And there would be lectures. Not the speeches and punishments the Duke loved to deliver, but the kind that crawled under your skin and made you feel terrible for days.

Mainly because you had been caught doing something you deserved reprimand for.

And, frankly, I didn’t want to see Vikter’s face when he discovered that I realized he was here. I stole another peek and—

Oh, gods, a woman knelt beside him, a hand on his leg!

I needed to scrub my eyes.

Slowly, I looked at the woman beside me. “He comes here often?”

One side of her lips curved up. “Often enough to know what happens beyond the red curtain and—”

Her laugh was soft. “You have the look of one who is in need of a hiding place. And, yes, in the Red Pearl, that is an easily recognizable look.” She deftly took my champagne glass. “Upstairs, there are currently unoccupied rooms. Try the sixth door on the left. You will find sanctuary there. I’ll come for you when it’s safe.”

Suspicion rose as I met her gaze, but I let her take my arm and lead me toward the left. “Why would you help me?”

She opened the door. “Because everyone should be able to live a little, even for a few hours.”

My mouth dropped open as she parroted what I’d thought to myself minutes ago. Stunned, I stood there.

Giving me a wink, she closed the door.

Her figuring out who I was couldn’t be a coincidence. Repeating back to me what I’d been thinking earlier? There was no way. A rough laugh escaped my lips. The woman may be a Descenter, or at the very least, she wasn’t a fan of the Ascended. But she might also be a Seer.

I didn’t think there were any of them left.

And I still couldn’t believe that Vikter was here—that he came here often enough that one of the ladies in red liked him. I wasn’t sure why I was so surprised. It wasn’t like Royal Guards were forbidden from seeking pleasure or even marrying. Many were quite…promiscuous since their lives were rife with danger and often far too short. It was just that Vikter had a wife who’d passed long before I even met him, dying in childbirth along with the babe. He still loved his Camilia as much as he had when she lived and breathed.

But what could be found here had nothing to do with love, did it? And everyone got lonely, no matter if their heart belonged to someone they could no longer have or not.

A little saddened by that, I turned around in the narrow stairwell lit by oil wall sconces. I exhaled heavily. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Only the gods knew, and there was no turning back now.

I slipped my hand inside the cloak, keeping it close to the hilt of the dagger as I climbed the steps to the second floor. The hallway was wider and surprisingly quiet. I didn’t know what I expected, but I’d thought I would hear…sounds.

Shaking my head, I counted until I reached the sixth door on the left. I tried the handle and found it unlocked. I started to open the door but stopped. What was I doing? Anyone or anything could be waiting beyond this door. That woman downstairs—

The sound of a male chuckle filled the hallway as the door beside me opened. Panicked, I quickly backed into the room in front of me, closing the door behind me.

Heart pounding, I looked around. There were no lamps, just a tree of candles on a mantel. A settee sat in front of an empty fireplace. Without even looking behind me, I knew the only other piece of furniture had to be a bed. I drew in a deep breath, catching the scent of the candles. Cinnamon? But there was something else, something that reminded me of dark spices and pine. I started to turn—

An arm curled around my waist, pulling me back against a very hard, very male body.

Chapter 2

Caught off guard, I looked up. A mistake that Vikter had taught me never to make. I should’ve gone for my dagger, but instead, I stood there as the arm around my waist tightened, and his hand settled at my hip.

Snapping out of my stupor, I whirled to face him, the hood of the cloak remaining in place as my hand went for the dagger. I looked up…and then up some more.

Oh, my gods.

I froze, utter shock rippling through me, shorting out all common sense when I saw his face in the soft glow of the candlelight.

I knew who he was, even though I’d never spoken with him.

Hawke Flynn.

Everyone in Castle Teerman knew when the Rise Guard arrived from Carsodonia, the capital, a few months ago. I’d been no different.

I wanted to lie to myself and say that it was due to his striking height, placing him nearly a foot taller than me. Or it was because he moved with the same inherent, predatory grace and fluidity that belonged to the large, gray cave cats that normally roamed the Wastelands but that I had seen once in the Queen’s palace as a child. The fearsome, wild animal had been caged, and the way it continuously prowled back and forth in the too-small enclosure had equally fascinated and horrified me. I’d seen Hawke pacing in the same manner on more than one occasion, as if he too were caged. It could’ve been the sense of authority that seemed to bleed from his pores even though he couldn’t be much older than I was—maybe the same age as my brother or a year or two older. Or perhaps it was his skill with the sword. One morning while I stood beside the Duchess on one of the many balconies at Castle Teerman, overlooking the training yard below, she’d told me Hawke had come from the capital with glowing recommendations and was well on his way to becoming one of the youngest Royal Guards. Her gaze had been fixed on Hawke’s sweat-slick arms.

So had mine.

Since his arrival, I’d found myself hidden in the shadowy alcoves more than a few times, watching him train with the other guards. Other than the weekly City Council sessions held in the Great Hall, it was the only time I saw him.

My interest could simply be because Hawke was…well, he was beautiful.

It wasn’t often that could be said about a male, but I could think of no better word to describe him. He had dark, thick hair that curled at the nape of his neck and often fell forward, brushing equally dark brows. The planes and angles of his face made me yearn for some talent with a brush or a pen. His cheekbones were high and wide, nose surprisingly straight for a guard. Many of them had suffered at least one broken nose. His square jaw was firm, and his mouth well formed. The few times I’d seen him smile, the right side of his lip curved up, and a deep dimple appeared. If he had a matching one in his left cheek, I didn’t know. But his eyes were by far his most captivating feature.

They reminded me of cool honey, a striking color I’d never seen before, and he had this way of looking at you that left you feeling stripped bare. I knew this because I felt his stare during the Councils held in the Great Hall, even though he’d never seen my face or even my eyes before. I was sure his regard was due to the fact that I was the first Maiden in centuries. People always stared when I was in public, whether they were guards, Lords and Ladies in Wait, or commoners.

His stare could also just be a product of my imagination, driven by my small, hidden desire that he was as curious about me as I was of him.

Perhaps it was all those reasons why he caught my interest, but there was another one that I was a little embarrassed to even acknowledge.

I’d purposely reached out with my senses when I saw him. I knew it was wrong to do when there was no good reason. Nothing to justify the invasion. And I had no excuse other than wondering what often made him pace like a caged cave cat.

Hawke was always in pain.

Not the physical kind. It was deeper than that, feeling like chips of sharp ice against my skin. It was raw and it felt never-ending. But the anguish that seemed to follow him like a shadow never overwhelmed him. If I hadn’t prodded, I never would have felt it. Somehow, he kept that kind of agony in check, and I knew of no one else who could do that.

Not even the Ascended.

Only because I never felt anything from them, although I knew they felt physical pain. The fact that I never had to worry about picking up residual pain from them should make me seek out their presence, but instead, it gave me the creeps.

Sweetling?

I opened my mouth and then clamped it shut as realization rose. I blinked. He thought I was someone else! Someone he’d obviously met here before. I glanced down at my cloak—the borrowed garment. It was rather distinctive, a pale blue with an edging of white fur.

Britta.

Did he think I was Britta?

She and I were about the same height, a little under average, and the cloak hid the shape of my body, which was not nearly as thin as hers. No matter how active I was, I could not achieve the willowy frame of Duchess Teerman or some of the other Ladies.

Inexplicably, there was a little part of me, the same bit that was hidden, that was…disappointed, and maybe even a little envious of the pretty maid.

My gaze swept over Hawke. He wore the black tunic and breeches that all guards wore under their armor. Had he come straight here after his shift? I gave the room a quick once-over. There was a small table beside the settee, where two glasses sat. Hawke hadn’t been alone in here before I arrived. Could he have been with another? Behind Hawke, the bed was made and didn’t appear as if anyone had…slept in it.

What should I do? Turn and run? That would be odd. He’d be sure to ask Britta about it, but as long as I returned the cloak and mask without her knowing, I would be in the clear.

Except Vikter was most likely still downstairs, and the woman was, too—

My gods, she had to be a Seer. Instinct told me she had known this room was occupied. She’d sent me here on purpose. Had she known that Hawke was here and likely to mistake me for Britta?

It seemed too unreal to believe.

My breath caught as my heart started pounding like a hammer against my ribs. I thought Pence was a guard on the Rise, one around Hawke’s age. A blond, if I remembered correctly, but I hadn’t seen him downstairs. I shook my head.

There was an odd threat to his voice, one that gave me the impression that he was not all that pleased by the idea of Britta following him.

But the moment I spoke, he’d know I wasn’t the maid, and I…I wasn’t ready for him to discover that. I wasn’t sure what I was ready for. My hand was no longer on the dagger, and I didn’t know what that meant. All I knew was that my heart was still racing.

My lips parted and my eyes widened. I’d seen a man’s chest before, but I’d never seen his. The muscles that flexed and bunched under the thinner shirts the guards trained in were now on display. He was broad of shoulder and chest, all lean muscles defined by years of intense training. There was a fine dusting of hair under his navel that disappeared behind his breeches. My gaze dipped even lower, and heat returned, a different kind that didn’t just flush my skin but also invaded my blood.

Even in the candlelight, I could see how tight his breeches were, how they gloved his body, leaving very little to the imagination.

And I had a vast imagination thanks to the Ladies’ frequent tendency to overshare, and my frequent tendency to listen in on conversations.

A strange curling sensation hit my lower stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant. Not at all. It was warm and tingling, reminding me of my first sip of bubbly champagne.

Hawke stepped toward me, and my muscles tensed to run, but I held myself still by sheer will. I knew I should’ve stepped away. I should’ve spoken and revealed that I wasn’t Britta. I should’ve left immediately. The way he prowled toward me, his long legs eating up the distance between us, told me his intent, even if he hadn’t removed his tunic. And while I had little—all right, absolutely no experience—I inherently knew that if he reached me, he would touch me. He may do even more. He might kiss me.

And that was forbidden.

I was the Maiden, the Chosen. Not to mention, he thought I was another woman, and he’d obviously been in this room with someone else before I got here. That didn’t mean he’d been with someone, but he could’ve.

I still didn’t move or speak.

I waited, my heart beating so fast I felt faint. Tiny tremors racked my hands and legs.

And I never trembled.

What are you doing? whispered the reasonable, sane voice in my head.

Living, I whispered back.

And being incredibly stupid, the voice countered.

I was, but again, I stood there.

Senses hyperaware, I watched as Hawke stopped in front of me and lifted his hands, gripping the back of the hood with one. For a moment, I thought he might pull it back, and the charade would be over, but that wasn’t what he did. The hood only slipped back a couple of inches.

His other arm came around my waist. A gasp left me as he hauled me to his chest. This was nothing like the brief embraces I’d received from Vikter. I’d never been held by a man like this. There wasn’t an inch between his chest and mine. The contact was a jolt to my senses.

He lifted me up onto the tips of my toes, then clear off my feet. His strength was staggering since I wasn’t exactly light. Stunned, my hands landed on his shoulders. The heat of his hard skin seemed to burn through my gloves and the cloak and thin white gown I usually slept in.

His head slanted, and I felt the warmth of his breath on my lips. A tight tremor of anticipation coiled its way down my spine at the same moment my stomach dipped with uncertainty. There was no time for the two warring emotions to battle. He pivoted and strode forward with the same kind of feline grace I’d seen from him before. In a matter of a few stuttering heartbeats, he was guiding us down, his grip strong but careful, as if he were aware of his strength. He came down over me, his hand still behind my head, his weight a shock as he pressed me into the bed, and then his mouth was on mine.

Hawke kissed me.

There was nothing sweet or soft, like I’d imagined a kiss to be. It was hard and overwhelming, claiming, and when I sucked in a sharp breath, he took advantage, deepening the kiss. His tongue touched mine, startling me. Panic flared in the pit of my stomach, but so did something else, something far more powerful, a pleasure I hadn’t experienced before. He tasted of the golden liquor I’d once snuck, and I felt that stroke of his tongue in every part of me. It was in the shivers that erupted all over my skin, in the inexplicable heaviness in my chest, in that curling, tightening sensation below my navel and even lower still where there was a sudden, throbbing pulse between my legs. I shuddered, my fingers digging into his flesh, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t worn gloves because I wanted to feel his skin, and I doubted I’d be in any shape to concentrate on what he was feeling. His head tilted, and I felt the brush of his oddly sharp—

Without warning, he broke the kiss and lifted his head. “Who are you?”

Thoughts oddly slow and skin humming, I blinked open my eyes. Dark hair fell forward onto his forehead. His features were shadowed in the soft, flickering light, but I thought his lips looked as swollen as mine felt.

Hawke acted too fast for me to track the movement, tugging my hood back, exposing my masked face. His brows lifted as the haze cleared from my thoughts. My heart jumped around in my chest for a whole different reason, even though my lips still tingled from the kiss.

My first kiss.

Hawke’s golden-eyed gaze rose to my head, and he shifted his hand out from behind my neck. I tensed as he picked up a strand of my hair, drawing it out so it shone a deep auburn in the candlelight. His head tilted to the left.

He stared down at me, gaze assessing as he remained with half his body atop mine. One of his legs was thrust between mine, and I had no idea exactly when that had happened. “Have you been kissed before?”

My face caught fire. Oh, gods, was it that obvious? “I have!”

One side of his lips kicked up. “Do you always lie?”

Embarrassment flooded my system, suffocating the shivery pleasure as if I’d been doused in cold, winter sleet. I pushed at his bare chest. “You should get off.”

The way he said it made my eyes narrow.

Hawke laughed, and it was…it was the first time I’d heard him do so. When I saw him in the Hall, he was quiet and stoic like most guards, and I’d only seen that half-grin of his while he trained. But never a laugh. And with the anguish I knew lingered below the surface, I wasn’t quite sure that he ever laughed.

But he had now, and it sounded real, deep, and nice, and it rumbled through me, all the way to the tips of my toes. I was slow to realize that this was the most I’d heard him speak. He had a slight accent, an almost musical lilt to his tone. I couldn’t quite place it, but I’d only ever been to the capital and here, and it was not often that many spoke to me or around me if they knew I was present. The accent could be quite common for all I knew.

He arched a brow. “Really?”

My lips twitched in wry humor, but I managed to stifle the smile. “You shouldn’t call me that.”

One eyebrow rose. “I’ll tell you who I am, although I have a feeling you already know. I’m Hawke Flynn.”

The dimple in his right cheek deepened. “This is the part where you tell me your name.”

My lips nor my tongue moved.

I had no idea how I could answer that when I didn’t fully understand it myself.

One side of his lips quirked up. “I’m sure it’s more than my disarming good looks.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Of course.”

Another short, surprised-sounding laugh left him. “I think you just insulted me.”

Chagrined, I winced. “That’s not what I meant—”

I took a breath. “It’s quite rude of you to continue doing so when I’ve made it clear that I would like for you to move.”

He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t call her that.”

Hawke appeared to mull that over while still sprawled halfway across me. “A…good friend.”

Part of me was relieved that he hadn’t referred to her as something derogatory like I’d overheard other men do before when speaking of women they’d been intimate with, but a good friend? “I didn’t know friends behaved this way.”

The truth in his statement was hard to ignore. “And you wager all of this on just one kiss?”

Staring at him, I couldn’t help but feel…very inexperienced. The only thing I could tell from his kiss was what it had made me feel. Like he was seeking to possess me.

Hawke’s gaze found mine. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Why haven’t you made him get up? whispered that stupid, very reasonable, and very logical voice. That was a great question. I knew how to use a man’s weight against them. More importantly, I had my dagger and access to it. But I hadn’t gone for it, nor had I truly made an attempt to put space between us. What did that mean? I…I supposed I felt safe. At least, at the moment. I may know very little about Hawke, but he wasn’t a stranger, at least he didn’t feel that way to me, and I wasn’t afraid of him.

Hawke shook his head. “I have a theory.”

That dimple in his right cheek appeared once more. “I think you came to this very room with a purpose in mind.”

He was right about that, but I doubted he would be right about the actual reason.

I started to deny what he suggested, but no words rose to the tip of my tongue. Silence wasn’t a denial or agreement, but my stomach dipped again.

He shifted ever so slightly, his hand coming to rest against my right cheek, his fingers splayed out. “I’m right, aren’t I, Princess?”

Heart skipping all over the place, I tried to swallow, but my throat had dried. “Maybe…maybe I came here for…for conversation.”

His expression smoothed out. “Like?”

My mind was uselessly empty for several seconds, and then I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Why did you choose to work on the Rise?”

Not a single thing about his tone or his look said he believed me, but I nodded while I added that this was yet another example of how I was really bad at making conversation with people.

He was quiet and then said, “I joined the Rise for the same reason most do.”

His eyes narrowed as surprise flickered across his features. “What do you mean by that?”

I nodded as best I could. “The…the natural order of things doesn’t exactly allow that. A farmer’s son is a farmer or they—”

My eyes narrowed. “I know that. Bravery and strength do not equal goodness.”

Something crept across his face, gone too quickly for me to decipher. “No. He is alive and well. Yours?”

I gave a small shake of my head. “My father—both of my parents are gone.”

He was right, and I thought that this was perhaps the source of the pain he felt. “You sound like you know firsthand.”

I thought of Finley. Had Hawke known him well? Most of the guards were close, developing a bond thicker than blood, but even if he hadn’t known Finley, there were surely others he knew that had been lost. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry for whoever it is that you’ve lost. Death is…”

Death was constant.

And I saw a lot of it. I wasn’t supposed to, as sheltered as I was, but I saw death all too frequently.

His head tilted, sending a tumble of dark locks over his forehead. “Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her. It’s neither the first nor the last time she’ll pay a visit, but that doesn’t make any death less harsh or unforgiving.”

Sadness threatened to take up residence in my chest, crowding out the warmth. “That it is.”

He dipped his head suddenly, his lips nearing mine. “I doubt the need for conversation led you to this room. You didn’t come here to talk about sad things that cannot be changed, Princess.”

I knew why I came here tonight, and Hawke was right, yet again. It wasn’t to talk. I came here to live. To experience. To choose. To be anyone other than who I was. None of those things included talking.

But I’d had my first kiss tonight. I could stop there or tonight could be a night of many firsts, all of my choosing.

Was I…? Was I really considering this, whatever this was? Gods, I truly was. Tiny tremors rocked me. Could he feel them? They piled in my stomach, forming little knots of anticipation and fear.

I was the Maiden. The Chosen. My earlier convictions about what the gods concerned themselves with weakened. Would they find me unworthy? Panic didn’t seize me like it should. Instead, a spark of hope did, and that unsettled me more than anything. The tiny glimmer of hope felt traitorous and wholly concerning, given that being deemed unworthy resulted in one of the most serious consequences.

If I were to be found unworthy, I’d face certain death.

I’d be exiled from the kingdom.

Chapter 3

As far as I knew, there had only been one person who’d been found unworthy upon Ascension. Their name had been erased from our histories, as well as any piece of information about who they were and whatever deeds had caused his or her exile. They’d been forbidden to live among mortals, and without family, support, or protection, faced certain death. Even the villages and the farmers with their small Rises and guards suffered staggering mortality rates.

While my Ascension was different from the others, I could still be found unworthy, and I imagined my punishment would be just as grave, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that.

No.

That was a lie.

I didn’t want to deal with that. I should, but I wasn’t leaving the room. I wasn’t stopping Hawke. I’d already made up my mind even if I didn’t understand why he was still here, with me.

Dampening my lower lip with my tongue, I felt dizzy and even a little faint, and I never felt faint. Those impossibly thick lashes lowered, and his gaze was so intent on my mouth that it was like a caress. I shivered.

Those eyes of his seemed even brighter than before as his finger traced the outline of my mask, all the way to where the satin ribbon disappeared under the fall of my hair. “May I remove this?”

Unable to speak, I shook my head no.

Hawke halted for a moment, and then the half-smile appeared—no dimple this time, though. He trailed his finger away from the mask, then ran it along the line of my jaw and down my throat, to where the cloak was fastened. “How about this?”

I nodded.

His fingers were deft, and he brushed the cloak aside and then trailed just one fingertip along the neckline, following the rapid rise and fall of the swell of my breast. A riot of sensations followed his finger, so many I couldn’t make sense of them all.

A flicker of amusement crossed his striking features. “I have nowhere to be at the moment, and I’m intrigued.”

My brows lifted. “Because you have nowhere to be at the moment?”

I started to frown. “Well, no. I don’t want you to lie.”

I drew in a shallow breath, weirdly flattered, and yet still confused by his motivations. I wished someone was here to ask, but even if they were, that would be weird—and awkward.

The two glasses by the settee appeared in my mind. “Were you…were you with someone before me?”

His head lifted and stared down at me. “That’s a random question.”

My cheeks warmed. He had a point.

He was quiet for so long that doubt crept in. Maybe I shouldn’t care if he had been with someone else this evening, but I did, and if that told me anything, it screamed that this was a mistake. I was in over my head. I knew nothing about him, of what was—

The dismay eased, and I decided that he must be telling the truth. He didn’t have to lie to have me when he could have any number of others who would be eager to intrigue him.

I took another uneven breath. “Anything?”

It was such a light touch, but I gasped as bolts of pleasure darted through me. My body reacted on its own, arching into his touch.

Hawke’s gaze flew to mine, and such a long moment passed that I began to wonder if I’d said the wrong thing. “I’ll tell you what I want.” His thumb moved in slow, tight circles across a most sensitive part. “I want you to remove your mask.”

Before I could ask what he meant, I felt the wet, warm glide of his tongue through the thin, silken gown. I gasped, shocked by the act and by the rush of liquid heat it brought forth, but then his gaze lifted to mine as his mouth closed over the tip of my breast. He sucked deep and long, and the gasp turned to a cry that would surely embarrass me later.

He wouldn’t recognize me if I did. Hawke would never know who I was with or without the mask, but…

If I removed the facial covering, would he say what the Duke often did? That I was both a masterpiece and a tragedy? And when he felt the uneven slices of skin scattered along my stomach and thighs, would he jerk his hand away in horror?

My skin chilled.

I hadn’t thought this through.

At all.

The wonderful, exhilarating heat dimmed. Hawke wasn’t an Ascended, but he was like them in appearance, nearly flawless. I had never been ashamed of the scars before. Not when they were proof of the horror I’d survived. But if he—

Hawke’s hand slid down my outer right thigh to where the dress parted and stopped, right over the hilt of the dagger. “What the…?”

Before I could even take another breath, he’d unsheathed the blade, his fingers coming precariously close to one of the scars. I sat up, but he was faster, rocking backward.

The candlelight glinted off the red blade. “Bloodstone and wolven bone.”

His gaze shifted from the dagger to me. “This is a unique weapon.”

He stared at me for a moment and then focused on the dagger again. “Carrying a weapon and having no idea how to use it doesn’t make one wise.”

Irritation flared to life just as hotly as the desire he’d elicited from me mere moments ago. “What makes you think I don’t know how to use it? Because I’m female?”

The right side of his lips curved up. “Now, I’m truly intrigued.”

He moved unbelievably fast, thrusting the dagger blade down into the bed. I gasped, wondering what the owners of the Red Pearl would think of that, but then he pounced. He took me back down to the mattress, his weight covering me once more, and he pressed into me in a way that caused all the interesting parts to meet. His mouth lined up with mine—

A fist pounded on the door, silencing whatever he was about to ask. “Hawke?” A male voice rang out. “You in there?”

He stiffened above me, his warm breath against my lips as he closed his eyes.

A growl of frustration rumbled from deep within Hawke’s throat, the sound strangely animalistic. Goosebumps pimpled my skin.

Shadows crept across Hawke’s face. His lips moved as if he murmured something, but the sound was too low for me to hear.

A chill chased away some of the heat. “An…envoy?”

He nodded. “The supplies we’ve been waiting for,” he explained. “I need to go.”

I nodded in return, understanding that he had to leave as I reached between us, grasping the edge of the cloak.

For a long moment, Hawke didn’t move, but then he shifted off me, standing. He called out to Kieran as he grabbed his tunic off the floor. I yanked the forgotten dagger out of the mattress, quickly sheathing it as he pulled the tunic over his head and shrugged a baldric over his shoulders, securing the belt at his waist. There were two sheaths at his sides for weapons—weapons I hadn’t been aware of until now.

He picked up two short swords from the chest near the door, and I thought that maybe I needed to be better aware of my surroundings the next time I barged into a room.

His blades were honed to a wicked, deadly point, intended for close-contact fighting, and each side was serrated, designed to cut through flesh and muscle.

I knew how to use them, too, but I kept that to myself.

I nodded once more.

Hawke stared at me. “Tell me that you’ll wait for me, Princess.”

My heart skipped over itself. “I will.”

Turning, he walked to the door and then stopped. He faced me. “I look forward to returning.”

I said nothing as he left the room, opening the door only wide enough for him to slip through. When the door clicked into place behind him, I let go of the breath I had been holding and looked down at the front of my gown. The area of my breast was still damp, the white material nearly transparent. My cheeks flushed hotly as I scooted off the bed and stood on surprisingly weak knees.

My gaze lifted to the door, and I closed my eyes, unsure if I was disappointed or relieved by the interruption. Truthfully, it was a mixture of both, because I’d lied to Hawke.

I wouldn’t be here when he returned.

The question snapped my attention from the biscuit I was currently devouring to the Lady in Wait who sat across from me.

Tawny Lyon was the second daughter of a successful merchant, given to the Royal Court at the age of thirteen during the Rite. Tall and lithe, with rich brown skin and beautiful brown eyes, she was absolutely enviable. Some of the Ladies and Lords in Wait were assigned tasks outside of preparation to join the Court after Ascension, and since we were the same age, she had been assigned as my companion shortly after her Rite. Her duty ranged from keeping me company to assisting me with my bath or to dress if I required it.

Tawny was one of the few people who could make me laugh over the silliest things. Actually, she was one of the few people who were even allowed to speak to me. She was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I cared for her deeply.

I believed she cared for me too, or at the very least, liked me, but she was required to be with me unless I dismissed her for the day. If she hadn’t been given the task of being my companion, we never would’ve spoken. That fact was not a reflection upon her as a person, but because she would be like all the rest, either forbidden to socialize with me or wary of my presence.

The knowledge often sat heavy in my chest, another chunk of ice, but even though I knew our friendship was rooted in duty, I trusted her.

At least, to a certain degree.

She knew I was trained, but she didn’t know the things I sometimes assisted Vikter with, and she had no knowledge of my gifts. I kept those things to myself because sharing that information would either put others or her in harm’s way.

Over the years, those items had been stripped from my chamber for one infraction or another.

My heart skipped a beat. Had something occurred where the Duke or Duchess had sent Tawny for me? If so, Tawny wouldn’t be able to lie, but I imagined if that had happened, I would already know.

I would have already been summoned to the Duke’s private office.

There was no way she’d heard me return. I’d used the old servants’ access, and while that door was as creaky as a bag of bones, her room was on the other side of where my bed sat. That door was one of the reasons I’d never asked to be moved to the newer, renovated parts of the stronghold. Through there, I could access nearly any part of the castle and could come and go without being seen.

It more than compensated for the lack of electricity and the constant, chilly draft that seemed to always make its way in around the windows no matter how sunny the day was.

My palms dampened as I glanced at the closed hallway door. Had someone been looking for me? Again, I would know by now, so it was likely Tawny thought she’d heard something.

Knowing Tawny as I did, I knew she wouldn’t let this go if I didn’t give her something. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

I nodded, feeling a little guilty for the sympathy that crept into her eyes.

The mere idea of taking something that would put me in such a deep sleep that it would take an army marching through my chamber to wake me made me sweat. I would be rendered completely helpless, and that was something I would never allow to happen.

In that moment, Tawny proved that she knew me just as well as I knew her. “I don’t know why you’d think that.”

I giggled, knowing that Tawny would’ve done just that. “The Mistresses are a lot to handle.”

Grinning, I picked up the cup of creamed coffee. The Mistresses were servants of the Duchess, who helped her run the household but also kept track of the Ladies in Wait. Mistress Cambria was a dragon of a woman that scared even me.

I peeked up at her. “The Red Pearl.”

Her eyes widened to the size of the saucers scattered across the trolley between us. “Are you serious?”

I nodded.

Loren, another Lady in Wait, claimed many things. “I didn’t see her, but…” I trailed off, unsure if I should tell her about Hawke.

I’d left no more than ten minutes after Hawke had, relieved to find that Vikter was also nowhere to be seen. Neither was the strange woman who knew more than she should. I’d done everything in my power not to think about what had happened in that room with him.

Which meant, I failed the moment I returned to my bed. I’d lain there until exhaustion claimed me, replaying everything he’d said…everything he’d done. I’d woken with the strangest frustration, an ache in my chest and lower belly.

I wanted to tell her. Gods, did I ever want to share what’d happened with Hawke with someone. I had a hundred questions bursting to be let out, but last night was different. I’d crossed a big line, and while I didn’t feel like I had debased myself or done anything truly wrong, I knew that my guardians wouldn’t agree. Neither would the Priests and Priestesses. Going to the Red Pearl was one thing. Sharing myself in any form with another was a totally different matter. That knowledge could be a weapon.

I trusted Tawny, but as I acknowledged before, only to a certain degree.

And even though the mere thought of Hawke made my stomach tighten into dozens of little coils, it wasn’t something that would ever happen again. When I saw him during the City Council sessions, he wouldn’t know that it had been me he’d called Princess. He’d have no idea that he’d been my first kiss.

What we’d done…it belonged to just me.

It had to stay that way.

I exhaled slowly, ignoring the sudden scratchy lump in my throat. “But many were wearing masks. She could’ve been there, and I wouldn’t have known. Anyone could’ve been.”

A shocked laugh left me. “Wow.”

She giggled.

That was something I hadn’t been able to hide from Tawny, and she had never shared, which was one of the reasons I knew I could trust her with most things. “Yes, but—”

I opened my mouth, then closed it and tried not to fall down that rabbit hole. The problem was that I wanted to go back.

When I was lying in bed and hadn’t been obsessively rewinding the time spent with Hawke, reliving the razor-edged yearning and thrill his kiss had dragged out of me, I’d wondered if he had come back like he promised, and if I had done the right thing by leaving.

Of course, in the eyes of my guardians and the gods, it had been the right thing, but had it been so for me? Should I have stayed and experienced infinitely more before there might not be any more chances?

My gaze lifted to the windows that faced the west portion of the Rise. The dark shapes of the guards patrolling the ledge were the only movement. Was Hawke out there? Why was I even wondering that?

Because there was more than just a small part of me that wished I’d stayed, and I knew it would be a long time before I stopped wondering about what would’ve happened if I’d waited. Would he have carried out whatever I’d wanted?

I didn’t even know what that would’ve entailed. I had ideas. I had my imagination. I had other people’s stories of their experiences, but they were not mine. They were just thin, transparent copies of the real thing.

And I knew if I returned, I would go back in hopes that he’d be there. That was why I shouldn’t go back.

Looking at the open wardrobe, I saw first the white veil with its delicate gold chains, and a heaviness settled over me. I could already feel its substantial weight, even though the material was made out of the finest, lightest silk. When it was first slipped over my head at age eight, I’d panicked, but after ten years, I should’ve grown used to it by now.

While I no longer felt like I couldn’t breathe or see while wearing it, it still felt heavy.

Hanging beside it was the only color in my wardrobe, a splash of red among a sea of white. It was a ceremonial gown tailored for the upcoming Rite. The dress had arrived the morning before, and I hadn’t tried it on yet. It would be the first time I was allowed to attend—allowed to wear anything other than white and be seen without the veil. Of course, I would be masked, like everyone else.

The only reason I was allowed to attend this Rite when all the others had been forbidden, was because it would be the last Rite before my Ascension.

Whatever excitement I felt about the Rite was tempered by the fact that it would be the last.

Tawny rose and drifted to one of the windows. “The mist hasn’t come in a while.”

Tawny had a habit of jumping from topic to topic, but this switch was jarring. “What made you think of that?”

No matter where we were, the mist was something to worry about. Just because it hadn’t gotten close in decades didn’t mean it wouldn’t, but I didn’t say that.

She pushed away from the window, coming back to the table to kneel next to where I sat. “Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

My brows rose. “Aren’t you always?”

More than curious to know what she was thinking about, I nodded for her to go on.

Tawny drew in a deep breath. “I know our lives are different, as were our pasts, and as our futures will be, but you treat the Ascension as if it may very well be your death when it’s the exact opposite. It’s life. It’s a new beginning. It is a Blessing—”

Her eyes rolled. “You know that’s not why.”

I did.

The Queen had done more for me than what was ever required of her, but that didn’t change that my Ascension would be nothing like hers.

It could.

But it wasn’t a certainty. I had no idea what it truly meant to be given to the gods. Although every small detail seemed to be documented about the history of the kingdom, there were a few things that weren’t written about. I’d never been able to find anything about previous Maidens, and I’d asked Priestess Analia over a hundred times what it meant to be given to the gods, and the answer was always the same.

A Maiden doesn’t question the gods’ plans. She has faith in them without knowledge of them.

Maybe I truly wasn’t worthy of being a Maiden, because I found it hard to have faith in anything without knowledge of it.

But Tawny did. As did Vikter and Rylan, and literally everyone else I knew. Even Ian.

None of them had been given to the gods, though.

I searched Tawny’s eyes, looking for just the slightest hint of fear. “You’re not afraid at all, are you?”

To begin a life that was her own, where she could wake up and eat whenever she pleased, spend her days however she wanted, and with whomever she desired instead of being my perpetual shadow.

Of course, she wasn’t afraid. And while I didn’t feel the same, I had not once taken into consideration what it meant for her.

For the most part, Tawny was always more than willing to take part in whatever adventure I conjured up, and often suggested some herself. But if the gods were watching, especially this close to the Ascension, they could find her unworthy for taking part. That wasn’t something I’d just now thought about, but it hadn’t struck me with such clarity before that my attitude towards the Ascension could ruin her eagerness.

Guilt surfaced, the taste of it sour in the back of my throat. “I’m so selfish.”

Tawny blinked, bewildered. “What makes you say that?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

Maybe that was true, but I promised myself I would be better, starting with no longer risking her Ascension by involving her in my escapades. I could live with the dire consequences of being found unworthy because it would be my life and my own actions that led to it, but I wouldn’t do that to Tawny.

I couldn’t live with that.

After I took supper in my room later that day, Vikter knocked on my door. When I looked up at his face, golden and weathered by life on the Rise and years in the sun, I didn’t think about knowing where he was the night before and the subsequent awkwardness. I saw his expression and knew something had occurred.

Chapter 4

Without wasting one unnecessary second, we left my room and the Castle through the old servants’ access. We then moved like ghosts through the city until we found ourselves standing before an old, battered door.

The white handkerchief tacked just below the handle was the only reason the home in the Lower Ward of Masadonia was distinguishable from the other squat, narrow houses stacked on top of one another.

Glancing over his shoulder to where two City Guards chatted under the yellow glow of a streetlamp, Vikter quickly pulled the handkerchief off the door and slipped it into a pocket inside his dark cloak. The small, white cloth was a symbol of the network of people who believed death, no matter how violent or destructive, deserved dignity.

It was also evidence of high treason and disloyalty to the Crown.

I’d accidentally discovered what Vikter took part in when I was fifteen. He’d left one of our training sessions in a hurry one morning, and sensing that something was going on based on the mental pain the messenger had been throwing off, I’d followed.

Obviously, Vikter hadn’t been pleased. What he was doing was considered treasonous, and being caught wasn’t the only danger. However, I’d always been disturbed by how these things were typically handled. I demanded he allow me to help. He had said no—repeated it probably a hundred times—but I had been relentless, and besides, I was uniquely suited to assist in such matters. Vikter knew what I could do, and his empathy for others had aided my desire to help.

We’d been doing this for about three years now.

We weren’t the only ones. There were others. Some were guards. A few were citizens. I never met any. For all I knew, Hawke could be one.

My stomach dipped and then rolled before I shoved any thoughts of Hawke out of my mind.

Vikter quietly rapped his knuckles on the door and then returned his gloved hand to the hilt of his broadsword. A couple of seconds later, hinges creaked as the old battered door shuddered open, revealing the pale, round face, and red, puffy eyes of a woman. She might’ve been in her mid to late twenties, but the tense pinch to her brow and the lines bracketing her mouth made her appear decades older. The cause of her worn appearance had everything to do with the kind of pain that cut deeper than the physical and was caused by the smell wafting out of the building from behind her. Under the thick, cloying smoke of earthy incense, was the unmistakable sour and sickeningly sweet scent of rot and decay.

Of a curse.

The woman fiddled with the button on her wrinkled blouse, her weary gaze darting from Vikter to me.

I opened my senses to her. Soul-deep pain radiated from her in waves I couldn’t see, but it was so heavy, it was almost a tangible entity surrounding her. I could feel it slicing through my cloak and clothing and scraping against my skin like rusty, icy nails. She felt like someone who was dying but hadn’t suffered a single injury or disease. That was how raw and potent her pain was.

Fighting the urge to take a step back, I shuddered inside my heavy cloak. Every instinct in me demanded that I put distance between us, get as far away as possible. Her grief formed iron shackles around my ankles, weighing me down as it tightened around my neck. Emotion clogged my throat, tasting like…like bitter desperation and sour hopelessness.

I pulled back my senses, but I had opened myself up for too long. I was tuned into her anguish now.

Fingers stilling around the button below her throat, she gave a curt nod and then stepped back. I followed Vikter inside, scanning the dimly lit room, which turned out to be a combined kitchen and living space. There was no electricity in the home, only oil lamps and fat, waxy candles. That wasn’t exactly surprising to see, even though electricity had been provided to the area of the Lower Ward, to light the streets and some of the businesses. Only the wealthy had it inside their homes, and they would not be found in the Lower Ward. They’d be closer to the center of Masadonia, near Castle Teerman and as far from the Rise as possible.

But here, the Rise loomed.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I tried not to focus on how the woman’s grief painted the walls and floors an oily black. Her pain had gathered here, among the knick-knacks and clay plates, quilted blankets with frayed edges and tired furniture. Clasping my hands together under the cloak, I took another breath, this one deeper, and looked around.

A lantern sat on a wooden table, next to several sticks of burning incense. Surrounding the brick hearth were several chairs. I zeroed in on the closed door on the other side of the fireplace. My hooded head tilted as I squinted. On the mantel, closest to the door, was a narrow spike of a blade the color of burgundy in the low light.

Bloodstone.

This woman had been prepared to handle this herself, and with the way she felt, that would be disastrous.

I did not reveal myself.

Agnes swallowed once more, the skin around her eyes puckering as she briefly squeezed them shut. “My husband, Marlowe. He’s a Huntsman for the Rise, and…and he returned home two days ago—” Her breath caught, and she exhaled heavily. “He’d been gone for months. I was so happy to see him. I’d missed him terribly, and with each day, I feared he’d perished on the road. But he came back.”

My heart squeezed as if it had been caught in a fist. I thought of Finley. Had he been a Huntsman, a part of this group that involved Marlowe?

I glanced back at the door. The curse progressed differently for everyone. It took hold for some in a matter of hours, while for others, it could take a day or two. But I knew of no cases that went beyond three. It had to be only a matter of time before he succumbed, possibly hours…or minutes.

Pressing her other hand to her mouth, she jerked her chin toward the closed door. The sleeve of her blouse was stained with some dark substance. “It’s still him.” Her words were a little muffled. “He’s…he’s still in there. That’s how he wants to go to the gods. As himself.”

She shook her head, letting out another ragged breath.

The woman jerked at the sound of my voice, her eyes widening. My cloak was rather shapeless, so I imagined she was surprised to hear that I was female. A female would be the last thing anyone expected in situations like these.

I stilled.

Vikter didn’t. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand return to the hilt of the sword.

Agnes moved suddenly, and Vikter went to unsheathe his weapon, but before he or I could react, she collapsed to her knees before me. Bowing her head, she folded her hands under her chin.

My eyes widened under the hood as I slowly looked at Vikter.

He arched a brow.

I blinked once and then twice as tiny goosebumps pimpled my skin. My parents were flesh and blood. I was definitely not a child of the gods, but I knew many people of Solis saw the Maiden as such.

Agnes lifted tear-stained cheeks, shaking her head. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Please. They didn’t speak to spread rumors or ill will. It’s just that…” She trailed off, her gaze drifting toward me. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “They say you have the gift.”

Someone had definitely been talking. A subtle shiver curled its way down my spine, but I ignored it as the woman’s pain pulsed and flared. “I’m no one of importance.”

Vikter inhaled noisily.

His eyes narrowed on me.

I was so going to hear about this later, but whatever lecture I was bound to receive would be worth it.

Agnes’s gaze dropped to my hand, and then slowly, she lifted her arm and placed her palm against mine. As she rose, I curled my fingers around her cool hand, and I thought of the golden, sparkling sand surrounding the Stroud Sea, of warmth and laughter. I saw my parents, their features no longer clear but lost to time, fuzzy and undefined. I felt the warm, damp breeze in my hair, the sand under my feet.

It was the last happy memory I had of my parents.

Agnes’s arm trembled as she took a sudden, heavy breath. “What…?” She trailed off, her mouth going lax as her shoulders lowered. The suffocating anguish retracted, collapsing into itself like a matchstick house in a windstorm. Her dampened lashes blinked rapidly, and rosy color infused her cheeks.

I let go of her hand the moment the room felt more…open and light, fresher. There was still a sharp edge of pain lingering in the shadows, but it was now manageable for her.

For me.

I slipped my hand back under my cloak, conscious of the ball of tension brewing inside me.

Agnes trembled. For a moment, I was afraid that she would drop to the floor again, but she didn’t. “Thank you. Thank you so much. My gods, thank—”

Tears glimmered as she nodded, but the grief didn’t seize as it did before. What I’d done wouldn’t last. The pain would resurface. Hopefully, by then, she would be able to process it. If not, the grief would always linger, a ghost that would haunt every happy moment in her life until it became all she knew.

Closing her eyes, Agnes nodded.

Vikter touched my arm as he turned, and I followed. My gaze landed on the settee closest to the hearth as Vikter reached the door. A floppy-headed stuffed doll with yellow hair made of yarn lay partially hidden behind the thin cushion. Tiny goosebumps broke out across my skin as unease balled in the pit of my stomach.

Vikter halted with his hand on the door, and I tilted my head toward the settee. His gaze followed. I couldn’t sense people, only their pain once I saw them. If a child was here, he or she must be hidden away, and possibly completely unaware of what was happening.

But then why hadn’t Agnes admitted to the child being here?

The unease expanded, and the worst-case scenario played out in my mind. “I will handle this. You handle that.”

Vikter hesitated, his blue eyes wary as they lifted to the door.

A heavy sigh rattled from him as he muttered, “That doesn’t mean you always have to.” He stepped back, though, facing Agnes. “Would it be too much trouble to ask for something warm to drink?”

Vikter nodded at me, and I stepped forward, placing my hand on the door and pushing it open.

If I hadn’t been prepared for the too-sweet and the bitter-sour stench, it would’ve knocked me over. My gag reflex threatened to be triggered as my gaze adapted to the candlelit bedroom. I would just have to…not breathe as often.

Sounded like a solid plan.

I swept the room with a quick glance. Except for the bed, a tall wardrobe, and two rickety-looking end tables, the room was bare. More incense burned in here, but it couldn’t beat back the smell. My attention returned to the bed, to the form lying impossibly still in the center of it. Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me and started forward, slipping my right hand back into the cloak, to my right thigh. My fingers curled over the always-cold hilt of my dagger as I focused on the man. Or what was left of him.

He was young, that much I could tell, with light brown hair and broad shoulders that trembled. His skin had taken on a gray pallor, and his cheeks were sunken as if his stomach hadn’t been full in weeks. Dark shadows blossomed under eyelids that spasmed every couple of seconds. The color of his lips was more blue than pink. Taking a deep breath, I opened myself up once more.

He was in great pain, both physical and emotional. It wasn’t the same as Agnes’s, but no less potent or heavy. In here, the anguish left no room for light, and it went beyond suffocating. It choked and clawed in the knowledge that there was no way out of this.

A tremor coursed through me as I forced myself to sit beside him. Unsheathing the dagger, I kept it hidden under my cloak as I lifted my left hand and carefully pulled the sheet down. His chest was bare, and the shivers increased as the cooler air of the room reached his waxy skin. My gaze traveled down the length of his concave stomach.

I saw the wound he’d hidden from his wife.

It was above his right hip, four ragged tears in his skin. Two, side by side, an inch or so above two identical wounds.

He’d been bitten.

One who didn’t know better would think some sort of wild animal had gotten ahold of him, but this wasn’t the wound of an animal. It seeped blood and something darker, oiler. Faint, reddish-blue lines radiated out from the bite, spreading across his lower stomach and disappearing under the sheet.

A ravaged moan drew my gaze upward. His lips peeled back, revealing just how close he was to a fate worse than death. His gums bled, streaking his teeth.

Teeth that were already changing.

Two on top, two on the bottom—his canines—had already elongated. I looked to where his hand rested next to my leg. His nails had also lengthened, becoming more animalistic than mortal. Within an hour, both his teeth and nails would harden and sharpen. They’d be able to cut and chew through skin and muscle.

He would become one of them.

A Craven.

Driven by an insatiable hunger for blood, he would slaughter everyone in sight. And if anyone were to survive his attack, they would eventually become just like him.

Well, not everyone.

I hadn’t.

But he was becoming what existed outside the Rise, what lived inside the thick, unnatural mist—the foulness that the fallen Kingdom of Atlantia had cursed these lands with. Some four hundred years after the War of Two Kings had ended, they were still a plague.

The Craven were creations of the Atlantians, the product of their poisonous kiss, which acted like an infection, turning innocent men, women, and children into starved creatures whose body and mind became twisted and decayed by ceaseless hunger.

Even though the majority of Atlantians had been hunted into extinction, many still existed, and there only needed to be one Atlantian alive for there to be a dozen Craven, if not more. They weren’t completely mindless. They could be controlled, but only by the Dark One.

And this poor man had fought back and escaped, but he must have known what the bite meant. From birth, we all knew. It was a part of the kingdom’s blood-soaked history. He was cursed, and there was nothing that could be done. Had he come back to say goodbye to his wife? To a child? Had he thought he would be different? Blessed by the gods?

Chosen?

It didn’t matter.

Sighing, I replaced the sheet, leaving his upper chest bare. Trying not to breathe too deeply, I set my palm on his skin. His flesh…it felt all wrong, like cold leather. I concentrated on the beaches of Carsodonia, the capital, and the dazzling blue waters of the Stroud. I remembered the clouds, how fat and fluffy they were. How they looked like peace must feel. And I thought of the Queen’s Gardens outside of Castle Teerman, where I could simply be and not think or feel anything, where everything, including my own mind, was quiet.

I thought of the warmth those too-brief moments with Hawke had brought forth.

Marlowe’s shivers subsided, and the twitching behind his eyes slowed. The puckered skin at the corners of his eyes smoothed out.

The chest under my hand rose deeply, and clumped lashes fluttered. His eyes opened, and I tensed. They were blue. Mostly. Bolts of red shot through the irises. Soon, there would be no blue left. Only the color of blood.

His dry lips parted. “Are you…are you Rhain? Have you come to take me at my end?”

He thought I was the God of the Common Man and Endings, a god of death.

I figured, or hoped, that the gods would make an exception in cases like this.

His crimson-laced gaze drifted over my features, starting where wisps of burnt copper hair curled against my forehead, then the right side of my face, followed by my left. His stare lingered there, over the evidence of what a Craven’s claws could do. I wondered if he thought the same thing the Duke always did.

Such a shame.

Those three words seemed to be the Duke’s favorite. That and: you have disappointed me.

I nodded. “It’s a strange nickname, but my mother used to call me that. It sort of stuck.”

Marlowe blinked slowly. “Why are…?” The corners of his mouth cracked, the new wounds seeping blood and darkness. “Why are you here?”

Forcing a smile, I tightened my grip on the hilt of the dagger and did another thing that should end with me being hauled to the Temple but hadn’t yet because this wasn’t the first time I’d revealed myself to the dying. “I am the Maiden.”

His chest rose with a sharp inhale, and he closed his eyes. A tremor coursed through him. “You’re the Chosen, ‘born in the shroud of the gods, protected even inside the womb, veiled from birth.’”

That was me.

I nodded.

Anyone cursed by a Craven’s bite did not die in their beds quietly and as peacefully as possible. They were not afforded that kindness or sympathy. Instead, they were generally dragged to the town square to be burned alive in front of a mass of citizens. It didn’t matter that most became cursed either protecting those who cheered their horrific demise or working to better the kingdom.

Marlowe’s gaze shifted to the closed door behind me. “She’s…she’s a good woman.”

Those eerie eyes tracked back to me. “I won’t be a—” His upper lip curled, revealing one deadly sharp tooth. “I won’t be a good man much longer.”

Marlowe eyed the dagger. “Bloodstone.”

Before any signs of the curse, a mortal could be killed in any number of ways, but once there were signs, only fire and bloodstone could kill the cursed. Only bloodstone or wood sharpened into a stake from the Blood Forest could kill a fully turned Craven.

His gaze shifted to the closed door once more, and then his eyes closed. He nodded.

Chest heavy, and unsure if it was my grief or his that weighed me down, I shifted ever so slightly. There were two ways to kill a Craven or someone cursed as long as you had a bloodstone blade or wood from a Blood Forest tree. Penetrate the heart or destroy the brain. The former wasn’t immediate. It could take minutes to bleed out, and it was painful…and messy.

Placing my left hand against his too-cold cheek, I leaned over him—

My heart stopped. “What?”

If this Ridley had waited until the curse began to show signs, there was no way he would’ve been able to do it. Whatever was in the blood of the Craven—of an Atlantian—triggered some sort of primal survival instinct.

Gods.

Good gods, this could be bad.

Marlowe grimaced, and his eyes opened once more. There was no more blue. He was close. Seconds. “I don’t have—”

I struck as fast as the black vipers that hid in the valleys that led to the Temples. The tip of the dagger sank into the soft spot at the base of his skull. Angled frontward and between the vertebrae, the blade pierced deep, severing the brain stem.

Marlowe jerked.

That was all. He’d taken his last breath before he even knew it. Death was as instantaneous as it could be.

I eased the blade out as I rose from the bed. Marlowe’s eyes were closed. That…that was one small blessing. Agnes would not see how close he’d come to turning into a nightmare.

Turning from the bed, I sheathed the dagger and then replaced my mask and lifted my hood, tugging it over my head.

Ridley.

I started for the door.

If Ridley were still alive, he had to be within minutes of turning. It was nighttime, and if he was in that dorm where others who were off duty slept….

I shuddered.

No matter how well trained they were, they were as vulnerable as anyone else while asleep. Concern for a certain guard from the Rise surfaced, and fear pierced my chest and stomach.

A massacre could be minutes away from happening.

Worse yet, the curse would spread, and I more than anyone knew how quickly it could ravage a city until nothing but blood pooled in the streets.

Chapter 5

We left Agnes in the bedroom, her husband’s limp hand pressed to her chest as she carefully brushed his hair back from his face.

It was an image I wouldn’t forget for a very long time.

But I couldn’t dwell on it then. I’d learned from Vikter that there was a daughter, but luckily, she was staying with friends, having been told that her father was ill. Vikter saw no reason to not believe Agnes. I was relieved to know that my worst fear hadn’t come true. That the child hadn’t also been cursed. Once someone had been cursed, a bite from them would pass on the curse, and even though Marlowe hadn’t fully turned, he would’ve been prone to uncontrollable rages and thirst from the moment he’d been bitten.

But now I stood outside another tiny home, in the shadows of the narrow, dirt-packed alley, listening to another tragedy. The moment I’d shared with Vikter what Marlowe had told me, we’d gone straight for the father’s house since it was closer than the dorms. I was beyond glad I couldn’t see the man because I could hear the heartbreak in his voice as he told Vikter what had happened, and the ache in my head was now throbbing. If I saw the poor father, I would’ve wanted to somehow ease his pain. The old man knew precisely why Vikter was there when he asked if he’d seen his son.

Ridley hadn’t been able to take care of himself.

However, his father had.

He’d shown Vikter where he’d buried Ridley in the backyard, under a pear tree. He’d ended his son’s life the day before.

I was still thinking about that as Vikter and I left the Lower Ward, using the heavily wooded area outside the Citadel to avoid any City Guards. Many years ago, animals such as deer and wild boar had been plentiful in Wisher’s Grove, but only the smallest critters and large, predatory birds remained after years of hunting. The Grove now served more or less as a border between the haves and have-nots, the thick tree line all but erasing the cramped living arrangements for the vast majority of Masadonia from those who lived in homes triple the size of the one Agnes now mourned in. A part of the Grove, closer to the center of the city, had been cleared, creating a park where fairs and celebrations were held, people often rode their horses, sold goods, and picnicked on warmer days. The Grove ran right into the inner walls of Castle Teerman. Literally.

Very few traveled the Grove, believing it to be haunted by any who’d died there. Or were they haunted by the spirits of guards? Or was it the spirits of hunted animals that roamed between the trees? I wasn’t sure. There were so many different versions. Either way, it worked for us because we could easily slip out of the Queen’s Gardens and into the Grove without being seen as long as we kept an eye on the patrolling guards. From the Grove, one could go anywhere.

I knew this was coming.

My stomach dipped as I toyed with a loose thread from my cloak. “I am.”

Vikter cursed under his breath. In any other situation, I would’ve giggled. “You’re as brave as any guard on the Rise.”

Taking that as a huge compliment, I smiled. “Well, thank you.”

My smile turned upside down. “I take my thank you back.”

Dipping under the branch, I looked back at him. “You didn’t allow me,” I reminded him. “You just couldn’t stop me.”

He stopped, catching my arm and turning me so I faced him. “I understand why you want to help. You couldn’t when your mother and father lay dying.”

I flinched. “It has nothing to do with them.”

I hated that.

Hated the way I felt for something someone had done to me. Absolutely hated the heavy shame that threatened to choke me.

Irritation flared to life, and there was a part of me that recognized it was because Vikter was scraping at old wounds and getting too close to a hidden truth I didn’t want to delve into and uncover. “Whether I’m caught or not, wouldn’t the gods already know what I do? There would be no reason for me to take additional risks when nothing is hidden from them.”

Shaking my head, I turned and started walking. “I don’t help those people because I want the gods to find me unworthy. I didn’t help Agnes because I hoped she would tell someone, and it would get out. I help them because it’s already a tragedy that doesn’t need to be compounded upon by being forced to watch their loved ones be burned to death.” I stepped over a fallen tree limb, my headache worsening. However, it had nothing to do with my gift and everything to do with the conversation. “Sorry to ruin your theory, but I’m not a sadist.”

Whipping around, I gaped at him. “Afraid?”

But to others, like my guardians or the Priests, it wouldn’t be something I could ever admit. They would see that fear as being sacrilegious, as if the only reason I’d have to be afraid would be due to something horrible and not the fact I had no idea what would happen to me upon my Ascension.

If I were to live.

Or die.

I closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness.

Vikter’s words kept me up for most of the night, and I ended up skipping our normal morning training session held in one of the old rooms in the all-but-abandoned part of the castle. Unsurprisingly, Vikter hadn’t knocked on the old servants’ door.

If that wasn’t evidence enough of how well he knew me, I didn’t know what would be.

I wasn’t mad at him. Honestly, I could be annoyed and irritated with him every other day, but I was never mad at him. I didn’t think he felt that I was. He just…he’d hit a raw nerve last night, and he was aware of that.

I was afraid of my Ascension. I knew that. Vikter knew that. Who wouldn’t be? Although Tawny believed that I would return as an Ascended, no one could be sure. Ian wasn’t like me. There’d been no rules imposed on him when we’d been in the capital or while we grew up here. He’d Ascended because he was the brother of the Maiden, the Chosen, and because the Queen had petitioned for the exception.

So, yes, I was afraid.

But was I purposely pushing the envelope and happy-dancing over the line in hopes of being found unworthy and stripped of my status?

That was…that would be incredibly irrational.

I could be quite irrational.

Like when I saw a spider, I behaved as if it were the size of a horse with the cold calculation of an assassin. That was irrational. But being found unworthy meant exile, and that was also a death sentence. If I were afraid of dying upon Ascension, then getting myself exiled didn’t exactly improve the situation.

And I was afraid of dying, but my wariness of the Ascension was more than that.

It wasn’t my choice.

I had been born into this, in the same way that all the second sons and daughters were. Even though none of them seemed to dread their future, it wasn’t their choice either.

I hadn’t been lying or trying to cover up a hidden agenda when I helped Agnes or exposed myself to Marlowe. I did that because I could—because it was my choice. I trained to use a sword and bow because it was my choice. But was there another motive behind sneaking off to watch fights or swimming naked? Visiting gambling dens or lurking in parts of the castle forbidden to me and listening in on conversations that I wasn’t supposed to hear? Or when I left my chambers without Vikter or Rylan just so I could spy on the balls held in the Great Hall and people-watch in Wisher’s Grove? What about the Red Pearl? Letting Hawke kiss me? Touch me? All of those things that I’d done, I did because they were my choice, but…

But could it also be what Vikter had suggested?

What if, deep down, I wasn’t just trying to live and experience everything I could before my Ascension? What if I was, on some kind of unconscious level, trying to ensure that the Ascension never happened?

These thoughts troubled me throughout the day, and for once, I wasn’t all that restless in my confinement. At least not until the sun began to set. Having dismissed Tawny hours before supper since there was no reason for her to sit around while I did nothing but morosely stare out the windows, I finally got annoyed with myself and yanked open the door.

Only to find Rylan lounging across the hall.

I drew up short.

Pen.

Rylan was the only one who called me that. I liked it. I let go of the door, and it slowly inched back, bumping my shoulder. “I don’t know.”

He grinned at me as he ran a hand over his light brown hair. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Glancing behind me to the windows, I saw that it was dusk. Surprise flickered through me. I’d wasted an entire day in self-reflection.

Priestess Analia would be thrilled to hear that, but not the reasons. Either way, I wanted to punch myself in the face.

But it was time. I nodded and started to step out—

My veil.

Good gods, I’d almost walked out into the hall without it or a hood. Other than my guardians—the Duke and Duchess—and Tawny, only Vikter and Rylan were allowed to see me without my veil. Well, the Queen and King could, and Ian was permitted, but obviously, they weren’t here. If anyone else had been in the hall, they would’ve possibly fallen over in a dead faint.

His grin increased as I whipped around and hurried back into the room, slipping the veil over my head. It took a little more than a couple of minutes to clasp all the little chains so it was secured in place. Tawny was so much faster at it than I was.

I started back out—

Looking down at myself, I let out a very unladylike groan. “Gods! One moment.”

Rylan chuckled.

Totally scatterbrained, I toed on my well-worn shoes, which were nothing more than satin and a thin leather sole, and then reopened the door.

Rylan was right. Unless something was going on, both he and Vikter were always ready for me just before dusk.

Our pace was quick as we hurried down the narrow, dusty staircase. It emptied out into an area beside the kitchen, and while we took the old access to avoid being seen as much as possible, it wasn’t completely avoidable. Kitchen servants stopped mid-step as Rylan and I passed them, their brown garb and white caps making them nearly indistinguishable from one another. I heard a basket of potatoes hit the floor and the harsh, biting reprimand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw blurred faces bow their heads as if they were praying.

I swallowed a groan while Rylan did what he always did and pretended that there was nothing off about their behavior.

You’re the child of the gods.

Agnes’s words came back to me. The only reason they thought that was because of the veil and the paintings and various artworks representing the Maiden.

That and how often it was that they didn’t see me.

We started toward the banquet hall. From there, we could enter the foyer and be able to access the Queen’s Garden. There’d be more servants, but there really wasn’t any other way to access it from within the castle that didn’t require scaling a wall. We made it halfway past the long table when one of the many doors on either side opened behind us.

A wave of goosebumps spread over my skin in revulsion. I recognized that voice, and I wanted to keep walking—to pretend I’d suddenly lost my hearing.

But Rylan had stopped.

If I kept walking, it wouldn’t end well for me.

Inhaling deeply, I turned to face Lord Brandole Mazeen. I didn’t see what I was sure most saw, a dark-haired man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, handsome and tall. I saw a bully.

I saw a cruel man who had long ago forgotten what it was like to be mortal.

Unlike with the Duke, who seemed to despise me without cause, I knew precisely why Lord Mazeen found such glee in harassing me.

Ian.

And it all stemmed from the vainest, most inconsequential thing possible. A year before my brother Ascended, he’d bested Lord Mazeen at a game of cards, to which the Lord had ungraciously accused Ian of cheating. I, who probably shouldn’t have even been present for the game, had laughed. Mainly because the Lord was utterly terrible at poker. From that moment on, the Lord had sought to irritate both Ian and me whenever he got the chance. It only got worse once Ian Ascended, and the Lord began to…assist the Duke with his lessons.

Clasping my hands together, I said nothing as he strode toward me, his long legs encased in black breeches. He wore a black dress shirt, and the darkness of his clothing created a striking contrast against his pale skin and lips the color of ripe berries. His eyes…

I didn’t like to look into them. They seemed fathomless and empty.

Like all Ascended, they were such a dark black that the pupils weren’t visible. I wondered what his eye color had been before he Ascended or if he even remembered. The Lord may only appear to be in his second decade of life, but I knew he’d Ascended after the War of Two Kings, along with the Duke and Duchess. He was hundreds of years old.

Lord Mazeen gave a tight, close-lipped smile when I didn’t respond. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Eyes like shards of obsidian narrowed on the guard. “I didn’t ask the question of you.”

That unnerving, fathomless gaze shifted to me. “You’re going to the garden?” One side of his lips quirked when surprise flickered through me. “Isn’t that where you always go at this time of day?”

I did.

And it was more than a little disconcerting that the Lord was aware of that.

I nodded.

In other words, I wasn’t allowed to interact, not even with the Ascended. The Lord knew that.

But he disregarded it. “The Maiden also must be respectful. I wish to speak with her, and I’m sure the Duke would be most disappointed to learn that she was unwilling to do so.”

My spine straightened as a wave of anger swept through me so swiftly, I almost reached for the dagger strapped to my thigh. The reaction shocked me in a way. What would I have done with it if I hadn’t stopped? Stabbed him? I almost laughed.

But none of this was funny.

His thinly veiled threat of speaking to the Duke had been effective. The Lord had backed both Rylan and me into a corner because even though I was not supposed to interact, the Duke didn’t hold Lord Mazeen to the same rules as others. If I walked away, I would be punished. So would Rylan. And while my punishment wasn’t something to take lightly, it would be nothing compared to what Rylan would face.

He could be removed from the Royal Guard, and the Duke would ensure that it was known that he had fallen out of the Duke’s favor. Rylan would soon be unemployed and therefore dishonored. It wouldn’t be the same as being exiled, but his life would become measurably more difficult.

I squared my shoulders. “I would love nothing more than to speak with you.”

A look of smugness settled on his handsome features, and I wanted nothing more than to kick him in the face. “Come.” He reached out, curling his arm over my shoulders. “I wish to speak in private.”

Rylan stepped forward—

Rylan’s jaw hardened as he stared at the Lord, and I could tell he wasn’t remotely happy about this, but he nodded curtly. “I’ll be right here.”

Gods.

Not all Ascended were like the Lord, who wielded his power and station like a poison-tipped sword, but Lord Mazeen wasn’t even the worst example.

He steered me to the left, nearly causing a servant to drop the basket she carried. He seemed completely unaware of her as he strode forward. Whatever hope I had that he planned to speak to me a few steps away ended quickly as he took us into one of the shadowy alcoves between the doors.

I should’ve known.

He swept aside thick, white curtains and all but pulled me into the narrow space where the only source of light was a small sconce above a thickly cushioned chaise. I had no idea what the purpose of these half-hidden rooms was, but on more than one occasion, I’d found myself trapped in them.

I stepped back, a little surprised that the Lord allowed it. He watched me, the smirk returning as I positioned myself so I was close to one of the curtains. He sat on the chaise, stretching out his legs as he folded his arms across his chest.

Heart thumping, I chose my words carefully. “I really cannot linger. If someone were to see me, I would be in trouble with Priestess Analia.”

Appearances could be deceiving. The Ascended were fast when they wanted to be. I’d seen them move in a manner that made them nothing more than a blur.

Disgust was a weed taking root inside me. Of course, he enjoyed the Duke’s lessons. “I’m not sure what she would do.”

My fingers curled inward. “I don’t wish to displease the Duke or the Priestess.”

His lashes lowered. “I’m sure you would not.”

A sharp, stinging pain radiated out from where my nails dug into my palms. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”

Searching for restraint and calm, I was grateful for the veil. If he could see my face in its entirety, he’d know exactly what I was feeling.

Which was red-hot, burning hatred.

I didn’t know why the Lord found such great entertainment in harassing me. Why he found such enjoyment in making me uncomfortable, but he’d been this way the last several years. He was worse toward the servants, though. I’d heard the whispered warnings to new staff. Avoid gaining his attention or his displeasure. No matter what, there was a limit to how far he could go with me. With the servants, I didn’t believe he felt there was even a line to cross.

I lifted my chin. “What would you like to discuss with me, Lord Mazeen?”

A hint of a cold smile appeared. “I realized it had been a while since I last saw you.”

It had been sixteen days since he’d last cornered me. So, not long enough.

Doubtful.

The fact that he’d said nearly the same words Hawke had uttered no more than two nights ago didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did the vastly different reactions I had to them. While Hawke had come across teasing, Lord Mazeen spoke the words as a warning. I wasn’t charmed. I was revolted.

He curled his fingers around my chin, holding my head in place. When I took my next breath, I thought his fingers smelled like…a flower, musky and sweet. “You should try to be more convincing if you wish me to believe that.”

He smirked as he trailed his cool thumb along my lower lip. The sensation of thousands of tiny insects skittering over my skin followed. “And why is that?”

The Lord knew exactly why.

My palm practically burned with the need to feel the hilt of the dagger against it, and my muscles tensed with the knowledge and skill to react—to make him stop. A tremor coursed through me as I fought the desire to fight back. It wouldn’t be worth what would happen. I kept telling myself that as his fingers slid down the center of my gown. It wasn’t just the fear of punishment. If I showed what I was capable of, the Duke would learn that I had been trained, and I doubted it would take any large leap of logic to determine that Vikter was responsible. Yet again, whatever I faced would be nothing compared to what Vikter would.

But I could only tolerate so much.

I took a step back, putting distance between us.

Lord Mazeen tilted his head and then chuckled softly. Instinct sparked, and I moved to step out from the curtain, but I hadn’t been fast enough. He caught me by the hip and turned me. There wasn’t even a second to react as his arm clamped around my waist, and he hauled me back against him. His other hand remained where it was, between my breasts. The contact of his body against mine, the feel of it, sent a wave of revulsion through me.

I hadn’t forgotten a single one.

Of course, I remembered that, too.

My temper had gotten the best of me. I’d snapped back at the Duke, and he’d struck me hard enough that I’d lost consciousness. I came to, only to feel like I’d been run over by a horse and finding the Duke and the Lord sprawled out on the settee, both appearing to have drunk a bottle’s worth of whiskey while I lay on the floor. For days, I’d felt like I’d come down with the flu. I imagine I had a bit of a concussion.

Still, seeing the shock widen the Duke’s otherwise emotionless gaze had been worth it.

Fury boiled my blood as I stared at the gray stones of the wall. “Let me go, Lord Mazeen.”

There would be no way I’d say please. Consequences be damned, I’d had enough. I was not his toy. I was the Maiden, and while he was incredibly faster and stronger, I knew I could hurt him. I had the element of surprise on my side, and my legs were free. I widened my stance as I felt something damp and wet against my jaw—

A scream tore through the alcove, startling the Lord enough that he loosened his hold. I tore free and spun to face him, my chest heaving as I slipped my hand through the slit in my gown, to the hilt of the dagger.

The Lord muttered something under his breath as the screams came again, high-pitched, and full of terror.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I darted out from behind the curtain instead of unsheathing the dagger and slicing off what I was sure was the Lord’s most prized possession.

The Lord threw aside the curtains as he stormed out, but the screams were bringing others rushing into the banquet hall. Servants. Royal Guards. There was nothing more Lord Mazeen could do now. Through the veil, my gaze met his. I knew it. His nostrils flared. He knew it.

The screams came again, ringing out from one of the nearby rooms, drawing my attention. Two doors down, the door was open.

Rylan was at my side. “Pen—”

I skirted his reach and headed toward the sound. What happened in that alcove with the Lord fell to the wayside as my fingers curled around the handle of my dagger. Screams were never a good sign.

A woman rushed out—the servant who’d been carrying the basket. Her face leached of all color as her hand opened and closed against her throat. She backed away, shaking her head.

I reached the room at the same time Rylan did and looked inside.

I saw her immediately.

She was lying on an ivory-colored settee, her pale blue gown wrinkled and bunched around her waist. One arm dangled limply off the side, her skin the shade of chalk. I didn’t have to open my senses to know she felt no pain.

That she’d never feel anything again.

I lifted my gaze. Her head rested against a pillow, neck twisted at an unnatural angle and—

I saw the deep puncture wounds.

Chapter 6

Rylan promptly escorted me right back to my room while Lord Mazeen stood in the doorway, flanked by several others, his gaze fixed on the dead girl. I wanted to push him aside and close the door. Even if it weren’t for the state of her undress, with so much flesh exposed, it was a lack of dignity tossed aside for morbid curiosity.

She was a person, and while what was left behind was nothing more than a shell, she was someone’s daughter, sister, friend. More than anything else, people would talk about how she was found, with the skirt of her gown shoved up, and the bodice gathered at the waist. No one else needed to bear witness.

I hadn’t been given a chance, though.

And now Castle Teerman was on virtual lockdown as each and every space in the one hundred plus rooms was searched for either the culprit or more victims.

Pacing in front of the fireplace, Tawny worried the tiny pearl buttons of her bodice. “It was a Craven,” she said, the deep violet gown swishing about her legs. “It had to be a Craven.”

I glanced over at Rylan, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Normally, he didn’t stay inside my room, but tonight was different. Vikter was assisting with the search, but I imagined he’d be back soon.

With my veil removed, Rylan’s gaze met mine. He’d seen that girl. “Do you think it was a Craven?”

Rylan said nothing.

I had to agree with him. “She…she was pale, and it wasn’t just the shroud of death. It was like she had no blood in her, and even if it were a two-fanged Craven—” My nose scrunched. “It would’ve been…messier and not so precise. She looked like…”

My gaze dropped to my hands as the image of the woman reappeared. She’d been with someone, willing or not, and as far as I knew, Craven weren’t interested in anything but blood. “It just looked like someone had been in that room with her.”

Tawny sat back. “If it wasn’t a Craven, then who would do something like that?”

There were many people in and out of the castle—servants, guards, visitors…the Ascended. But that didn’t make sense either. “That wound appeared to be right over her jugular. There should’ve been blood everywhere, and I didn’t even see a drop of it.”

I nodded. “And her neck was clearly broken. I know of no Craven that would do that.”

Tawny folded her arms around herself. “And I don’t want to know of any person capable of that.”

Neither did I, but we all knew that people were capable of all manner of atrocities, and so were the Ascended. After all, they too had been mortal at one time, and the capability for cruelty seemed to be one of the few traits some carried over.

My thoughts wandered to Lord Mazeen. He was cruel, a bully, and based on our latest interaction, I suspected that he could be much worse. But was he capable of what was done? I shuddered. Even if he were, why would he do it, and how? I didn’t have an answer for that.

There was only one thing I could think of that could do that, but it seemed too unreal to believe.

Tawny nodded silently, returning to twisting the pearl on her bodice. Silence crept into the space, and Vikter arrived not long after, stepping into the room to speak quietly to Rylan. I scooted to the edge of my seat when he stepped away from Rylan, sighing as he sat on the edge of the chest that rested at the foot of my bed.

My attention zeroed in on him, noting how he massaged the skin above his brow and how he’d squinted when he looked to where we sat near the oil lamps. Sometimes, Vikter got headaches. Not like the ones I got after opening up my senses or using my gifts too much, but far more severe, where light and sound made him nauseous and his head pulse.

I opened up my senses and immediately felt the sharp pounding ache behind my eyes. I quickly severed the connection, and it was like visualizing a cord connecting me to him being snipped in two. The last thing I wanted was to end up with another throbbing headache keeping me up.

I casually placed my hand on the back of Vikter’s neck as I reached for a small fur quilt. His skin was warm and dry as I thought of the beaches and my mother’s laugh. I knew his pain was eased the moment he took a deep, shuddering breath.

Tawny looked over at me and then took a deep breath before she refocused on Vikter. “Do you know who she was?”

Sitting straight, he was definitely more clear-eyed when he spoke again. “She was identified by one of the servants. The victim’s name was Malessa Axton.”

The name was unfamiliar to me, but Tawny whispered, “Oh.”

I twisted toward her. “Did you know her?”

Radiant Row was the nickname given to the row of homes closest to the castle and to Wishers’ Grove park. Many of the opulent houses were owned by the Ascended.

I reached out with my senses and found that her sadness echoed my own. It wasn’t the deep pain of loss that came when it was someone you knew, but the sorrow that accompanied any death, especially such a senseless one.

Rylan asked Vikter to step outside. After a few moments, Tawny excused herself to return to her room. I managed to stop myself from touching her. I knew if I did, I would take her pain, even though I’d done it before without her realizing. I ended up at the window, staring at the steady glow of the torches beyond the Rise when Vikter reentered.

I had a hard time believing that it had been a Descenter, even though I imagined something like an ice pick could’ve made those wounds. However, the possibility of stabbing someone in the jugular and not getting blood everywhere seemed very unlikely, but even more baffling was the motive. What did creating those types of wounds indicate that was of any benefit to their cause? Because the only thing I knew that could make those kinds of wounds went against everything the Descenters believed in.

I looked over at Vikter with raised brows. “Yes?”

His sea-colored gaze flickered over my face. “Rylan told me about Lord Mazeen.”

My stomach sank as I looked away. It wasn’t as if I had forgotten my run-in with the Lord, but it simply wasn’t the most concerning or traumatic thing to have happened in the last couple of hours. “Did he do anything, Poppy?” he asked.

A suffocating, stinging heat crept into my face, and I pressed my cheek to the windowpane. I didn’t want to think about this. I never did. Nausea churned, and there was this…weird embarrassment that made my skin feel sticky and dirty. I didn’t understand why I felt that way. I knew I’d done nothing to gain the Lord’s attention, and even if I had, he was still in the wrong. But when I thought about how he felt entitled to touch me, I wanted to scratch at my own skin.

And I didn’t want to think about how I’d been grateful for the servant’s screams, having no idea what the cause had been.

I pushed all of that aside so it could later come to the forefront, most likely when I was trying to sleep. “He did nothing other than be an annoyance.”

I nodded, although that seemed a little too far from the truth, but I was okay with lying. What could Vikter do with the truth? Nothing. He was smart enough to know that.

A muscle throbbed in his jaw. “He needs to leave you alone.”

Kind of.

I didn’t really want to think about how close I came to doing something utterly unforgivable. If I had unsheathed my dagger and used it, there would have been no hope for me. But, gods, I wouldn’t have felt a drop of guilt over it.

He nodded. “The Healer who looked at her body believed there had been some level of physical relations before her death, but he didn’t find any signs that she had been fighting. No dried blood or skin under her nails, but no one can be sure.”

I pressed my lips together. “I was thinking that it wouldn’t make sense for a Descenter to leave wounds like that, even if they were able to do it without it being…messy. What kind of message does that even send? Because the only thing that can do what was done to her is…”

Vikter’s gaze met mine. “An Atlantian.”

Relieved that he said it and not me, I nodded. “The Duke has to know that. Anyone who saw those wounds would have to think that and question why a Descenter would mimic something that could easily be attributed to an Atlantian.”

A Descenter moving freely through Castle Teerman was concerning, but the possibility of an Atlantian being able to gain access without anyone being the wiser was something truly terrifying.

I wanted to find something that would provide some sort of evidence that Vikter and I were being paranoid, so at the crack of dawn, when the castle was at its quietest, and Rylan guarded the room outside, I snuck down to the main floor and past the eerily quiet kitchen.

Once the sun rose, I didn’t have to worry about running into Lord Mazeen or any Ascended.

Entering the banquet hall, I headed to the left, to the second door, where I often met with Priestess Analia for my weekly lessons. As I stepped inside, I glanced across the dimly lit hall to the room where Malessa had been found.

The door was closed.

Tearing my gaze from it, I quietly shut the door and hurried over to the bare wooden chair, spying the book I never foresaw myself reading of my own volition.

Mainly because it seemed as if I’d read The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis about a million times. I carried it over to the lone window and quickly cracked it open, holding it in the faint beam of sunlight. I carefully thumbed through the thin pages, knowing if I were to tear one, Priestess Analia would be most displeased. I found the section I was looking for. It was only a handful of paragraphs that described what Atlantians looked like, their traits, and what they were capable of.

Unfortunately, all it did was confirm what I already knew.

I’d never actually seen an Atlantian—at least, I didn’t think I had, and that was the problem. Atlantians looked like mortals. Even the extinct wolven, who had once lived alongside the Atlantians in Atlantia, could easily be mistaken for mortals, even though they had never been. The Atlantians’ ability to blend in with the populace they were known to subjugate and hunt made them deadly, expert predators. One could walk right past me, and I wouldn’t know. Neither would the Ascended. For some reason, the gods hadn’t taken any of that into consideration when they initiated the Blessing.

Scanning the paragraphs, one word stood out, causing my stomach to dip. Fangs. Although I knew what it would say, I read the sentences anyway.

Between year 19 and 21, those of blooded Atlantian descent leave the vulnerable state of immaturity, wherein the ill-spirits in their blood become active. Noted during this period is a disturbing increase in strength, and the ability to recover from most mortal wounds as they continue to mature. It is also to be noted that before the War of Two Kings and the extinction of the wolven, a bonding ritual was performed between an Atlantian of a certain class and a wolven. Not much is known is about this bond, but it is believed that the wolven in question was duty-bound to protect the Atlantian.

For a true Atlantian, two upper canines will form fangs, becoming elongated and sharpened, but they will not be overly noticeable to the untrained eye.

I thought of the two puncture wounds on Malessa’s neck. An Atlantian’s fangs may not be as overgrown and noticeable as a Craven’s, but the Duke could order the mouths of everyone in the castle to be checked.

Admittedly, that would be invasive.

I kept reading.

Upon the appearance of fangs, the next phase of their maturity begins, wherein they begin to thirst. As long as their unnatural demands are met, their aging slows dramatically. It is believed that a year to mortals is equivalent to three decades to an Atlantian. The oldest known Atlantian was Cillian Da’Lahon, who saw 2,702 calendar years before his death.

Meaning that an Atlantian could appear to be in their twenties, but in reality, they would be over a hundred years old, possibly even closer to two hundred or more. But they still aged, unlike the Ascended, those Blessed by the gods, who stopped at whatever age they were when they received the Blessing. Only the oldest of the Ascended appeared older than someone in their thirties, and they could live for an eternity.

However, both the Atlantians and Ascended still lived an unfathomable amount of time, the closest thing to immortality—to the gods.

I couldn’t even fathom living that long. I gave a little shake of my head and kept reading.

At this time, the Atlantians are capable of passing on the ill-spirits in their blood to mortals, creating a violent and destructive creature known as a Craven, who share some of the physical traits of their creators. This curse is passed through a poisonous kiss…

A poisonous kiss wasn’t referencing two lips coming into contact with one another. The Atlantians did what the Craven did, albeit not as…messily. Atlantians bit and drank the blood of mortals, something they had to do to survive.

Their enormous lifespans, strength, and healing abilities all stemmed from feeding off mortals, their primary food source. I shuddered.

It had to be an Atlantian that had bit and fed from Malessa, which explained how there was no apparent bloodshed, and why she had looked so incredibly pale.

What it didn’t explain was why the Atlantian had then snapped her neck, effectively killing her before the curse could spread. Why wouldn’t the Atlantian allow her to turn? Then again, the bite wasn’t exactly in a place that could easily be hidden. The bite itself was the warning to all who saw it.

An Atlantian was deep within our midst.

Closing the book, I carefully placed it back on the stool, thinking about how my Ascension would occur on my nineteenth birthday and how the Atlantians reached a certain majority around that age. It wasn’t exactly surprising. After all, our gods had been their gods at one time.

But the gods no longer supported the Atlantians.

Making my way out of the room, I started for the kitchens when my gaze landed on the room Malessa had been found in. I needed to go back to my chambers before the staff became active, but that wasn’t what I did.

I crossed the space and went to the door, finding it unlocked when I turned the handle. Before I could really think about what I was doing and where I was, I slipped inside, grateful that the wall sconces cast a soft glow throughout the room.

The settee was gone, the space bare. Accent chairs remained, as did the round coffee table with some sort of floral arrangement neatly placed in the center. I crept forward, unsure of what I was even looking for, and wondering if I’d even know if I found it.

Other than the missing furniture, nothing seemed out of place, but the room felt oddly cold, as if a window had been open, but there were no windows on this side of the banquet hall.

What had Malessa been doing in here? Reading a book or waiting for one of the other Ladies in Wait or perhaps Lady Isherwood? Or had she snuck in here to meet with someone she trusted? Had she been blindsided by the attack?

A shiver danced down my spine. I wasn’t sure what was worse—being betrayed or blindsided.

Actually, I did know. Being betrayed would be worse.

I stepped forward, stopping short as I glanced down. Something was behind the leg of one of the chairs. Bending down, I reached under the chair and picked up the object. My head tilted as I ran a thumb over the smooth, soft white surface.

It was…a petal.

My brows knitted as the scent reached me. Jasmine. For some reason, my stomach roiled, which was odd. I normally liked the smell.

Rising, I looked to the vase and found the source. Several white lilies were spaced throughout the arrangement. No jasmine. Frowning, I looked down at the petal. Where did this come from? I shook my head as I walked over to the bouquet, placing the petal in with the rest of the flowers as I gave the room one last look. There was no blood on the cream carpet, something that would’ve definitely stained if it had spilled.

I had no idea what I was doing. If evidence had been found, it had been removed, and even if it hadn’t been, I didn’t have experience in this. I just wanted to be able to do something or to find anything that would put our worst fears to rest.

But there was nothing to be done or found here other than what was most likely reality, and what did I believe about truth? That it often could be terrifying, yes. But with truth came power.

And I was never one to hide from the truth.

I’d made it back my room that morning without any issues and ended up remaining in it the entire day, which wasn’t exactly all that different from any other day.

Tawny had stopped by briefly, until one of the Mistresses summoned her. No one was sequestered, but I thought that the attack would at least slow down the preparations for the Rite.

Obviously, that was a silly thought. I doubted the Earth shaking would get in the way of the Rite.

I spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened to Malessa. And the more I thought about why the Duke would lie about the attacker being a Descenter, the more it started to make sense. Just like Phillips, the guard from the Rise, hadn’t wanted to talk about Finley’s death to stop panic and fear from taking root and spreading.

But it didn’t explain why the Duke wasn’t being honest with the Royal Guard. If there was an Atlantian among us, the guards needed to be prepared.

Because while the Ascended were powerful and strong, the Atlantians were too, if not more.

Shortly before dusk, Rylan knocked on my door. “You want to try for the garden? I thought I would ask.”

Rylan nodded. “I do.”

I really could use the fresh air and time away from my own thoughts. It just seemed… I wasn’t sure. As if it weren’t even twenty-four hours after Malessa had been killed, yet it was like any other evening.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “And you’re probably tired of standing in the hall.”

Rylan chuckled. “Possibly.”

I grinned as I stepped back. “Let me get my veil.”

It took only a few minutes for me to don the headdress and become ready. This time, there were no interruptions as we made our way to the garden. However, there were servants who did the stop-and-stare thing, but as I continued down the path of one of my favorite places on the grounds of the castle, my worries and obsessive thoughts slipped away like they always did. While I was in the sprawling garden, my mind calmed, and everything and anything ceased to nibble away at me.

I wasn’t thinking about Malessa and the Atlantian who’d gained access to the castle. I wasn’t haunted by the image of Agnes holding her husband’s limp hand or what had happened in the Red Pearl with Hawke. I wasn’t even thinking about the upcoming Ascension and what Vikter had said. In the Queen’s Garden, I was simply…present instead of being caught up in the past or the future full of what-ifs.

I wasn’t sure why the gardens were called what they were. As far as I knew, it had been a very long time since the Queen had been to Masadonia, but I guessed the Duke and Duchess had named it after her as some sort of homage.

Never once while I lived with the Queen had I seen her step foot in the lush gardens of the palace.

I glanced over at Rylan. Normally, the only threat he may face was an unexpected rain shower, but tonight, he was more alert than I’d ever seen him in the garden. His gaze continuously scanned the numerous pathways. I used to think these trips bored him, but never once had he complained. Vikter, on the other hand, would’ve grumbled about literally anything else we could’ve been doing.

Come to think of it, Rylan might actually enjoy these outings, and not just because he wasn’t standing in the hall outside my room.

A cool wind whipped through the garden, stirring the many leaves and lifting the edge of my veil. I wished I could remove the headdress. It was transparent enough for me to see, but it did make traveling at dusk and beyond in low-lit places a bit difficult.

I made my way past a large water fountain that featured a marble and limestone statue of a veiled Maiden. Water poured endlessly from the pitcher she held, the sound reminding me of the rolling waves, crashing in and out of the coves of the Stroud Sea. Many coins shimmered under the water, a token to the gods in hopes that whatever the wisher wanted would be granted.

I neared the outer most parts, which fed into a small but thick outcropping of jacaranda trees that camouflaged the inner walls that kept Castle Teerman separated from the rest of the city. The trees were tall, reaching over fifty feet, and in Masadonia, bold, lavender-colored, trumpet-shaped flowers blossomed all year round. Only during the coldest months, when snow threatened, did the leaves fall, blanketing the ground in a sea of purple. They were breathtaking, but I appreciated them not just for their beauty but also for what they provided.

The jacaranda trees hid the crumbling section of the wall that Vikter and I often used to leave the grounds unseen in order to access Wisher’s Grove.

I stopped in front of the mass of intertwined vines that crawled up and over interlocking wooden trellises as wide as the jacaranda trees were tall. Glancing up at the rapidly darkening sky, I then fixed my gaze ahead.

Rylan came to stand behind me. “We made it in time.”

The corners of my lips tilted up before my grin faded. “We did tonight.”

Only a few moments passed, and then the sun conceded defeat to the moon. The last rays of sunlight pulled away from the vines. Hundreds of buds scattered over the vines trembled and then slowly peeled open, revealing lush petals the shade of a starless midnight.

Night-blooming roses.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled the faintly sweet aroma. They were at their most fragrant upon opening and then again at dawn.

Eyes flying open, I spun around, and a scream of horror knotted in my throat as Rylan staggered backward, an arrow protruding from his chest. A look of disbelief marked his features as he lifted his chin.

Chapter 7

Whatever words I was about to say died on my tongue, tasting of ash.

I…I felt nothing, and that wasn’t right. He’d have to be in so much pain, and I could help that. I could take his pain, but I felt nothing, and when I looked at his face, I didn’t want to see what I saw. His eyes were open, gaze fixed yet unseeing on the sky above. I shook my head, but under my hands, his chest didn’t move.

There was no answer, no response. Underneath him, a pool of blood spread across the walkway, seeping into the symbols etched into the stone. A circle with an arrow piercing the center. Infinity. Power. The Royal Crest. I pressed down on his chest, my trembling hands soaked with blood, refusing to believe—

A footstep echoed like thunder behind me.

I twisted at the waist. A man stood a few feet from me, a bow at his side. A hooded cloak shielded his face.

I stared up at the man, and…and Rylan’s chest still didn’t move under my palms. In the back of my mind, I knew it would never rise again. He’d been dead before he even hit the ground. He was gone.

Pain, so sharp and so real, cut through me. Something hot hit my veins and poured into my chest, filling up the empty space. My hands stopped trembling. The grip of panic and shock lessened, replaced by rage.

I rose carefully, aware of how my gown, tacky with Rylan’s blood, stuck to the knees of my thin leggings underneath. My heart slowed as my hand slipped into the slit along the gown’s side. Was this the same person who’d killed Malessa? If so, he was an Atlantian, and I’d have to be quick if I had any hope.

My fingers closed around the smooth, cool handle of the dagger. I shook my head no.

I remained completely still, the heat of my fury building in me, brimming to the surface. Rylan had died because of me. That was his duty as my personal guard, but he was dead because this man thought he could take me. Malessa had possibly been assaulted and then murdered, and for what?

If he was an Atlantian or a Descenter, he wouldn’t use me for ransom. I’d be used to send a message, just like the three Ascended who had been kidnapped from Three Rivers. They were returned in pieces.

At the moment, I didn’t care what the man’s agenda was. All that mattered was that he’d killed Rylan, who found the night-blooming roses just as beautiful as I did. And he might’ve been the one to kill Malessa, leaving her body on display in such a careless, disrespectful way.

Unsheathing the dagger, I shot forward, dipping under his arm.

I sprung up behind him, fisting the back of the man’s cloak. I thrust the dagger into his back, aiming where Vikter had taught me.

The heart.

Even caught off guard, he was quick, lurching to the side, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the dagger altogether. Hot blood gushed as the blade sank deep into his side, missing his heart by mere centimeters.

He yelped in pain, the sound reminding me of a dog. Jerking the dagger out, a vastly different sound tore from his throat. A rumbling growl that raised the tiny hairs on my body and kicked my instinct into overdrive.

That was such an…inhuman sound.

My grip on the dagger tightened as I moved to shove it deep into his back once more. He swung around, and I didn’t see his fist until pain exploded along my jaw and at the corner of my mouth, affecting my aim. I tasted something metallic. Blood. The dagger sliced into his side, cutting deep, but not deep enough.

The blow was sudden, stunning. Staggering back, lights danced across my eyes as the corners of my vision turned dark. I almost went down, managing to stay on my feet by sheer will alone. If I fell, I knew I wasn’t getting back up. Vikter had also taught me that.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to clear the lights from my vision as the man whirled on me. The hood of his cloak had fallen back. He was young, probably only a handful of years older than I, and his dark hair was shaggy. He pressed his hand to his side. Blood seeped out between his fingers. It was coming out of him fast. I must’ve hit something vital.

Good.

His lips peeled back in a feral snarl as his gaze lifted to mine. Even in the moonlight, I could see his eyes. They were the color of frosted water. A pale, luminous blue.

I braced myself, instinct telling me that if I ran, he would give chase like any predator would. And if I got close again, my aim had better not be off. “Take one more step toward me, and I won’t miss your heart a third time.”

He laughed, and a chill swept through me. It sounded too deep, too changed. “I’m going to enjoy tearing your skin off your weak, fragile bones. I don’t care what he has planned for you. I will bathe in your blood and feast on your entrails.”

Fear threatened to take root, but I couldn’t cave to it. “That sounds delightful.”

A sharp, piercing whistle came from somewhere deep in the trees, silencing him. He stopped, his nostrils flaring. The sound came again, and he seemed to vibrate with rage. The skin around his mouth went white as he took a step back.

My grip was steady on the dagger, but a tremor started in my legs as I watched him, refusing to blink.

He picked up the fallen bow, wincing as he straightened. His gaze met mine once more. “I’ll be seeing you again real soon.”

He smirked. “I promise I’ll make damn sure that smart mouth of yours is rewarded.”

I doubted it was the kind of reward I’d be eager to receive.

Backing up until he was beyond the roses, he spun around and loped off, quickly disappearing in the heavy shadows that gathered under the trees. I stayed where I stood, breaths coming out in short, quick bursts, ready in case this was some trick where he waited for me to turn my back. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, but the tremors had spread to my hand by the time I realized that he wasn’t coming back.

Slowly, I lowered the dagger, my gaze snagging on the spattering of blood where he’d stood. Another short breath left me as I lifted my gaze to the roses. Drops of blood glimmered on the onyx-hued petals.

A shudder racked me from head to toe.

I forced my body to turn around.

Rylan remained where he’d fallen, arms lax at his sides and eyes dull. I opened my mouth to speak, but there were no words, and I had no idea what I would’ve said anyway.

I looked down at my dagger, and I felt a scream building in my throat, clawing at me.

Get it together. Get it together.

I had to find someone to help Rylan. He shouldn’t lay out here like this, and they couldn’t see me with a bloodied dagger. They couldn’t know that I’d fought the attacker off. My lips trembled as I pressed them together.

Get it together.

Then, like a switch had been thrown, the shaking stopped, and my heart slowed. I still couldn’t take in a deep enough breath, but I walked forward, dipping down and wiping the blade on Rylan’s breeches. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my actions causing guilt to make my skin crawl, but it had to be done. Head and face throbbing, I sheathed the dagger. “I’m going to get someone for you.”

There was no answer. There never would be.

I started walking the path without realizing what I was doing. A numbness had invaded my body, seeping in through my pores and settling in my muscles. The lights from the castle windows guided me forward as I edged around the water fountain, coming to a sudden stop. Footsteps sounded ahead of me. My hand slipped to the dagger, fingers curled around—

I went to answer, but I couldn’t get my tongue to form words. Another guard cursed, and then there was a taller form with golden hair brushing past the two guards, his weathered face stoic. Vikter. His gaze swept over me, lingering on my knees and hands, and then the unveiled part of my face.

Death is like an old friend who pays a visit, sometimes when it’s least expected and other times when you’re waiting for her.

Death had indeed paid an unexpected visit.

Probably the same way someone got into the castle and killed the Lady in Wait the day before.

The very same section Vikter and I used to leave the castle grounds unnoticed.

The Duchess’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “I want them all torn down,” she ordered.

I gasped.

She had a point there.

Only Vikter knew what had happened—that I had managed to wound the man before he’d been signaled off. While the details couldn’t be shared because we’d run the risk of exposure, Vikter would notify the Healers in the city to keep an eye out for anyone wounded in such a manner.

But the trees…

They may have caused the deterioration of the wall, but it had been like that for as long as I could remember. There was no doubt in my mind that the Duke and Duchess knew about the wall and simply hadn’t ordered it repaired.

I wasn’t lucky.

I had been prepared.

And that was why I sat here only with an aching temple and a sore lip. But I nodded. “Thank you for your assistance.”

I had absolutely no intention of taking whatever was in that vial, but it was handed over to Tawny, who slipped it into the pocket of her gown.

Once the Healer had left, the Duchess turned to where I still sat. “Let me see your face.”

Exhaling wearily, I reached for the chains, but Tawny moved to my side. “Allow me,” she murmured.

I started to stop her, but my gaze caught on my hands. They’d been wiped as soon as I was placed in the sitting room, but blood had made its way under my nails, and flakes of it still dotted my fingers.

Was Rylan’s body still in the courtyard by the roses?

Malessa’s body had been in that room for hours and then removed. I wondered if she had been returned to her family, or if her body had been burned out of precaution.

Tawny unhooked the veil, carefully removing it so it didn’t tangle in the strands of hair that had escaped the knot I’d gathered it into that morning.

Duchess Teerman knelt before me, her cool fingers grazing the skin around my lips and then my right temple. “What were you doing out in the garden?”

Her bottomless eyes searched mine. “It sounds like he wasn’t as alert as he should have been. He never should’ve been caught off guard.”

My back stiffened as I thought of the sound the man had made and how it hadn’t resembled anything human. “Rylan was alert, Your Grace—”

Struggling for patience, I took a shallow breath. “Rylan was alert, Jacinda,” I amended, using her first name. She sporadically required this, and I never knew when she would want me to use the name or not. “The man…he was quiet, and Rylan—”

My head cranked around so fast it sent a flare of pain across my temple. Disbelief seized me.

Vikter’s blue eyes met mine. “He enjoyed your evening strolls in the garden. He never thought there would be a threat, and unfortunately, became too complacent. Last night should’ve changed that.”

Last night had changed that. Rylan had been scanning the grounds constantly. My shoulders slumped, and then my brain switched gears. Ian. “Please don’t say anything to my brother.” My gaze swung between the Duchess and Vikter. “I don’t want him to worry, and he will even though I’m fine.”

I sank further into myself.

Her cool fingertips touched my cheek, my left one. I turned back to her. “Do you understand how important you are, Penellaphe? You are the Maiden. You were Chosen by the gods. Ascensions of hundreds of Ladies and Lords in Wait, all across the kingdom, are all tied to yours. It will be the largest Ascension since the first Blessing. Rylan and all the Royal Guards know what is at stake if something were to happen to you.”

I liked the Duchess. She was kind, nothing like her husband, and for a tiny moment there, I thought she was actually worried about me as a person, but it was what I signified that concerned her the most. What would be lost if something were to happen to me. It wasn’t just my life, but the future of hundreds of those who were about to Ascend.

The worst part was the twinge of sadness when I should’ve known better.

His promise.

Air lodged in my throat as my gaze swung to Tawny’s. I knew what that meant.

From Blood and Ash

We Shall Rise.

It was his promise to his people and his supporters, to those scattered across the kingdom, that they would rise once more. A promise that had been scrawled across vandalized storefronts in every city and had been carved into the stone shell of what had remained of Goldcrest Manor.

I glanced at Vikter and found him watching the Duchess closely. “You think that was who came for me tonight? The same man responsible for Malessa’s death?”

She took a sip of her drink, her lips twitching as she swallowed. “Obviously, we were wrong. They may no longer be in the castle, but they are in the city.” She faced me, her already alabaster skin even paler. “The Dark One has come for you, Penellaphe.”

I shuddered as my heart skipped a beat.

Chapter 8

Several Ladies in Wait stood together, their voices quieting as we passed. A few placed their hands over their mouths. If they hadn’t heard what had happened, they now knew something else had occurred based on the amount of blood that stained my gown.

A shiver tiptoed its way down my spine. The numbness was still there, and all of this felt surreal until I thought of Rylan. My chest ached worse than my bruised jaw and temple. “When will…when will Rylan be put to rest?”

The Ascended, as well as the Lords and Ladies in Wait, were not expected to attend the funeral of a guard. In fact, it was simply not done. “He was my personal guard, and he was…he was a friend. I don’t care what’s done and not done. I didn’t attend Hannes’ funeral because of protocol, and I wanted to be there.” The guilt from that still ate at me, usually at three in the morning when I couldn’t sleep. “I want to be there for Rylan.”

Tawny appeared as if she wished to argue the point but knew better. Vikter simply sighed. “You know His Grace will not approve.”

Did I ever, but that knowledge didn’t change anything. I was more than willing to deal with whatever consequences arose, just as I was when it came to me aiding those who’d been infected by the Craven. “I don’t care. Rylan died right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do. I wiped—” My voice cracked. “I wiped my blade on his clothing.”

Vikter stopped as we entered the foyer, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You did all that you could.” He squeezed gently. “You did what you needed to do. You’re not responsible for his death. He was doing his duty, Poppy. The same as if I were to die defending you.”

My heart stopped. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. You won’t die.”

Tears blurred his features. I couldn’t even think of something happening to Vikter. Losing Hannes and now Rylan, both who weren’t nearly as close to me as Vikter, was hard enough. Other than Tawny, Vikter was the only person in my life who knew what kept me up at night and why I needed to feel like I could protect myself. He knew more than my own brother did. It would be like losing my parents all over again, but worse, because the memories of my mother and father, their faces and the sound of their voices, had faded with the passing of time. They were forever captured in the past, mere ghosts of who they once were, and Vikter was in the now, bright and in vivid detail.

I didn’t, but I nodded nonetheless because that was what he needed to see.

The moment we reached my room, Vikter checked the space, assuring that the access to the old servants’ stairs was locked. It was more than just a little unsettling to think that he felt the need to check my suite, but I figured he was operating on the better-safe-than-sorry mindset.

Before he left us, I recalled a part of what the Duchess had said. “The group the Duchess spoke about… Do you know who they are?”

He should’ve been, and it didn’t matter that he’d already suspected the truth.

I nodded.

A hot bath was quickly drawn, placed near the fireplace, and then Tawny took the soiled gown. I never wanted to see it again. I sank into the steaming water and set about scrubbing my hands and arms until they were pink with heat and friction. Without any warning, the image of Rylan appeared in my mind, the look of shock on his face as he stared down at his chest.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I lowered myself more and let the water slip over my head. I stayed there until my lungs burned and I no longer saw Rylan’s face. Only then did I allow myself to resurface. There I stayed, bruised knees tucked to my chest, until my skin puckered, and the water began to cool.

I rose from the soaking tub, pulling on a thick robe that Tawny had left on a nearby stool and padded on bare feet across the fire-warmed stone to the lone mirror. Using my palm to wipe away a bit of steam, I stared into my green eyes. My father had passed that color onto Ian and me. Our mother had brown eyes. I remembered that. The Queen had told me once that except for my eyes, I was a replica of my mother when she was my age. I had her strong brow and her oval-shaped face, angular cheekbones, and full mouth.

I tilted my cheek. The faintly red and bruised skin along my temple and the corner of my mouth were barely noticeable. Whatever the Healer had rubbed onto the skin had greatly sped up the healing process.

It had to be the same mixture I’d used to heal the welts that too often marked my back.

I pushed that thought from my head as I looked at my left cheek. That too had healed but had left a mark behind.

I didn’t look at the scars often, but I did now. I studied the jagged streak of skin, a pink paler than my skin tone, that started below the hairline and sliced across my temple, narrowly missing my left eye. The healed injury ended by my nose. Another shorter wound was higher up, cutting across my forehead and through my eyebrow.

I lifted my damp fingers, pressing them to the longer scar. I’d always thought that my eyes and mouth seemed too large for my face, but the Queen had said that my mother had been considered a great beauty.

Whenever Queen Ileana spoke of my mother, she did so with pained fondness. They’d been close, and I knew she regretted granting my mother the one thing she’d ever asked her for.

Permission to refuse the Ascension.

My mother had been a Lady in Wait, given to the Court during her Rite, but my father had not been a Lord. She had chosen my father over the Blessing of the gods, and that kind of love…it was, well, I didn’t have any experience with that. Probably never would, and I doubted most people did, no matter what their futures held. What my mom had done was unheard of. She’d been the first and the last to ever do so.

Queen Ileana had said more than once that if my mother had Ascended, she might’ve survived that night, but that night may have never come. I wouldn’t be standing here. Neither would Ian. She wouldn’t have married our father, and if she had Ascended, she would bear no children.

The Queen’s beliefs were irrelevant.

But when the mist had come for us that night, if my parents had known how to defend themselves, both might still be alive. It was why I was standing here instead of the captive of a man determined to take down the Ascended and more than willing to shed blood to do so. If Malessa had known how to defend herself, her outcome may have still been the same, but she would’ve at least had a chance.

My gaze once more met my reflection’s. The Dark One would not take me. That was a vow I would kill for and die to uphold.

I lowered my hand and then slowly turned from the mirror. I changed into a gown, leaving a lamp burning beside the door and crawled into bed. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before a soft knock sounded on the adjoining door, and Tawny’s voice called out.

I rolled toward the entrance. “I’m awake.”

Tawny eased inside, shutting the door behind her. “I…I couldn’t sleep.”

Hurrying across the short distance, she snatched the edge of the blanket and slipped under it. Shifting onto her side, she faced me. “I keep thinking about everything, and I wasn’t even there. I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head.” She paused. “Actually, probably something that involves bloody vengeance.”

I grinned despite all that had happened. “That’s not entirely untrue.”

Tawny was one of the few who hadn’t been intimately touched by death. Her parents and her older brother and sister were alive. Other than Hannes, no one she knew well or saw often had died.

But even though I was too familiar with it, the death was still a shock, and like Hawke had also said, no less harsh or unforgiving.

I swallowed. “I don’t know what it was like for Malessa.” What I did know was that it had to be terrifying, though saying that wouldn’t help matters. “But for Rylan, it was quick. Twenty or thirty seconds,” I said. “And then he was gone. There wasn’t a lot of pain, and what he did feel, it was over quickly.”

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. “I liked him. He wasn’t as stern as Vikter or as standoffish as Hannes and the rest. You could talk to him.”

Tawny was silent for several moments and then said, “The Dark One.” Her eyes opened. “He seemed more like a…”

She nodded. “It’s not like I didn’t believe he was real. It’s just that he’s talked about like he’s the bogeyman.” She snuggled down, tucking the blanket to her chin. “What if that was the Dark One in the garden, and you managed to wound him?”

The skin around her eyes crinkled as she laughed. “But that is a sweet cake. I would push the Duchess off a balcony to get to the last one.”

A short laugh burst from me.

Another quick grin appeared and then faded as she toyed with a loose thread on the blanket. “Do you think the King and Queen will summon you to the capital?”

Muscles tensed along my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

That wasn’t true.

If they thought I was no longer safe in Masadonia, they would demand I return to the capital, almost a year ahead of my Ascension.

But that wasn’t what caused the coldness in my chest to seep into every part of me. The Duchess had proven earlier that ensuring the Ascension wasn’t thwarted was the greatest concern. There was one way to ensure that.

The Queen could petition the gods to move up the Ascension.

Shortly after dawn, when the sun shone brighter than I remembered for a morning so close to winter, I stood beside Vikter. We were at the foot of the Undying Hills and below the Temples of Rhahar, the Eternal God, and Ione, the Goddess of Rebirth. The Temples loomed above us, each constructed from the blackest stone from the Far East and both as large as Castle Teerman, casting half the valley into shadows but not where we stood. It was as if the gods were shining light down on us.

We were silent as we watched Rylan Keal’s linen-wrapped body be lifted onto the pyre.

Vikter had been resigned when I joined him, not prepared to train but dressed in white and veiled. He knew he wasn’t going to talk me out of this and said nothing as we walked to where funerals for all those who resided in Masadonia were held. While my presence had drawn many shocked glances, no one had demanded to know why I was present as we made the trek to the pyre. And even if they had said anything, it wouldn’t have changed my decision. I owed it to Rylan to be here.

Surrounded by members of the Royal Guard and the guards from the Rise, we stood near the back of the small crowd. I didn’t want to get closer out of respect for the guards. Rylan was my personal guard, he was a friend, but he was their brother, and his death affected them differently.

As the white-robed High Priest spoke of Rylan’s strength and bravery, of the glory he would find in the company of the gods, of the eternal life that awaited him, the icy ache in my chest grew.

Rylan looked so small on the pyre, as if he’d shrunken in size as the Priest sprinkled oil and salt over the body. A sweet scent filled the air.

The Commander of the Royal Guard, Griffith Jansen, stepped forward, the white mantle draped from his shoulders rippling in the breeze as he carried forth the lone torch. Commander Jansen turned in our direction and waited. It took me a moment to realize why.

Vikter.

As the one who had worked the closest with Rylan, he would be given the task of lighting the pyre. He started to step forward, but stopped, his gaze swinging to me. It was clear he didn’t want to leave my side, not even when I was surrounded by dozens of guards, and it was highly unlikely that anything would occur.

Oh gods, it struck me then that my presence interfered with his desire or need to pay his respects. I didn’t for one second think that was why he’d initially resisted the idea of me coming the night before, but I hadn’t even considered how it would impact him.

Feeling like a selfish brat, I started to tell him that I would be safe while he paid his respects.

My stomach dipped as if I were standing on a ledge, while at the same time, my heart sped up. I didn’t even need to turn around to know whom it was.

Hawke Flynn.

Oh, gods.

After everything that had happened, I had almost forgotten about Hawke. Almost being the keyword, because this morning, I had woken, wishing I had waited for him to come back to the Red Pearl.

To possibly be taken and used in whatever terrible manner my enemies deemed, or to be killed before I had the chance to experience all the things that people only whispered about seemed all too frightening a reality.

Vikter’s steely blue-gray gaze shifted over my shoulder. A long, tense moment passed as several guards looked on. “Do you?”

The dipping motion returned to my stomach in response to his promise, even though I knew that was what all guards said, no matter if they were from the Rise or if they protected the Ascended.

The simple, short answer from lips that had felt as soft as they had firm, was a shock. But the one word didn’t frighten me. I had quite the opposite reaction, and that probably should’ve disturbed me. Or, at the very least, concerned me.

A hysterical giggle climbed its way up my throat. He honestly had no idea who he stood next to. By the grace of the gods, I was able to stop that laugh.

I was.

And I wasn’t.

Vikter looked at me, and all I could do was nod. I couldn’t speak. If I did, Hawke might recognize my voice, and then…gods, I couldn’t even begin to fathom what would occur.

With one last look of warning in Hawke’s direction, Vikter pivoted on his heel and stalked toward the guard who held the torch. My heart hadn’t slowed as I dared one quick peek in Hawke’s direction.

I immediately wished I hadn’t.

In the bright, early morning sun, with blue-black hair swept back from his face, his features were harder, harsher, and somehow all the more beautiful. The line of his lips was firm. No hint of a dimple to be seen. He had on the same black uniform he had worn the night at the Red Pearl, except now he also wore the leather and iron armor of the Rise, his broadsword at his side, the bloodstone blade a deep ruby.

Why had he stepped forward to watch over me? There were Royal Guards present. Dozens of them who should’ve done so. My gaze swept the crowd, and I realized that none of them looked long in my direction, and I wondered if it was because it was so rare that they ever saw me, or if they feared punishment by the Duke or the gods for even looking at me.

Their duty dictated that they give their life for someone who it would be considered a grave disrespect to look upon too long or approach without permission. The disturbing irony in that sat heavily on my shoulders.

But Hawke was different.

There was no way that he knew it had been me at the Red Pearl. He’d never heard me speak before, and I doubted my jaw and mouth were that recognizable.

The Duchess had said he came from the capital with glowing recommendations and would likely become one of the youngest Royal Guards. If that was what Hawke wanted, stepping up like this would surely help. After all, there was a sudden, unexpected opening in the Royal Guard now.

And wasn’t that a dark assumption to make?

A muscle flexed along his jaw, momentarily fascinating. Then I remembered why I was here, and that was not to ogle Hawke from behind my veil. I shifted my gaze to where Vikter approached the pyre.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I wanted to look away, to close my eyes when he lowered the torch. I didn’t. I watched as the flames licked along the tinder and the sound of crackling wood filled the quiet. My insides twisted as the fire ignited in a rush, spreading over Rylan’s body as Vikter dropped to one knee before the pyre, bowing his head.

I opened my mouth to tell him that Rylan and all of them were owed far more than the honor of my presence, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t risk it.

Hawke’s gaze flicked over my lower jaw, lingering on the corner of my mouth, where I knew the skin was inflamed. “You were hurt.” It wasn’t a question but a statement uttered in a hard-as-granite tone. “You can be assured that will never happen again.”

Chapter 9

Sweat dampened my skin as I dipped down and spun, the long, thick braid of hair whipping around me. I kicked out, and my bare foot connected with the side of Vikter’s shin. Caught off guard, he staggered to the side as I shot up beside him. He started to strike back but froze. His gaze dropped to where I held the dagger to his throat.

The corners of his lips turned down.

I smiled. “I win.”

He shot me a sidelong glance as he dragged his arm over his forehead. “I suppose you can look at it that way, but it’s never a game.”

He scoffed.

Grinning, I shrugged as I faced him. Dust danced in the sunlight that poured through the open windows. The glass had long since been removed, and the room was either drafty and near frigid in the winter, or unbearably hot in the summer. But no one ever checked for us here, so the extreme temperature variances were more than manageable.

It was the morning after Rylan’s funeral, too early for much of the castle to be moving about. Nearly all the staff and the stronghold’s inhabitants followed the schedule of the Ascended, and the servants, as well as the Duke and Duchess, believed that I was still abed. Only Tawny knew where I was. Rylan hadn’t even known, as Vikter always had morning duties with me.

He arched a fair brow. “Are you telling the truth?”

A faint, bluish-purple bruise over my temple was all that remained. The skin around my mouth was no longer red. There was a superficial cut along the inside of my cheek that any amount of salt seemed to find its way into, but other than that, I was fine. Not that I would admit it, but Vikter suggesting I take it easy and rest yesterday probably had a lot to do with that.

After Rylan’s funeral, I’d spent the day in my chambers, reading one of the books Tawny had brought to me. It was a tale of two lovers, star-crossed yet fated. The title had fallen in the Things Penellaphe is Forbidden to Read pile, which was pretty much everything that didn’t involve some sort of educational material or the teachings of the gods. I’d finished the novel last evening, and I wondered if Tawny could bring me another. It was doubtful. Preparation for the upcoming Rite was consuming much of her spare time. Whenever Tawny couldn’t bring a book for me to read, I would simply sneak into the Atheneum and help myself. Plus, with the attempted kidnapping and what had happened to Malessa, I didn’t want her out there roaming around.

Which meant I also shouldn’t be roaming around unguarded, but the Atheneum wasn’t too far. Just a few blocks beyond the castle and easily accessible through the Grove. Disguised, no one would know that I was the Maiden, but it still felt too risky and dumb to do something like that so quickly after the attack.

Vikter snorted as he approached me, sliding his short sword into its scabbard. “Did you sleep well?”

I considered lying. “Do I look like I haven’t slept?”

He stopped in front of me. “You rarely ever sleep well. I imagine what happened with Rylan has exacerbated your already poor sleeping patterns.”

His expression turned bland. “Stop deflecting, Poppy.”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “It took a while to fall asleep, but I haven’t had a nightmare in a while.”

Vikter’s gaze searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was lying—and the man probably could. I wasn’t lying…exactly. I hadn’t had a night terror since I went to the Red Pearl, and I wasn’t sure why that was.

Perhaps falling asleep thinking about what had happened in the Red Pearl had somehow switched the gears of my brain away from past trauma. If so, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

My mind immediately went to Hawke, even though he couldn’t possibly be in the running, not when there were so many others from the Rise who’d been here longer. But the question sort of toppled out of me anyway. “Do you think it would be the one who came from the capital recently? The guard who stood by my side at the funeral?”

Who assured me that I wouldn’t be hurt again?

He lifted his gaze to mine. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Praying that my flushing cheeks didn’t give me away, I folded my arms over my chest. “Why would I?”

His lips twitched as if he were fighting a smile. “He’s a very handsome young man, or so I’ve been told, and there’s nothing wrong with you taking notice of him.” He glanced away. “As long as that is all you do.”

My cheeks did flush hotly then because I had done far more than simply take notice of Hawke. “When exactly would I have had a chance to do anything other than take notice, which is, might I remind you, strictly forbidden?”

Vikter laughed once more, and my frown increased. “When has something being forbidden ever stopped you?”

My stomach jumped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He ignored that. “I haven’t said much in the past about you and Tawny sneaking off, but after what happened in the garden, that has to end.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

Now my heart was slamming itself against my ribs. “But…but to become my personal guard? Surely, someone who is more familiar with the city would be a better fit.”

All of that made sense, but…but he couldn’t become my personal Royal Guard. If he did, I’d have to speak to him eventually, and if I did that, he’d recognize me at some point.

And then what?

If he was close to the Commander and determined to rise through the ranks, he would be sure to report me. After all, the highest-ranking guards who had a chance of living to see a well-funded retirement, were the Royal Guards who protected the Duke and Duchess of Masadonia.

During the day, when the sun was high, the Great Hall, where the weekly City Councils and grand celebrations were held, was one of the most beautiful rooms in the entire castle.

Windows taller than most of the homes in the city were spaced every twenty feet or so, allowing the warm, bright sun to drench the polished white limestone walls and floors. The windows offered views of the gardens to the left and the Temples atop the Undying Hills.

Heavy white tapestries hung the length of the windows and in between them. The golden Royal Crest embossed the center of each banner. Creamy white pillars adorned with flecks of gold and silver were spaced throughout the long, wide chamber. White and purple jasmine flowers climbed out of silver urns, perfuming the air with their sweet, earthy scent.

The hand-painted ceiling was the true masterpiece of the Great Hall. Above, all the gods could be seen watching over us. Ione and Rhahar. The flaming redheaded Aios, the Goddess of Love, Fertility, and Beauty. Saion, the dark-skinned God of the Sky and the Soil—he was Earth, Wind, and Water. Beside him was Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his twin Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance. The dark-haired Goddess of the Hunt, Bele, armed with her bow. There was Perus, the pale, white-haired God of the Rite and Prosperity. Beside him was Rhain, the God of the Common Man and Endings. And then there was my namesake, Penellaphe, the Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty—which I found highly ironic. All their faces were captured in striking, vivid detail—all but Nyktos, the King of all the gods, who had made the first Blessing. His face and form were nothing but brilliant silvery moonlight.

But as I stood on the raised dais to the left of the seated Duchess, there was no sunlight pouring in through the windows, only the dark night. Several sconces and oil lamps placed to provide as much light as possible cast a golden glow throughout the Hall.

The gods did not walk in the sun.

So, neither did the Ascended.

How had Ian adapted to that? If it was a sunny day, he could be found outside, scribbling in one of his journals, recording whatever stories his mind had drummed up. Did he now write in the moonlight? I would know sooner rather than later if I was summoned back to the capital.

Anxiety bloomed, and I pushed that thought aside before the unease could spread. I scanned the throng of people who had filled up the Great Hall, pretending that I wasn’t searching for one face in particular, and failing miserably.

I knew Hawke was here. He always was, but I hadn’t seen him yet.

Full of nervous energy, I unclasped and then wrung my hands as someone—a banker—continued to heap praise upon the Teermans.

I turned just the slightest to the left and nodded. “Why do you ask?”

Spiders in my gown?

If I had spiders in my gown, I wouldn’t be fidgeting. I’d be screaming and stripping down to nothing. I wouldn’t care at all who witnessed it.

I wasn’t sure exactly what had me so incredibly restless. Well, there were myriad things, considering everything that had happened recently, but it felt like…more than that.

It had started after I’d left Vikter, a brief headache I attributed to the punch and possibly overdoing it during training. Not that I would admit that, but after lunch, it had faded, only to be replaced by a wealth of nervous energy. It reminded me of the blend of coffee beans Ian had shipped from the capital. Tawny and I had only drunk half a cup, and neither of us could sit still for the entire day afterward.

Making a more conscious effort to remain still, my gaze shifted to the left, to the gardens, where I’d found such peace before. My chest ached. I hadn’t gone to the gardens last night or at any time today. The area hadn’t been forbidden to me, but I knew if I stepped foot outside, I would be surrounded by guards.

I couldn’t even imagine how the upcoming Rite would go.

But I didn’t think I could ever go back to the gardens, no matter how much I loved them and the roses therein. Even now, just looking at the shadowy outline of the garden through the windows brought forth an image of Rylan’s blank stare.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I pulled my attention from the garden to the front of the Hall. Members of the Court, those who had Ascended, stood the closest, flanking the dais. Behind them were the Ladies and Lords in Wait. Royal Guards stood among them, their shoulders bearing white mantles with the Royal Crest. Merchants and businessmen, villagers and laborers crowded the hall, all there to petition the Court for one thing or another, air their grievances, or curry favor with His or Her Grace.

Plenty of the faces that stared up at us were wide-eyed and slack-jawed with awe. For some, this was the first time they’d seen the brown-haired beauty, Duchess Teerman, or the coolly handsome Duke, whose hair was so blond it was almost white. For many, this was the first time they’d been as close as they were to an Ascended.

They looked like they were in the presence of the gods themselves, and in a way, I guessed they were. The Ascended were descendants of the gods, by blood, if not by birth.

And then there was…me.

Nearly none of the commoners who stood in the Great Hall had ever seen the Maiden before. For that alone, I was subjected to many curious, quick glances. I imagined that word of Malessa’s death and my attempted abduction had also traveled widely by now, and I was sure that had aided in the curiosity and the buzz of anxious energy that seemed to permeate the Hall.

Except for Tawny. She looked half-asleep as she stood there, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek when she smothered a yawn. We’d been here for nearly two hours already, and I wondered if the Teermans’ asses ached as much as my feet were beginning to.

Probably not.

Both looked mighty comfortable. The Duchess was dressed in yellow silk, and even I could admit that the Duke cut a rather dashing figure in his black trousers and tailcoat.

He always reminded me of the pale snake I’d once stumbled upon near the beach as a little girl. Beautiful to look upon, but its bite dangerous and often deadly.

Swallowing a sigh as the banker began to speak of their great leadership, I started to look toward the Temples—

I saw him.

Hawke.

A strange, funny little hitch took up residence in my chest at the sight of him. He stood between two pillars, arms folded across his broad chest. Like yesterday, there was no teasing half-grin on his face, and his features would’ve been considered severe if it weren’t for the unruly strands of midnight-hued hair tumbling over his forehead, softening his expression.

A tingling sense of awareness swept down my spine, spreading tiny bumps all over my skin. Hawke’s gaze was lifted to the dais, to where I stood, and even from across the hall and from behind the veil, I swore our gazes connected. Air whooshed from my lungs, and the entire Hall seemed to fade away, going silent as we stared at one another.

My heart thumped heavily as my hands spasmed open and then closed. He was staring at me, but so were a lot of others. Even the Ascended often stared.

I was a curiosity, a sideshow put on display once a week to serve as a reminder that the gods could actively intervene in births and in lives.

But my legs still felt strange, and my pulse fluttered as if I’d spent the last hour practicing different combat techniques with Vikter.

Magnus, a steward to the Duke, announced the next to speak, drawing my attention. “Mr. and Mrs. Tulis have requested a word, Your Graces.”

Dressed in simple but clean clothing, the fair-headed couple stepped out from a grouping of those waiting toward the back. The husband had his arm around his shorter wife’s shoulders, keeping her tucked close to his side. Hair pulled back from her bloodless face, the woman wore no jewels but held a small swaddled bundle in her arms. The bundle stirred as they approached the dais, little arms and legs stretching the pale blue blanket. Their gazes were fixed to the floor, heads bowed slightly. They didn’t look up, not until the Duchess gave them permission to do so.

Unlike others, Mr. and Mrs. Tulis clearly shared a wealth of feelings for one another. It was the way Mr. Tulis held his wife close, and in the way she lifted her gaze, first to him and then to the Duchess.

Duke Teerman tilted his head in acknowledgement. “It is our pleasure,” he told her. “What can we do for you and your family?”

The Duchess leaned forward, hands remaining clasped in her lap. “He is darling. What is his name?”

My lips curled into a grin.

Mr. Tulis’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “No, Your Grace, he isn’t. He’s our third son.”

The Duchess clapped her hands together. “Then Tobias is a true blessing, one who will receive the honor of serving the gods.”

They’d lost two sons? My heart was already aching for them. Even with the loss I’d experienced in my life, I couldn’t even begin to understand the kind of anguish a parent must suffer when they lose a child, let alone two. If I felt it, I knew I would want to do something about it, and I couldn’t. Not here. I locked down my gift.

It was her husband who took over for her. “We came here today to ask that our son not be considered for the Rite when he comes of age.”

A rolling gasp echoed through the chamber, coming from all sides at once.

Mr. Tulis’s shoulders stiffened, but he forged ahead. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you and the gods. He is our third son, but we lost our first two, and my wife, as much as she desires more babes, the Healers said she shouldn’t have more. He is our only remaining child. He will be our last.”

A low murmur rose from the audience. I glanced to where Hawke stood. He was watching what I believed to be the Tulises’ third tragedy play out before us, his jaw as hard as the limestone around us. Did he have a second or third brother or sister who’d been given over to the Rite? One who may go on to serve the Court and receive the Blessing from the gods, and another he would never be able to see again?

Why not? What harm could there be in asking? Surely, there were enough in service to the gods that one boy would not upset the natural order of things.

And besides, some exceptions had been made in the past. My brother was proof of that.

Many in the audience appeared rooted in shock as if they could not believe the audacity of what was being asked. There were others, though, whose faces were soaked in sympathy and marked with anger. Their stares were fixed on the dais—on Duke and Duchess Teerman—and on me.

I gasped, my chest squeezing. I wasn’t sure how it happened or why, but my control over my gift snapped, and my senses opened. I sucked in a sharp breath as grief poured into me in icy waves. The potency shook my knees, and I could barely breathe around it.

A moment later, I felt Vikter’s hand on my back, and I knew he was prepared to grab me in case I went to them. It took everything in me to stand there and do nothing.

Tearing my gaze away from Mr. Tulis, I forced out deep, even breaths. My wide eyes roamed the crowd as I pictured a wall in my mind, one as great as the Rise, so tall and thick that no one’s pain could breach it. That had always worked in the past, and it worked now. The claws of sorrow loosened their grip, but—

My gaze snagged on a blond man. He stood several rows back, his chin bowed, and much of his face obscured by the curtain of hair that fell forward. I felt…something burning through the wall I’d built, but it didn’t quite feel like anguish. It felt hot, like physical pain, but this was…it was bitter-tasting in the back of my throat as if I’d swallowed acid. He had to be in pain, but…

Unnerved, I closed my eyes and rebuilt the wall until all I felt was the pounding of my heart. After a few seconds, I was able to take a deeper, stronger breath, and finally, the strange sensation disappeared. I opened my eyes as the father pleaded.

Mr. Tulis shook his head, his face draining of all color. “No, Your Grace, we would not want to risk that, but he’s our son—

Unable to look at the tear-stricken faces any longer, I closed my eyes once more and wished I could somehow drown out the sounds of their heartbreak. However, even if I could, I wouldn’t forget them. And, truthfully, I needed to hear their pain. I needed to bear witness to it and remember. Serving the gods in the Temples was an honor, but this was still a loss.

But this didn’t feel right. What harm would come in asking for one child to remain at home with his parents? To grow, to live, and to become a useful member of society? Neither the Duke nor the Duchess would bend to grant such a simple favor. How could anyone mortal be unmoved by the mother’s pleas, her cries, and her husband’s desolate hopelessness?

But I already knew the answer to that.

The Ascended were no longer mortal.

Chapter 10

I smothered a yawn as Tawny helped secure my veil in place, feeling like I hadn’t gotten a moment of rest.

My mind wouldn’t shut down last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about Malessa and Rylan, the threat of the Dark One, and what had happened with the Tulis family. The utter hopelessness that had drenched the mother’s face as her husband had led her from the chamber haunted me, as did the audience parting and giving them a wide berth. It was as if their request had left the Tulises with an infectious taint. As they left, cradling their infant, their heartbreak had projected, becoming a tangible, lingering entity.

But that wasn’t the only part of this that preyed upon my mind.

The look that had settled over Hawke’s face as he watched the broken couple also kept resurfacing. Anger had hardened his jaw and pressed his lips into a firm, unyielding line. And he wasn’t the only one in attendance who’d borne what could easily be construed as the mark of resentment. I thought of the blond man I’d seen and what I’d felt from him. It had to be some form of pain, as that was the only thing I could feel from others. But it had reminded me of the anger that had settled into Hawke’s features and in others.

Men and women of different classes who didn’t look upon the Tulises with distaste, but had instead stared at the dais, unable to hide their displeasure and bitterness. Had some of them handed over third sons and daughters to the Priests, or would they soon be watching their second sons and daughters go to Court after their Rite.

Had the Duke and Duchess noticed those stares? I doubted they did, but I was sure the Royal Guards had.

As Vikter had said, this was a time of unrest, and it was spreading. I didn’t think all could be blamed on the Descenters. Some of the fault could be laid at the feet of the natural order of things—to the Rite, which was beginning to feel unnatural when extenuating circumstances such as the Tulises’ plight were ignored.

Could it be changed? The way things were done? That was another thing that had kept me awake. Surely, the gods had enough sons and daughters to serve them. They had the entire kingdom, and maybe it could become a case-by-case basis when it came to those who served the gods at the time of their Rite. Many parents were honored to have their children do so, and for some, a lifetime in servitude to the gods was a far better life than the one they would’ve had if they remained at home. Could I change the order of things once I returned to the capital, before I Ascended? Did I have that kind of power? Surely I had more than the Ladies and Lords in Wait, as I was the Maiden. I could speak to the Queen on behalf of the Tulises, and if I ended up returning from the gods as one of the Ascended, I could continue petitioning for change.

I could at least try, which was more than the Duke and Duchess were willing to do. That was what I’d decided before I’d finally drifted off to sleep, only to wake a few hours later to meet with Vikter.

I laughed. “We all have to be good at something.”

She shot me a look just before a sharp rap sounded, and then Vikter’s voice rang out. Heading for the hall door, I groaned even though I had expected his arrival. I was due to meet with Priestess Analia for prayers, but in reality, the time was generally spent with the Priestess criticizing everything from my posture to the wrinkles in my gown.

I snorted. “That would only buy me a five-second lead time.”

Tawny sent me a quick, nervous glance. “What for?”

He shook his head, sending a lock of sandy blond hair across his forehead. “I haven’t been told.”

That wasn’t exactly uncommon, but I would think that since Vikter would be working closely with whoever replaced Rylan, he’d be one of the first to know.

Tawny stifled a giggle as I stuck my tongue out at Vikter’s back. We made our way to the end of the otherwise vacant wing of the castle and headed to the narrow hallway that accessed the main staircase. The wide stone steps fed into a large foyer where servants dusted statues of Penellaphe and Rhain. The eight-foot-tall, limestone statues stood in the center of the circular space and were cleaned every afternoon. How there could even be a speck of dust or dirt on any part of the statue was beyond me.

The foyer led to the front of the castle, where the Great Hall, sitting rooms, and atrium were located. However, Vikter led us to the right of the statues, through the archway adorned with lush, green garland. The large banquet table designed to seat dozens was cleared of all except for the golden vase in the center, containing several long-stemmed, night-blooming roses. Air catching in my throat, my gaze latched on to the roses as we skirted the table, walking toward one of the doors to the right that had been left ajar. The sight of the flowers, the scent….

I could practically smell the blood.

Tawny lightly touched my shoulder, drawing my attention. I exhaled, forcing a smile. Her worried gaze lingered as Vikter opened the door to one of the Teermans’ many office spaces in the castle, this one used for less intimate meetings. My gaze swept the room, and my heart stopped.

It wasn’t because the Duke sat behind his black-painted desk, his pale head bent as he scoured whatever paper he held in his hand. Nor was it because the Duchess stood to the right of his desk, speaking with Commander Jansen. What caused the reaction was the dark-haired young man standing beside the Commander, dressed in black and armored in leather and iron.

My lips parted as my heart tumbled all the way to the pit of my stomach while Tawny came to a sudden stop, blinking rapidly as if she’d just walked into the room to find one of the gods. Slowly, she looked over at me, and the corners of her lips turned up. She looked curious and amused, and I was sure if she could see my face, I likely looked like I was five seconds from bolting from the room.

In that moment, I really wished I’d told her about Hawke and the Red Pearl.

I couldn’t think of another reason why Hawke would be here with the Commander, but I desperately clung to the hope that Vikter had been wrong, and it had nothing to do with Rylan’s replacement. But what other reason could there be?

A sudden new fear took root. What if Hawke had discovered that it was me at the Red Pearl? Oh, my gods. That seemed improbable, but wasn’t Hawke becoming my guard just as unlikely? My heart seemed to restart and was now in a race with itself.

The Duke looked up from his paper, his coolly handsome face giving me no indication of what was about to occur. “Please, close the door, Vikter.”

The stately room stood out in too-vivid detail as Vikter moved to obey the request. The Royal Crest painted in gold on a white marble wall behind the Duke was blinding, and the bare walls were in stark contrast to the black chair rails that ran along the length and width of the room. There was only one chair besides the one the Duke sat in. That was a plush, cream-colored wingback chair that the Duchess usually occupied. The only other seating options were polished limestone benches placed in three neat rows.

The room was as cold as the Duke, but it was far better than the chamber he usually preferred. The one I’d been summoned to far too often.

Legs oddly numb, I forced myself to cross the short distance, wholly aware of Hawke’s gaze tracking my every step. I didn’t need to look to know that he watched. His gaze was always that intense. I sat on the edge of the middle bench, folding my hands in my lap. Tawny took the bench behind me, while Vikter moved to stand to my right so he stood between me and the Commander and Hawke.

Hoping that I was only asked simple yes and no questions, I nodded.

For once, I was beyond grateful for the veil. Because if my face were visible, there’d be no hiding how ridiculous that concern was. I’d been bruised. Not seriously injured or shot through the chest with an arrow, as Rylan had. I would be fine—I was fine. Rylan would never be okay.

The Duke snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes. Ryan. With Ryan’s death, you are down one guard.”

My hands curled into fists. Rylan. His name was Rylan. Not Ryan.

No one corrected him.

He said it as if it were somehow my fault.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

I might’ve stopped breathing.

I was wondering exactly that. The Duke sounded like he too was questioning it.

I couldn’t believe this was happening.

The Commander wisely continued without acknowledging the comment. “But because there is a false sense of security and complacency that often comes with being within one city for too long. Hawke does not have such familiarity.”

I did know.

And what she said made sense. There were fewer Huntsmen, and not many guards were suited for travel outside the Rise. Those who were had to excel at…

Killing.

Wasn’t that what Hawke had said he was really good at?

The gods hated me.

And that wasn’t exactly surprising considering all the things I regularly did that were forbidden. Maybe they had been watching, and this was my punishment. Because how in the world did the Commander not think a single Rise Guard was better suited or qualified?

Was Hawke that good?

My head moved then without any command from my brain. I looked to where Hawke stood and found his gaze fixed on me. A shiver curled its way down my spine. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and I swore there was a faint glimmer to his amber eyes as if he were amused by all of this. But surely that had to be my paranoia.

For some reason, I had been so caught up in fear of being discovered that I’d forgotten what had happened when Rylan was brought in to work with Vikter.

I didn’t even realize the Commander had left until the click of the door closing behind him jolted me.

Chapter 11

There had been a handful of times in my life where reality felt more like a dream.

The night I’d heard my mother’s screams and my father’s shouts to run was one of them. Everything had felt hazy, as if I was there but somehow disconnected from my body. My parents being slaughtered was far more serious and traumatizing than what was happening right now. Still, I was on the brink of possibly being discovered. And if Hawke told the Duke where I’d been…

My mouth dried as a fist clenched deep in my chest.

Perhaps there was some truth to what Vikter had said about me wanting to be found unworthy. But even if that were true, I would want to be as far away from the Duke as possible if and when that occurred.

Hawke hadn’t seen my full face the night at the Red Pearl, but he’d seen enough that it could trigger recognition. At some point, he was bound to figure it out. Probably after he heard me speak. However, I hadn’t considered that moment occurring here in front of the Duke and Duchess.

I was not hesitating for the reason they believed—why the Duke smiled with such relish. Of course, I was uncomfortable baring my face, my scars in front of Hawke. Truthfully, though, that was the least of my concerns at the moment, but the Duke was probably internally screaming with twisted joy.

The man absolutely loathed me.

Dorian Teerman pretended that he didn’t, that he thought I was this miracle-born, a Chosen, just like his wife believed. But I knew better. The time spent in his other office proved exactly how he felt about me.

I wasn’t sure what it was about me that he hated, but there had to be something. As far as I knew, he was at least somewhat decent toward the Ladies and Lords in Wait. But me? He loved nothing more than discovering something that made me uncomfortable, only to then exploit it. And if I really wanted to make his day, I’d give him something to be disappointed in, a reason to continue his lessons.

Face burning as if on fire—from anger and frustration more than embarrassment—I reached for the clasps along the chains at the same moment Tawny rose, nearly tearing them apart as I unhooked them. The veil loosened, and before it could fall, Tawny caught the sides and helped ease the headdress off.

Cool air kissed my cheeks and the nape of my neck. I stared straight at the Duke. I wasn’t sure what he saw in my face, but his smile faded, and his eyes turned to shards of obsidian. His jaw clenched, and I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself…

I smiled.

It was just a hint of a grin, one that probably wasn’t noticeable to anyone but the Duke, but he saw it. I knew he did.

I was sure I’d pay for it later, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

Someone shifted to my right, ending my epic stare-off with the Duke, and reminding me that we weren’t the only two in the room. He wasn’t the only one looking at me.

The right side of my face was visible to Hawke, the side that the Duke often said was beautiful. The side I imagined matched my mother’s.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I turned my head until I completely faced Hawke. No side profiles. No hiding or mask that covered the two scars. My hair was secured in a braid and then wrapped in a knot, so it too provided no curtain. He saw everything that had been bared at the Red Pearl and then some. He saw the scars. I braced myself. Just like the Duke knew I would, because deep down, whether Teerman knew why or not, Hawke’s reaction would affect me.

It would hurt more than it should.

But I’d be damned if I let it show.

Lifting my chin, I waited for the look of shock or revulsion, or even worse, pity. I expected nothing less. Beauty was highly coveted and worshipped, flawlessness even more.

Because beauty was considered godlike.

Hawke’s golden gaze roamed my face, his stare so potent that it felt like a caress along the scars, my cheeks, and then my lips. A shiver danced across my shoulders as his eyes came back to mine. Our gazes locked. Held. The air seemed to be sucked from the room, and I felt flushed, as if I’d been sitting out in the sun for too long.

I didn’t know what I saw as I stared back at him, but there was no shock etched into his expression, no revulsion, and especially no pity. His face wasn’t empty, exactly. There was something there, in his eyes and in the set of his mouth, but I had no idea what it was.

But then the Duke spoke, his tone deceptively pleasant. “She’s truly unique, isn’t she?”

I stiffened.

A tremor coursed down my arms, but I kept my chin high and resisted the urge to pick up something, anything, and throw it at the Duke’s face.

The Duchess spoke, though saying what, I wasn’t sure. Hawke’s gaze remained fastened on mine as he stepped forward. “Both halves are as beautiful as the whole.”

My lips parted on a sharp inhale. I couldn’t even look to see what the Duke’s reaction was, though I was sure it was nothing short of cataclysmic.

Hawke placed a hand on the hilt of his broadsword and bowed slightly, his gaze never once leaving mine. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe,” he spoke, voice deep and smooth, reminding me of rich, decadent chocolate. “From this moment until the last moment, I am yours.”

Closing my bedroom door behind me, I leaned against it and exhaled raggedly. He’d said my name when he took his vow as my guard. Not what I was but who I was, and that was…

That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment, until the last moment, I am yours.

That was how Vikter had sworn his oath, as did Hannes and then Rylan.

Had the Commander not informed Hawke of the correct words? I couldn’t imagine he’d forget. The look on the Duke’s face once Hawke had straightened could’ve set fire to wet grass.

Tawny spun to face me, the pale blue gown she wore swishing around her feet. “Hawke Flynn is your guard, Poppy.”

My heart toppled over itself. “Keep your voice down.” I peeled away from the door and took her hand, pulling her farther into the chamber. “He’s probably standing outside—”

Indeed.

Her brows knitted as she turned back to me. “Why would you say that?”

I stared at her, wondering if she’d paid any attention to what the Duke had said. “Have you ever heard of a Royal Guard that young?”

Tawny’s nose scrunched.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then her eyes narrowed. “You’re having a very strange, unexpected reaction.”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Tawny cocked her head to the side. “I’ve been with you on more than one occasion as you watched the guards train from the balcony, and you weren’t watching just any guard. You were watching him.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

There was a lot that I hadn’t told her.

The suspicion in her gaze grew as she studied me. “What haven’t you told me? Has he said something to you before?”

I shook my head.

The last thing I wanted was for her to think Hawke had done something wrong. That was why I blurted out what I did. Or maybe it was because I had to say something. “I kissed him.”

Her lips parted. “What?”

I plopped down in one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace. “It was…it was the night I went to the Red Pearl.”

Friend.

I wanted so very badly to believe that we were—that we’d be that if she weren’t bound to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. It’s just that…I’ve done a lot of things I shouldn’t do, but this…this is different. I thought if I didn’t say anything, it would, I don’t know…”

I cracked a grin, and then I did just that. Well, almost that. As I slowly unhooked my veil and draped it across my lap, I told her how I’d come about to be in the room with him and how he thought I was Britta. I told her how he offered to do whatever I wanted once he realized that I wasn’t her, and that he’d asked me to wait for him to return. But I didn’t tell her how he’d kissed me elsewhere.

Tawny stared at me with more awe than even Agnes had when she realized I was the Maiden. “Oh, my gods, Poppy.”

I nodded slowly.

I couldn’t say that.

I bit down on my lip, almost wishing that I could lie. “Yes. I did.”

I snorted. “He’s going to recognize me. He has to once he hears me speak, right?”

She stared at me as if I’d admitted to snacking on dog hair. “First off, you are beautiful. You know that—”

My lips twitched.

She nodded. “I would like to think that I would, and I would definitely hope that a Royal Guard would.”

Her brows slammed down. “You’re an incredibly suspicious person.”

I started to deny that but realized I couldn’t. I wisely moved along. “He probably just didn’t recognize me.” A weird mixture of relief and disappointment mingled with a thrill of anticipation. “You know what?”

Tawny looked as if she were seconds away from clapping. “You know what I think?”

Her brown eyes glimmered. “Things are about to get so much more exciting around here.”

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.