Chapter Twenty

Chapter 20

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t exactly reassuring.

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

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

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

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

I’d never seen the woman smile.

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

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

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

She nodded. “Apology—”

Oh, my gods…

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

I nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her already thin lips became almost non-existent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I snorted. “You don’t know the Duke.”

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

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

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

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

I sighed. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

Hawke said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

I grinned at that.

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

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

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

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

I shook my head. “Not particularly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d lost a brother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How had this gone so terribly wrong?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Duke’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My brows lifted.

Now that surprised me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t move.

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

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

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

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

Too late.

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

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

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

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t fall.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I wanted this—wanted him.

Chapter 22

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

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

My eyes popped open. “What?”

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

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

I was so incredibly…stupid.

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

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

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

He lifted a brow. “All right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows lifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he couldn’t read.

Please, let it be that he could not read.

The grin slowly slipped from his face.

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

He snorted as he returned to skimming through the book.

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

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

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

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

Do you still love her?

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

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

Wait.

Was he going to read from it?

No.

Please, no.

My eyes widened.

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

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

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

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

And that was true.

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

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

I shook my head no.

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

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

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

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

Hawke would see me.

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

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

What did I think? I felt…naked.

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

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

Lies.

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

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

Hawke would see me in this dress.

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

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

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

No.

Not at all.

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

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

Vikter stood alone.

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

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

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

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

But where was he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gods…

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

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

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

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

I wasn’t the Maiden right now.

I was Poppy.

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

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

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

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

Lord Brandole Mazeen.

Chapter 23

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jasmine.

He’d smelled of jasmine.

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

Tawny’s lips pinched. “Yes. I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Agnes.

Oh, my gods…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trepidation flickered across the woman’s flushed face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her mouth opened, but then she closed it.

She nodded once more.

I looked sharply at Vikter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawke.

And I was right.

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

He was…

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

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

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

Tawny smiled. “Thank you.”

He glanced at Vikter. “You, as well.”

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

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

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

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

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

Probably the latter.

That reminded me. I looked at Tawny. “Did they call out the Tulis family?”

Her brow creased. “You know, I don’t think they did.”

Did that mean they hadn’t come? If so, that would be considered treason. Guards would go to their home, the child would still be sent to serve the gods, and Mr. and Mrs. Tulis would most likely be imprisoned.

The only way they’d have a chance was if they left the city, but no one came in and out of the city without the Royals knowing. They’d have to be incredibly well connected to even attempt such a feat, and even if they did, where would they go? Word would be sent to all surrounding cities and towns to be on the lookout for them.

Knowing all of that, I still understood why they’d take the risk. It was their only child.

My attention shifted as the Duchess drew near, flanked by several Royal Guards who, like Vikter and Hawke, had swapped out their white mantles and typical black garb.

She nodded at Tawny and Hawke, her gaze lingering on him for a few seconds. I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. “Are you enjoying the Rite?”

Considering I only saw a few minutes of it, I nodded. “Is His Grace not attending?”

Her dark eyes briefly met mine, and then she was on her way, like a jeweled hummingbird, buzzing from one group of people to the next. Laughter rang out from the floor, drawing my attention. I saw Loren and Dafina.

I inclined my head. “Yes?”

My grin faded.

For several minutes, none of us spoke. I lost sight of the Duchess, and the Duke still hadn’t appeared from what I could tell.

I sighed as I glanced at Tawny.

She really did look absolutely beautiful tonight, the red complementing the richness of her brown skin. I knew what she was so vividly focused on without following her gaze. Her expression could only be described as wistful as she watched couples pair off for some waltz I probably would never have been able to master even if I’d been allowed. Her eyes tracked their movements fervently, and I knew for a fact that she knew every step of that dance. Why was she here and not out there with the rest of them?

Of course, I knew the answer.

It was because of me.

Guilt settled in my chest like a stone. “Tawny?”

She twisted toward me. “Yes?”

Tawny’s gaze flicked over my shoulder. “You really only have one. Vikter is still with the Commander.”

Her gaze searched mine, and I could tell that she was waffling. Before she could decide not to, I lied, “I’m actually feeling very tired. I didn’t sleep all that well last night, so I don’t plan to be down here for much longer.”

I nodded.

Tawny’s entire body practically vibrated with the effort required not to throw her arms around me, but she managed a subdued nod as I released her hand. She gave me one last long look and then headed down the steps, crossing the floor to where Dafina and Loren stood with three Lords in Wait.

I smiled, relieved. I hoped she let herself enjoy her night, and to ensure that, I knew I needed to leave. If I stayed down here for any amount of time, standing between the enormous, red geraniums, she would come back.

I felt Hawke step closer before he even spoke, and a shivery wave of warmth danced over my skin. I turned my head to the right, to where he stood no more than a few inches behind me.

No. “Of course.”

I turned, eyes narrowing as he stepped aside. “You need to stop calling me that.”

Brushing past him, I lifted the hem of my skirt as I stepped onto the slight rise. “But I don’t.”

I shook my head as I skirted around the groups of smiling, masked faces. None looked in my direction, most having thought twice about whether they’d seen the Duchess speak with me.

The air was much cooler outside the Great Hall, courtesy of the breeze coming through the open garden entrances. I spared only a quick glance out into the garden before I started down the hall.

Stopping, I turned to him in confusion. “Back to my rooms, as I…” I trailed off.

Hawke’s amber eyes were assessing as they roamed over me, lingering where my hair lay draped over my shoulders. His gaze traveled over the tiny scalloped lace along the bodice of my gown. The neckline wasn’t as low as I’d seen some of the Ladies in Wait wear, and just the upper swells of my breasts were visible, but that…that was a lot for me, considering my normal gowns had a neckline up to the throat.

His words brought forth such a sharp, swelling emotion that my control over my gift snapped, and my senses reached out before I could stop them. I didn’t feel pain from him other than the hum of sadness. My gaze flew to his face. I felt…something else. Two separate emotions. One reminded me of lemon—tart against my tongue. The other sensation was heavier and…spicy, a bit smoky. I thought the first might be confusion or maybe uncertainty. As if he were unsure of something. The other…

Gods.

It took a few moments for my senses to zero in on what that was. It made me feel hot and…and achy. It felt like arousal.

He nodded. “It doesn’t involve returning to your room.”

Anticipation and excitement rose, but… “I’m confident that unless I remain at the Rite, I would be expected to return to my room.”

My heart skipped at the same moment it twisted. “I don’t know. It…”

I stared up at him. “I’m not following where you’re going with this.”

He stepped closer, dipping his chin. “You can’t change what happened in there. Just like you can’t change the fact that the courtyard used to give you peace. You just replace your last memory—a bad one—with a new one—a good one—and you keep doing that until the initial one no longer outweighs the replacement.”

I opened my mouth, but then I really thought about what he’d said. My gaze traveled to the darkness beyond the door. What he’d said actually made sense. “You make it sound so easy.”

I’ll be there with you, and not just watching over you.

My startled gaze lifted to his face. His words struck a chord I tried to never touch. Gods, I couldn’t even begin to know the number of times I’d felt alone since Ian had left, even though I rarely ever was by myself. But those around me the most were sometimes just there because they had to be. Even Tawny and Vikter. That acknowledgement didn’t lessen how much I knew they cared for me and how much I cared for them, but it also didn’t change that while they were with me, they were sometimes not present. Nor did it change the fact that I knew a lot of it was in my head. That small, very insecure part of myself that worried that our friendship would be non-existent if Tawny wasn’t my lady’s maid never really went away. I worried she’d be like Dafina and Loren and the other Ladies in Wait.

How did Hawke know that? Or did he know I felt that way? I wanted to ask, but again, it was something I didn’t like to touch or talk about. Loneliness often brought with it a heavy, coarse blanket of shame, and a cloak constructed of embarrassment.

But with Hawke, even in the short time I’d known him, I didn’t feel alone. Could it be simply his presence? When he was in a room, he seemed to become the center of it. Or was it more? I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to him, forbidden or not.

And I didn’t want to return to my room, left to confusing thoughts that I couldn’t act upon. I didn’t want to spend another night wishing I was living instead of actually doing it.

Was it wise, though, if I was right about what I’d felt from him? I could’ve been wrong, but if I wasn’t? Did I have the willpower to remember what I was? I shouldn’t even attempt to find out

But I…I wanted.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I reached for his hand but stopped. “If someone saw me…saw you—”

He chuckled. “I doubt anyone will recognize us in the courtyard. Not with both of us masked, and just the moonlight and a few lamps to light the way.” He wiggled his fingers. “Besides, I have a feeling anyone out there will be too busy to care.”

My vast imagination filled in what could possibly cause others to be too busy to care.

Hawke curled his fingers around mine. The weight and warmth of his hand was a pleasant shock. “Only the bad can be influenced, Princess.”

Chapter 24

He chuckled as he started toward the garden archway. “My logic is never faulty.”

Cold night air greeted us as we stepped outside, and my heart kicked up at the familiar, sweet scent of flowers and rich, damp soil.

My gaze bounced around a little wildly as I looked for something to be off, to be different than the last time I had been here. There had to be. Oil lanterns were spaced throughout the main pathway, but the sections that branched off were dark—the moonlight couldn’t even penetrate them. My steps slowed as the soft breeze rattled the bushes and lifted strands of my hair.

Hawke spoke softly. “One of the last places I saw my brother was a favorite place of mine.”

That snagged my attention, and I stopped scoping out every bunch of flowers we passed, looking for what, I had no idea. It was like I expected to see wilted petals dripping blood, or waited for the Duke to finally make his appearance. Hawke’s earlier anguish over his brother had given me the impression that this was something he didn’t want to discuss, so the topic surprised me.

The veiled Maiden fountain was only a few feet from us, the sound of trickling water surrounding us. “I lost both of them,” he said, his eyes shadowed, but his gaze no less powerful. “My brother when we were younger, and then my best friend a few years after that. The place that was once filled with happiness and adventure had turned into a graveyard of memories. I couldn’t even think about going back there without them. It was like the place became haunted.”

I didn’t need to open my senses to know that the pain was festering in him, and it wasn’t exactly a good idea to use my ability twice on him, especially when it was evolving. But through our connected hands, I dwelled on the all-too-shallow well of happy thoughts and let it briefly flow through him.

I felt his hand tremble slightly, and then I spoke, hoping to distract him. “I understand. I keep looking around, thinking that the garden should look different. Assuming there’d be a visible change to represent how it now feels to me.”

Hawke cleared his throat. “But it is the same, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

A half-smile appeared in the sliver of moonlight cutting across his face as he shook his head. The lines of his face had relaxed. “Haven’t gotten a chance, but I plan to.”

I lowered my gaze to where his hand still held mine. My grip was loose and yet rigid, fingers sticking out instead of gripping. I wanted to curl the digits around his. “Sometimes, I think…I think it’s a blessing that I was young when Ian and I lost our parents. My memories of them are faint, and because of that, there’s this…I don’t know, level of detachment? As wrong as this will sound, I’m lucky in a way. It makes dealing with their loss easier because it’s almost as if they’re not real. It’s not like that for Ian. He has a lot more memories than I do.”

I shook my head. “He writes as often as he can. Usually, once a month, but I haven’t seen him since the morning he left.” Pressing my lips together, I curled my fingers around his, and my stomach dipped a little. He wasn’t holding my hand any longer. We were holding hands. To a lot of people, that would be nothing. Some would probably even find it silly, but it was huge to me, and I cherished it. “I miss him.” I lifted my gaze, discovering that Hawke was looking down at me. “I’m sure you miss your brother, and I hope…I hope you see him again.”

His head tilted slightly, and his mouth opened as if he were about to say something, but then it closed. A moment passed, and he lifted his other hand, catching a strand of my hair. I sucked in a startled, sharp breath as a wave of shivers followed the glide of his knuckles across the bare skin above my chest. Those shivers didn’t stop there. They traveled down to below my breasts and lower.

Flushed, I dropped his hand and stepped back, turning away. My pulse thrumming, I clasped my fingers together. Was it normal to have such a strong response to a brush of the skin? I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t imagine that it was. I took a few steps, searching for something to say. Anything.

I thought about it, about the silky black petals and the deep violet blooms of the jacaranda trees…and the blood that had pooled on the pathway. The way it had filled the cracks in the stone reminded me of a different night. “I…I don’t think so.”

I glanced over my shoulder as he came to stand by my side. “You have a favorite place?”

Knowing I shouldn’t, but somehow unable to stop myself, I placed my hand in his. Hawke was quiet as he led me around the fountain and down the main path. It wasn’t until he veered off to the left where the mild, sweet scent of lavender filled the air, that I knew where he was leading me.

The willow.

At the very edge of the southern side of the Queen’s Garden was a large, several-hundred-year-old weeping willow. Its branches nearly reached the ground, creating a thick canopy. In the warmer months, tiny, white blossoms clung to the leaves.

He nodded. “Never saw one until I got here.”

I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t seen one in the capital. The trees, with their shallow roots, were known to break through the ground, but I wondered what village he’d lived in that had farming and caverns but no weeping willows. “Ian and I used to play inside. No one could see us.”

I cracked a grin. “Well, yes. I would hide, and Ian would tag along like any good big brother.” I looked up at him. “Have you gone under it? There’re benches, but you can’t see them now.” I frowned. “Actually, anyone could be under there right now, and we wouldn’t know.”

My brows lifted above the mask. “How can you be sure?”

I wondered if his certainty had to do with his excellent tracking skills. I easily navigated the low, stone wall, trailing behind him as we passed one of the lanterns. Hawke reached out with his free hand, brushing aside several of the leafy branches. I stepped inside and, within a handful of seconds, we were pitched into almost complete darkness as the branches drifted back into place. The moonlight couldn’t break through the heavy fall, and only the faintest glow from the nearby lanterns seeped into the willow.

I looked around, seeing only the outline of the trunk. “Gods, I forgot how dark it is in here at night.”

I grinned, his words reminding me of Ian. “You should see it when it’s warmer. The leaves bloom—oh! Or when it snows, and at dusk. The flakes dust the leaves and the ground, but not a lot makes it inside here. Then it really is like a different world.”

Fully aware of how close he was standing now, I nervously dampened my lips. “But will we be here? The Queen could summon me to the capital before then,” I said, acknowledging something I had tried not to think of.

I laughed then. “I think it will be hard to sneak off anywhere in the capital, not with me…not with me being so close to the Ascension.”

I laughed again. “Sure.”

I stared at the shadowy form of what I assumed was the back of his head. “How in the world do you see those benches?”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re just saying you can see them, and we’re probably a second away from tripping—”

I was left staring, my mouth hanging open. Then I realized that it was quite possible he could see me gaping like a dying fish, so I closed my mouth. Maybe his eyesight was better than mine.

Or my eyesight was poorer than I realized.

I had no words. He was still holding my hand, and I was sitting in his lap, and all I could think about was that part in Willa Colyn’s journal, where she described being in a man’s lap. There had been less clothing—

It was.

And it wasn’t.

I stared at what I thought might be his throat. “This is incredibly inappropriate.”

I blinked once and then twice. “And what if I didn’t want to?”

Another chuckle sent an acute shiver through me. “Princess, I’m confident that if you didn’t want me to do something, I’d be lying flat on my back with a dagger at my throat before I even took my next breath. Even if you can’t see an inch in front of you.”

Well…

I sighed. “I do.”

I drew my head back, putting space between my upper body and his. “Is this why you led me out here to this place?”

His hand glided over the thin, gauzy material of the gown. “So, there you have it.”

Even those stolen kisses weren’t forgivable, at least according to the Duke and Duchess—and the Queen. Then again, if the gods were to intervene, wouldn’t they have done so already? I thought about what Tawny had once said about not being sure whether the rules imposed upon me were a decree from the gods.

And if I had interpreted what the Duchess had said about the first Maiden correctly, she’d done a lot of forbidden things.

She hadn’t been found unworthy.

I grinned. “You are such a bad influence.”

Another hot, tight shiver curled its way down my spine, and I had the sudden urge to squeeze my legs together. Somehow, I refrained.

I resisted him, despite knowing how I would’ve let him kiss me the night before.

My eyes flew open in shock. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Oh.

Oh, gods.

My chest swelled so fast and full, it was a small miracle that I didn’t float right out of his lap and into the willow. What he’d said…

It had to be the sweetest and most perfect thing anyone could say.

I hit his shoulder—or chest. Some extremely hard part of him.

Hawke grunted. “Ouch.”

I so did not hit him hard enough for that. “You’re fine.”

My breath caught. “That doesn’t matter.”

A short, harsh laugh left me. “It doesn’t, and that’s another thing that isn’t the point. You could—”

The corners of my lips started to turn down.

You intrigue me.

His forehead rested against mine, startling me. “Nothing is ever simple. And when it is, it’s rarely ever worth it.”

My heart dropped. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Hawke. You—”

Poppy.

His hand flattened against my cheek, and a sigh shuddered through him. “And I’m not…I’m not being a good friend or guard right now. I’m not…” His hand slid, and his fingers curled around the nape of my neck for a few seconds before he slipped his hand away. “I really should get you back to your room. It’s getting late.”

I exhaled raggedly. “It is.”

He was going to take me back—to that room where I was the Maiden, the Chosen. Back to where I wasn’t Poppy but a shadow of a person who wasn’t allowed to experience, need, live, or want. I would no longer be who he saw.

Chapter 25

Hawke had gone so still against me that I wasn’t sure if he even took a breath. My request had shocked him—shocked me.

I think I might’ve stopped breathing.

Before I had a chance to respond, his lips brushed over mine. I gasped at the soft contact, and I swore I could feel his lips curve against mine in a smile. I wished I could see it because it seemed like a full grin, the kind that lifted both sides of his mouth and made both dimples appear, but then he moved his mouth along mine, painstakingly slow as if he were mapping out the curve of my lips with his. I held completely still, my heart feeling like a trapped butterfly as he retraced the path he’d just made. Tiny shivers hit every part of my body. I trembled as my hands curled into the front of his tunic, no doubt wrinkling the fine material.

This touch was barely a kiss, but gods, the gentleness, the sweetness of it shook me, rattled me to the core.

Then Hawke tilted his head, increasing the pressure, deepening the kiss. Suddenly, everything changed. This kiss—its rawness—left me breathless. Resulted in both of us gasping when we parted, our chests rising and falling quickly. I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but I could feel his penetrating stare.

I wasn’t thinking about what I was in those seconds. I wasn’t thinking about what was forbidden and what was right. I wasn’t thinking at all, truth be told, and I didn’t know who moved first. Hawke? Me? Both of us at the very same moment? Our lips touched again, and this time, there was no hesitation. There was just want, so much of it, and a hundred other powerful, forbidden things that pounded through me. His lips scorched mine, heated my blood, and set fire to my senses. His hands moved to my shoulders, sliding down my arms. Hawke shuddered, and a sound emerged from the back of his throat, sort of like a half-growl, half-moan. It sent little shivers of pleasure and panic darting through me as he parted my lips. The hunger behind our kiss should’ve scared me—and maybe it did a little because it felt like too much and not nearly enough all at the same time. I moaned as his hands drifted down my sides. It felt like my body was sparking, igniting—

He gripped my waist, lifting me and settling me again so my knees fell to either side of his hips with me pressed against him. His breeches and my gown served as no real barrier. I could feel him, and I shuddered as a sharp, pulsing ache throbbed through me. His answering moan, another deep, rough sound, shattered whatever hesitancy I had. I placed my hands on his chest, marveling at the way his body jerked as I slid them up over his shoulders and then around his neck. I did then what I wished I’d done at the Red Pearl. I sank my fingers into his hair, and the strands were as soft as I’d thought they would be. No other part of him felt that way. He was all hard heat against me.

Hawke’s arms moved around me, pulling me so tightly against him that there was barely any space between us. He kissed me again, kept kissing me, and I knew this was more than a kiss. It went beyond that, beyond how he felt and how he made me feel.

His words had touched the deepest part of me, and it was thrilling. I felt alive, like I was finally waking up.

And I never wanted it to stop.

Not with the rush of sensations flowing through me. I knew in the back of my mind that I’d lost control of my gift. My shields were wide open, and there was no way to tell if what I felt belonged to him or me or both of us.

Instinct took over, guiding my body—my hips to push and roll—and he shuddered again, catching my bottom lip between his. He grabbed fistfuls of the skirt of my gown, lifting until his hands touched my calves. A tremor went through me like lightning.

I nodded, seeking his mouth in the darkness. When I found him, I wondered how I’d made it this long without kissing him again.

I wondered how I could go on without doing it more.

That thought threatened to dampen the heat, but his hands were moving again, skimming over my skin and sending a rush of heated blood to every part of my body. I shifted forward until our hips were melded together. I moved. We moved. And I thought I whispered his name before I kissed him again, slipping my tongue between his lips, against his teeth—

Hawke jerked his head back, panting as he rested his forehead against mine. “Poppy,” he said in a way that made my name sound like both a prayer and a curse.

I grinned. “I am.”

He drew the tips of his fingers down the side of my neck. “Do you want me to be blunt?”

My senses were still open. I knew that because I felt a foreign sensation coming through the connection, but it was too brief for me to figure out what it was.

And then he kissed my temple, and I thought about the odd, ashy feeling that had coated my throat. “I was seconds from taking you to the ground and becoming a very, very bad guard.”

Air caught in my throat as a pulse of warm heat went straight through me. I didn’t know a lot, but I knew enough to know what he meant. “Really?”

I should’ve felt relief that he’d stopped, and I did. But I also didn’t. What I felt was a confusing mess. But I knew one thing for sure.

Hawke’s body shook as he moaned. “You’re not helping.”

Instead of being offended—because there was no way, even if I didn’t count tonight, that I could deny that—I laughed and was rewarded by his arm coming back around me. Hawke pulled me back to his body, sliding his hand to my nape. I settled my cheek against his shoulder as his grip briefly tightened, and then his fingers moved, working the muscles of my neck. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed there like that, quiet and hidden away under the willow, but I did know that it was far past the point where my blood had cooled, and my heart had slowed. I didn’t move then, and neither did Hawke. I thought that maybe…maybe being held like this, so close and so tight, felt just as good as the kissing and the touching.

Perhaps even better, but in a different way.

But it was getting late, and unsurprisingly, Hawke was the responsible one. He kissed the crown of my head, causing my heart to squeeze in a way that was so sweet, it was almost painful.

He chuckled, and I grinned into his shoulder. “You have to let me go, though.”

He was silent for so long that I feared that I’d said the wrong thing, but then his arm tightened around me again. When he spoke, his voice was strangely rough. “Neither do I.”

I almost asked why we had to, but I managed to stop myself. Hawke stood then, taking me with him, and I reluctantly lowered my legs. We stood there for another all-too-short moment, his arm around me, my arms stretched above me, and our bodies still connected.

Then I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and took a step back. I couldn’t see him, but I wasn’t surprised when his hand found mine, and he led me toward the willow branches.

He stopped. “Ready?”

Not at all, but I said yes, and we walked out from underneath the willow, my chest threatening to become heavy. I refused to let that happen. At least not right this moment. I had all night for everything I felt to become memories.

I had many nights ahead for that.

We found our way back to the gas-lamp-lit walkway, the garden silent except for the sound of the wind and our steps. I looked down the shadowy paths, wondering what had happened to the hushed conversations and soft moans. We rounded the corner, nearing the fountain—

And came face to face with Vikter, sans mask.

My heart lurched in my chest as I stumbled back a step. Hawke turned as if to catch me, but I gained my footing. “Oh, my gods,” I whispered, looking up at Vikter. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

He stared at me for a long moment and then turned to Hawke. A muscle in his jaw clenched as he looked down to where Hawke still held my hand.

Oh, shit.

Slowly, Vikter looked up while I tried to pull my hand free. Hawke held on for a moment and then let go. I clasped my hands together, my eyes wide behind my mask.

I winced at his tone.

Vikter’s head snapped in his direction. “I know exactly what you were in the process of doing.”

My mouth dropped open.

Which was the wrong thing to say. “You think I don’t know?” Vikter stepped into Hawke’s space, and while Hawke was an inch or two taller, they were eye to eye. “It only takes one look at both of you to know.”

One look at both of us? Blinking, I lifted my fingers to my lips that were still humming and felt puffy. My gaze flew to Hawke’s mouth. His lips did look swollen.

Hawke held his ground and Vikter’s stare, and I really had no idea what he could say. “Nothing happened, Vikter.”

Well…

I blinked.

I stepped forward. “Vikter—”

I gasped, spinning back around. “Vikter.”

Hawke’s chin dipped. “I get that you’re protective of her. I understand that. But I’ll tell you just one more time, you’re way out of line.”

Hawke smiled then, one side of his lips curling up. There was no dimple. His features seemed to sharpen in the moonlight, creating shadows under his eyes and on his cheekbones. “She thinks of you as a father,” he said, his voice so soft it sent a chill down my spine. “It would hurt her greatly if something unfortunate were to happen to you.”

They didn’t look away from each other, and it was almost like I wasn’t there. Finally, Vikter stepped back. I didn’t know if he saw something in Hawke’s face, or if it was me tugging on his arm, but he took another step away, his skin unusually pale in the moonlight.

Hawke smirked, and I shot him a glare he didn’t even seem to notice. He said nothing as Vikter took my arm and turned. I went with him, having taken only a couple of steps before I looked over my shoulder.

The space where Hawke had stood was empty.

I looked around quickly, not seeing him. Where had he—?

It seemed as if he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Hearing him curse caught my attention. I looked up as he stalked along, bringing me with him.

Vikter stopped, looking down at me with wide eyes and lifted eyebrows.

I ignored that. “After you left to speak to the Commander, I felt bad because Tawny wouldn’t leave my side. I knew that as long as I stayed at the Rite, she would feel as if she had to stay with me. So, I told her I was going back to my room so she could have fun.”

At this point, I knew I couldn’t continue lying, at least not about everything. “We walked around, and Hawke showed me a place he enjoyed in the garden. I…I asked him to kiss me.”

Vikter looked away, jaw locking.

Shock flickered over his face.

I made an effort to lower my voice. “This whole stupid thing is the point. The fact that I can’t do anything is the point. That I can’t have one night to do something normal and fun and enjoyable. That I can’t experience anything without being warned to remember what I am. That every privilege you have, and Tawny has, and everyone else has, I don’t have.” My voice cracked as the back of my throat started to burn. “I have nothing.”

His expression softened. “Poppy—”

Breathing heavily, I tried to rein my emotions back in, but I couldn’t. Something in me snapped, broke wide-open, and I couldn’t stop. “I don’t even know if I’ll have a future beyond my Ascension. In less than a year or even sooner, I may lose every chance I have to do everything everyone else takes for granted. I have no life, Vikter. Nothing.”

The moment those words left my mouth, I smacked my hands over my lips. Vikter’s eyes snapped open, and for a long moment, we stared at one another, the truth a double-edged sword between us.

I danced out of his reach, curling my fingers against my mouth. It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t going to be all right. I’d said it. The truth. Out loud. Heart thumping and stomach churning, I turned and started walking toward the castle. I thought I might be sick. “I want to go back to my chambers,” I whispered, lowering my hands. Vikter started to speak. “Please. I just want to go back to my room.”

He didn’t respond, thank the gods, but he followed directly behind me. All I could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. If I didn’t, the angry, messy, and violent ball of emotion lodged in my throat would erupt. I would erupt. That was how I felt. I would explode everywhere in a shower of sparks and flames, and I didn’t care what I looked like when we entered the hall and moved into the light, or what people saw if they looked at me and realized that I was the Maiden. My entire body was trembling with the force to keep—

A loud, cracking sound reminding me of wood splintering drew us to a halt. We turned to the Great Hall just as a shout sounded, followed by screams—piercing screams, one after another. My heart dropped.

Someone—a Lady in Wait—backed out of the Great Hall, her red gown fluttering around her feet as she pressed her hands to her mouth.

Vikter started toward the entryway but stopped. He turned to me, and I knew he was going to take me back to my room, but the screams kept coming, followed by shouts of panic and horror. Another joined the Lady in Wait. Then another, a servant carrying an empty tray. He turned and vomited.

The set to his jaw said that he couldn’t care less. He moved to grab me, but I was fast because he’d taught me how to be when I needed speed. I evaded his reach as I raced for the entryway, his muttered curse ringing in my ears.

A rush of people came out of the entryway, knocking into my shoulder. A blur of masked faces came from every direction. I was thrust to the side, my slippered feet slipping on the polished floors, but I pushed forward. Tawny was still in there. That was all I could think as I broke through the panicked crowd.

I slid to a stop, my gaze landing on the dais, to what was behind the dais. “Oh, my gods,” I whispered.

I knew what had made the cracking sound. One of the wooden rods that held the heavy banners had cracked. The Rite banner had fallen, pooling on the floor of the dais, but red still streaked the wall.

I saw what had broken the rod, what hung from the remaining one. Rope stretched arms outward, and so much red streaked pale skin. I knew who it was. I knew why the Duchess stood in the center of the Great Hall, her arms at her sides, and why everyone else was frozen in shock. It was the hair so blond that it almost looked white.

It was the Duke.

Even from where I stood, I knew what had been shoved into his chest—through his heart. I would recognize it anywhere.

It was the cane he’d lashed me with.

And above him, written in red—in blood—was the mark of the Dark One.

From Blood and Ash….

We Will Rise.

Chapter 26

The Duke of Masadonia was dead.

Murdered.

I couldn’t pull my gaze from him, not even when I became aware of Vikter coming to stand beside me. He said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the pounding of my own heart.

The Duke had been staked through the chest in the same manner the cursed or a Craven would be killed—with wood fashioned from a tree that had grown in the Blood Forest.

With the same cane he’d often stroked lovingly right before it whistled through the air, bruising my back and sometimes even splitting the skin.

Dumbly, I wondered how someone could get the cane through the Duke’s chest. The ends were not sharp but smooth and rounded. The effort and strength that would’ve required... Not to mention, the Duke would’ve fought back unless he’d been incapacitated beforehand.

Only an Atlantian could’ve accomplished that.

Vikter touched my arm, and slowly, I tore my gaze from the Duke’s remains. “He’s dead,” I said. “He’s really dead.” A very inappropriate giggle welled up, and I clamped my mouth shut as I turned back to where the Duke was impaled.

I didn’t think it was funny. Not at all. I didn’t like the man—frankly, I hated him with every fiber of my being—but an Atlantian had gotten into Castle Teerman yet again, and that was frightening. Because of that, this wasn’t funny.

It also wasn’t sad.

Gods, I truly was unworthy, and probably a terrible person, but I sighed softly, a sound of…relief passing my lips. No more lessons. No more lingering stares and touches. No more pain at his hands. No more heavy, sticky shame. My gaze shifted to where a tall, dark-haired Ascended joined the Duchess. No more Lord Mazeen.

Without the Duke, he had little sway over me, and I almost smiled again.

Movement to my left snagged my attention, and I turned, seeing Tawny pushing through a group of Ascended and the Lords and Ladies in Wait. She hurried across the room, her eyes wide behind her mask.

Curls bounced off her cheeks as she shook her head. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.” She clasped my hands, glancing toward the dais. Shuddering, she quickly looked back at me. “This can’t be real.”

Vikter stepped in then. “I think it’s time that I get you back to your chambers.”

It probably was, so I nodded and started to turn—

Glass shattered. I spun toward the sound as pieces flew through the air. It was one of the windows facing the garden. Tawny’s grip tightened on my arm. Another window broke, this time to our left, and we both whirled to see shards piercing, cutting into the group standing there—the gathering Tawny had been a part of. Screams of shock gave way to ones of pain as jagged chunks of glass sliced into skin. A girl stumbled out from the scattering group, her hands trembling as she lifted them to her bloodied face. Numerous tiny cuts marked her cheeks and brow. It was Loren. She doubled over, screaming as the blond girl in front of her slowly turned around.

Glass jutted from her eye, and red streamed down her face. She crumpled like a paper sack.

I snapped out of the shock and lurched forward, grabbing Tawny’s arm as a Lord in Wait dropped to his knees and fell forward. Had he been hit by glass, too? I wasn’t sure. She cranked her head around. “What? I have to go to her. She needs help—”

Tawny’s eyes glistened. “But—”

Something whizzed through the air, striking a Lord. The impact spun him around, and Tawny screamed. An arrow had struck him through the eye. He was an Ascended, but he went down, dead before he hit the floor. Blood pooled under him.

The Ascended could die.

Their head and heart were as vulnerable as a mortal’s, and whoever had released that arrow knew just that.

Short sword unsheathed, Vikter shoved Tawny and I behind him as the Duchess, surrounded by Royal Guards, screamed, “Get her out of here! Now! Get—”

An arrow pierced the Royal Guard standing in front of her. Blood spurted from his neck as he reached for the arrow, his mouth open and closing soundlessly.

Gods…

I staggered into Tawny as Vikter turned us around and herded us toward the opening. We started forward as I reached for the dagger on my thigh—

The shrieks that came from outside the Great Hall stopped all of this for just a handful of seconds. The sounds…

Pain.

Terror.

Death.

Then a wave of people rushed the Great Hall, Ascended and mortal, commoner and Royal alike, all running toward us. The gowns and tunics of some were a deeper red now, faces either leached of color or splattered with crimson. Some fell before they made it to the steps, arrows and…knives embedded deep into their backs. Others toppled down the stairs in their panicked run.

We were about to be overrun.

I didn’t even reach for my dagger. I couldn’t fight them. They weren’t the enemy.

Grabbing hold of Tawny by both her arms, I tugged her against me and wrapped my arms around her, holding her as tightly as I could. Vikter’s arms went around me. Guards pressed in, and because of how close I held Tawny to my body, they were forced to form a barricade around both of us.

It was like being hit by falling rocks.

Bodies slammed into the guards from seemingly every direction, pushing them into Tawny and me. Hilts of swords cracked into ribs and other bones. Elbows knocked against flesh. Vases shattered. People broke. The crush of the crowd, of the hundreds who had fled the Great Hall and now returned was too much—

It was as if a massive wave rolled across the floor, tearing free one guard and then another and another until I felt Vikter’s grip loosen. And then he was gone, and something—someone—hard hit me, crashed into Tawny and me. She was ripped away, carried off with the wave of screaming, shrieking people as they ran from whatever it was that had scared them.

That was my last thought as the room seemed to turn upside down. My feet left the floor, and I experienced a boneless, airy moment. I saw the painted gods on the ceiling, then terror-stricken faces and blood and foam. I came back down, slipping and cracking my knees on the hard floor.

I tried to push up, knowing I couldn’t stay down. “Tawny!” I screamed, looking for her, but all I saw was red…everywhere.

A knee connected with my ribs, knocking the air out of my lungs. A booted foot landed on my back, slamming me to the floor. Pain shot down my spine. I scrambled blindly over spilled food, crushed roses, and gods…oh, gods, over wet and warm bodies as I tried to stand. Something caught my skirt, causing me to fall forward.

I came face-to-face with Dafina, and it seemed like time stopped as I stared down at her one beautiful blue eye open and glazed over. That mask of hers, just as gaudy as Loren’s, more red than any other color now that it was drenched in blood. I reached forward, wanting to wipe the blood from the crystals—

I saw Loren then, curled into herself behind Dafina, her arms over her head. I scrambled forward, grabbing her arm. Her head jerked up. Alive. She was alive.

Screaming as someone fell over me, I grabbed Loren by her dress, her arm, her hair—anything I could grab onto and pulled her over Dafina. My senses had cracked wide-open, and terror and pain came from her, came from everywhere. I gained my footing, hauling Loren to her feet. I saw a pillar and headed for that.

A knot lodged in my throat as I kept pulling Loren toward the pillar. I couldn’t think of Dafina and that mask and that one beautiful remaining eye. I couldn’t think about the bodies I crawled over. I couldn’t. “We’re almost there.”

Someone fell into us, but I held on—Loren held on, and we were almost there. Just a few more steps, and we’d be out of the crush. We’d be—

Loren jerked, and something wet and warm sprayed the right side of my face and my neck. Loren’s arms loosened, and I caught her, her sudden weight pulling at the tender skin around my ribs. “Hold on,” I told her. “We’re almost there—” I looked down, peered at her because she was falling, and I couldn’t hold her.

She fell, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I refused to reconcile what I saw as I was jostled to the left and then to the right. There couldn’t be an arrow through the back of her head, the fletching vibrating.

A piercing whistle sounded from outside, followed by another and another. Slowly, I lifted my chin and stared out into the shadows of the garden, some deeper and darker than others. They drew closer.

I’d just been out there with Hawke. Had he gotten out in time? Or had he been felled by—

I couldn’t think like that. He must have left. He had to.

Someone grabbed my arm, spinning me around.

I blinked slowly, numbly. “Vikter, Tawny. I must find them—”

Holding onto her, I looked over her shoulder and met Lord Mazeen’s icy stare. “Good to see you’re still alive,” he said.

Before I could respond, Vikter shoved through, pulling me away from Tawny. “Are you hurt?” he shouted, wiping at the blood on my face. “Are you injured?”

My lips parted. I saw the Duchess behind us, surrounded by guards. Beyond them, I saw the Duke.

Flames crawled and licked up his legs, climbing over his torso and spreading across his arms.

They stood in the entryway and at the broken windows, dozens dressed in the ceremonial garb of the Rite, their faces shielded by silver masks. Wolven. Their facial coverings had been designed with the characteristics of the wolven—ears, snouts, elongated fangs. Those at the entryway were armed with daggers and battleaxes. Those at the windows had been the ones to fire the arrows. There were Descenters, possibly even Atlantians among the masked.

It struck me then.

They had been among us the entire night. I thought of Agnes, of what she had said and how nervous she’d looked, and how Vikter had felt as if there’d been more she hadn’t told us. Had she known and tried to warn me? Not the guards and the commoners who lay injured and dead on the floor. Not the Ascended who’d fallen. Not Loren and Dafina, who’d never harmed a single person.

My hands curled into fists.

Another yelled. “We will rise!”

Vikter grabbed me as I took hold of Tawny’s hand. “We need to move fast,” he said, nodding at the Commander, who was now beside the Lord.

The Royal Guards surrounded the Duchess and us, pushing back through the masses. Every part of me was sickened as they guided us through the crowd toward the open door, where people were being thrown back. We were escaping, and they were being held in.

Ahead of me, the Duchess’s head whipped around, and her black eyes met mine. “The Royals will take care of them.”

Normally, I would’ve laughed at that. The Royals? The Ascended, who never seemed to raise a hand, would take care of them? But there was something in her eyes, almost where her pupils would be if I could see them. It was like burning coal.

We went through the doorway, and…and others went out into the Great Hall. They weren’t guards. They were Ascended, male and female, their eyes carrying that same unholy light.

Racing along, I looked over my shoulder as the last of the Ascended swept through the door, her crimson gown like a cape. A Royal Guard closed the door behind her and then stood with his back pressed against it, his short swords crossed.

Guards streamed past us then as we ran through the foyer, around the statues, and I looked at every one of them, hoping and fearing that I’d see Hawke. Each face that passed me was unfamiliar.

And then the screams from the Great Hall ceased.

My steps faltered. Tawny looked back, too. The screams had simply…stopped.

We spilled into the banquet hall. A guard came running over, his face and arm spotted with blood. “They’re at the back entrance, surrounding the whole damn castle. The only way out is through them.”

The skin around Vikter’s mouth tightened, and we exchanged looks. He shook his head. I held onto Tawny’s hand as we crossed the room and moved into one of the greeting rooms. In the back of my mind, I was at least grateful that it hadn’t been the room Malessa had been murdered in.

Because there was a good chance that we were all going to die in here.

The Commander remained outside, sword drawn, and I knew he was going back to the Hall. My dagger practically burned against my thigh.

As the door closed behind us, I let go of Tawny’s hand and looked around. There was only one window, but it was far too small for anyone but a child to climb through.

The Duchess dropped into a settee, her lips pressed into a firm line. Lord Mazeen went to her, and I saw that several Royal Guards remained inside.

Tawny glanced at me, and I gave her a discreet nod. She drew in a shallow breath and then joined the Duchess, who turned to the Lord. “Bran, why don’t you pour us some of the whiskey.”

As the Lord rose to obey the Duchess, I looked at Vikter and whispered, “This is incredibly stupid.”

His jaw flexed.

He turned from the Duchess as he nodded. “Are you armed?”

My gaze lifted to his in question.

Exhaling slowly, I nodded, and then there was only the sound of glass clinking against glass and then nothing more. The guards remained focused on the door, and I stayed near Vikter, checking on Tawny every so often. She was staring straight ahead, the drink virtually forgotten in her hand. Each time I looked, the Lord was staring back at me.

How unfair that he still breathed when so many others did not.

I didn’t care how unworthy that thought was. I meant it. I didn’t know how much time passed, but my thoughts wandered to Hawke. Fear trickled through my blood like ice.

Lightly touching Vikter’s back, I waited until he faced me. “Do you think Hawke is okay?” I whispered.

A lot of the guards who’d fallen had been good at killing. All the talent in the kingdom meant nothing when an arrow came out of nowhere.

I forced myself to take a deep, slow breath. The Duke was dead. Masadonia had become the next Goldcrest Manor, but Tawny was okay. So was Vikter. And Hawke had to be. This…this wasn’t going to turn out like the night the Craven had come, when my mother—

Something hit the door, causing Tawny to gasp. She clasped her hand over her mouth.

Vikter lifted his finger to his lips. I held my breath. It could’ve been anything. No need to panic. Yes, we were fish in a barrel, but we were—

The door rattled with the next impact, shaking the hinges. Tawny rose, as did the Duchess. The guards moved to block the entryway, drawing their swords.

Wood cracked and splintered as the deadly edge of a battleax breached the portal.

A chunk of wood fell. We were not fine.

Vikter looked over his shoulder at me. Our eyes met, and I let go of the breath I had been holding. I turned, planting my foot on the seat of an empty chair. I gathered up my skirt—

My gaze met his as I unsheathed the dagger, wishing I could shove it through his heart. He must’ve seen that in my stare because his nostrils flared.

A high, panicked giggle snuck out from around Tawny’s hand where it covered her mouth, and her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Duchess Teerman shook her head. “What are you doing with a dagger, Penellaphe?”

Knowing I would hear about this later—if there was a later— I turned back to the door. The hall had quieted. Nothing moved beyond the gash in the wood. One of the Royal Guards crept forward and bent down to peer out.

His head tilted to the side. “Shit,” he exclaimed, turning. “Get back!”

I jumped, as did Vikter, but two of the guards weren’t fast enough. The door blew off its hinges and smacked into them, taking one of them down while the other was caught in the chest by the battering ram. I heard a sickening crunch.

Vikter swung his sword, cutting through bone and tissue. The battering ram hit the ground, along with an arm. A man screamed, stumbling back as blood pumped from the severed limb. He fell to the side, and then they swarmed, swallowing Vikter and the guards. There was no time to give in to panic or fear as one of the Descenters stalked forward, flipping the battleax in his hand. I had no idea if they were here for me or to just shed blood, but with the mask and how I was dressed, they had no idea that I was the Maiden.

The man behind the wolf mask chuckled. “Pretty dagger.”

They had no idea I knew how to use it.

He raised the battleax, and I thought the Duchess screamed. Maybe it was Tawny. I wasn’t sure, but the sounds they made faded into the background as I let instinct take over.

Waiting until the axe blade whistled through the air, I then shot forward, darting under his arm. I spun behind him just as he turned, slamming the dagger into the back of his neck, right in the area I used to end the cursed.

He was dead before he even realized that I’d killed him.

As he fell forward, I saw the Duchess staring back at me, her mouth hanging open.

Whirling around, I hit the ground as another axe swept through the air. I kicked out, sweeping the man’s leg out from under him. He went down just as Vikter turned, his sword arcing through the air as he brought it down. I popped to my feet as a Descenter moved to shove a dagger into Vikter’s back.

I shouted a warning, and Vikter threw out his elbow, catching the man under his chin, snapping his neck back.

A Descenter rushed me, axe swinging. I darted to the left just as something—a glass—smacked into the Descenter’s metal mask. I glanced over my shoulder to see Tawny sans glass, but she wasn’t emptyhanded for long. She grabbed the decanter, holding it like a sword.

I shot forward, thrusting the dagger deep into the Descenter’s chest. He went down, taking me with him. I landed on him with a grunt and started to rise. A booted foot kicked out, catching my hand. Fiery pain erupted as the dagger was knocked from my grasp.

It hurt and punched the air from my lungs. Gods, it stung. I reared, falling on my butt. I looked up, scrambling backward. My aching hand rubbed over the handle of an axe.

Above me, the Descenter lifted a sword with two hands, prepared to bring it down. My heart lurched in my chest.

What the…?

The Descenter hesitated.

Hand tightening around the handle of the axe, I shot forward, dragging the heavy weapon through the air. He tried to move back, but I caught him in the stomach. Blood sprayed as he shouted, dropping the sword to cradle his midsection, his—

Bile hit the back of my throat as I brought the axe down on his neck, ending what would’ve surely been a painful death from disembowelment.

Hand aching, I gripped the axe as a Descenter took down one of the guards and then moved toward Tawny, his sword dripping blood. Lifting the axe over my head, I did just as Vikter had taught me. I made sure the blade was perfectly straight as I brought it back over my head and then heaved it forward, releasing it. It winged through the air, striking the Descenter in the back. He toppled forward, his sword falling to the floor.

Breathing heavily, I turned back to the door just as Vikter thrust his sword through the last Descenter. Only one other guard remained standing. I lowered the sword, my chest rising and falling as I stepped over the body…parts. “Is that all?”

Vikter glanced out to the hall. “I think so, but we shouldn’t stay here.”

There was no way in the world I would stay in this room. The Duchess and the Lord could do whatever they wanted. I turned to Tawny.

I was two seconds away from showing him just how unbecoming I could be.

Vikter touched my arm, drawing my attention to him. Later, he mouthed. “Come.” He glanced at Tawny. “This isn’t safe.”

Vikter’s gaze shifted back to me, and even though his cheeks were more red than golden, he smiled. “You make me proud.”

I’d wanted to throw something at him while we’d been in the garden, but now I wanted to hug him. I stepped toward him just as Tawny shouted.

Time slowed to a crawl, and yet there wasn’t enough time to stop any of what was happening.

Vikter twisted at the waist, facing the door, looking to where a wounded Descenter had risen to his feet, his sword lifted. It hummed through the air, the blade shiny with blood.

The sword found its target.

Vikter’s body jerked, his back bowing as the sword punched through his chest, just above his heart. Shock crawled across his face as he looked down. I stared too, unable to process what I was seeing.

The Descenter tore the sword free, and my own weapon slipped from my hand as I tried to catch Vikter. He couldn’t fall. He couldn’t go down. He staggered as I wrapped my arms around him, his mouth opening and then closing.

His legs went out from under him, and he toppled. He fell. I didn’t remember joining him as I pressed both hands against the wound. I looked up, tried to call for help.

Without warning, the Descenter’s head flew in the opposite direction of his body, and I saw Hawke standing there, his eyes a fiery amber, his cheeks speckled with blood and…and soot. Behind him were more guards. As Hawke’s gaze swept the room, it landed on us and then stopped. I saw the look on his face, in his golden eyes as he lowered his bloodied sword.

Hawke’s eyes closed.

Hawke knelt at Vikter’s side, placing a hand on Vikter’s shoulder. “Poppy,” he said quietly.

Vikter’s grip tightened on my hand, and when I looked down, I saw the pain settling into his features. I felt his pain through the gift. I was so shocked, so thrown, I hadn’t even thought to use it. I tried taking his pain, but I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t find those happy, warm memories. I couldn’t do anything.

Opening my eyes, I shuddered at what I saw. Blood darkened the corners of his too pale lips.

His face blurred as I stared at him. The blood wasn’t pouring from the wound as freely now. “You have protected me. You still will.”

His dulling eyes fixed on me. “Please.”

Vikter shuddered.

His hand slipped from mine.

I drew in air, but it went nowhere as I lifted my head, looking down at him. I frantically searched his face. His eyes were open, his lips parted, but he didn’t see me. He didn’t see anything anymore.

My name was whispered softly. It was Hawke. He placed his hand over mine. I looked at him and shook my head.

A wave of ice swept from the top of my skull and moved down my spine as Hawke looked up at the Lord. His mouth moved, and I thought he said something, but the world simply fell away. I couldn’t hear Hawke over the buzzing in my ears, over the absolute burning rage pounding through my veins.

Forgive me.

I failed you.

Forgive me.

I failed you.

I was moving, my hand finding metal. I rose from the blood, turned around. I saw Lord Mazeen standing there, barely a speck of blood on him, hardly a strand of hair out of place.

He looked at me.

Forgive me.

He smirked.

I failed you.

Forgive me.

The sound that tore from me was a volcano of fury and pain that cut so deep, it irrevocably fissured something inside of me.

I was quick, just like Vikter had taught me to be. I swung the sword around. Lord Mazeen was unprepared for the attack, but he moved as fast as any Ascended could, his hand snapping out as if he planned to catch my arm, and I bet he thought he could. The smirk was still there, but rage was faster, stronger, deadlier.

Fury was pure power, and not even the gods could escape it, let alone an Ascended.

I cut through his arm, through tissue, muscle, and then bone. The appendage fell to the floor, useless like the rest of him. The surge of satisfaction was bliss as he howled like a pitiful, wounded animal. He stared at the blood geysering from the stump just above his elbow. His dark eyes went wide. There was shouting and screaming, so much yelling, but I didn’t stop there. I brought the sword down over his left wrist, severing the hand that had held mine down on the Duke’s desk, ripping away the last shred of modesty I had as the Duke brought the cane down on my back.

I failed you.

The Lord stumbled back against the chair, his lips peeling back as a different sound came from them, one that sounded like the wind when the mist came in. Spinning the sword, I swept it in a wide arc. This sword—Vikter’s sword—found its target.

Forgive me.

I sliced Lord Brandole Mazeen’s head from his shoulders.

His body slid to the floor as I raised the sword and brought it down, hacking into his shoulder, his chest. I didn’t stop. I wouldn’t until he was nothing but pieces. Not even when the screams and shouts became all I knew.

An arm came around me from behind, hauling me back as the sword was wrestled from my hands. I caught the scent of pine and woods, and I knew who held me, knew who pulled me back from what was left of the Lord. But I fought—clawing, swinging to be free. The hold was unbreakable.

Kicking back, I caught him in the shin and then the thigh. I reared, causing him to stumble.

Forgive me.

Hawke crossed his arms around me, lifting me up and then bringing me down so that my legs were trapped under me.

I failed you.

The screaming was so loud it hurt my ears, my head, my skin. In a distant, still-functioning part of my brain, I knew I was the one screaming like that, but I couldn’t make myself stop.

A flash of light exploded behind my eyes, and oblivion reached for me.

I fell into nothingness.

Chapter 27

Half resting on the inner ledge, I stared out the window at the torches beyond the Rise, eyes aching and weary with the pressure of tears that wouldn’t fall.

I wished I could cry, but it was like the cord that had connected me to my emotions had been severed. It wasn’t that Vikter’s death didn’t hurt. Gods, it ached and throbbed every time I even thought his name, but that was almost all I’d felt in the week and a half since his death. A sharp slice of pain that cut through my chest. No sorrow. No dread. Just pain and anger…so much anger.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t gone to his funeral. I hadn’t made it to any of the funerals, and there had been so many dead that ten or more were held at a time—or so I had heard from Tawny.

It hadn’t been my choice not to attend the services. I’d been asleep. I’d been sleeping a lot this week. Entire days just gone in a blur of sleep and drugged consciousness. I didn’t even remember Tawny helping me bathe away the blood and gore or how I got back to bed. I knew she’d talked to me then, but I couldn’t recall a single thing she’d said. I had this weird impression that I hadn’t been alone while I slept. There was a sensation of callused palms against my cheek, fingers brushing hair back from my face. I had the faintest memory of Hawke talking to me, whispering when the room was filled with sunlight and when it had been taken over by night. Even now, I could feel the touch against my face, my hair. It had been the only grounding connection I’d had while I slept.

I squeezed my lids shut until the phantom sensations vanished, and then I reopened my eyes.

It wasn’t until about four days after the attack on the Rite that I’d learned that Hawke had used some kind of pressure point on my neck to render me unconscious. I’d woken up sometime later in my room, unable to use my voice. The screaming…it had torn up my throat. Hawke had been there, so had Tawny, the Duchess, and a Healer.

I was offered a sleeping draught, and for the first time in my life, I took it. I might’ve kept taking it if it hadn’t been for Hawke removing the powder from my room four days ago.

It was then I learned that the attack on the Rise hadn’t been the only one that night. The Descenters had set fire to several of the opulent homes along Radiant Row, drawing guards from the Rise and the castle. That was where Hawke had been after he’d left the garden, which explained the soot on his face.

The fires had been a smart move by the Descenters. I had to give them that. With the guards distracted, the Descenters were able to move through the night, taking out guards stationed around the castle before they even knew they were there. They were able to commence wholesale slaughter before the guards who’d gone to Radiant Row could even be summoned.

No one could be positive what message the attack on the Rite had been meant to send, or even if they had been searching for me. None of the Descenters were taken alive that night, and any of those who had escaped, had slipped back into the shadows.

The Ascended had done what the Duchess said they would do. They got their hands dirty, but their assistance had come too late. Most who’d been left in that room had died. Only a few had survived, most so traumatized that they couldn’t even recall what had happened.

Well over a hundred had died that night.

Gods, I’d rather be asleep than awake.

At least when I slept, I didn’t think about the Duke burning from where he had been hung and impaled. I couldn’t think about Dafina’s one blue eye, or how Loren had tried to go back to her friend, only to be struck down. I wouldn’t remember how it had felt to crawl over people who were dead or dying, unable to do anything to help him. The metal wolf masks didn’t haunt my sleep. Neither did that smile Vikter had given me, or how he’d told me that he was proud. Asleep, I didn’t think about how the last words he’d ever spoken were a plea for forgiveness for him not protecting me. And I couldn’t remember how my gift had failed me when I needed it the most.

I wished I had never said what I did in that garden.

I wished…I wished I’d never gone to the Rite or gone out into the willow. If I’d been in my room where I was expected to be, we wouldn’t have been in the thick of it. The attack still would’ve happened, and people still would’ve died, but maybe Vikter would still be here.

However, a tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered that the moment Vikter learned of what was happening, he would’ve gone down there anyway, and I would’ve followed. Death had come for him, and that voice also whispered that death would’ve found a way.

In the days I spent lost to the deep nothingness, I couldn’t acknowledge what I’d done to Lord Mazeen and how I felt about it now.

Or how I didn’t feel.

There wasn’t an ounce of regret. My nails dug into my palms. I would do it again. Gods, I wished I could, and that disturbed me.

When I was out of it, I didn’t think, and I didn’t care about anything.

But now I was awake, and all I had were my thoughts, the pain, and the anger.

I wanted to find every single Descenter and do to them what I’d done to the Lord.

I’d tried the second night I was awake. I donned my cloak and mask and grabbed the short sword Vikter had given me years before since my dagger was lost to the chaos of that room the night of the Rite. I’d planned to pay Agnes a visit.

She’d known. Nothing could convince me otherwise. She’d known, and her attempts to warn me hadn’t been enough. The blood that had been spilled that night was on her hands—Vikter’s blood tainted her skin. My mentor and friend, who’d drunk her hot cocoa and comforted her. She could’ve stopped all of this.

Hawke had caught up to me halfway through Wisher’s Grove and all but dragged me back to the castle. The chest of weapons had been removed from my room at that point, and the servants’ access barred from the stairwell.

And so, I sat. I waited.

Each evening I’d been awake, I waited for the Duchess to summon me. For punishment to be rendered. Because I’d done something so expressly forbidden that it made everything I’d ever done before an afterthought.

I’d killed an Ascended.

Maiden or not, there had to be some kind of punishment for that. I had to be found unworthy.

A knock drew my gaze from the window. The door opened, and Hawke strode in, closing the door behind him. He was dressed in the uniform of the guards, all black except for the white Royal Guard mantle.

No one had replaced Vikter’s position yet. I didn’t know why. Maybe after seeing what I was capable of, the Duchess realized that I no longer needed as much protection. But protecting myself would be kind of hard to do without access to any weapons. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d already gone through three guards in one year. Or it could be because so many had died during the attack, and they were shorthanded.

My back tensed as Hawke and I stared at one another from across the room.

Things had been weird between us.

I wasn’t sure if it was because of what had happened in the garden and then with Vikter, or if it had been what I’d done in that room after Vikter’s death. It could’ve been all of that. But he was quiet when he was around me, and I had no idea what he was feeling or thinking. My gift was hidden away behind a wall so thick that it couldn’t even crack.

He said nothing as he stood there. Just crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me. He’d done that a time or five hundred since I woke. Probably because when he tried to talk to me, all I did was stare at him.

Which was also probably why things were weird.

My eyes narrowed as the silence stretched between us. “What?”

My brows furrowed. “Progress with what?”

I wasn’t mad at Hawke. I was just angry with…everything.

When I looked at him, I saw that he’d moved closer, and I hadn’t heard him. He was only a few feet from me now. “You do?” I lifted my brows. “You understand?”

Hawke stared at me, and in that moment, I felt something other than anger and pain. Shame burned through me like acid. Of course, Hawke knew, at least to some extent. But still, he probably knew better than a lot of other people.

Every muscle in my body locked up. “Hawke—”

I did, but that changed nothing, so I said, “Ten.”

His brows knitted. “What?”

One side of his lips tipped up. The faintest trace of the dimple appeared. “I like calling you that, but I like calling you Princess more.”

He dipped his chin. “It’s okay, you know?”

My breath caught as my chest squeezed, and it wasn’t just pain doing that. It was something lighter, something warmer. How he knew was proof that, in some way, he’d been where I was right now. I didn’t know if I moved or if he did, but my arms were suddenly around him, and he was holding me just as tightly as I was him. My cheek was plastered to his chest, below his heart, and when his chin dropped to the top of my head, I shuddered in relief. The tender hug didn’t fix the world. The pain and anger were still there. But Hawke was so warm, and his embrace was…gods, it felt like hope, like a promise that I wouldn’t always feel this way.

We stood there for some time before Hawke pulled back, and as he did, he smoothed the unruly strands of hair back from my face, sending a shiver of recognition through me.

I blinked. So, it was time. “And you’re just telling me now?”

Hawke frowned at me. “If I thought I was delivering you for punishment, I wouldn’t be taking you there.”

Surprise flickered through me, proving it was yet another emotion I could feel. “Where would you take me?”

It felt strange when Tawny arrived to help me with the veil, to be wearing it after everything, and even more weird to realize that the castle looked the same as it had before the attack. All except for the Great Hall. It had been barricaded from what I could gather. One brief glance at the room Vikter had died in told me that the door had been replaced.

That was all I needed to know.

The Duchess wore white, like I did, but while I wore the clothing of the Maiden, she wore the color of mourning. She sat behind what had been the Duke’s desk, looking over a piece of paper. Not the desk that had been in the Duke’s more private office. If we’d been meeting there, I had no idea what I would’ve done.

I still couldn’t believe how the Duke had been killed. Surely, the weapon had been coincidental, but it still pecked away at something in the back of my mind.

The Duchess glanced up as the door closed behind us. She looked…different. It wasn’t the color, or that her hair was pulled back sharply from her face in a simple twist. It was something else, but I couldn’t place it as I walked past the benches. There were two other people in the room, the Commander, and a Royal Guard.

Her gaze flickered over me, and I wondered if she could tell that I had left my hair down beneath the veil. “I hope you’re doing well.” She paused. “Or at least better than the last time I saw you.”

Tawny sat beside me, but Hawke remained standing to my left. I did everything in my power not to think about how Vikter belonged here.

The message must have been sent through carrier pigeon to the capital, but only a Huntsman would deliver a Royal message here. He had to have ridden night and day, changing horses along the way to have made it back. It generally took several weeks to travel that distance.

I knew this was coming. Since the abduction attempt, I’d accepted that there was a high chance that the Queen would summon me to the capital, and I knew that could mean an earlier than expected Ascension. That was probably why I wasn’t surprised, but it didn’t explain the lack of dread and fear.

All I felt was…acceptance. Maybe even a little relief because this castle was now the last place I wanted to be, and I wasn’t thinking about what could happen when I got to the capital. I wasn’t even thinking about seeing Ian again. I knew what else I felt, though. And that was confusion.

Hawke turned to me, and without looking, I knew he probably had the same expression on his face that Vikter would have had.

The Duchess didn’t respond for a long moment until she said, “I assume you’re speaking about Lord Mazeen.”

My stomach tightened as I nodded.

Her head tilted. “Do you think you should be punished?”

I started to respond as I would’ve two weeks ago before the attack, back when I was still trying so damn hard to be what I was beginning to believe I was never meant to be. “I don’t think I can answer that question.”

Tension radiated from Hawke as I felt him move just the slightest bit toward me.

My mouth dropped open.

The Duchess leaned back as she picked up a quill. “I’ve known Bran for many, many years, and there is very little about his…personality that I am unaware of. I had hoped that he would’ve known better given what you are. Apparently, I was wrong.”

I tipped forward. “Did you—?”

Chest rising and falling, I snapped my mouth shut and sat back. She knew. She’d always known about the Lord and the Duke. Maybe not what they’d done exactly, but she knew. My fingers dug into the skirt of my gown.

I stared at her as her white-knuckled grip on the quill eased. It struck me then. If the Duke had treated me as he did, why had I assumed he would treat his wife any differently? After all, I’d never seen them being loving towards one another, and that went beyond the almost cool nature of the Ascended. I’d never seen them touch. Being an Ascended didn’t mean you were no longer in a position to be abused.

Lowering my gaze, I nodded. “When…when do I leave for the capital?”

Chapter 28

We were in my chambers no more than thirty minutes after we’d left the Duchess’s office. We also had an audience. Tawny was there. So was the Commander, but it was like they weren’t even in the same building.

Hawke and I had been arguing for the last ten minutes.

That statement threatened to sting, so I whirled on Hawke and did the only completely immature thing I could. I took it out on him. “You seriously expect me to leave her here? Where Descenters are murdering people left and right?”

Tawny stepped forward. “If I may—”

Trepidation had my stomach dipping. “I know.”

In his place was a Royal Guard Vikter would’ve been proud of. There was no stopping that sting. Hawke wasn’t my friend or…or whatever he was to me in this moment. He was a Royal Guard duty-bound to keep me alive and deliver me safely to the Queen and King.

He dipped his chin, eyes latched to mine. “If we take Tawny with us, we may as well just send her ahead and use her as Craven bait.”

I gaped at him. “That was possibly the most absurd statement ever.”

I threw up my hands. “That sounds like your problem, not mine.”

Jaw working as he stared down at me, he barked out a short laugh and then turned to where Tawny stood. “I know you want to accompany her. I understand that, but this is not going to be like a normal caravan. There won’t be dozens of guards, and we won’t be staying at the finest inns. Our pace will be fast and hard, and there is an extremely high likelihood that the Rite will not be the last time you see bloodshed.”

I turned to Tawny, but before I could speak, she said, “I know. I understand.” She came forward. “I appreciate that you want me to come with you, Poppy, but I can’t.”

A feather could’ve knocked me over. “You…you don’t want to?” She’d been so excited about seeing the capital.

But if I wasn’t here, then her time would become hers, at least a good majority of it. I pressed my lips together.

I…I wanted to believe her.

She brought our joined hands up to her chest. “Not only that, but what Hawke said is true. So many guards are…they are gone. And the ones going with you cannot be focused on me. I can’t fight. Not like you can. I can’t do what you did.”

What I did? Did she mean when I defended myself or…or what I’d done to the Lord?

Closing my eyes, I exhaled raggedly. She was right. So was Hawke. It would be irresponsible and illogical for Tawny to travel with us. And while I was worried about leaving her behind in a city in such a state of unrest, I was arguing because…because…

I was leaving everything familiar behind.

So much had happened. So many losses. And while I didn’t have the brain space or the emotional capacity to worry about the possibility of the Ascension moving up or even being found unworthy by the gods, I wasn’t borrowing tomorrow’s problems. But everything kept shifting and changing, and Tawny was…she was the last of what used to be.

What if I didn’t see her again?

Drawing in a shaky breath, I couldn’t let myself think like that. I couldn’t let Tawny think that. I opened my eyes. “You’re right.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate being right.”

My head shot in his direction. “No one asked you for your input.”

Commander Jansen whistled under his breath.

Eyes closed and chin lifted to the rising sun, I reveled in the feel of the cool morning air kissing my bare cheeks and brow as I stood beside the black walls of the Rise. It was such a small thing, but it had been years since the sun and wind had touched every part of my face. My skin prickled pleasantly, and even the reason I was able to do this didn’t tarnish the moment.

The veil made me a very obvious moving target as we traveled to Carsodonia. The best way for us to avoid Descenters and the Dark One was to ensure that no one we came into contact with realized who I was, which was why our group was gathering near the Rise, and I wore a plain dark brown cloak with a heavy sweater underneath it, and my lone pair of breeches and boots. I had no idea what people would think when they saw me, but they definitely wouldn’t think of the Maiden.

It was also why I’d said my goodbyes to Tawny in my room. The few castle staff that would be moving about may recognize Tawny as my companion, and Hawke was taking no chances by ignoring the possibility that Descenters could still be among those who worked in the castle.

And that made it even harder to say goodbye to Tawny. Anything could happen between now and when she joined me in the capital, and I’d have no idea until someone decided to tell me. That caused my stomach to twist with helplessness because there was nothing I could do about any of that. I could only hope that I would see her again. I could believe that I would.

But I wouldn’t pray.

The gods had never answered my prayers before.

And it no longer felt right to ask them for anything when I…I could no longer deny what Vikter had claimed.

That I wanted to be found unworthy.

I sighed, concentrating on the sensation of the wind lifting the wisps of hair from around my forehead and temple.

The Duchess hadn’t come to say goodbye.

It didn’t surprise me. And it didn’t hurt like it had before. There wasn’t even disappointment, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Opening my eyes at the sound of Hawke’s voice, I turned around and almost wished I’d kept my eyes closed.

Hawke wasn’t dressed like a guard as he stood next to a massive black horse. His dark brown breeches hugged his long legs, showcasing the strength of his body. His tunic was heavy and long-sleeved, suited for cold weather, as was the fur-lined cloak. In the sunlight, his hair was the color of a raven’s wings.

Somehow, he looked even more striking dressed as a commoner.

And he was staring at me, one eyebrow raised while I was…well, I was just gawking at him. My cheeks heated. “It feels nice.”

I nodded.

Biting down on my lip, I reached out and lightly rubbed the side of the horse’s nose. “He’s beautiful. Does he have a name?”

I smiled at that. “Named after Theon’s warhorse?” Setti nudged my hand for more pets. “He has big hooves to fill.”

I shook my head no. “I haven’t been on one since…” My smile widened. “Gods, it was three years ago. Tawny and I snuck out to the stables and managed to climb on one before Vikter arrived.” My smile faded as I dropped my hand and stepped back. “So, no, I can’t ride.”

My heart skipped over itself as I looked over at him. “And why is that intriguing? And torturous?”

One side of his lips curved up. The dimple appeared. “Besides the fact that it will allow me to keep a very close eye on you? Use your imagination, Princess.”

My imagination didn’t fail me then. “That’s inappropriate,” I told him.

My gaze met his, and the surge of anticipation and relief proved that under the pain and anger, other emotions simmered. “And what of when I arrive at the capital? I will become the Maiden once more.”

I waited, wondering what it could be since the only thing I’d been able to pack was underclothing and two additional sweater-tunics.

Opening one of the leather bags, he reached inside and pulled out something folded in a cloth. He unwrapped it as he turned to me.

My heart stopped and then sped up when I saw what he held in his hand, recognizing the ivory-hued handle and the reddish-black blade.

The fact that he was making sure I was equipped to defend myself in case it was needed meant the world to me. But the fact that he’d found the dagger and kept it safe for me…

The clog dissipated, and all I could do was nod as I carefully sheathed the dagger and then secured it to my right thigh. It took a moment for me to speak. “Thank you.”

Hawke didn’t respond. When I looked up, I saw a small group approaching. Two unfamiliar men on horses and six other men, leading their mounts toward us.

I recognized two of the guards immediately. I’d played cards with them at the Red Pearl. Phillips, and I believed the other was called Airrick. If they recognized me, it didn’t show as they greeted me with curt nods, neither meeting my eyes.

My scars tingled, but I resisted the urge to touch them or to turn so they weren’t visible.

I was surprised to see them, knowing that they weren’t Huntsmen, but I supposed there hadn’t been enough available to join us, and I was happy to see Phillips. He was someone who’d faced Craven time and time again and was still standing.

It was the guard who’d knocked on the door the night at the Red Pearl. It was like a reunion, I thought as I finally got to see him. He looked to be about the same age as Hawke, his dark hair trimmed close to the skull. His eyes were a striking shade of pale blue, reminding me of the sky during winter, a startling contrast to his warm, beige skin, reminding me of Tawny.

He looked toward Hawke, the angles of his face sharp and more than pleasing to the eye. “We need to be on our way if we have any hope of crossing the plains by nightfall.”

Hawke turned to me. “Ready?”

I glanced west, toward the center of Masadonia. Castle Teerman reached high above the Lower Ward and the Citadel, a sprawling structure of stone and glass, of beautiful memories and haunting nightmares. Somewhere in there, Tawny roamed, and the Duchess assumed control of the city. Somewhere in there, my present had become the past. I turned to the Rise. Somewhere out there, my future awaited.

Chapter 29

Within a few hours of our trek across the Barren Plains, I no longer had to rely on my imagination to know what Hawke had meant when he’d said that I’d be riding with him.

There was little space between our bodies. It hadn’t started out that way as the heavy doors of the Rise had opened and we passed the torches. Aware that the men traveling with us knew who I was, I sat straight and desperately ignored the feeling of Hawke’s arm around my waist, but the pace was hard. It wasn’t a dead run, but unused to how a horse moved, the stiff position quickly became awkward and painful. With each passing hour, I ended up closer to Hawke until my back was pressed to his chest, and my hips were cradled by his thighs. The hood of my cloak had slipped at some point, and I left it down, partly because I wanted to feel the wind on my face.

And in part because I could feel Hawke’s warm breath against my cheek every time he leaned down to speak to me.

I’d been right. For a Maiden, this was wholly inappropriate. Or, at least the way it felt to be held by him was inappropriate for a Maiden.

But after a while, I relaxed and cherished the sensation of being in his arms, knowing that when we reached our destination, this would be over, no matter how well Hawke believed his skills were.

Things would be different in the capital.

I stared out over the empty land. At one time, there’d been farms here, and inns where people could stop and rest. But now, there was nothing but endless grass, bent and twisted trees, and tall reeds climbing over the broken ruins of farmhouses and taverns.

I was convinced that everyone we passed was haunted.

The Craven had destroyed the Plains, tainting once fertile ground with blood, and slaughtering anyone who dared to set down roots outside the Rise.

And so close to the Blood Forest.

I kept my eyes peeled for the first glimpse of the forest and did everything not to think about where the sun was currently at and where we’d end when night fell.

Hawke shifted, and somehow, half of his arm ended up slipping between the folds of my cloak. My mouth dried as the horse slowed. Hawke’s palm was against my hip, and although the wool sweater and my pants separated our skin, the weight of his hand was like a brand.

He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it in a couple of days.”

We’d snacked on cheese and nuts as we rode, and while I’d typically have had a much larger lunch by now, I wasn’t sure I could learn how to eat while being jostled by the horse. I nodded, noting that Kieran and Phillips, who were at the front, had also slowed. They’d been speaking to one another on and off, but they’d been too far away from me to hear what they said.

My brows knitted. “Then why are we slowing?”

My lip curled. Barrats weren’t your average rodents. Rumored to be the size of a boar, they were the things of nightmares. “I thought they were all gone.”

Didn’t that say something? I shuddered. “How many do you think are out here?”

I looked at Airrick.

He averted his gaze.

Airrick nodded as Hawke’s thumb continued moving. “He grew corn and tomatoes, beans and potatoes.” A faint smile appeared. “He would tell me that the barrats used to be nothing more than a nuisance.”

Airrick nodded as he scanned the horizon. “Now, anything they come across is food.”

I let myself grin because no one was watching, and I wanted to. “Why am I intriguing now?”

Another shudder made its way through me. “That is not helping.”

He laughed. “You know what I would love right about now?”

Hawke squeezed me, and I felt a dip in my chest. “Besides that.”

I snorted.

I ignored that and reached inside. My fingers brushed over something smooth and leather. Frowning, I grabbed hold of it and pulled it out. The moment I saw the red cover, I gasped and shoved it back into the bag.

Hawke burst out laughing, and ahead, Kieran looked over his shoulder at us. Could he see how red my face was?

Lots of questions.

I rolled my eyes.

That was even worse. “That’s not necessary.”

His laugh was low and soft against my neck. “How far did you get, Princess?”

I pressed my lips together and then sighed. “I almost finished it.”

That wasn’t likely to happen. I couldn’t believe he’d not only found that damn book but had also packed it. Out of everything he could’ve brought with him, he’d grabbed the diary. The corners of my lips twitched, and before I knew it, I was smiling and then I was laughing. When his arm tightened around me again, I relaxed against him.

Hawke was…intriguing.

Our pace picked up after that, and it almost felt like we were racing the moon. I didn’t have to look ahead to know that we were losing.

And then I saw it.

Ice drenched my skin at the first glimpse of red. And then it rose into sight. A sea of crimson stretched as far as the eye could see.

We’d reached the Blood Forest.

The horses carried us forward even though every instinct in my body screamed in warning. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the forest, even though it felt like a sight that would haunt my dreams for many, many years to come. I’d never seen it up close, having come to Masadonia through a different route that would’ve added days to our trip. What I saw was a twisted mass of red and a deeper shade that reminded me of dried blood. Under the pounding hooves, the ground became rockier. Something crunched and snapped. Was it twigs? Branches? I started to look down—

I couldn’t stop myself.

My stomach churned. The ground was littered with sun-bleached bones. Skulls that belonged to deer and smaller animals. Perhaps rabbits? There were also longer bones, too long for an animal, and—

Sucking in a sharp breath, I tore my gaze away. “The bones…” I said, swallowing. “They’re not all animal bones, are they?”

My hand went to the arm around my waist. I held on. “Are they the bones of Craven who died?” If they didn’t feed, they withered away until there was nothing left but bones.

A tremor coursed through me.

But I had.

Just like I couldn’t close my eyes now. The red leaves glistened in the fading sun, looking like a million leaves had captured tiny pools of blood. It was a sight as horrifying as it was disturbingly beautiful.

The horses slowed, and Airrick’s mount reared, shaking its head, but he pushed forward. We advanced, my heart thundering as the branches stretched toward us, their slick leaves rippling softly, seeming to beckon us forward.

The temperature dropped the second we passed under the first branches, and nearly all the sun that remained couldn’t penetrate the leaves. Goosebumps pimpled my skin as I looked up. Some of the branches were so low that I thought I could possibly reach up and touch one of the leaves shaped like the ones found on a maple tree. I didn’t, though.

No one spoke as we fell into line, two by two, side by side, following the path that had been worn into the ground. Everyone kept their eyes peeled. Since there was no crunching, I felt safe looking down.

I scanned the rapidly darkening floor of the forest. “There are no leaves on the ground. It’s just grass. How is that possible?”

Hawke leaned back. “We will need to stop soon. The horses need rest.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest, and my grip on Hawke’s arm increased. I knew my fingernails were beginning to dig into his arm, but I couldn’t make myself let go.

I exhaled raggedly and saw my breath in the air.

We rode for another hour, and then there was nothing but silvery streaks of moonlight when Hawke signaled to the group. The horses slowed to a trot and then eventually stopped, their breathing heavy.

The strangest urge to giggle hit me, but there wasn’t anything funny about what we were about to do.

We were going to spend the night here, inside the Blood Forest, where the Craven roamed.

Chapter 30

I didn’t think I’d ever been this cold before.

The bedroll did nothing to stop the chill from seeping up from the ground, and the blanket, as heavy as the fur was, couldn’t fight back the iciness in the air. My fingers felt like ice cubes inside my gloves, and no amount of shivering warmed my skin.

It had to be at least twenty degrees cooler at night inside the Blood Forest, and I imagined if it rained, it would turn to snow here.

For the last twenty or so minutes, I’d tried to will myself asleep. Because if I were unconscious, I wouldn’t be so worried about turning into a chunk of ice. But every crunch of grass and stir of wind had my hand going to the dagger stowed under the bag I was using for a pillow. Between the cold, the possibility of free-roaming barrats, and the threat of a Craven attack, there was no way I was getting any asleep tonight. I didn’t know how anyone would. I’d barely been able to eat any of the food during our quick, quiet supper.

Four guards slept. Four guards stood watch several yards away, one at each corner of the camp. Hawke had been speaking to one of them, but now he was striding toward me. A tiny part of me thought I should pretend to be asleep, but I had a feeling he’d know.

Stopping in front of me, Hawke knelt. “You’re cold.”

A moment later, I felt his ungloved fingers brush my cheek. I tensed. “Correction. You’re freezing.”

He let his hand dangle between his knees. “You’re not used to this kind of cold, Poppy.”

That was true. I stared at the shadowy shape of his hand. For such rough, callused hands, his fingers were rather long and graceful. Digits that belonged to an artist and not a guard. A killer.

Hawke rose, and for a moment, I thought he might walk off to join the others keeping watch, but he didn’t.

Holding the coarse blanket as close as I could around me, I watched him unhook the rolled blanket from his bag and then drop the bag on the ground. Without saying a word, he stepped over me like I was nothing more than a log. Before I could take my next breath, he was lying down behind me.

I cranked my head around. “What are you doing?”

The heavy weight of his appendage settled at my waist, stunning me for a few precious moments. “What do you call this, then?”

My eyes opened wide. “How is that any different?”

I stared at the darkness, every part of my body focused on the feel of his arm around me. “You can’t sleep with me, Hawke.”

Heat blasted my cheeks. “I don’t want anyone to sleep with me.”

In the darkness, his gaze found mine, and when next he spoke, his voice was even lower. “I know you have nightmares, Poppy, and I know they can be intense. Vikter warned me about them.”

Sorrow pierced the embarrassment before it could even form, shattering it. “He did?” My voice was thick, hoarse.

My eyes squeezed shut against the burn of pain. Of course, Vikter would’ve filled Hawke in. He’d probably done so the very first night Hawke had to watch over me. I knew in my heart of hearts that Vikter had shared this information for my benefit instead of preparing Hawke for the night one of the nightmares drove me from sleep. He’d done it so Hawke wouldn’t react in a manner that would cause me embarrassment or stress.

Vikter was…gods, I missed him.

He didn’t need to finish. If I screamed, I could draw nearby Craven.

A hundred refusals rose to the tip of my tongue, but I was cold, and if I did have a nightmare, someone needed to be nearby to stop me before I started screaming bloody murder. And Hawke’s heat…the warmth of his body was already seeping through the blanket wrapped around us, sinking into my chilled skin and bones.

Besides, all he was doing was sleeping beside me. Or sleeping with me, as he’d said. But neither of those things was forbidden.

And it wasn’t like we hadn’t already done things I should’ve protested or avoided. Compared to the night at the Red Pearl and during the Rite, this was extraordinarily chaste, no matter that I shivered now for an entirely different reason than the cold.

Exhaling as loudly and obnoxiously as I could, I plopped my cheek back onto the bag and winced. The material had chilled significantly while I had my head up. I ended up staring straight ahead, focusing on the vague shape of one of the guards standing in the moonlight.

I closed my eyes, and immediately, my entire focus went to where Hawke’s body touched mine.

Hawke’s arm was all but curled around my waist, but his hand didn’t touch me. It must’ve dangled in the space in front of me. That was surprisingly…polite of him. His chest rested beside my back, and with every breath he took, it brought his body more into contact with mine.

The only sound other than my pounding heart—which I wondered if he heard—was the rattle of the wind stirring the leaves, reminding me of dry bones rubbing together, and the soft neighing of the horses.

Was Hawke asleep already? If he was, I was going to be so irritated.

His answering chuckle stroked my nerves in all the wrong—and right—ways. “More inappropriate than you masquerading as a wholly different kind of maid at the Red Pearl?”

My jaw snapped shut so quickly and tightly, I was surprised I didn’t crack a molar.

Hawke sighed. “Sorry.”

He didn’t sound sorry about it at all.

Oh, my gods….

I moved to jab him with my elbow, but forgot I was currently wrapped in one blanket and draped with another. All I managed to do was uncover the front of my body, revealing it to the cold air.

Hawke laughed.

I had no response to that.

He ignored that. “You like me.”

My brows knitted together as I stared out over the small clearing.

The corners of my lips tipped up as I lifted the edges of the blanket above my chin. “I’m not pretending none of that stuff happened,” I admitted in a low voice. “It’s just that…”

I didn’t want to say that. I felt like once I did, I couldn’t take it back. “It’s just that I’m not supposed to…do any of that. You know that. I am the Maiden.”

Hawke was quiet for several moments. “And how do you really feel about that, Poppy?”

After several false starts when I tried to answer him, I closed my eyes and just answered truthfully. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to be given to the gods and then, after that, if there is an after part, I don’t want to be married off to someone I’ve never met, who will probably…”

I swallowed hard. “Who will probably be…” I sighed. “You know how Royals are. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and flaws, well, they are unacceptable.” Warmth finally crept into my cheeks. The words tasted like ash. “If I end up as an Ascended, I’m sure whoever the Queen pairs me with will be the same.”

Hawke didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I was so grateful, I almost rolled around and hugged him. Nothing he could’ve said would’ve made what I said any less humiliating to admit.

A shocked laugh burst from me, loud enough that I saw the pacing guard stop. “Oh, gods, that was loud.”

Grinning into the blanket, I said, “He was definitely that, but it’s…even if I didn’t have these scars, I wouldn’t be excited. I don’t understand how Ian did it. He barely even knew his wife, and I…I don’t think he’s happy. He never speaks about her, and that’s sad, because our parents loved each other. He should have that.”

I should have that, Maiden or not.

A slight frown pulled at my lips. His voice sounded off. I couldn’t explain it exactly, but it made me wonder if he’d seen someone and had fallen in love with them after just one conversation. I thought of how he’d admitted to being in love before.

The center of my chest burned.

His question was so soft, it was almost…seductive. “Life.”

I closed my eyes again. “I just want to experience things before my Ascension.” Before whatever happened during the Ascension. “There’s so much I haven’t experienced. You know that. I didn’t go there looking for anything in particular. I just wanted to experience—”

My nose wrinkled. “I’ve never understood why it is the way it is.” I opened my eyes. “All because of the way I was born.”

Someone different. Someone other than the Maiden. Thinking it was one thing. Saying it out loud was another. I’d come close to admitting it to Vikter, but that was as close as I would let myself get with those words.

It was far past time to switch gears. “Never mind. And I don’t sleep well. That’s another reason why I was at the Pearl.”

The question caught me off guard. No one other than maybe Tawny—not even Vikter—had ever asked me that. Ian would’ve if he were still near. “Lately, it’s been the Ascension.”

I snorted like a piglet. “Far from it. It actually terrifies—” I sucked in a sharp breath, shocked that I had so willingly admitted that out loud.

My stomach shifted with unease. “It’s the gods—their Blessing. They make themselves seen during the Ascension. To even look upon them changes you,” I explained, but my words sounded uncomfortably hollow.

I wasn’t.

Most would look forward to meeting the gods, to possibly becoming an Ascended. Ian did, just like Tawny, and all the Ladies and Lords in Wait, but not me or my mother, and that made us different. Not in a unique way. Not in a special way. But in a way that made it…difficult to be who we were, even if our reasons were vastly different.

I shook my head. “I should be asleep. So should you.”

I smiled into the night.

I snorted again, rolling my eyes.

My eyes narrowed. “That may be true, but that is one thing I do know.”

The hand that had been dangling in the air was suddenly flat against my upper stomach, startling me.

My head jerked back around. “What are you doing?”

I started to tell him that he didn’t need to show me anything, but then his hand began to move in slow, small circles. My mouth fell shut. Somehow, he’d gotten that hand between the folds of my blanket, through the cloak, and under the sweater to move against my thin undershirt. He moved those fingers in circles, first in small, tight ones, and then larger arcs until his fingers reached below my navel and his thumb almost brushed the undersides of my breasts. All he was doing was rubbing my belly, but it was new and different and it felt like…like more than that. A warm, shivery sensation radiated from his hand.

I did what he said only because of how close his mouth had been to mine.

An answering warmth bloomed under his hand and spread lower. I sent a nervous glance to the guard. “I…I don’t think this should happen.”

I opened my mouth, but his lips brushed the curve of my cheek, stealing my words.

My eyes closed briefly and then reopened, fixed on the guard.

I could barely breathe around the sharp swirl of sensation that settled low in my stomach and made my chest feel heavy, achy.

And then he was no longer just palming me. He was touching me, rubbing two of his fingers over the seam of the pants, over the very center of me. A rush of damp heat flooded me. My gaze dropped, and I almost expected to see what he was doing under the blanket.

I saw nothing in the darkness.

But I felt everything.

How did we get here? I couldn’t quite figure it out, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I’d had a taste before of what I was feeling now, and just a tease seemed so unfair. And wasn’t that what living meant? Taking more than a sip here and small bite there. It was all about gulping and swallowing as much as you could.

I wanted to feel as much as I could, especially after feeling nothing but pain and anger for so long. I felt none of that now.

I would be in the capital soon, and it was quite possible that my Ascension would happen sooner than expected. And if I came back from it, I knew beyond a doubt that whoever I ended up with wouldn’t make me feel half of what Hawke always seemed to elicit from me, whether it be irritation and anger, laughter and amusement, or this—this consuming, rippling wave of acute pleasure.

His fingers toyed with the stitching, pushing in just hard enough that I felt the touch all the way to the tips of my toes. Every part of my body became hyperaware.

How did he think this was going to help me sleep?

I was wide-awake now, pulse pounding and heart crashing, and he was touching, rubbing me in a way that caused my hips to twitch.

He dragged his hand up the front of the breeches. His palm brushed along the bare flesh of my lower stomach. Those long fingers settled over a throbbing point and moved in slow, steady circles. “I bet you’re soft and wet and ready.” His voice was a lush growl in my ear. “Should I find out?”

I shuddered, half afraid that he would.

Partly scared that he wouldn’t.

The friction of his fingers, the rough material against my flesh…and his words… Oh, gods, they were decadent, purely sinful, and I never wanted it to end.

Eyes open only a slit, I watched the not-too-distant shape of one of the guards slowly patrolling the north-facing side of the camp, my skin and body flaming with forbidden heat as my hips moved again. This time, it wasn’t only a reaction I couldn’t control. I moved them purposefully, rocking them against that slow, steady circling of his fingers. I reveled in the spike of aching, biting pleasure that followed.

I shouldn’t allow this. Not even in the privacy of a room, and surely not where someone could just turn around. I imagined if they paid close enough attention, they’d know that something was happening. I was almost positive that the guard closest to us, the one I watched even now, was Kieran. He seemed as alert as Hawke.

This was wrong.

But how could it…how could it feel so right, then? So good? I was becoming a being of liquid, pulsing fire, all due to just two long, graceful fingers.

I nodded.

I shuddered.

Oh, gods….

I bit down on my lip as my grip eased off the blanket. I reached down, placing my hand over his forearm. He stopped. He waited. Wordlessly, I lifted my hips to his hand as my fingers dug into his skin. The ache was becoming unbearable.

His fingers started moving again, and I almost cried out. “I would work in another finger. You’d be tight, but you’re also ready for more.”

My breath was coming out in quick, shallow pants as I felt the tendons in his arm flex under my hand, as my hips moved in the same circles he was making against me.

That’s what I was doing, shamelessly so. Clutching his arm, I rocked against his hand, chasing that unbelievable tension that kept building and tightening.

Before I could even feel disappointment, before I could truly process the silky promise in his words, he shifted his hand lower, pressing his fingers against the very center of me while his thumb rolled over the part that throbbed. There was nothing slow about his movements then. He knew exactly what he was doing with all that swirling, inescapable tension. Hawke shifted beside me, somehow, working his other arm under my shoulders. He hauled me flush against his front, and I was no longer just moving against his hand, but against him, the rolls of my hips erratic and sharp. Soft, low moans escaped my lips. I felt trapped, wonderfully pinned between his hand and the hard, unyielding length of his body. Something…something was happening. It was what his kisses and brief touches before had hinted at and promised. My body suddenly went as tight as a bowstring taking aim, and my lips parted a second before Hawke folded his hand over my mouth, silencing the moan I wouldn’t have been able to suppress. His hot mouth moved against the side of my throat, his lips, his teeth. There was a wicked sharpness—

The tension broke. I broke. Pleasure whipped out, intense and sudden. It was like standing on a ledge and then being pushed over. I fell, shuddering in pulsing, throbbing waves, and I kept falling until the hand between my legs slowed and then stopped. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or when Hawke’s fingers slipped from my thighs or his hand eased away from my mouth. My heart was only beginning to slow when I became aware of his hand pressed against my stomach, and his arm curled around my shoulders, keeping my boneless body snug against his.

I thought maybe I should say something but…what? Thank you seemed inappropriate. And I thought that it wasn’t entirely fair that he had given me this, while I gave him nothing of the sort. Plus, I thought that I should probably look to see if Kieran or any of the other guards had noticed what Hawk had done—what we’d done under the blankets, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t get any words out.

My lips curved into a faint, sleepy smile.

He was right.

Again.

Chapter 31

When I woke just before dawn, I couldn’t believe how soundly and deeply I’d slept. It was as if I hadn’t been lying on the hard ground but in the lushest of beds.

I didn’t think I would’ve woken up on my own if it hadn’t been for the sound of hushed conversation near me.

There was a lot of Descenter activity at Three Rivers, so that made sense. I blinked open my eyes. Through the gloom, I saw them standing a few feet from me. I flushed when my gaze lifted to Hawke. There wasn’t much I could see of his face, but I thought about what we’d done.

My heart kicked against my chest. Immediately, my mind conjured up the image of Kieran patrolling while Hawke had whispered such indecent, wicked words in my ear. Had Kieran seen us?

Oh gods. My skin prickled and turned hot, but under the embarrassment, I was surprised to find there wasn’t a single ounce of regret. I wouldn’t take back a second of what I felt.

Hawke didn’t answer, and my mind quickly went to the worst-case scenarios. Did he regret it? What we’d done wasn’t just forbidden for me. While I wasn’t aware of the exact rules established for Royal Guards, I was pretty sure that what Hawke and I had done, what we’d been doing, wasn’t something the Commander would overlook.

But Hawke had to know that.

Just like I knew. And yet, I still did it.

Kieran stared at Hawke and repeated. “Remember what your task is.”

Hawke started to turn toward me, and I closed my eyes, not wanting them to realize that I’d heard their conversation. I felt him stop, followed a moment later by the touch of his fingers on my cheek.

I opened my eyes, and I had no idea what to say as I looked up at him. All thoughts scattered as he dragged his thumb along the curve of my cheek and then over my lower lip, sending a shivery wave of awareness through me.

I grinned even as my cheeks heated and despite the conversation I’d overheard. “You were right.”

My body woke up and was fully on board with that idea. However, my brain also started functioning. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Hawke’s hand found mine after I peeled myself free from the blanket. He helped me stand, straightening the tunic I wore. His hands lingered on my hips in a familiar, intimate way that tugged at my chest. My gaze lifted to his, and even in the shadows of the Blood Forest, the intense way he looked down ensnared me.

Surprise flickered through me. “I feel like I should be thanking you.”

It was.

He stepped closer to me, and all I could smell was that pine and dark spice of his. “And it is an honor that you’d take that risk with me, Poppy. So, thank you.”

That sweet, swelling motion swept through me, but there was a strange heaviness to his voice. With our hands joined, I opened my senses, something I hadn’t done since the night of the Rite.

I felt the now-familiar razor-sharp sadness that cut so deep inside him, but there was something else. It wasn’t regret, but it tasted lemony. I concentrated until his emotions became mine, and I could filter through them and understand what I was feeling. Confusion. That was what I felt. Confusion and conflict, which wasn’t surprising. I felt a lot of that myself.

Severing the connection, I nodded as I let go of his hand. “I should get ready.”

Feeling his gaze on me as I stepped to the side, I looked up. The faintest gray light was filtering through the leaf-heavy branches. My gaze connected with Kieran’s.

He’d been watching us the entire time, and the set to his jaw said that he wasn’t happy.

Kieran looked concerned.

Whatever worry I had that the conversation with Kieran would change Hawke’s behavior faded before it could even take form. The relief swirling through me should’ve been a warning that things were…well, they were escalating.

They had already escalated.

I shouldn’t be comforted. If anything, both of us being reminded of our duties was very badly needed, but I wasn’t just relieved. I was thrilled and hopeful.

But what could I be hopeful for? There was no future for us. I may be Poppy now, but I was still the Maiden, and even if I was found to be unworthy upon the Ascension, that didn’t mean there’d be a happily ever after for me with Hawke. I’d most likely be exiled, and I would never expect anyone else to suffer that.

It wasn’t like I thought that what we were or what we meant to one another had grown to a place where Hawke would go into exile with me. That was silly. That was…

That sounded like the kind of epic love my mother had felt for my father.

Either way, last night had felt like a dream. That was the only way I could describe it. And I wasn’t going to let the what-ifs or the consequences ruin the memory and what it had meant to me. I’d cross that bridge when it came time to do so.

Right now, all I could really focus on was not falling off Setti.

My cheeks stung from the icy wind as we traveled through the Blood Forest, the red maple leaves and gray-crimson bark a blur.

We had moved into the heart of the forest, where the trees were less dense, allowing more light rays to come through. The sun didn’t warm the air, though. If anything, it got cooler the farther in we went, the trees even odder.

Trunks and branches twisted, spiraling upward, their boughs tangling. It couldn’t be the wind. All the trees stood straight, and the bark…it seemed wet, almost as if the sap was leaking.

I’d been right earlier about snow falling if it rained. A few hours into the ride, flurries swirled and drifted, blanketing the lush, vibrant green grass on either side of the beaten path. I’d put my gloves back on, but I didn’t think my fingers had ever thawed from the night. I secured my hood, but it could only shield my face to a certain degree, and I had no idea how much longer we had to go. The forest seemed endless.

We slowed as thick, gnarled roots broke free from the ground and climbed across our path as if they were trying to reclaim the patch of earth used by the living.

Loosening my grip on the pommel, I looked down, somewhat awed by the strength of the roots as the horses carefully navigated the obstruction. Something along the ground caught my attention. I looked to my right, beyond Airrick’s horse. Next to one of the trees was a pile of rocks placed so neatly, that I couldn’t imagine they’d naturally gotten that way. A couple of feet farther, there was another grouping of stones. But this time, they weren’t in a pile but placed in a perfect pattern. To my left, I saw another pristine circle of stones. There were more, some with a rock placed in the center, others empty, and even some where the stones had been placed in a way that looked like an arrow slashing through the circle.

Like the Royal Crest.

Unease trickled down my spine. There was no way these stones had fallen in these patterns naturally. I turned in the saddle to point them out to Hawke—

Suddenly, one of the horses up front reared, nearly throwing Kieran from his seat. He held onto the lead, calming the horse as he rubbed its neck.

Phillips lifted his finger, silencing the group. Holding my breath, I looked around. I didn’t hear or see anything, but I felt Setti’s muscles twitch under my legs. He began to prance, backing up. I placed my hand on his neck, trying to calm him as Hawke pulled on the reins. The other horses started to move nervously.

Hawke quietly tapped the area where my dagger was attached, and I nodded. Reaching into my cloak, I unsheathed the blade and took hold of it. I scanned the trees, still—

It came out of nowhere. A burst of black and red, leaping into the air and slamming into Noah’s side. Startled, the horse rose up, and Noah went down, hitting the ground hard. Suddenly, the thing was on top of him, snapping at his face with jagged teeth as he struggled to hold it off.

It was a barrat.

I managed to stifle the scream that had climbed into my throat. The thing was huge, bigger than a boar. Its slick, oily fur rose along its curved spine. Ears pointed and snout as long as half my arm, its claws dug into the grass, ripping it from the ground as it tried to get at the Huntsman.

Phillips turned in his seat, bow in hand and arrow nocked. He let it go, the projectile whizzing through the air, striking the creature in the back of its neck. The thing shrieked as Noah tossed it from him, its legs kicking as it rolled, attempting to dislodge the bolt.

Scrambling to his feet, Noah pulled his short sword free. The bloodstone glinted in the beam of sunlight as he brought it down, silencing the beast.

From every direction, it sounded like the forest had come alive. A rustling grew louder, coming from the right.

I jerked back, all but plastering myself to Hawke as the horde did indeed arrive. Noah cursed as he leapt to a low-hanging branch, pulling his legs up as the rodents burst from the shrubs and moved in between the trees.

They didn’t attack.

They ran past us, darting between the agitated horses. There had been dozens of them, chattering and squeaking as they crossed the roots and then disappeared into the brush and trees.

Nothing about what had just happened gave me relief. If they were running, it was because they were running from something.

Glancing at the ground, I saw thick tendrils of mist gathering. Tiny hairs all over my body rose. The sudden scent…

It smelled like death.

Noah dropped to the ground in a crouch, his feet disappearing in the rapidly thickening mist. My heart leapt into my throat as I leaned forward, gripping the pommel. I felt Setti tense under me as Noah ran to his horse, grabbing the reins near the horse’s neck with one hand, his sword with the other. He lifted the blade into the air.

The Craven was as fast as the arrow that had struck the barrat, rushing out from between the trees. His torn and ragged clothing flapped as he caught Noah, digging clawed fingers into the Huntsman’s chest as it latched on to his neck. Crimson poured down Noah’s front as he screamed and fell back, dropping his sword as his horse ran, blowing past the guards at the front of our group.

A howl turned my blood to ice, and my stomach seized as it was answered by another and another—

Heart thumping, I knew what that meant. The mist was now at our knees, and our luck had run out.

I gave a curt nod, and then he swung one leg off Setti, dropping to land on the roots. I slid from the horse, stepping down so I wasn’t in the twisted mass. I glanced to see the others doing the same. Airrick spotted the dagger in my hand, his brows raised.

He gave me a boyish grin. “For some reason, I’m not surprised.”

He was right.

They flew from the trees, a mass of gray, sunken flesh, and decayed clothing. There was no time to feel panic. Despite being almost nothing more than skin and bones, they were frighteningly fast.

I braced myself, seeing nothing but blood-stained fangs, and then one came straight for me. Snapping forward, I slammed a hand into its shoulder, ignoring how the skin and bone seemed to cave under my palm, and then shoved the dagger into its chest. Rotten blood spurted as I yanked the blade free. The Craven fell, and I spun, grabbing the torn shirt of another Craven who was making a run for Setti. Shoving the dagger into the base of its skull, I grimaced as I pulled the blade free.

I looked up, my gaze snagging with Hawke’s. He gave me a tight smile that hinted at the dimple. “Never thought I’d find anything having to do with the Craven sexy.” He swung, lopping off the head of the one nearest him. “But watching you fight them is incredibly arousing.”

My blade was effective. Unfortunately, however, it required close contact. I quickly scanned the area and saw Kieran moving with the grace of a dancer, a sword in each hand as he took down one Craven after another. Luddie was making great use of his spear, as was Phillips with his bow. Airrick stayed close to me, the mist now to our thighs.

Wailing, a Craven rushed me. Grip tightening on the wolven bone handle, I waited until he was within grasp and then darted to the left as I shoved the bloodstone up under its chin. Sucking in a sharp breath, I took a step back as I willed my stomach to settle. The smell…

I loved the dagger, but the lightweight bloodstone sword was far more useful in this situation. Able to keep a bit of distance, I cut down another Craven as my heart thumped against my chest. The back of my leg bumped into something, and I jerked to my right, putting my foot down. My boot slipped into the roots as I swung out, catching the Craven in the chest. It wasn’t a clean blow. I’d missed its heart. I yanked the sword free and shifted my legs to brace myself as I went for his neck.

I’d forgotten about the roots.

Foot snagged, I tripped and tried desperately to catch myself, but I went down as someone crashed into me, knocking me free of the roots. Airrick. He caught the Craven as I fell, tackling him as they both disappeared under the mist.

My head slipped under the fog, and for a moment, there was nothing to see but a white film. Panic exploded in my stomach. My free hand hit the ground. It was too slick under my palm. I was thrown back through the years, to when I was tiny and frightened, my grip on my mother desperate and slipping—

I heard Vikter’s voice in my mind. A warning he’d given me in training at the very beginning. Never cave to panic. If you do, you die. He’d been right. Fear could heighten the senses, but panic slowed everything down.

I wasn’t a child.

I wasn’t tiny and helpless anymore.

I knew how to fight back, knew how to protect myself.

With a shout, I pulled myself free of the memory and pushed to my feet just as a hairless Craven reached me. I jammed the sword forward, slicing into its heart. It didn’t even so much as whimper as its soulless eyes met mine. All it did was shudder and then fall backward. I turned to find Airrick, realizing that the mist had retreated, slipping down our legs and thinning. That was a good sign as I stalked toward a now visible, wounded Craven crawling across the ground toward one of the horses. I planted my boot on its back, shoving it to the ground as it howled. I jabbed down with the sword, silencing it. The mist was all but gone now.

Breathing heavily as Hawke thrust his sword through the chest of the last remaining Craven, I turned to survey the damage. Only five guards were standing, not including Hawke. I saw Kieran and Luddie above a Huntsman who was very clearly dead. I saw the guard whose sword I held, and I knew that Noah had been gone the moment the Craven had sunk its teeth into his neck. I kept turning until my gaze found Phillips. He knelt beside…

Airrick.

No.

He was on his back, both his and Phillips’ hands pressed against his stomach. His pale skin made his brown hair seem so much darker, and there was…there was so much blood. Lowering the sword, I walked over to where Airrick lay, stepping around the fallen Craven.

Phillips glanced up at me, his brown skin taking on a shade of gray. His eyes were somber as he nodded. “She’s more than okay.”

Heart sinking, I lowered to my knees and placed the sword beside me. “You saved me.”

His eyes flicked to me, and he coughed out a bloody, weak laugh. “I don’t…think you…needed saving.”

Hawke knelt beside Phillips, his gaze meeting mine. He shook his head, not that I needed to be told. This wasn’t a survivable wound, and it had to be so painful. I didn’t need my gift to tell me that, but I opened my senses, shuddering at the raw agony pulsing through the connection.

Keeping my attention focused on Airrick, I picked up his hand and folded both of mine around it. I couldn’t save him, but I could do what I hadn’t been able to do with Vikter. I could help Airrick, and make this easier. It was forbidden and not exactly wise to do it when there were witnesses, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t sit here and do nothing when I knew I could help.

So, I thought of the beaches and how Hawke made me laugh, how he made me feel like I was living, and I pushed that warmth and happiness through the bond and into Airrick.

I knew the moment it hit the guard. The lines of his face relaxed, and his body stopped trembling.

He looked at me, his eyes wide. He looked so terribly young. “I don’t…hurt anymore.”

He stared at me, and I knew Phillips and Hawke were watching. I knew without even looking at them that they realized his sudden relief had nothing to do with the stages of death. No one with that kind of wound slipped away peacefully.

Surprised, the smile became real. “Yes, we did. How did you know?”

He laughed again, the sound even weaker. “Yeah…they were bad hands. Thank…” His gaze shifted to my shoulder. Whatever he saw was beyond me, beyond all of us. It was welcome. Airrick’s lips trembled as he smiled. “Momma?”

His chest didn’t settle. It rose, but it didn’t come back down. Airrick passed some seconds later, his lips still curved into a smile, his eyes now dull but glistening. I didn’t know if he saw his mother, saw anything, but I hoped he did. I wished for him that his mother had come for him and not the god, Rhain. It was nice to think that loved ones were there to greet those passing over. I wanted to believe that Vikter’s wife and their child had been waiting for him.

Slowly, I lowered his hand and placed it on his chest. I looked up then to find both Phillips and Hawke staring at me.

I said nothing.

I didn’t need to. Phillips said it for me. “It’s true. The rumors. I heard it, but I didn’t believe it. Gods. You have the touch.”

Chapter 32

Our group rode hard, the pace aggressive and jarring, and we were three guards short of when we left Masadonia. A few hours later, we found Noah’s horse grazing, and once he was tethered to Luddie’s mount, we were on our way once more.

Having stopped just outside of Three Rivers for only a few hours to rest the horses, we traveled straight through the night. My heart was heavy, my legs numb and sore, and I was worried.

Phillips didn’t speak of what I’d done once the others joined us, but he kept stealing glances at me. Each time, he looked at me as if he weren’t sure I was real, reminding me of the glances the servants had sent my way whenever they saw me veiled.

It made me uncomfortable, but it was nothing like Hawke’s response to my gift.

He’d stared at me over Airrick’s body as if I were a puzzle missing all the edge pieces. Obviously, he was surprised, not that I could blame him. I’d figured he’d have questions. When we stopped outside of Three Rivers, I tried to speak to him about what I’d done, but all he did was shake his head. Just told me “later” and said to get some rest. I, of course, resisted, which ended with him either pretending to fall asleep beside me or actually going to sleep.

I didn’t know if he was mad or disturbed or…upset that I hadn’t told him, but I didn’t regret using my gift to ease Airrick’s passing. Hawke and I would talk, and later may come sooner than he wanted. But I managed to resist using my gift to determine how he felt. I’d rather him tell me than for me to cheat.

Because reading his emotions right now would feel like cheating.

By the time we reached New Haven, dusk was quickly upon us. We passed through the small Rise with little issue. Hawke dismounted and walked ahead to talk to one of the guards before swinging back up onto the horse behind me, leading the way through the cobblestone street.

Kieran had taken Airrick’s place, riding alongside us as we traveled through the sleepy town surrounded by a heavily wooded area. We passed shuttered businesses, closed for the evening, and then entered a residential area. The homes were as small as the ones in the Lower Ward but not nearly as stacked on top of one another. They were also in much better condition. The small trading town was obviously profitable, and the Royal who ruled over this city, apparently had a better grip on maintenance than the Teermans did.

It was about a block into the neighborhood when the door to the first house opened, and an older, brown-skinned man stepped out. He said nothing, simply nodded at Kieran and Hawke as we passed. Behind the man, a young boy ran out and to the house next door. He banged on the door, and shutters swung open. Ahead of us, Phillips’ hand moved to his sword as another young lad stuck his head out. “My papa is—” He broke off, eyes widening as he saw our little caravan. He whooped, and with a toothy grin, he disappeared back into the house, yelling for his father.

The boy from the first house ran two doors down, summoning another child, this one a girl with hair redder than mine. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers when she saw us.

Then, across the street, another door opened, this time revealing a middle-aged woman with a small child on her hip. She grinned, and the child waved. Lifting a hand, I gave an awkward wave back, and then I noticed that the first boy had gained quite a crew. An entire group of children followed our progress on the sidewalk now, and more and more doors opened as the people of New Haven came out to watch. None of them called out. Some waved. Others smiled. Only a few looked on wryly from their front stoops.

I leaned back and whispered, “This is a little odd.”

Hawke snorted. “Then they truly must not get many visitors.”

Kieran slid him a long, sideways look, but Hawke seemed to have relaxed behind me, and I took that as a good sign.

I glanced over at Kieran. “You?”

I raised a brow, but then Haven Keep came into view. Situated near the woods, it didn’t employ a secondary wall like Teerman Castle did, but it was also nowhere near its size. Only two stories tall, the greenish-gray stone structure looked like it had survived a different era.

Barely.

We rode forward just as something cold touched the tip of my nose. I looked up. Snowflakes fell haphazardly as we crossed the yard, heading toward the stables. Several guards in black waited, nodding as we entered the open space that smelled of horse and hay.

I exhaled raggedly, briefly closing my eyes as I loosened my grip on the saddle. The trek across the kingdom was nowhere near complete, but at least for the night, we had a bed, four walls, and a roof.

Things I would no longer take for granted.

Hawke dropped down behind me and turned, lifting his arms as he wiggled his fingers. I arched a brow and then slid off the other side of the horse.

Hawke sighed.

Grinning, I rubbed Setti’s neck, hoping he would get a tummy full of the best hay and some rest. He deserved it.

With the saddlebag draped over his shoulder, Hawke came to my side. “Stay close to me.”

He shot me a look that said my quick agreement was not to be trusted. Once the others joined us, we exited. The snow was coming down a little harder now, dusting the ground. I pulled my cloak around me as the front entrance opened, revealing another guard—a tall blond with pale, wintry-blue eyes.

Kieran greeted the guard with a handshake. “It’s good to see you,” the guard said, his gaze flickering to Hawke and then to me. His attention lingered for a few seconds on the left side of my face before coming back to Kieran. “It’s good to see all of you.”

I turned to see a wide-open area lit by oil lamps. A tall, bearded, dark-haired and broad-shouldered man strode out from two large wooden doors. He wore dark breeches and a heavy tunic. A short sword was strapped to his waist even though he wasn’t dressed as a guard.

Kieran smiled, and I blinked. This was the first time that I’d seen him smile, and he’d gone from coldly handsome to strikingly attractive as he did it. “Elijah, you missed me more than anyone else.”

Elijah met Kieran halfway, capturing the younger man in a bear hug that lifted the guard clear off his feet. Eyes that were hazel, more gold than brown, landed on where Hawke and I stood.

One side of the man’s lips kicked up as he let go of Kieran. Or rather, dropped him. Kieran stumbled back a step, catching himself as he shook his head. “What do we have here?” Elijah asked.

For some reason, this Elijah found Hawke’s response funny. He threw back his head and laughed. “We have plenty of shelter.”

Several people had come from beyond the doors, men and women. Like the townsfolk, there were varying degrees of looks. Most smiled, but a few stared in a way that reminded me of the blond Descenter who’d thrown the Craven hand.

Where was the Lord or Lady who oversaw the city? The sun was still up, but the space was windowless and, therefore, would not be an affront to the gods if they moved about. I didn’t see any Ascended among the gathered people. Perhaps this man was one of the Lord’s stewards and the Lord was otherwise occupied? I noted that Kieran was looking around with a narrowed gaze, probably thinking the same thing as I was.

A black-haired woman in a deep forest green, knee-length tunic and matching breeches strode forward, a heavy cream shawl draped over her shoulders. Immediately, my gaze was pulled to her footwear.

They were boots.

She drew closer, and I noted that her eye color was very similar to Elijah’s, if not exact. Were they related? She seemed at least a decade younger, closer to Hawke’s and my age. Maybe a niece? She gave all of us a close-lipped smile, her gaze, like Delano’s, falling and catching on my visible scars. There was no pity in her face, just…curiosity, which was far better than the former.

Unsure of what else to do, I followed Magda from the entryway and through the side door that fed into a stairwell. Surprised that Hawke had left me alone, I figured it was because he knew I was more than equipped to defend myself, but it still seemed odd. Unless he felt confident about there being no Descenters here.

But even if that was the case, it didn’t explain how Hawke had known this woman’s name when he’d only been to the town briefly, and we hadn’t been introduced.

The room was surprisingly large and airy despite the only source of natural light being a small, narrow window overlooking the yard. I liked the exposed wooden beams on the ceiling, and the bed looked like the most inviting thing I’d ever seen.

I didn’t dare go near it, not when my cloak and clothing were stained with Craven blood, dirt, and sweat. I’d draped my cloak over a heavy, wooden chair and then made sure my sweater covered my dagger.

A fire was lit, and the food, a rich and savory beef stew, had come before the hot water. I ate every drop of the stew and the accompanying biscuits, and would’ve probably licked the bowl clean if it hadn’t been for the small army of servants commanded by Magda.

As the tub was filled with steaming-hot water, Magda hung a light blue robe on a hook in the bathing chamber. I stared at it, my throat suddenly clogged with emotion.

It wasn’t white.

I closed my eyes.

She smiled. “Fresh soap and towels have been placed by your bath. Is there anything else you need?”

I wanted to ask where Hawke was, but I didn’t think she’d know. I shook my head, and she started for the door. Then I thought of the Ascended. “Magda?” I called out. “Who is the Lord and Lady in residence here?”

This time, I shook my head and didn’t stop her. I quickly undressed, leaving my clothing by the door and then hurried across the chilled floor that the fire hadn’t yet warmed, dagger in hand.

The large tub had to be the second-best thing I’d ever seen.

My sore muscles immediately welcomed the hot water, and I stayed longer than necessary, scrubbing myself with the lilac-scented soap and washing my hair twice before I worried that I’d wrinkle like a prune if I stayed one minute longer. Toweling off, I slipped on the warm robe and padded on bare feet to the small vanity, pleased to find a comb. I roamed out to the bedroom, idly combing out the knots and tangles in my hair, and placed the dagger on the end table. When that was done, there was nothing to do but wait.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what Tawny was doing right now. Was she making friends with the other Ladies and Lords in Wait? Sadness tugged at my chest, and I welcomed it. That was far better than feeling only anger and pain, but I missed her.

I missed Vikter.

The knot of emotion was back in my throat as I smoothed my hand over the soft blue material. My eyes burned, but the tears…they wouldn’t come. I almost wished they would. I sighed, glancing back at the head of the bed. There were two pillows as if the bed were meant for two people to—

A knock on the door startled me. I jumped from the bed and was in the process of moving to the end table when the door opened. Snatching up the dagger, I whipped around.

He lifted his brows. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

That half-grin appeared. “You and I both know that’s not the case.” His gaze roamed over me. “At all.”

I smiled. “Thank you for proving what I just said.”

He chuckled as he strode forward. “Did you eat?”

I nodded. “You?”

His head tilted. “Did you wait up for me to talk about Royal banners?”

Hawke said nothing.

My nervousness gave way to irritation. “Is this later enough for you? A good time?”

There was that curl of his lips. “This is a good time, Princess. It’s private enough, which is what I figured we would need.”

I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut. Dammit. Was that why he’d kept pushing it off? If so, that made sense.

My jaw came unlocked. “I don’t call it that. Only a few who have heard…the rumors about it do. It’s why some think I’m the child of a god. You, who seems to hear and know everything, haven’t heard that rumor?”

My gaze searched his, and I thought I saw the truth in his stare. “It’s a gift from the gods. It’s why I’m Chosen.” Or at least one of the reasons. “I have been instructed by the Queen herself to never speak of it or to use it. Not until I am deemed worthy. For the most part, I have obeyed that.”

I blew out a long breath. “I can…sense other people’s pain, both physical and mental. Well, it started off that way. It appears that the closer I get to my Ascension, the more it evolves. I guess I should say I can sense people’s emotions now,” I corrected, tugging at the blanket beside me. “I don’t need to touch them. I can just look at them, and it’s like…like I open myself up to them. I can usually control it and keep my senses to myself, but sometimes, it’s difficult.”

Knowing he was thinking about when the Duke had addressed the city, I nodded. “Yes. Or when someone projects their pain without realizing it. Those times are rare. I don’t see anything more than you or anyone else would see, but I feel what they do.”

I looked up at him.

He was staring at me with slightly wide eyes. “So, you felt the pain that Airrick, who had received a very painful injury, felt?”

I nodded.

Hawke blinked. “That had to be…”

Hawke walked over and sat on the bed beside me. “And you can feel other emotions? Like happiness or hatred? Relief…or guilt?”

For the first time since I met Hawke, he looked speechless.

I ignored the dryness in his tone. “I can also ease other people’s pain by touch. Usually, it’s not something the person notices, not unless they’re experiencing a great deal of obvious pain.”

Hawke stared at me some more. “You think happy thoughts and that’s it?”

Something flickered over his face, and then his gaze shot to mine. “Have you sensed my emotions before?”

I wanted to lie. I didn’t. “I have.”

He sat back.

To not use what I had been born with.

That was why it was hard to control sometimes. Sure, curiosity often drove me to use it, but it felt like going against nature to deny it and keep it locked down. It was stifling.

Just like the veil and all the rules and the expectations and…the future I never chose for myself.

Why did my entire life seem so wrong?

Pulling myself from my thoughts, I looked over at him. “Sadness.”

Shock rolled across his expression.

I flattened my hands on my legs. “I have.”

I nodded.

I wasn’t sure what to say.

He frowned and went back to staring at me like I was a puzzle missing pieces.

Shaking his head, his expression smoothed out. “Are you reading me now?”

My stomach twisted as my wide-eyed gaze swung back to him. I cared about Hawke. A lot. Not in the same way I cared about Tawny or Vikter, though. It was different.

Oh, gods.

That probably wasn’t a good thing, but it didn’t feel bad. It felt like anticipation and hope, excitement and a hundred other things that weren’t bad.

I couldn’t be grateful that he didn’t know. “I feel nothing from the Ascended,” I blurted out. “Absolutely nothing, even though I know they feel physical pain.”

My eyes closed, discovering that I liked this closeness. I liked being…touched when it was my choice.

I also liked the way he said my name. “Yes?”

He touched my cheek with his fingers. “I hope you realize that no matter what anyone has ever told you, you are more worthy than anyone I’ve ever met.”

My heart squeezed in the best way. “You haven’t met enough people, then.”

I should.

My eyes opened.

I really should.

I wasn’t a bad person. Under the veil and behind my title and my gift, I was like anyone else. But I was never treated as such. As Hawke had pointed out before, every privilege everyone else had was something I couldn’t even earn. And I was…

I was so damn tired of it.

Hawke drew back, his voice heavy as he said, “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Unable to answer, I was too caught up in what was happening within me because something was shifting, changing. Something enormous and yet also small. My heart started pumping as if I’d just been fighting for my life, and…dear gods, that’s what I was doing. Right now. Fighting not for my life but to be able to live it. That was what was clicking into place inside me.

Maiden or not, good or bad, Chosen or forsaken, I deserved to live and to exist without being cloistered by rules I never agreed to.

I looked at Hawke, really looked at him, and what I saw went beyond the physical. He’d always been different with me, and he never tried to stop me. From the night on the Rise to the Blood Forest when he’d thrown me the sword, he didn’t only protect me. He believed in me and respected my need to defend myself. And like he’d said before, it was as if we’d known each other for ages. He…he understood me, and I thought I might understand him. Because he was brave and strong, and he felt and thought deeply. He’d suffered losses and survived and continued to do so even with the agony I knew he carried with him. He accepted me.

And I trusted him with my life.

With everything.

His eyes opened. “Like I don’t deserve to be looked at. Not by you.”

I watched him start for the door, his name on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to spend tonight alone. I didn’t want him to believe that he wasn’t deserving.

What I wanted was to live.

What I wanted was him.

He stopped but didn’t turn.

My heart was racing once more. “Will you…will you stay with me tonight?”

Chapter 33

Hawke didn’t respond, and I wasn’t sure if he’d even taken a breath, reminding me of the night of the Rite with us under the willow. That memory didn’t bring with it the sharp stab of pain.

Then he spoke. “I want nothing more than that, but I don’t think you realize what will happen if I stay.”

I felt a little dizzy. “What would happen?”

He turned then, his stare piercing. “There is no way I could be in that bed with you and not be all over you in ten seconds flat. We wouldn’t even make it to the bed before that happened. I know my limitations. I know that I’m not a good enough man to remember my duty and yours or that I’m so incredibly unworthy of you it should be a sin. Even knowing that, there is no way I wouldn’t strip that robe from you and do exactly what I told you I’d do when we were in the forest.”

Heat swept through me as I stared at him. “I know.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you?”

I nodded.

Hawke took a step away from the door. “I’m not just going to hold you. I won’t stop at kissing you. My fingers won’t be the only thing inside you. My need for you is far too great, Poppy. If I stay, you will not walk out this door the Maiden.”

I shivered at the bluntness of his words. They weren’t a shock, but his need was. I didn’t see myself as someone who could be the object of something so fierce. I’d never been allowed to.

He took one more step toward me. “Do you truly, Poppy?”

I did.

And it was strange to know myself and be so certain when I’d spent so long not knowing myself—never really being allowed to discover who I was, what I might like or dislike, what I’d want or need. But I knew now.

I had known the moment I asked him to stay. I knew what the consequences could be. I knew what I was, and what was expected of me, and I knew I could no longer be that. It wasn’t what I wanted in life. It had never been my choice.

But this…this I wanted.

Hawke was who I wanted.

This was my choice.

I was reclaiming my life, and it had started long before him. When I demanded to be taught how to fight, and when I made Vikter include me when he went out to help the cursed. Those were significant steps, but there had been smaller ones along the way. In a way, they were even more important. I’d been changing, evolving just like the gift I was forbidden to wield but remained determined to use. It was in every adventure and risk I took. It was in my desire to experience what I’d been told was not for me.

That was why I’d initially stayed in the room at the Red Pearl with Hawke.

It was the way I’d met the Duke’s stare and smiled at him when I’d been unveiled.

It was when I’d spoke to Loren for the first time, and when I went out to the Rise. My evolution kept me quiet as the Duke delivered his lessons, and when I sliced Lord Mazeen’s arm and hand and head from his body, I’d been cutting through the chains I never chose to wear. I just hadn’t realized it then. There were so many little steps over the years and especially in recent weeks. I didn’t know when it had finally happened, but I knew one thing for certain.

Hawke wasn’t the catalyst.

He was the reward.

I lifted my surprisingly steady hands to the sash. I didn’t look away as I undid the knot. The robe parted and then slipped over my shoulders. I let it puddle at my feet.

Hawke didn’t look away for one second. He didn’t even blink as he stared at me, his eyes locked to mine. Slowly, his gaze traveled the length of my body. I knew there was enough light for him to see everything. All the dips and swells, the shadowy, hidden areas, and all the scars. The jagged tears on my arms and across my stomach, and the ones on my legs that looked like wounds from sharp nails but were proof that I had been chosen by the gods.

Because those marks on my legs weren’t from claws but from fangs that had ripped into my skin. I’d been bitten that night.

But I was not cursed.

Hawke wouldn’t see the truth in those scars. Two of those who knew were now gone, and only the Queen and King, the Duchess, and my brother knew now. For the first time in my life, I wanted to tell someone the truth behind them. I wanted to tell Hawke.

But now was not the time for that.

Not when his gaze was slowly tracking back to mine. Not when he was looking at me as if he were soaking in every inch of me. I couldn’t help but shiver when his eyes finally met mine.

Then he moved in that way that always made it hard to believe he wasn’t an Ascended. In a heartbeat, I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine. There was nothing slow and sweet about the way he kissed me. It was like being devoured, and I wanted that. I kissed him back, holding onto him tightly, and just when I felt the touch of his tongue against mine, he pulled away.

Things became a blur then. His tunic came off with my help, and then his boots, and his breeches. I trembled at the first sight of him.

He was…beautiful.

All sun-kissed skin and long, lean muscles. His chest and stomach were defined by years of training, and there was no mistaking the power and strength of his body. There was also no mistaking how his life had left its imprint behind in the form of faint nicks and longer scars on his flesh. He was a fighter like I was, and now I truly saw what I’d been too nervous to notice before. His body was also a record of everything he’d survived, and the deeper, redder scar just below his hip on his upper thigh was proof that he likely had his own nightmares. It looked like a brand of some sort, as if something hot and painful had been pressed into his skin.

It was so weird how he sometimes talked as if he’d lived dozens of years longer than I was sure he had. I knew that, for some, a year could feel like a lifetime. My gaze strayed, and my eyes widened.

Oh, my.

I bit down on my lip, knowing I probably shouldn’t stare. It seemed indecent to do so, but I wanted to.

Cheeks heating, I dragged my gaze away. “I…you’re perfect.”

His expression tightened. “No, I’m not. You deserve someone who is, but I’m too much of a bastard to allow that.”

I shook my head, unsure how he couldn’t see that he was deserving. “I disagree with everything you just said.”

In a heartbeat, I was on the bed, and he was above me, the rough hair of his legs abrasive against mine in the most surprising, pleasant way. But the feel of him against my hip caused a nervous swallow, and also brought a reminder of a very real consequence that could come from this.

He was talking about the herb that rendered both males and females temporarily infertile. It could be drunk or chewed, and I heard that it tasted like sour milk.

I snorted.

Those eyes met mine. “This changes everything.”

It did.

It really did.

And I was ready for that.

Hawke kissed me, and I wasn’t thinking of anything beyond how his lips had an almost drugging effect. We kissed until my heart was pounding, and my skin hummed with the pleasure of it. Then, only when I felt breathless, did he begin to explore.

His fingers trailed over every inch of exposed skin, and when his hand moved between my thighs, I cried out, quickly discovering that what he’d done with his fingers in the forest, over my breeches, was absolutely nothing compared to his skin against mine.

He worked his way down, using his mouth and then his tongue to follow the path his hands had blazed. He stayed in particularly sensitive areas, wringing sounds from me that made me briefly wonder just how thick the walls were, and then he lingered over the scars on my stomach, kissing them, worshipping them until I was sure that he didn’t find them disturbing or ugly in any way.

But then he moved lower still, past my navel.

My heart stopped as I felt his breath against where I ached so fiercely. I opened my eyes to find him settled between my legs, his golden gaze locking onto mine.

One side of his lips curled up in a wicked, smoky half-grin. “Remember that first page of Miss Willa’s diary?”

Then, his gaze remaining on mine, he lowered his mouth.

My back bowed at the first touch of his lips, and my fingers dug into the sheets at the glide of his tongue. I thought my heart might stop, that maybe it already had. The riot of sensations he conjured up seemed unfathomable until that moment. It was almost too much, and I couldn’t hold still. I lifted my hips, and his rumbling growl of approval was nearly as good as what he was doing.

Gods…

My head fell back against the mattress, and I was aware that I was writhing, squirming, and there was no sense of rhythm behind my movements. But that sharp tightening deep inside me was coiling and twisting, and then it all unraveled, stunning me with its intensity. I might’ve said his name. I might’ve actually screamed something incoherent. I didn’t know, and it took what felt like a small eternity before I could even open my eyes.

Hawke lifted his head, lips swollen and glossy in the candlelight. The intensity in his stare scorched my skin as his gaze caught and held mine. He never looked prouder of himself as his mouth parted and the tip of his tongue glided over his lips. “Honeydew,” he growled. “Just like I said.”

My breath caught, and I shuddered. He didn’t so much move as he prowled up the length of my boneless form. I watched him, unable to look away as the hardness of his body caressed mine, unable to stop the shiver when the rough hairs of his legs tickled sensitive skin.

They had closed? Yes. They had. I opened them to see that one side of his lips was curved up, but the teasing tilt normally present was gone. He said nothing as he stared down at me, his hips and body still. “What?”

He chuckled, and I sucked in a gasp at how the sound felt with him so very close to where I throbbed. “Always so many questions.”

A shiver danced over my skin. “How…how do you want me to touch you?”

Uncurling my fingers from the sheet, I lifted a hand, touching his cheek. His gaze remained latched to mine as I drew my fingers along the curve of his jaw, over his soft lips, and then down his throat. I was still feeling too much for my gift to be remotely functional as I glided the tips of my fingers over his chest. His breaths pushed it against my hand, and I kept exploring, soaking in the feel of the taut, coiled muscles of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair below his navel and then lower. My fingers brushed silky hardness, and his entire body jerked. I hesitated.

I focused on his face as I touched him. There were so many tiny reactions throughout his entire body. His jaw popped, and his lips parted slightly. The lines of his face became sharper, and the tendons in his neck stretched as I curled my hand around him. He kicked his head back, and his large, powerful body trembled. I noted how rapidly his breathing had become as I slid my hand down to where our bodies were almost joined. He gave a full-body shudder then, and I was awed by how much my touch affected him. I tightened my grip, becoming more confident.

I laughed softly, and then I did it again, drawing my hand up and down his length. His hips moved then, much like mine had, rolling against my palm, against me. He made a sound, a deep, dark rumble that sent a flush of pleasure through me.

My gaze searched his face. “In a…in a good way?”

Hawke’s features softened as he lifted his hand to cup my cheek. “In a way I’ve never felt before.”

He dipped his head, kissing me as he shifted onto his left arm. His hand left my cheek and slid down the length of my body until it was between us. “Are you ready?”

Breath catching, I nodded.

The corners of my lips tugged up. “Yes.”

I giggled, surprised by the light sound in such a tense, important moment.

My entire body flushed and trembled.

Hawke’s gaze lifted to mine once more. “You amaze me.”

I was definitely flushing even more now. “You’re so inappropriate.”

I knew enough about sex to know that. “I know.”

A flutter started in my stomach and spread. “Possibly.”

He chuckled, but it ended in a groan as he began to move.

There was pressure and a moment when I wasn’t sure how he could go any farther, and then a sudden, sharp sting stole my breath as I squeezed my eyes shut. Fingers digging into his shoulders, I tensed. I knew there’d be some pain, but all the languid warmth turned to chips of ice.

Hawke stilled above me, breathing heavily. “I’m sorry.” His lips touched my nose, the lids of my eyes, my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed me again, softly, and then rested his forehead against mine. A shallow breath lifted my chest. That was it. I’d crossed the final, forbidden line. There was no shock of guilt or burst of panic. Truthfully, I’d crossed that line when Hawke had kissed me before knowing who I was, and everything that led to this very moment had slowly erased that barrier until it no longer existed. There’d been no going back since the night at the Red Pearl, and this…this felt too right for it not to be, in some way, destined. I felt like I was supposed to be right here, in this very moment, with Hawke, where it mattered who I was and not what I was. It didn’t matter if the gods found me unworthy because I was worthy of this—of laughter and excitement, of happiness and anticipation, of safety and acceptance, of pleasure and experience, of everything Hawke made me feel. And he was worthy of whatever consequences came from this because this wasn’t just about him. I knew that from the moment I’d asked him to stay.

It was about me.

What I wanted.

My choice.

I took a deep breath, and the burning lessened. Hawke remained still above me, waiting. Tentatively, I lifted my hips against his. It stung, but not as severely as before. I tried it again. Hawke shuddered, but he didn’t move. Not until my grip on his shoulders loosened, and my breath caught for an entirely different reason. There was a burning friction, but it wasn’t the same. Muscles low in my stomach tightened as a ripple of pleasure skittered through me.

Only then did Hawke move, and he did so carefully, so gently that I felt tears prick my eyes. I closed them as I curled my arms around his neck, letting myself get lost in the madness once more, in the building crescendo of sensations. Some kind of primal instinct took hold, guiding my hips to follow his. We were moving together, the only sound in the room that of my softer sighs and his deeper moans. That exquisite, almost painful coiling sensation returned. My legs lifted of their own accord, curling around his hips. The pressure was building inside me once more, but it was more potent this time.

Hawke worked his arm under my head and curled his hand around my shoulder as the grip of his other hand tightened on my hip. He began to move faster, deeper, his thrusts stronger as he held me in place under him. I held onto him, my mouth blindly finding his as his hand slipped between us. His thumb found that sensitive area, and when his hips churned against mine in tight circles, the tension exploded once more. I cried out as the sensation whipped through me, more intense and biting than before. The release he’d given me earlier somehow felt like nothing compared to this. I was shattering into pieces in the best possible way, and it was only when the last wave seemed to have crested that I became aware of those intense golden eyes fixed to my face as he slipped his hand out from under me. I knew at once he’d been watching the entire time, and a breathy moan left me.

I placed a trembling hand on his cheek. “Hawke,” I whispered, wishing I could put to words what I’d just felt—what I was still feeling.

His features turned stark, and his jaw tensed, and then he…he seemed to lose whatever control he had left. His body pounded against mine, moving us across the bed. Under my hands, his muscles flexed and rolled, and then his head kicked back, and he cried out, shuddering.

He dropped his head to mine, to the sensitive space along the side of my throat. I felt his lips against my thrumming pulse as the roll of his hips slowed. There was a scrape of his teeth that sent a shiver through me, and then the press of his lips.

I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, our damp skin cooling, and our breathing slowing as I threaded my fingers through his hair. His muscles had relaxed, and his weight was on his elbows, but I slowly became aware of the tension in his body. It was the gift, slowly poking through my heady emotions.

Hawke’s lips grazed my cheek and then found mine. He kissed me softly, sweetly. “Don’t forget this.”

I touched his jaw. “I don’t think I ever could.”

I couldn’t look away. “I promise. I won’t forget.”

Chapter 34

Some hours later, a noise stirred me from sleep. I was on my side, and a long, warm body was wrapped around mine. One leg was thrust between my thighs, and I was tangled in arms. Although I was still half-asleep, every part of me immediately became aware of the unfamiliar sensations of being in someone’s hold. The feeling of skin against skin, the rough, short hairs against my flesh, the biceps under my head, and the warm breath glancing off my cheek. All of it was wonderful and new. Even with the cobwebs of sleep still clouding my thoughts, I knew this feeling wouldn’t be something easy to walk away from.

The last thing I remembered was lying facing Hawke, him toying with my hair while he told me how he’d gotten some of his smaller scars. Most of them had been earned through fighting, though a few were from when he was a reckless, adventurous child. I’d meant to share with him the truth about some of mine, but I must’ve drifted off.

Hawke shifted behind me, lifting his head as the sound came again. It was a soft knock on the door. Carefully, he slipped his leg out from between mine. He stilled for a second, and then I felt his fingertips on my arm. They coasted down and then over the flare of my hip to where the blanket lay. He tugged it up over my chest as he eased himself free, making sure the pillow had replaced his arm under my head. A sleepy, pleased smile tugged at my lips.

The bed dipped as he rose, and I heard him stop by the foot of the bed. I blinked open my eyes. One of the oil lamps still burned, casting a soft buttery glow around the room. It was still pitch-black beyond the small window, though I saw Hawke straighten as he pulled on his breeches, leaving them unbuttoned. My stomach dipped at the sight. He went to the door like that, shirtless and half-undressed. Wouldn’t that make it obvious to whoever was out there what had transpired in here?

I waited for the panic to set in, the concern and fear of being discovered in a very compromising, forbidden position.

It didn’t come.

Maybe it was because I was still only half-awake. Perhaps the pleasant languidness in my muscles had somehow infiltrated my brain and melted my common sense.

Maybe I just didn’t care about being caught.

Hawke cracked open the door, and whoever was outside spoke too low for me to hear. I didn’t pick up Hawke’s response, but I saw that he accepted something he had been handed. He was only at the door for a couple of moments before he closed it again, placing whatever he carried on the chair.

Seeing that I was awake, he came to my side. Wordlessly, he reached down, catching a strand of hair and brushing it back from my face.

A faint grin appeared. “I am, Princess. Sleep.” He tucked the blanket around me once more and then rose. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I wanted to say something, somehow acknowledge what had transpired between us, and what it meant to me, but I wasn’t sure how to say it, and my eyes were getting heavy. I fell back to sleep, but I didn’t stay there long. I woke for a second time, the lamp still burning, and the bed empty beside me.

Stretching my limbs, I pressed my lips together at the strange, dull ache between my legs. I didn’t need the reminder of last night, but there it was. I glanced around the room, my gaze snagging on the chair. My clothing was folded there. Had it been Magda who’d come to the door? Or someone else? Either way, whoever it was, the state of undress in which Hawke had answered the door revealed everything.

I bit down on my lip as I lay there, staring at the small window. Like before, there was no panic or dread. People talked. One way or another, what had happened here would travel beyond the cobblestone streets. It would eventually make its way to the capital, and then to the Queen. Even if by some small chance it didn’t, the gods had to know that I was no longer an actual maiden. Whether or not that meant I was still the Maiden in their eyes, I had no idea.

But I was no longer the Maiden in mine.

I couldn’t go back to that life.

A brief burst of fear pierced my chest, but that was okay because a surge of determination quickly doused it like water does flames.

I wouldn’t go back to that life of no rights, of hiding my gift and being unable to help people, of allowing others to do whatever they wanted with me and to me because I had no choice or was constantly put in a position where I had to accept whatever was done out of fear for someone else. Because even though I knew the Queen would never treat me poorly, I would still be expected to hide my gift, to be quiet and unseen, amicable, and appeasing. Every single one of those things went against the very core of my nature.

I couldn’t Ascend.

And that meant there were two options ahead of me. I either attempted to disappear and hid—living behind the veil for so long would be a benefit here since so few people knew what I looked like. However, there were enough that could give a description. I was sure that every city and town would be notified to keep an eye out for me, but I knew how to remain unseen.

But where would I go? How would I survive? And what would happen to Hawke if I disappeared while he was supposed to be escorting me?

I didn’t assume that my now very unknown, uncertain future included Hawke. However, my chest still fluttered. What we’d shared last night had to mean something more than simply seeking physical gratification. He could find that anywhere, but he had chosen me.

And I chose him.

That had to mean something that went beyond last night—something that I never thought I’d get the chance to experience.

Whether or not Hawke was a part of my life or not, the only other option was to go to the Queen and be honest. Now that scared me because I…I didn’t want to disappoint her. But she had to understand. She had with my mother, and I was the Queen’s favorite. She had to understand that I couldn’t be this. And if she didn’t, I needed to make her.

Sitting up, I kept the blanket wrapped around me.

I knew what I couldn’t do, but I didn’t know what that meant in the long-term for the kingdom or for me. The sky outside the window started to lighten. I would talk to Hawke about it, and I wouldn’t wait. He needed to know, and I wanted to know what he thought.

What he’d say.

Knowing that dawn was fast approaching, I rose and got ready, using the remaining water to quickly wash up. The water was cold, but since I had no idea when we’d have access to clean water again, I wasn’t complaining. Relieved to be wearing clean clothes, I strapped the dagger to my thigh. I was just finishing braiding my hair when the knock came.

Figuring Hawke would’ve just come in, I approached with caution. “Yes?”

I opened the door, and he rushed in, forcing me back as he closed the door behind him. He turned, his cloak parting to reveal his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Warning bells went off as I took a step back.

He turned back to me, his eyes wide. “Where is Hawke?”

My brows lifted.

My bag in hand, he faced me, his dark brows arched. “What Ascended do you know that would go hunting?”

Confused by where he was going with all of this, I shook my head. “I don’t know any of you.”

Except for Hawke. Him, I knew.

I recalled how I’d seen them speaking often throughout the trip. Still, Kieran’s unwillingness to answer questions from a stranger meant nothing. “A lot of guards are on the Rise. Do you know everyone?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “What are you talking about?”

My mouth dropped. “I was there when both Rylan and Vikter were killed—”

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him.

That… If it was true, it was not good. But what he was suggesting was unbelievable. I didn’t know Kieran, but I knew Hawke, and if Hawke trusted Kieran, then I did, too. So, what would Phillips have to gain by saying these things?

My skin chilled when the only option formed in my mind. Phillips had to be a Descenter. Shocked, I didn’t want to believe it, but I remembered how the Descenters at the Rite had been dressed for the celebration. They had been mingling with everyone the entire time. It wasn’t impossible.

Because nothing was.

And if Phillips was a Descenter, then this…this was bad. He was exceptionally well trained. Worse yet, he knew that I was armed and trained, as well, so I didn’t have the element of surprise. I also didn’t like the idea of being in this room alone with him, especially where I didn’t know who was nearby.

I needed to be around people.

Being threatened didn’t exactly make me feel safe, but he was scared.

He was frightened. I knew that much as he stepped aside, and I realized that he wanted me in front of him. My hand twitched to reach for the dagger. What was he afraid of? Getting caught?

I nodded, stepping out into the hall just as the door at the other end of the hall opened.

Kieran walked out as cold air rippled down the corridor. Without my cloak, I wouldn’t make it far. Did Phillips not realize that? Or was that not relevant? Kieran came to a stop, his brows raised. “What are you doing out here?”

Before I could answer, I heard Phillips unsheathe his sword. My heart started pounding.

He started forward. “I was going to my room.” His gaze moved back to me. I didn’t think he realized that Phillips had readied his sword. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Phillips was behind me, and I knew I had to be careful. He may want to keep me alive, but I was just as effective as a message if I were dead. He’d have the sword in my back before I could get a grip on my dagger.

I stared at Kieran silently, hoping to the gods that he was able to see what I couldn’t say.

He came forward, his hand casually going to the sword at his side. “What’s going on here?”

Phillips grabbed hold of my arm, tugging me back. He was fast as he thrust his sword forward. So was Kieran. He deflected the blow, but the deadly point of the blade was only knocked off course. Instead of penetrating his chest, it sliced into his stomach and leg. I cried out as Kieran stared down at himself—

The sound that came from Kieran as he stumbled back raised every single hair on my body. I froze. It started out as a low rumble that was not even remotely a sound a mortal should make. I’d heard it before—the night Rylan had been killed in the Queen’s Garden. The Descenter had made that same sound.

The rumble rose, turning into a deep growl that stole my breath. When he lifted his head, my heart nearly stopped.

His pale blue eyes...

They glowed iridescent in the dim light.

Kieran tossed his sword aside, and it clattered off the wooden floorboards. I couldn’t understand why he’d throw down his weapon, but then I saw why.

He’d changed.

His skin seemed to thin and darken. His jaw popped up, elongating along with his nose. Bones cracked and reformed as fawn-colored fur sprouted from every inch of skin I could see. The tunic he wore split across his chest. His breeches tore as his knees bent. He pitched forward, fingers growing, claws replacing nails. Ears lengthened as he opened his mouth in a cold, violent snarl. Fangs punched out from his jaw as his hands—his paws—smacked down on the floor.

It took seconds—only seconds—and a man no longer stood before us. A huge creature stood on all fours, nearly as tall as Phillips in a solid mass of muscle and sleek fur. What I saw was impossible, what I saw was something that had been extinct for centuries, killed off during the War of Two Kings.

But I knew what Kieran was.

Oh, my gods.

Kieran was a wolven.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Phillips was utterly wrong about Hawke, but he wasn’t when it came to Kieran. There was obviously something incredibly not right about him.

Kieran’s claws scraped across wood as he lurched toward us, sweeping out and narrowly missing Phillips’ cloak. I ran faster than I’d ever run in my entire life. I looked over my shoulder as Phillips yanked open the door. Every instinct inside screamed for me not to, but I couldn’t stop myself. I looked.

The wolven leapt, twisting in midair. He landed on the wall. Claws dug into the stone, and then he launched himself off, landing halfway in the hall.

The space was dark with only the faintest light to lead the way. My boots slipped over the stone. I grabbed the railing as I swung onto the landing, nearly falling. But I didn’t stop.

We blew through the final set of stairs and burst out the door, my brain finally spewing out something helpful, reminding me that I had a weapon. Bloodstone. It could kill a wolven if the heart or head were struck, just like a Craven.

My feet pounded off the frozen ground as I yanked the dagger free.

Hawke.

Had Kieran done something to Hawke? My heart lurched—

The howl from above shattered the early morning silence, jerking up my head just as the wolven came over the railing.

He landed on the ground behind us, letting out another spine-tingling howl.

From the woods or from the keep, I heard an answer. A roar that sent a bolt of cold terror through me.

There was more than one.

We rounded the corner, Phillips slipping but regaining his balance as we rushed toward the stables, not a single guard in sight, and that wasn’t right. There should be guards out at this time.

I saw Luddie and the other guard.

The two men turned as I skidded to a stop, whipping around. I knew the moment they saw the wolven.

Kieran was gaining on us.

I shot forward to one side of the doors just as Luddie and Bryant snapped out of their shock. Grasping one side along with Luddie, we swung it closed a second before Bryant and Phillips closed their side.

Panting, I backed up—I kept backing up until I walked into one of the poles. The hilt of the dagger pressed into my palm. I looked down at it, at the wolven bone—

I jumped as the large, double doors shuddered as the wolven crashed into them.

A wood board splintered as a clawed, fur-covered hand punched through. Kieran grabbed the chunk of wood, tearing it free.

I moved out of his way. “I’m not leaving until I find Hawke—”

My head jerked toward the sound of the voice. A man stood in the shadows, and something…something inside me shrank back.

He stepped into the light. Shaggy brown hair. A trace of a beard. Pale, winter blue eyes. A flash of pure, unadulterated rage pulsed through me.

It was him.

The man who’d killed Rylan was here, and he smiled. “Told you I’d be seeing you again.”

My gaze flicked over him, and my brows rose as the three guards pointed their swords at him. “You seem to be missing a hand. I wish I had done that.”

He lifted his left arm that ended in a stump just above his wrist. “I manage.” Those eerie pale eyes flicked to me as the sounds of Kieran ceased behind us. I could only hope that was something that would put the odds of us walking out of this in our favor. “Remember my promise?”

Phillips held his ground. “I don’t care what kind of ungodly creature you are, you take one more step, and it will be your last.”

Behind us, the slab splintered as the doors blew off their hinges, slamming into the sides of the barn. The horses reared, but tethered, they had no place to go. I twisted sideways, keeping my dagger pointed at the wolven as I looked, fully expecting to see Kieran tearing across the straw.

What I saw almost brought me to my knees.

I went to pull free of Phillips as I saw that Hawke carried something in his hand. It looked like a curved bow, but it was mounted to a handle of some sort, and a bolt was already nocked, somehow held in place. Whatever. It would work. “Kill him!” I shouted, slipping free of Phillips. “He was the one—”

A hulking shape appeared behind him, so huge it nearly reached Hawke’s chest. Kieran prowled toward him. My heartbeat stuttered. “Hawke, behind you!” I screamed.

Phillips caught me around the waist, dragging me back as Hawke lifted the strange bow. Kieran was almost on him, and I didn’t see any bloodstone on the bow. It wouldn’t kill him.

Hawke’s gaze met mine. “It’s okay.”

Without any warning, Phillips was torn away from me. I fell forward, landing on my knees. My braid slipped over my shoulder as I looked behind me, half expecting to see the wolven with Phillips in his grasp.

The wolven from the Queen’s Garden hadn’t moved, but Phillips…

Phillips was leaning against the pole, the sword lying on the straw. Wait. He was leaning because his feet weren’t even touching the ground, and something dark dripped onto the straw. I looked up.

I couldn’t even scream as my stomach roiled. Hawke had fired the bow. I hadn’t even seen him do it, but he had. The bolt had gone through Phillips’ mouth and through the pole, pinning him there.

Shuddering, I heard Luddie shouting. I dragged my gaze from Phillips as I turned back to Hawke.

In wolven form, Kieran stalked right past him, his large head low to the straw as he sniffed the air. Luddie charged him, but he lost his footing, falling forward.

I took a breath, but pressure squeezed it right back out of me.

Luddie hadn’t tripped.

The black bolt had caught him in the back. Stepping out from behind one of the horses was the guard who’d greeted us at the door the day before. Delano. He had those pale eyes, too. Eyes that I now knew belonged to the wolven. He lowered the bow.

Bryant bolted.

Spinning around, he made a run for it, but he didn’t make it far. Kieran crouched and then launched into the air. As sleek and as fast as any arrow—and just as accurate. He landed on Bryant’s back, taking him to the straw. The guard didn’t even have a chance to scream. The wolven bared his teeth and lunged—

I cranked my head away at the wet crunch that echoed through the barn.

Then there was silence.

I saw the man who’d killed Rylan stride forward, his long-legged pace loose and relaxed. He smirked down at me. “I’m so glad I’m here to witness this moment.”

Slowly, I looked at Hawke. He stood where he’d stopped, the wind lifting and tossing those dark strands of hair back from his striking face. He appeared as he had when he left the room in the middle of the night, like he had hours before that when he’d kissed me, touched me, and held me in his arms.

But he stood there with a bloodied wolven standing next to him.

He stared at me, and my gift came alive. The invisible cord reached out, forming a connection, and I felt…I felt nothing from him. No pain. No sadness. Nothing.

I drew back, my chest rising and falling. Something had to be wrong with my gift. Only the Ascended lacked emotions. Not mortals. Not Hawke. But it was like the connection had hit a brick wall as thick as the Rise.

As formidable as the wall I built around myself when I tried to keep my gift locked inside. Was he…was he blocking me? Was that even possible?

Chapter 35

On my knees, I stared up at Hawke, hearing his words and seeing what was happening, but it was like my brain couldn’t process any of it.

Or my brain was processing it and my heart…my heart was denying it.

We need her.

Alive.

We.

Beside him, the wolven shook itself, a lot like a dog after coming in from the rain. And then it rose on its hind legs and shifted, fur curling inward to reveal skin that was thickening. Legs straightened, and fingers returned to their normal sizes. The jaw snapped back into place. Shirt lost somewhere, Kieran stood in torn breeches, the wound in his stomach from Phillips’ sword nothing more than a pink mark.

I sat back.

Kieran twisted his neck from left to right, cracking it. “This isn’t the only mess that needs to be cleaned up.”

A muscle flexed in Hawke’s jaw as he looked at me. “You and I need to talk.”

It caused me to flinch again. “Where…where are the other two guards?”

I knew without a doubt that when he’d left the room, that was what he’d done. There was a buzzing in my ears as I became aware of others gathering behind him in the yard, their bodies still in the filtered morning sun.

He took a step toward me. “Let’s—”

Hawke stopped. When he spoke, his voice had softened just a fraction. “You know what’s going on here.”

The next breath I took scorched my throat and lungs because I realized that I did. Oh, gods, I did know what was going on here. The buzzing increased as I saw Elijah standing outside, arms folded across his barrel chest. I saw Magda, one hand protectively cradling her baby bump as she stared into the barn, her face pinched with…with sympathy and pity.

You deserve so much more than what awaits you.

That’s what he’d said to me last night. And me, stupid, naive me, thought he’d meant my Ascension. No. He’d meant this.

Magda turned, brushing past Elijah as she walked back to the keep.

I hadn’t.

I hadn’t believed Phillips at all because I believed Hawke. I trusted him—trusted him with my life, and with…

There was a sudden pain in my chest that felt as if someone had shoved a dagger through me. I looked down because it felt too real, but there was no blade, no bloody wound that equaled the agony radiating through me. When I looked up, a muscle flexed in Hawke’s jaw.

I turned back to Hawke, feeling as if the ground were splitting and shifting beneath me.

Kieran smiled.

I ignored them. “You’re working against the Ascended.”

Hawke nodded.

Another fissure formed in my chest. “You…you knew this…this thing that killed Rylan?”

Hawke said nothing.

Hawke gave a casual shrug. “There are many things that you thought to be true that are not. However, while the wolven aren’t extinct, there aren’t many left.”

My head snapped in Jericho’s direction. “Yes, I clearly remember how that turned out for you.”

His upper lip curled as a snarl of warning sent a wave of goosebumps through me.

I sucked in a shuddering breath as my heart seemed to split open. “Well, you succeeded at that, didn’t you?”

That muscle in his jaw flexed again. “What you’re thinking…you could not be further from the truth.”

Kieran’s brows lifted. “Sent—”

Hawke quieted him with a look, and Kieran rolled his eyes.

I knew what he was going to say. “You were sent by the Dark One.”

I shuddered. “How? Why?”

The backs of my eyes burned, along with my throat and chest. “Did you even work in the capital?” Then something hit me as my gaze darted to Kieran. “The night at the…” I couldn’t bring myself to say “the Red Pearl.”

That blow nearly killed me. It was like my chest had shattered. I started to turn away, but I saw Jericho, who’d created a space for Hawke to gain more personal, intimate access to me.

It clicked into place with a tremor that almost caused me to drop my dagger. “You…you were planning this for a while.”

The buzzing was almost too much. “Did a certain woman there help him with his drink? The same one that sent me upstairs?”

Hawke didn’t answer. Delano, on the other hand, said, “I feel like I’m missing vital pieces here.”

I was shaking. I could feel it. Just like I could feel the walls of the barn closing in on me. I was so incredibly naive. “Vikter?”

Hawke shook his head.

The hollows of his cheeks became sharper. “What I know is that you’re upset. I don’t blame you, but I’ve also seen what happens when you get really angry,” he said, taking a step toward me, lifting his hands. “There is a lot I need to tell—”

The pain erupted out of me like it had the night of the Rite when I turned on Lord Mazeen. I had no control over myself. I moved out of instinct, cocking back my arm and throwing the dagger.

This time, I aimed for his chest.

Hawke let out a curse as he stepped to the side, snatching the dagger out of the air. Someone behind him let out a low whistle as Hawke whirled on me, the look of disbelief on his face almost comical. But in the back of my mind, I’d known he would catch it. All I’d needed was a distraction so I could dip down and pick up Phillips’ fallen sword. I swung out, aiming for the bastard who’d killed Rylan. Jericho jumped back, but he wasn’t entirely fast enough. I cut him again, across the stomach this time.

I spun just as someone crashed into me from one side and then the other. My arm was twisted around. Something hot sliced across my stomach as I reared back, using my attacker’s weight against them. They fell, arms still around me. I snapped my head, cracking my skull into their face. There was a yelp, and the hold loosened enough for me to tear free. I grabbed the sword from the straw and thrust it out blindly. I only saw a flicker of shock in the brown eyes of a male not too much older than me as he looked down. I yanked the sword free and spun, coming face to face with Hawke.

I hesitated.

Like a complete idiot, I hesitated, even though I knew he was working for the Dark One. He was a Descenter. Because of him, so very many innocent people were dead. Hannes. Rylan. Loren. Dafina. Malessa—gods, had he killed her?

Vikter.

A scream of fury tore out of me as I jabbed my elbow out and up, snapping Hawke’s head back. “Dammit,” he said, coughing—no, laughing. He was laughing. “Didn’t change what I just said.”

I spun and started for the doors but skidded to a stop as Elijah appeared in front of me, having moved in a blink of an eye. He shook his head no, tsking softly under his breath.

Turning, I saw Kieran, who looked bored, and I whirled, seeing an opening between the poles. I took off—

Arms caught me around the waist, and I’d recognize the scent anywhere. Pine. Dark spice. Hawke. And the hard, earthen floor raced up toward my face. This was going to hurt. Bad.

The impact never came.

As agile as a cat, Hawke twisted so he took the brunt of the fall, but the landing still stunned me. For a moment, I couldn’t move.

Shrieking, I slammed the heel of my booted foot into his shin. His gasp of pain brought a savage smile to my face as I rolled, twisting until my stomach screamed in protest, but I was able to turn in his loosened hold. I straddled him—

Hawke grinned up at me, the dimple in his right cheek appearing. “I’m liking where this is headed.”

I punched him in the face, right in the godsdamn dimple. Pain lanced across my knuckles, but I drew my arm back.

Hawke caught my wrist and yanked me down until my body was almost flush with his. “You hit like you’re angry with me.”

I shifted, jamming my knee down between his legs and aiming for a very sensitive area. He anticipated the move, and my knee hit him in the thigh.

For a moment, I couldn’t believe he’d actually said that, but he had. He totally had. “I would rather cut it from your body.”

The sound that came from inside me would’ve scared me if it had come from anyone else. I jumped up, breaking his hold. I went to bring my foot down on his throat, but Hawke caught it and pulled. I went down, landing on my side. Pain flared, but I ignored it as I slammed my fist into his side.

I tried to lift my hips, and when that didn’t work, I pushed my upper body up. It took everything in me, and he simply pinned my wrists to the straw.

Hawke caught my hand, jerking it back to the ground as his bloodied lips peeled back. “Stop it!”

I stopped.

I went completely still as I stared up at him, the shock robbing me of my ability to speak for several moments. I saw him—saw him for what he really was.

He wasn’t just any Descenter following the Dark One.

Because, how could he?

He had to hide the sharp, sharp teeth.

Two of them.

Fangs.

I remembered the feel of them against my lips, my neck—recalling how oddly sharp they’d felt.

Gods.

Now I understood how he could move so fast, why he seemed to have better hearing and eyesight than anyone I’d ever met, and why he sometimes sounded as if he’d lived decades longer than I had. It was why he was quick to break a kiss whenever I came close to feeling his canines.

I’d been so blind.

He wasn’t mortal.

He wasn’t a wolven.

Hawke was an Atlantian.

I shuddered as something deep inside me withered. “You’re a monster.”

Hawke’s eyes flared an intense gold, and they weren’t normal. They’d never been natural. “You finally see me for what I am.”

I did.

He was a thing of nightmares hidden in the guise of a dream, and I had fallen for it. I fell so hard.

The fight went out of me.

Him being a Descenter was bad enough, but an Atlantian? His people created the creatures who’d taken my mother and father from me, who’d almost killed me.

Hawke seemed to sense it because he moved swiftly, hauling me to my feet. “Delano,” he called. “Take her.”

I was handed over like a bag of potatoes, and Delano kept my arms clamped to my sides.

Hawke’s chest rose sharply. “Somewhere where she can’t escape and can’t hurt herself.” He paused. “Or hurt anyone else, which is more likely than the former.”

That.

As if I were the monster, the one who supported the Dark One and could create Craven. These people were beyond help.

A round of agreement sounded, and someone else said, “Send her back to their counterfeit Queen and King. Just her head so they know what is coming for them.”

My legs weakened.

Several voices answered, “We will rise!”

The moment I saw the dank and gloomy cells under the keep, and the twisted, white mass of bones that covered the entire length of the ceiling, the fight in me came back. There was no way I would just allow myself to be placed somewhere it appeared people never left. Not even when they died.

Delano hadn’t been prepared.

I broke his hold and made it to the end of the hall only to realize the sole exit was the entrance. I squared off with him but was cornered, and with backup in the form of another who had eyes that were almost as gold as Hawke’s, I was dragged into the cell that had a thin mattress on the floor and then shackled, the cold iron snapping over my wrists.

And then I was alone.

I turned around, seeing no way out. The gaps in the bars were too narrow, and when I pulled on the chains, the hook they were connected to didn’t budge.

Panic bubbled up as I took a step back. How had this happened? How did I go from anticipating a future that would be all mine, where I controlled what I did and what happened to me, to this? To being chained in a cell, surrounded by people who wanted to chop me into pieces?

I knew the answer.

Hawke.

The slice of agony cutting through my chest overshadowed the pain in my stomach. My throat and eyes burned. Hawke…he wasn’t even mortal. He was an Atlantian, His people had created the Cravens that had become an unstoppable plague upon this land, the very same creatures who’d murdered my parents and almost killed me. He supported the Dark One, who had killed the last Maiden and was after me. Hawke and the wolven were the embodiment of anything the gods had turned against and the humans had rose up against. They were why the Ascended had been Blessed by the gods.

How had I not seen him for what he was? Could I be that foolish? Or was he simply that clever?

Or a mixture of both?

Because Hawke had been good. He’d said and done all the right things, and I’d been so desperate to make a real connection with someone, to experience life and feel alive. So desperate that anything that may have served as a warning wasn’t even acknowledged. He’d come to Masadonia with one order: gain access to me. He had done that and more. Gained my friendship, my trust, my…

A pulsing, pounding anger and sorrow swept through me. I wanted to scream, but the sound couldn’t make it past the knot of emotion in my throat.

Why did he have to…do what he had? Everything he’d said and done was nothing more than clever artifice. When he told me that I was brave and strong. When he said I was beautiful. His seemingly single-minded focus hadn’t been based on duty but on orders. And I’d believed it. I’d fallen for it.

Was anything true?

His pain was.

That much I knew, but the source of it? I could no longer be sure.

Lifting trembling hands to my face, I tucked back the hair that had escaped my braid. Why did he have to go so far, though? Why did he have to get under my skin and into my heart? I didn’t just trust him. I’d given myself to him. All of me.

And it had been a lie.

He’d known from the beginning who I was, from the very first night in the Red Pearl, and I’d unknowingly exposed so much about myself to him.

Moving to the corner of the cell, I sat on the mattress and slowly leaned against the wall, breathing out a slow, measured breath as a fiery ache sliced over my stomach. I glanced down at my right hand. The knuckles were bruised and swollen from the punch I’d delivered. My smile was quick to fade. I doubted Hawke showed any sign of injury. He was an Atlantian.

My stomach tumbled.

A part of me couldn’t believe it. He seemed so…mortal, but why should that surprise me? Atlantians could pass for mortals, just as the wolven could. I’d kissed an Atlantian.

I’d slept with an Atlantian.

I squeezed my eyes shut as bile climbed up my throat. I couldn’t think about that. It made screams echo in my mind. I needed to focus.

What was I going to do?

This whole town was full of Descenters and Atlantians who wanted me dead, and I couldn’t be more grateful that Tawny had remained behind. Obviously, I was being held until the Dark One either arrived or sent orders. The Dark One had killed the last Maiden, and here I was, captured and ready for him. I needed to get out of here, but there was no way out.

I looked up, shuddering. The ropey, twining bones reminded me of the roots in the Blood Forest. They climbed and overlapped one another, ribcages and femurs, spines and skulls. Anyone held here had this to look at, most likely a reminder of what had happened to the prisoners housed here. Who would create such a thing? Who kept their grasp on sanity staring at that?

I didn’t know how much time had passed before the door opened, and footsteps approached. It had to be hours based on how empty my stomach felt. I tensed, only relaxing minutely when I saw that it was Delano.

He stepped up to the bars, holding out a small pouch. “Hungry?”

Yes. I was, but I didn’t answer.

Tossing the sack in, it landed by my feet with a soft thunk. I stared at it.

I looked over at him.

My lip curled. “Why wait? The Dark One is going to kill me eventually.”

Those pale eyes met mine. “If the Prince wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. You should eat.”

The Prince. Just because the Descenters believed Casteel was the rightful heir, didn’t make it true.

My gaze fell to the sack. I was hungry, and I needed my strength…and possibly a Healer because while the wound had stopped bleeding, it would probably get infected down here.

I moved gingerly, picking up the sack. “Are you going to stand there and watch me eat?”

I had the strangest urge to laugh, but I opened the pouch and ate the cheese and bread. The food settled in my empty stomach like clumps of stone.

Delano didn’t speak after that. Neither did I, and I returned to leaning against the wall. Some time later, the door opened once more, and I looked out even though I didn’t want to. I saw the tall, too-recognizable form garbed in black, looking so much like the…like the guard who’d teased me over Miss Willa Colyns’ diary. My heart squeezed as if it were captured in a fist.

Hawke stopped in front of the barred door, his striking face both familiar and that of a stranger.

Chapter 36

As if he didn’t already know.

His head tilted, and a heartbeat passed. “More than you could ever guess.”

I had no idea what he meant by that, and I didn’t care. Not at all. “Are you here to kill me?”

Lifting my hands, I rattled the chains. “You have me chained.”

Fury blasted me at his blasé response. “Everyone outside wants me dead.”

He snorted. “Ironic coming from someone who has been surrounded by the Ascended her whole life.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as my lips parted. No. I shuddered. No way.

I took a step back, the humiliation of him learning the truth burning through me worse than any lashing the Duke had delivered.

One side of his lips curled up. “I can be very compelling.”

I looked away and, suddenly, I saw the Duke in my mind’s eye, his arms stretched out, and the cane shoved through his heart. A tremor rocked me as my gaze swung back to Hawke. “You killed him.”

Hawke smiled then, and it was a smile I’d never seen from him before. It wasn’t closed-lipped this time. Even from where I stood, I could see the hint of fang. Another tremor rippled through me.

I stared.

I didn’t… I didn’t know what to think of that. He’d killed the Duke, and he would’ve killed the Lord because—

Cutting off those thoughts, I shook my head. I couldn’t understand why he would’ve felt driven to do what he’d done, considering where we stood now. I didn’t need to understand. At least that’s what I told myself. It didn’t matter. Neither did the deep, hidden part of me that was thrilled to know that there was a possibility that what he’d done to me had played a part in the Duke’s ultimate demise.

My hands curled into fists as I resisted the urge to shriek, but then he unlocked the door. Every muscle in me tensed.

I glared at him as he entered the cell. I wished there was some sort of weapon, though I knew even if I was armed to the teeth, there would be very little I could do. He was faster, stronger, and he could take me with a flick of his wrist.

But I would go down fighting.

My blood. He scented my blood. Mouth dry, I stepped back. “I’m fine.”

Within the blink of an eye, he was directly in front of me. Gasping, I stumbled against the wall. How had he hidden such speed before? He reached for the hem of my tunic, and panic exploded.

He arched a brow. “You had no problem with me touching you last night.”

Heat swamped my skin as my lips pulled back in a snarl. “That was a mistake.”

Gods, that was the truth. I wanted nothing more than to forget how what we’d done had felt beautiful and life-altering, how it had felt so incredibly right.

I was a fool.

His jaw hardened, and a long moment passed. “Be that as it may, you are still wounded, Princess, and you will allow me to look at it.”

Breathing heavily, I lifted my chin. “And if I don’t?”

His laugh reminded me of before, but now it was tinged with cold amusement. “As if you could stop me,” he stated softly, and the truth of what he said was soul-shattering. “You can either allow me to help you or…”

My fingers tingled from how tightly I’d balled my hands into fists. “Or, you will force me?”

Hawke said nothing.

A burn started in my chest as I stared back at him, hating him, hating myself for feeling what I’d promised I would never feel again.

Helpless.

I could refuse and make this very difficult, but what good would that do in the end? He would overpower me, and all I would accomplish is further injuring myself. I was furious enough to do just that, but I wasn’t stupid.

Looking away, I forced a long breath out of my lungs. “Why do you even care if I bleed to death?”

I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want it to, but the knowledge that he wanted to tend to my wound only because he planned to use me stung profoundly.

I gave him no answer because what he’d said wasn’t truly a question. There was no choice. He seemed to be satisfied that I understood because he reached for me, and this time, my body went rigid, but I didn’t move.

Hawke’s hands curled around the hem of the dark tunic. He lifted the cloth, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek when the backs of his knuckles brushed over my lower stomach and hip. Had he done that on purpose? I stared at his glossy dark waves as he continued inching the shirt up. He stopped just below my breasts, exposing what was likely to leave yet another scar.

If I lived that long.

Because after I served whatever purpose they had in mind, I doubted I’d be released. It made no sense for that to occur.

Hawke stared at me, at the bloody, seeping cut, for too long. My pulse picked up, and I could too easily recall how his teeth—no, his fangs—had felt against my skin. I shivered. Was it revulsion? Fear? A leftover, unwanted sensation that the memory triggered? Maybe all of them. I had no idea.

He ignored that comment as he stared down at me like I was nothing more than a silly girl. “Why didn’t you say anything? This could become infected.”

It took everything in me to keep my arms at my sides. “Well, there really wasn’t a lot of time, considering you were busy betraying me.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s no excuse.”

I barked out a harsh laugh and wondered if I was already developing a fever. “Of course, not. Silly me for not realizing that the person who had a hand in murdering the people I care about, who betrayed me and made plans with the one who helped to slaughter my family to use me for some nefarious means would care that I was wounded.”

Those amber eyes turned luminous, filling with a golden fire. His features turned stark, and goosebumps pimpled my skin. Ice hit my veins at the slow reminder that he was not as I’d always assumed. Mortal. I refused to shrink back, even though I wanted to run.

I leaned against the wall, quiet as Hawke waited for Delano to return with the items he’d requested. The fact that he kept his back to me for so long said everything I needed to know about whether or not he viewed me as a threat.

Delano appeared with a basket, and it made me wonder exactly why such things were kept handy. My gaze flickered over the cell. Were they in the business of keeping their prisoners healthy? Better yet, was this where all the Ascended and the Lord from the keep had ended up?

When Hawke faced me, we were once again alone. “Why don’t you lie—?” He glanced around the cell, his gaze centering on the threadbare mattress as if he just realized there was no bed. His shoulders tensed. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Impatience brimmed just under the surface as he stalked toward me, basket in hand. “Would you rather I get on my knees?”

A terrible razor-sharp smile pulled at my lips as I started to agree—

Air punched out of my lungs in shock, but anger quickly crashed into it. I peeled away from the wall, hurrying to the cot. I sat down slower than I stood as I shot him an icy stare. “You’re repulsive.”

Chuckling under his breath, he walked over to the cot and knelt. “If you say so.”

A half-grin appeared as he placed the basket on the floor. A quick glance showed there were bandages and tiny jars. Nothing that could be fashioned into an ineffective weapon. He gestured for me to recline, and after muttering a curse, I did as he requested.

I gritted my teeth.

A small smile appeared as he shifted onto his knees, pulling a clear bottle from the basket. He unscrewed the lid, and a bitter, sharp scent hit the musty air.

The wound wasn’t that bad, but it did crawl up my side.

I didn’t answer, and when I didn’t let go of his wrists, I expected him to simply break my hold, but instead, he sighed. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to undress you so I can take advantage of you. I’m not here to seduce you, Princess.”

What should have come as a relief had the opposite effect. The burn in my chest crept into my throat, forming a knot I could barely breathe around as I stared up at him. Of course, he wasn’t trying to seduce me. Not since he’d already succeeded in doing so, getting me to not only let my guard down but to also trust him. I’d opened up to him, shared with him my dreams of becoming something else, my dread of returning to the capital and—oh, gods—my gift. I’d shared so much more than just words. I’d let him into my room, into my bed, and then into me. He’d whispered that my touch had consumed him, and he’d worshipped my body, my scars. He’d told me that they made me even more beautiful, and I…

I’d liked him.

I’d done more than just like him.

Gods, I’d fallen for him even though it was forbidden. I’d fallen for him enough that I knew deep down it had played a role in my decision to tell the Queen that I would refuse the Ascension. A tremor coursed through my fingers as the burn in my throat filled the backs of my eyes.

Hawke went as still as the statues that had adorned the foyer in Castle Teerman. I jerked my hands away. A muscle ticked in his jaw as his lips remained pressed firmly together.

A ragged, brittle sob climbed up my throat, and it took everything in me to keep it inside. That did very little to ease the shame that sat in the center of my chest like a hot coal. I will not cry. I will not cry.

Unable to look at him any longer, I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. I immediately saw how he’d gazed at me, lips swollen and glossy. Anger and shame, and a deep hurt I’d never experienced before pricked at my eyelids.

I felt his hands move then, carefully lifting the tunic, stopping short of exposing my entire chest. This time, his knuckles didn’t brush my skin, and like before, even in the dim light, I knew the paler, almost shiny patches of scarred flesh were visible, especially to the eyes of an Atlantian. Last night, I’d disrobed for him and had let him look his fill, believing what he’d said. He’d been so convincing, and my stomach churned at the thought of what he must’ve really thought.

How he must’ve really felt when he touched the scars, kissed them.

He spoke into the silence then, startling me. “This may burn.”

I thought his voice sounded gruffer than normal, but then I felt him lean closer, and the first splash of lukewarm liquid hit the wound. Air hissed through my teeth as scorching pain lanced the right side of my stomach and up my ribs. The bitter astringent scent rose as the liquid bubbled in the cut, and I welcomed the sting, focusing on it instead of the throbbing ache in my chest.

Tipping my head back, I kept my eyes closed as more liquid splashed along the injury, creating more foam and sending another wave of pain shuddering across my midsection.

Great.

Maybe it would burn through my stupid heart.

Silence fell, but it didn’t last long. “The Craven were our fault,” he said, startling me. “Their creation, that is. All of this. The monsters in the mist. The war. What has become of this land. You. Us. It all started with an incredibly desperate, foolish act of love, many, many centuries before the War of Two Kings.”

My heart lodged somewhere in my throat, next to the messy knot of emotion.

His gaze lifted and met mine. “Yes. Isbeth was the first to Ascend. Not your false King and Queen. She became the first vampry.”

Lies. Utter, unbelievable lies.

I started to sit up but remembered the wound and the fizzing liquid. “Ascension is a Blessing from the gods.”

He smirked. “It is far from that. More like an act that can either create near immortality or make nightmares come true. We Atlantians are born nearly mortal. And remain so until the Culling.”

I wanted to point out everything was important, especially how Atlantians changed in other ways, but curiosity got the best of me. “How…how old are you?”

Two centuries?

Gods…

That couldn’t be true. The Ascended chose not to go in the sun.

He dabbed the cloth along the wound, careful not to exert too much pressure as he soaked up the settled liquid. “Atlantians do not feed on mortals—”

His gaze lifted to mine. “Mortal blood offers us nothing of any real value because we were never mortal, Princess. Wolven don’t need to feed, but we do. We feed when we need to, on other Atlantians.”

I shook my head. How could he honestly expect me to believe that? Their treatment of mortals, how they virtually used them as cattle, is what drove the gods to abandon them, and for the mortal populace to revolt.

His jaw hardened, eyes turning glacial. “Because it is not the Ascended who are giving the gift of life. They are using an Atlantian to do so.”

I coughed out a harsh laugh. “The Ascended would never work with an Atlantian.”

I watched as he dipped his hand into the jar and then set it aside. A thick, milky-white substance covered his long fingers. I recognized the smell. It was the same salve that had been used on me before. “Yarrow?”

He nodded. “Among other things that will help speed up your healing.”

And then me.

My knuckles began to ache as an unwanted shiver of awareness skated over my skin. He betrayed you, I reminded myself. He played you. I hated him. I did. The knot in my throat expanded even as a heady flush swept through me.

Hawke seemed to be entirely focused on what he was doing, and that was a blessing. I didn’t want him to see how his touch affected me. “The vamprys revolted,” he said after scooping out more of the ointment. “That is what triggered the War of Two Kings. It was not mortals fighting back against cruel, inhuman Atlantians, but vamprys fighting back.”

My gaze flew from his hand to his face. Some of what he said felt familiar, but it was a twisted, darker version of what I knew to be true.

I couldn’t even speak for what felt like an entire minute. “None of that sounds believable.”

Placing a clean bandage on the wound, he smoothed down the edges until it adhered to my skin. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth, as did the man who threw the Craven hand.”

I sat up, tugging down my shirt. “Are you claiming that those given in service to the gods are now Craven?”

I opened my mouth.

Rising in one fluid movement, he quickly towered over me. “You don’t want to accept what I’m saying, even as logical as it sounds because it means your brother is one of them, and the Queen who cared for you has slaughtered thousands—”

I didn’t stop to think about what I did next. I was just so furious and afraid because he was right, what he’d said had prompted questions. Like how none of the Ascended were seen during the day, or how no one but they entered the Temples. But, worse yet, it raised the question of why Hawke would make all of this up. What would be the point of concocting this elaborate lie when he had to know how hard it would be to convince me?

No, I didn’t think about any of that.

I just acted.

The chain skidded across the floor as I swung on him, my hand curled into a fist.

Hawke’s hand snapped up, catching mine before it connected with his jaw. Gods, he moved impossibly fast, twisting my arm as he spun me around. He yanked me back against the hard wall of his chest, trapping my arm between us as he grabbed my other hand. A shriek of frustration ripped from my throat as I went to lift my leg—

I didn’t listen.

He grunted when the heel of my foot connected with the front of his leg. Jerking my leg up, I kicked back.

Suddenly, I found myself pressed against the wall with Hawke at my back. I struggled, but it was no use. There wasn’t an inch of space between him or the cold, damp wall.

Clamping my mouth shut, I refused to tell him that he’d already hurt me. Admitting that meant there was something to hurt, to be exploited, and he already had enough to use against me.

I tensed. “Then why am I chained?”

Thrusting my head back was my answer. He anticipated it, though, and I didn’t manage to hit him. He forced my cheek to the wall. I wriggled, trying to break his hold.

Hawke chuckled deeply, and I felt the sound all along my back. “We’re not consumed by hunger, so we’re not as easily distracted as a Craven.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I know that what I’ve told you is a lot, but it is all the truth. Every part, Poppy.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant, but then I felt him against my lower back, and my breath caught as a wave of awareness stole through me. “You’re sick.”

He stilled, and the next breath he took pushed his chest against my back. “I’ve killed. So have Delano and Kieran. I and the one you call the Dark One had a hand in Hannes’ and Rylan’s deaths, but not that poor girl. It was one of the Ascended, most likely caught in bloodlust. And I am willing to bet it was either the Duke or the Lord.”

The Lord.

Who’d smelled of the flower that Malessa had carried in earlier that day.

Gods, I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe I had not slept with the man who’d played a role in Vikter’s death. “Then who did?”

I shivered, believing what he said about his involvement and unsure why. But whether the Dark One actively led the Descenters or not, he was still the cause of Vikter’s death. They’d picked up his cause and acted upon it.

My heart turned over slowly. “Don’t you mean I belong to the Dark One?”

I never should’ve said anything to him. “At least that cage was more comfortable than this one.”

No.

I couldn’t believe this.

Without any warning, his hands slipped off mine, and he pulled away. Trembling, I didn’t move. Not for several long moments. When I turned around, he was already outside the cell.

If what he said was true…

No. It couldn’t be. Gods, it could not be.

Suddenly unbearably cold, I folded my arms around myself, crossing the chains.

Hawke stared at me through the bars. “Neither the prince nor I want to see you harmed. As I’ve said, we need you alive.”

I thought that the Dark One was the only heir to the Atlantian throne. If what Hawke said was true, it could only mean...“The Dark One has a brother?”

He nodded. “You are the Queen’s favorite. You’re important to her and to the kingdom. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with your gift. Perhaps it doesn’t. But we will release you back to them if they release Prince Malik.”

All of what he’d just said slowly seeped into my brain. “You plan to use me as ransom.”

Disbelief thundered through me, quickly followed by that pulsing pain that came from my chest. “You just spent all this time telling me that the Queen, the Ascended, and my brother, are all evil vamprys who feed on mortals, and you’re just going to send me back to them once you free the Dark One’s brother?”

Hawke said nothing.

A broken, too-wet-sounding laugh left me. If what he said was true, it confirmed what was already becoming evident.

He didn’t care for my safety or well-being beyond making sure I was breathing when the time came to make the exchange.

I lifted my hand to my chest to ease the throb as another laugh crept up on me.

Hawke’s jaw flexed. “A more comfortable sleeping arrangement will be made.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but he surely wasn’t getting a thank you from me.

His chin lifted. “You can choose not to believe anything I’ve said, but you should so that what I’m about to say doesn’t come as such a shock to you. I will be leaving shortly to meet up with King Da’Neer of Atlantia to tell him that I have you.”

My head jerked upright.

Shocked, I couldn’t move as he turned to leave, but he stopped.

And Hawke didn’t look back as he said, “Not everything was a lie, Poppy. Not everything.”

Chapter 37

Not everything was a lie.

Which part?

The story about Hawke’s brother? The rest of his family? Farming his lands, and the caverns he used to explore as a child? That he’d been in love before and had lost? Or all the things he’d said about me?

Whatever he said that was true didn’t matter. It shouldn’t as I paced as far as the chains would allow, which was not very far at all.

After he’d left, I’d sat on the mattress and tried to sort truth from fiction, which had felt impossible. Somehow, even more improbable, I had drifted off to sleep. My mind hadn’t shut down, but my body had simply given out on me. I’d slept until the nightmares drove me awake, my screams echoing off the stone walls.

It had been so long since the memory of the night of my parents’ deaths had found me in sleep. That it would find me here was not at all surprising.

I brushed several loose strands of hair back from my face as I turned, careful to not tangle myself in the chains.

Maybe…maybe the Ascended were vamprys, created accidentally by the Atlantians. I could believe that. It seemed too much of an elaborate lie to not be real. And I could believe that Lord Mazeen had been the cause of Malessa’s death. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t capable of such cruelty.

And gods, I believed what Hawke had said about how he’d gotten the brand. Maybe not the part where the Queen had been the one to deliver it, nor what he’d been held for, but the rawness in his voice couldn’t be forced. He’d been held against his will, and he’d been used in ways even I couldn’t comprehend.

Believing that didn’t mean everything else he claimed was true. That the Ascended were feeding off mortals, sequestering them in temples and stealing into homes in the middle of the night to create Craven out of the ones they didn’t completely drain dry. How in the world would they have been able to keep that a secret? People would find out.

People could’ve found out already.

That is if that knowledge is what drove the Descenters to support the fallen kingdom of Atlantia.

I shook my head.

But that would mean that every Ascended was aware of what was happening. That not a single one had refused the Ascension once learning what it would cost. Not even my brother.

Our mother, though, she had refused the Ascension.

My heart tripped over itself.

She’d refused because she’d loved my father. Not because she’d learned the truth and had passed on it. She’d refused because of love, and the Dark One had still killed her.

Unless…unless the Duchess had lied about that. But why? Why would she have lied? The Dark One, Prince Casteel, controlled the Craven.

Except did the Craven appear as if they were controlled by anything but hunger? Never once had I seen them stop in the middle of an attack or display any true level of cognitive thinking.

But if that wasn’t true, if the Dark One couldn’t control them, then did that mean the Ascended were using them to control the populace? To stop them from asking too many questions, and make them willing to hand over their children so the gods wouldn’t become displeased, exposing their cities to a Craven attack?

It almost felt like I’d be struck down for even questioning that. Because Hawke was right. It was a religion.

I started pacing again.

How did the Craven make it to a town that hadn’t seen an attack in decades the moment I arrived with my family unless the Dark One had sent them?

It didn’t make any sense, and all of this back and forth was starting to make my head hurt. Even if some of what Hawke had claimed was true, it didn’t change that they were still responsible for so much death themselves.

It couldn’t all be true, because there was no way my soft, gentle brother would’ve Ascended if he knew what was being done. There was no way.

Hawke was…he was just messing with my head, making me weak-minded and uncertain. I wouldn’t put it past him.

I stopped, staring down at my hands. He was going to return me to the very people he claimed abused him. How horrible was that?

Dampness pressed at the backs of my eyes, but I drew in a deep breath. I would not cry. I wouldn’t shed a single tear for Hawke, for what may have been done to him, and for what he’d done to me. I wouldn’t allow it to break me. Not when he’d already shattered my heart.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and I lifted my head. Delano came into view, along with another man with rich brown skin. His eyes were the same golden brown as some of the others.

Atlantian.

I didn’t even want to think about the fact that he’d been down here while I slept.

Delano smiled. “That wasn’t even remotely convincing.”

Hope fizzled.

Delano’s smile faded. “You need to understand something, Maiden. I’m a wolven.”

A shiver shimmied over my skin.

My nostrils flared on the ragged breath I exhaled. I didn’t care what he wanted, did, or thought.

I smiled at him, and it wasn’t exactly a nice expression. It came because I was glad that they knew I was dangerous.

But I also wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t be able to run from them. I knew that. There was no point in me getting myself hurt just to make things difficult. Even I could recognize that.

I lifted my wrists, rattling the chains.

Delano eyed me as he fished out a key from his tunic pocket and unhooked the shackles. They slipped, clanging off the hard-packed ground.

Naill turned away first, his head cranking toward the entrance, and then Delano followed suit. And there I was, my eyes fastened to the sword attached to Delano’s waist, and my hands unbound.

Delano let out a low rumble of warning that made my skin crawl. “What the fuck are you doing down here, Jericho?”

My breath caught as I saw the tall form drift out of the shadows.

I tensed as Jericho looked over at me. “You’re wrong,” he said. “And you’re right.”

Footsteps came from the entrance, and I heard Delano curse again.

No, he wasn’t. There were six men with him, all staying close to the shadows.

Jericho stared at me through the bars. “Perhaps.”

Delano sent me a look that said I wasn’t helping.

Jericho sneered. “Don’t forget the hand.” He lifted his left arm. “There’s that.”

None of them moved to leave.

One advanced, an older man with brown eyes. “She’s the fucking Maiden, Delano. She was raised as an Ascended, by the damn Queen herself, practically. The Ascended took my son in the middle of the godsdamn night.”

I stumbled back a step when the man who spoke stepped out of the shadows. It was Mr. Tulis. So jarred by his appearance, I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.

He looked at me then, with hatred in his eyes. “You cannot tell me you didn’t know what they were doing. You cannot tell me that you had no idea what happened to our children!” he shouted. “What was happening to the people who went to bed and never woke up? You had to know what they were.”

I opened my mouth, and the only thing I could say was, “Is your son with you now?”

Rattled as my gift came alive, I was barely able to pay attention to what Delano said. “And you would betray the Prince, who aided your family in escape? Who made sure that your child could grow and thrive?”

Mr. Tulis didn’t take his eyes off me. “I would do anything to feel the blood of the Ascended flowing on my hands.”

I wanted to tell him that I planned to go to the Queen on their behalf, but I didn’t get the chance. Not that it would’ve made a difference. Not with that kind of loathing radiating out from him.

Everything happened so fast.

Rolf pushed Mr. Tulis back as Naill struck like a coiled viper, grabbing the larger man by the chest. Naill sank his teeth into his neck, tearing, ripping—

A man crashed into Naill, pulling him free from Rolf, who stumbled into the bars. Blood poured, and the man laughed. “You bit me.” He threw his arms out as his back bowed, cracked. “You actually bit me,” he said, the last of his words turning to gravel as his knees bent. He snarled, going down on all fours.

Naill kicked the man off, baring his fangs in a hiss that sounded so cat-like that I thought of the predator I’d seen in the cage all those years ago.

The cave cat that Hawke always reminded me of.

Naill flew at the man, taking him to the ground as Delano turned to me. “Kill any of them that get close to you.” He threw his sword at me, and I caught it in surprise as he turned back to those gathering at the cell door.

Delano shifted, splitting his shirt up his back as he fell forward, his lengthening hands smacking against the ground as white fur sprouted in a blinding flash over his mammoth form.

In a heartbeat, a massive wolven stood beside me just as others appeared in the hall.

The smirk faded from his face.

Rolf came into the enclosure, and Delano crashed into him. They rolled across the cell, a ball of brown and white fur. Delano gained the upper hand, snapping his teeth inches from Rolf’s.

Naill snatched up one of the men in a run. He turned, slamming the man into the bars with such force that it cracked the iron. That man went down, and he didn’t get back up.

The Atlantian turned, reaching for one of the others who’d slipped past into the cell. One quick glance at the eyes—neither ice-blue nor golden amber—told me that I was squaring off with a mortal. The one who’d spoken first.

He charged forward with a cry, and it was all too easy to step aside. I spun, bringing the hilt of the sword down on the back of his head, knocking him out. Maybe doing a little more damage. I didn’t want to acknowledge that his words had affected me so greatly that I hadn’t delivered a purposely fatal blow.

What came through next wasn’t mortal. It was a large, brindle-colored wolven. Lips peeled back, vibrating with its snarl as it bared huge teeth.

The wolven launched itself at me. I jumped back, swinging out. The edge of the sword nicked the side of the creature as he hit the wall and immediately jumped off. I spun in a panic, arcing out with the sword. It caught the massive beast in the stomach this time. Yanking on the sword, it wouldn’t budge as the wolven yipped and swiped out. I let go of the sword, but I wasn’t quick enough. Claws caught the front of my tunic, just below the neck. Cloth tore, and a sharp, stinging pain shot down my entire front.

Staggering back, I looked down to see half my shirt gaping open, and red dotting my exposed skin.

Naill rushed forward. “The sickle sword!” he yelled. “Get the—”

A man brought some kind of club down on the back of his head. Naill’s entire body spasmed as his eyes rolled back. He went down as I dove for the sickle sword.

There was a yelp as I rose. It was Delano. Blood matted his white fur, and I prayed it was Rolf’s.

Delano staggered to the side, and I knew then that it was not. It was Delano’s. One of his legs collapsed under him, and he went down as Rolf prowled toward him, shaking his large head.

I didn’t know why I did what I did next. I needed to focus on the others who were determined to murder me, but I shot forward, swinging the sickle sword down along the back of the wolven’s neck. The blade was so sharp that it sliced through sinew and bone like a knife through butter.

Rolf didn’t even yelp. There’d been no time for that.

And there had been no time to avoid the blow that landed in the middle of my back, knocking me to the ground. My back burned, but I held onto the sword, breathing through the fire that seemed to have ignited—

I screamed. Sharp daggers dug into my shoulder, roughly flipping me onto my back. Not daggers. Claws. I swung the sickle blade, and it sliced into the side of the wolven. Snarling, it scrambled off me, and I rolled, vision seeming to blur for a second as I pushed to my knee.

I never saw the boot coming.

Pain exploded along my ribs as the air punched out of my lungs. I fell to my side as fiery pain erupted along my left arm. I scuttled backward as I looked up.

Jericho prowled forward. “What did I promise?”

I swiped out with the sword. Jericho jerked back quickly, falling on his ass. He shouted, his body contorting and straightening.

His eye.

I saw Mr. Tulis, and the strangest thing happened when my eyes met his. The next breath I took seemed to be swept away in an explosion of pain that came from my stomach. My entire body spasmed, and I dropped the sword.

Confused, I looked down. Something was in my stomach. A dagger. A dagger’s blade. I lifted my head. “I…I was…relieved when I didn’t see you and your son at the Rite.”

Mr. Tulis’s eyes widened as I reached down, pulling the dagger free, tearing a scream from my throat. I stepped back, trying to catch my breath as the blood ran down my legs. I turned, hearing Jericho climbing to his feet. His right hand…it didn’t look human anymore, and when it snapped out, I couldn’t even move fast enough. His claws sliced through the cloth and flesh, and my foot slipped on the floor now slick with blood—my blood.

My left leg gave way, and I went down. I tried to throw my arms out to catch myself, but they wouldn’t respond to the orders my brain was demanding. I fell, barely feeling the impact.

Someone laughed.

Get up.

I tried. I still held the dagger. I could feel it against my palm.

There...were cheers. I heard a cheer from someone.

Get up.

Nothing moved.

I shuddered at the gathering metallic taste in the back of my throat. I knew what that meant. I knew what being unable to move my arms or to stay on my feet meant.

Jericho’s bleeding face appeared above me, his shaggy hair matted with blood. “You know which part I’m going to start with? Your hand.” He picked up my arm. “I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir.” The glint of a blade appeared. “I know exactly how I’ll make use of it, too. What do you all think?” he asked.

Laughter greeted him, and someone suggested other parts to keep. Parts that brought forth more laughter.

I was dying.

All I could do was hope that it was fast, that I wouldn’t stay conscious through what was about to come.

The blow never landed.

At first, I thought it was simply because I’d gone numb, but then I realized Jericho was no longer standing above me. There were sounds—shouts and growls. High-pitched yelps, and then I felt a warm puff of breath against the top of my head, over my cheek. I turned my head and saw pale blue eyes and fur as white as snow. The wolven nudged my cheek with its damp nose, and then it lifted its head and howled.

I blinked, and suddenly there was a shadow falling over me. Above me, Kieran loomed. “Shit,” he said. “Get the Prince. Get him now.”

Chapter 38

Gentle arms lifted me from the dirt floor. Kieran. His face blurred, and there was buzzing in my ears. Everything around me faded out until there was nothing, and I felt no pain. I stayed there until I heard him calling for me. Hawke.

Please.

I’d never heard him say the word please like that. My sluggish heart rate picked up as awareness returned, bringing with it burning, sweeping pain. I forced my eyes open.

Out of lack of willpower or stupidity, I did what I hadn’t since I discovered the truth about him. I reached out with my weakening senses and felt the hum of anguish from him. It ran deeper than before, no longer feeling like chips of ice against my skin but like daggers.

Like claws.

I took a breath, and it tasted of metal. “It hurts.”

Confusion rippled through me. I didn’t know how he could do any of that. There were too many wounds. I’d lost too much blood. I could feel it in the coldness creeping up my legs.

I was dying.

He then lifted his arm to his mouth, and I saw those sharp teeth I’d felt before, watched in disbelief as he bit into his wrist, tearing open his skin. I cried out, trying to lift my hand to cover the wound. He’d kidnapped me. He’d killed to get to me, had betrayed me, and he was the enemy. Because of that, I’d been made helpless once more. I was dying, I shouldn’t care that he was bleeding.

But I did.

Because I was an imbecile.

His brows knitted. “You’re not going to die,” he repeated, the lines of his mouth tense. “And I’m fine. I just need you to drink.”

Drink? My gaze dropped to his wrist. He couldn’t mean…

Casteel?

Kieran didn’t respond to that as I stared, caught in fascinated horror. Hawke lowered his torn wrist toward me—toward my mouth.

I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t. Because if I did, that meant…that meant that everything he’d said was true, and the Ascended were evil. Ian would be—

I turned away, inhaling sharply. I caught a strange scent. The smell…it smelled nothing like blood, nothing like the Craven. It reminded me of citrus in the snow, fresh and tart. How…how could blood smell like that?

Almost as if I had no control over my body, I lifted my gaze to his. His eyes…the honey hue churned, swirling with brighter, golden flecks. My lips parted. I couldn’t look away. What…what was he doing?

A drop of blood fell from his arm to my lips. It seeped between them, tart and yet sweet against my tongue. My mouth tingled. He pressed his wrist more fully against my lips, and his blood ran into my mouth, coursing down my throat, thick and warm. In a distant part of my brain, I thought that I should not allow this. That it was wrong. I would become a monster, but the taste…it was like nothing I’d ever tasted before, a complete awakening. I swallowed, drawing in more.

And so, I did.

I drank while his gaze remained fixed on me, seeming to miss nothing. I drank, and my skin began to hum. I drank, clasping his bloodied arm and holding him to me before even realizing what I was doing. The taste of his blood…it was pure sin, decadent and lush. With each swallow, the aches and pains lessened, and the rhythm of my heart slowed, becoming even. I drank until my eyes drifted shut. Until I became surrounded by a kaleidoscope of vivid, bright blues, the color reminding me of the Stroud Sea. This blue carried startling clarity as if it were a body of water untouched by man.

But this was no ocean. There was cool, hard rock under my feet, and shadows pressing against my skin. Soft laughter drew my gaze from the pool of water to the dark-haired—

It couldn’t be enough. Not yet. Latched to his wrist, I drank greedily. I fed as if I were starving, and that was how I felt. That this sustenance was what I’d been missing my entire life.

I started to follow because I wanted more, but my muscles were liquid, and my bones soft. I sank into his embrace and felt like I was floating, a little lost in the way my skin continued to buzz, and heat poured into my chest. I had no idea how much time had passed. Could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been hours before Hawke called out to me.

My eyes fluttered open to find him staring down at me. His features were a little out of focus, fuzzy around the edges. He was leaning back against a wall, head tipped against it, and he looked utterly relaxed in that moment, as if he were the one to have tasted the magic and not I.

I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Was my body burning as if it were on fire? Did it sting and pulse? No. “I’m not cold. My chest…it’s not cold.”

He didn’t understand. “I feel…different.”

A small smile appeared. “Good.”

My gaze followed his to my inner forearm. Dried blood and dirt smudged the surface, but where claws had ripped the tissue open, the skin was now smooth under the grime.

My gaze snagged on the pale scar of the old Craven attack, just inside my elbow. I forced my gaze to where his thumb continued to glide in small circles. There were no fresh marks. No gaping wounds. I stared in wonder. “There’s…there’s no new scars.”

He had. “Your blood…it’s amazing.”

And it was. My mind sluggishly delved into all that could be accomplished with it. The wounds that could be healed, and the lives that could be saved. Most people would be against drinking blood, but—

Wait.

My gaze snapped back to his. “You made me drink your blood.”

I snapped my mouth shut because I was.

I hadn’t wanted to die, but I also didn’t want to become a Craven. “I won’t turn—”

My heart skipped a beat as my gaze shifted to the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling. We weren’t in the cell. I turned my head, seeing a rustic bed with thick covers, and a small table beside it. “We’re in a bedchamber.”

I remembered hearing Kieran’s voice, but the room was now empty. “Kieran didn’t want you to save me.”

It took me a few moments to remember what he’d told me before, and my stomach dropped. “Will I turn into a vampry?”

He laughed.

He had a point, but I didn’t have the intellectual or emotional capacity to go there. Not right now.

Muscles low in my body clenched, proving that they were not, in fact, soft. “How…how would you be more of an active participant?”

Hawke’s smile turned to smoke and became just as sinful as his blood. “Would you rather I show you instead of telling you?”

My skin flashed hot. “No.”

The warmth in my skin started to spread as if it were a spark, and I shifted, feeling less…floaty and more…weighted. I tried to ignore it. “Are…Naill and Delano okay?”

I doubted that, but something was happening, changing.

My body didn’t feel like it was mine, not when the heat was seeping into my muscles, flushing my skin, and pooling in my core. I imagined it was him—Hawke’s blood slowly making its way through every part of my body.

He was inside me.

I felt out of control, just like the night in the Blood Forest, and when we were in the room above the tavern.

My chest suddenly ached and became heavy, but it wasn’t from pain, lack of air, or coldness. No. It was like when Hawke had touched me, when he’d stripped me bare and kissed me—kissed me everywhere. I felt loose. My insides tingled, just as my skin hummed. Razor-sharp lust pulsed straight through me, a dark desire that burned.

Hawke’s nostrils flared as he inhaled, and then his chest seemed to stop moving. His features were still hazy, but the longer I stared at him, the hotter I felt.

His chin lowered, and his stare was a caress. “I know.”

Shivering, I shifted my hips, and Hawke’s arm tightened around me. “You don’t know.”

He didn’t respond, and I wondered if he could feel the liquid fire in my veins, and the damp heat of my core.

Biting down on my lip, I tasted his blood and moaned, closing my eyes. “Hawke?”

He made a sound, and maybe he said something, but it was indecipherable.

I stretched, taking quick, shallow breaths. The coarse shirt and breeches scraped my skin and the sensitive, hardened tips of my breasts. “Hawke,” I breathed.

There were a lot of things I shouldn’t do or say, but everything in me was focused on the way my entire body burned and throbbed with need. My hand moved, sliding up my stomach, over the ruined, clawed shirt, to my breast. Guided only by instinct and need, I closed my fingers over the shivery flesh, molding it to my palm. An aching shudder worked its way through me.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My thumb rolled over the pebbled hardness, and I sucked in air. It reminded me of what Hawke had done, but he’d used more than just his hands. I wanted him to do that again. An intense, pulsing ache between my legs twisted my insides. Hips shifting, I pressed my thighs together, but that didn’t help. The pressure only made it worse. “Hawke?”

Heart thrumming, I opened my eyes, and I’d been right. His gaze was fixed on me—on my other hand, the one that had a mind of its own and was slipping down my stomach.

Taut lines formed around his mouth. “You don’t want that.”

Hawke made a low sound in the back of his throat. “You think you hate me now? If I do what you’re asking, you’ll want to murder me.” He paused, and his lips curved upward. “Well, you’ll want to murder me more than you already do. You don’t have control of yourself right now.”

What he was saying made sense, but it also didn’t. “No.”

He made that sound again, and when his hand closed over my wrist, I almost wept with joy. He was going to touch me.

Except he did nothing more than hold my hand in place.

A nervous flutter filled my stomach. His words…they should infuriate me, but I…I wanted him, and thinking was…well, it was all I ever did. I didn’t want to do it anymore.

Hawke shook his head, but when I tugged on the hand he held, he bent over me. My grip on his shirt tightened when he stopped with his mouth mere inches from mine. “In a few minutes, when this storm passes, you’ll return to loathing my very existence, and for good reason. You’re going to hate that you begged me to kiss you, to do more. But even without my blood in you, I know you’ve never stopped wanting me. But when I’m deep inside you again, and I will be, you won’t be able to blame the influence of blood or anything else.”

I stared at him, some of the fog of lust lifting from my mind as he lifted my hand and brought it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the center of my palm, surprising me. It was such a…tender act, one I imagined lovers did all the time.

I pulled on my hand, and he let go. I placed it against my chest. The tingling was fading from my skin, but the ache of unspent desire was still there. Not nearly as all-consuming as minutes before, but the part of me that felt like it was starting to wake up knew he spoke the truth. What I felt for him had nothing to do with the blood.

What I felt was…it was messy and raw. I hated him, and…I didn’t. I cared for him, as idiotic as that was. And I wanted him—his kiss, his touch. But I also wanted to hurt him.

We weren’t lovers.

We were enemies, and we could never be anything else. I was surrounded by people who hated me.

I shifted, feeling less…floaty and more solid. I moved my arm along my leg, still surprised that there was no pain. “What will you do? Kill them?”

I stared at him, not doubting that he meant what he said. Hawke couldn’t question every one of his supporters or his kind. I wasn’t safe here. “And me…what are you going to do with me?”

He lifted his gaze from mine. A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I already told you. I will use you to barter with the Queen to free Prince Malik. I swear, no more harm will come to you.”

I started to speak, but then I remembered the name Kieran had called him. My entire body seemed to seize up as I stared into those beautiful eyes. “Casteel?”

He froze against me.

And Hawke’s own words came back to me, the ones he’d spoken to me at the Red Pearl. They have led quite a few people to make questionable life choices.

My heart had seemed to stop, but now it sped up, racing. Things began to click into place. Inconsequential things like little comments he made here and there, bigger things like how he’d silenced me when I called out his name the night we…the night we made love. The way everyone followed his orders, how Jericho had obeyed him in the barn, seeming to not want to cross him, even though it hadn’t stopped him. How Kieran and the others said his name as if it were a joke.

Because Hawke wasn’t his name.

And we hadn’t made love. He’d fucked me.

He said nothing.

I thought I might be sick as I dragged my hand to my chest, to tear at the already torn shirt. “That’s what happened to your brother. Why you feel such sadness about him. He’s the Prince you hope to use me to get back. Your name isn’t Hawke Flynn. You’re him! You’re the Dark One.”

I shuddered.

Horror rolled through me. How could I now just be figuring this out? The signs had been there. I’d been so, so stupid. Not just once. I hadn’t gotten any wiser after I learned that he was an Atlantian. I hadn’t seen what was right in front of my face.

That everything truly had been a lie.

I reacted without thought, slamming my fist into his chest. I hit him. My palm stung from the slap I delivered upon his cheek, and he let me. He took it as I shoved at his shoulders. I screamed at him as tears blurred my vision. I hit again and again—

My heart clenched with the kind of anguish I was used to feeling from others. I almost reached out to him to see if it had radiated from him, or had erupted from deep inside me, but I stopped.

I will use you.

The pain…the pain was mine. He hadn’t saved me because he cared for me. He hadn’t promised that no more harm would come to me because he cared for me. How did I keep forgetting this? Hawke—

Hawke.

That wasn’t even his name. It was Casteel.

And he had an agenda. All of our conversations, every time he had kissed me, touched me, and told me I was brave and strong, that I intrigued him and was like no one he’d ever met. He did those things not just under a false persona but also under a false name, to gain my trust. To make me lower my guard around him, all so I would walk out of Masadonia with him willingly and right into a pit of vipers who either wanted to use me because I was the Maiden, the Chosen—the Queen’s favorite—or wanted me dead for the very same reasons.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

He was worse than Jericho and the others who wanted me dead. At least there were no pretenses with any of them. Everything about Haw—everything about Casteel, from his name to the first night at the Red Pearl, had been a lie designed to garner my trust.

He’d succeeded, but at what cost?

Rylan was dead.

Phillips and Airrick and all the guards and Huntsmen were now dead.

Vikter was dead.

My parents were dead.

He took from me everyone I cared about, either by his hand or by his orders, through separation or death. All so he could be reunited with his brother, another Prince, something that even I could understand, could sympathize with. But he also took my heart.

And made me fall in love with the Dark One.

That was who he was, even if everything else he claimed actually appeared to be true. Even if the history I’d been taught was all a lie. Even if the Ascended were vamprys who were responsible for the Craven, for what had happened to my parents and to me. Even if my brother was now one of them.

Eyes burning, I rolled onto my side. I needed space. I needed to get away from here—from him. I wasn’t safe, not from anyone here, and definitely not from him.

Because the longer he kept me here with him, the harder it would be for me to remember the truth. The more I would desperately want to believe that I was special to him because I just wanted to be special to someone. Anyone. To be something other than a pawn. The longer I was with him, the more likely I would be to forget about all that blood that was on his hands.

And that he had already broken my heart twice now because that was happening all over again. Even after the first betrayal, I still cared for him. Even though I wanted to hate him. I needed to hate him, but I couldn’t. I knew that now because I felt like I was dying another death. How could I be so stupid?

I couldn’t let him do it again. I couldn’t forget that.

Panic poured into me, forcing my eyes open. My wild gaze bounced around the room. “Let me go.”

I didn’t care. I didn’t care if my heart exploded out of my chest. “Let me go!” I shouted.

His hold loosened enough for me to pull away, to sit up. His arm was still at my waist. I placed my hand on the floor to leverage my weight, but my palm glanced off the dagger—

The dagger Mr. Tulis had stabbed me with. It was bloodstone.

Heart dropping, I looked down at the blade. Grief swelled, closing off my throat. I couldn’t breathe around it, around the knowledge that I…I loved the man who’d had a hand in the deaths of so many.

Who had left me here with these people, his people, who wanted me dead.

Who lied to me about everything, including who he truly was.

My heart cracked wide open, pouring icy slush into my chest. I would always be cold, from here until the end.

I twisted in his arms, moving on instinct. I didn’t feel the cool hilt in my hand, but I felt the blade sink into his chest. I felt his warm blood splash against my fist as the hilt of the dagger became flush with his skin.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to his.

His amber-colored eyes widened in surprise as he held my gaze for a moment and then looked down.

To where the dagger protruded from his chest.

From his heart.

Chapter 39

Hands trembling, I let go of the dagger and fell out of his lap. I scuttled backward, unable to look away from the glaze of shock settling over his features.

He lifted his gaze to mine. “You’re crying.” A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

I was crying. I hadn’t cried since I’d watched Vikter die, but tears now streamed down my face as I rose on numb legs. I stepped to the side. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going, but I made it to the door. It was unlocked.

A choked, wet laugh rattled from him as he bent forward, slamming his hand down on the floor. “No,” he gasped. “No, you’re not.”

But I was.

I turned around, blindly staggering out the door into the empty pathway that connected to another door at the end. Cold, wet air drifted in through the open wall, but I barely felt it. I had no plan. No idea how to get out of the keep. I kept walking.

Halfway through the hall, it was like a switch was flicked inside of me. All the horror and the sorrow ceased, and instinct took over. Breathing heavily, I threw open the door and raced down the cramped stairwell, then out through an open doorway, into—

Into the snow.

For a moment, I was struck by the beauty of the thick flakes of snow slowly drifting down. A thin layer already blanketed the ground and coated the bare trees. It was so silent, and everything was clean and untouched.

A voice from inside the keep jarred me into action. Taking off across the snow-covered grass, I ran toward the woods. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn’t prepared to make an escape. The clothing I was wearing was too thin, even if it wasn’t also torn nearly to shreds. I had no idea exactly where I was or where to go from here. There could be Craven in these woods. There would definitely be Descenters. There could also be wolven, who would surely be able to track my moves, but still, I ran, the thin soles of my boots slipping on the dusted ground of the forest floor. I ran because…

I stabbed him.

I stabbed him in the heart.

He would be dead by now.

I’d killed him.

A ragged sob left me as blowing snow mingled with my tears. Oh, gods, I had to do it. Everything about him, about us was a lie. Everything. I had to do it. I had to—

There was no warning—no sound, nothing.

An arm circled my waist, catching me mid-run. I shrieked as my feet slipped out from under me, but I didn’t go down. I was hauled back and slammed into a hard, warm chest. My feet dangled nearly a foot from the ground.

Shock stole the very breath from my lungs. I knew who it was before he even spoke. It was his scent of lush spice and pine. It was the burst of rage-laced anguish and disbelief that mirrored mine, coming through my senses that I hadn’t closed down. For the first time since I’d met him, his emotions overwhelmed him and, therefore, me.

This was not the Hawke I’d fallen for so quickly that held me against him.

It was not the guard who’d sworn on his life to keep me safe, who now wrapped his fist in my hair and jerked my head back and to the side.

It was not Hawke’s hot breath that caressed my exposed throat.

It was him.

Prince Casteel Da’Neer of Atlantia.

The Dark One.

Then he struck.

Two twin bursts of fiery pain lanced my neck, causing my entire body to jerk. The burn traveled all the way through my body, stunning me in its intensity. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream around the pain.

His arm around my waist was like an iron vise as he drew long and hard from the wound his fangs had created. I shook, eyes peeled wide as my hands fell to his arm. My nails dug in. The burn, the deep, staggering pull against my throat as my blood flowed freely from me into him shorted out my entire system. The building scream clawed its way around the pain—

And then, within mere seconds of when he’d sunk his fangs into me, everything changed.

The intense hurting became something else, something overwhelming in a wholly different way. A new ache erupted inside me, heating my blood until it felt like every part of me was filling with molten lava.

My wide eyes were unseeing as the heat filled my chest, my stomach, and pooled in the space between my thighs. His mouth tugged on my throat once more, and this time, that pull went straight to my very core. My body jerked with a flood of pounding arousal.

He groaned, his arm tightening around me, and I felt him, hard and thick against my rear. I gripped his arm as tension coiled inside me—

Without warning, he ripped his mouth from my neck. He let go, and I stumbled forward, nearly falling. Trembling with confusion and the desire still sparking inside of me, I turned to him.

He stood several feet from me, his chest rising and falling with rapid, short breaths. His eyes were wide. Red smeared his lips.

I lifted my hand, pressing it to my neck. Wet warmth greeted my fingertips. I took a step back.

Before I could figure out what he meant or what would happen next, he was on me, moving so fast I couldn’t track him.

His mouth crashed into mine as one hand shoved into my hair, his other arm clamped to my waist. I wasn’t just kissed.

I was devoured. I tasted my blood on his lips, on his tongue. I tasted him.

I wasn’t sure exactly when I kissed him back. Was it after a few seconds, or had I been kissing him from the moment his mouth touched mine? I didn’t know. All I did know was that I was starved for him, right or wrong, I wanted him.

That’s why I didn’t fight him when he brought me to the ground. The contrast of the cold snow against my back and the heat of his body pressed to my front drew a gasp from me. I didn’t think he heard it as it was caught up in his hungry kisses, and I realized then that he’d been holding back when he kissed me all the times before. Now, he wasn’t hiding who he was.

He rocked against me as he slid his hand over my waist to my hip. We moved, straining and gasping. His teeth caught my bottom lip. A brief sting registered, and he shuddered, groaning as the metallic taste renewed.

Breaking the kiss, he lifted up enough to look down at me. “Tell me you want this.” His hips were still churning against mine. “Tell me you need more.”

He barked out a short, harsh laugh as he shoved my pants down until one leg was completely free, and the breeches snagged on the other ankle. “You know this shirt was beyond repair, right?”

The sound of cloth tearing was my only explanation. I dipped my chin, seeing my breasts. He was staring too, his hand tearing at his own breeches as his eyes tracked the streaks of blood dried along my stomach, moving over the hardening tips of my breasts.

I didn’t think he was talking about the old scars.

Then I wasn’t thinking at all.

He kissed me as he settled over me, between my legs, and then things…spun. There was no slow seduction this time, no long and drawn-out caresses and kisses. There was a pinch of discomfort, but it quickly gave way to the aching, pulsing pleasure, and there was no room in my body or mind or between us for there to be anything other than what we felt. It was just him and me, the taste of my blood and his on our lips, and this need I didn’t quite understand.

Around us, the snow fell heavier through the trees, soaking his back and my hair as we clutched and grasped at one another. There were only the sounds of our wet kisses, our bodies coming together and parting, and our moans.

One long, dragging kiss ensued, and then his mouth moved from mine to my chin and then lower, his lips and those sharp teeth gliding over my throat. His actions elicited a shiver that curled its way down my spine as he stilled above me. Was he…was he going to bite me again? Instead of fear, there was a rush of wicked heat. The pain from his fangs had been brief, and what had come afterward…

I squeezed his shoulders, too lost to even wonder if I shouldn’t want him to, too far gone to think about the consequences if he did.

I felt his tongue against my skin, circling and laving over the sensitive mark he’d left behind. Then he lifted his head. I saw his eyes long enough to see that his pupils had constricted before his lashes swept down, and his mouth was on mine once more.

And then he was moving again.

His hips retreating and then pushing back in, rolling and grinding as his fingers played with my breast. He moved slowly now, so lazily that I felt as if I were being strung out. I shuddered under him, slipping my hand into his snow-damp hair.

The tension was building again, coiling until I couldn’t take his slow, measured movements any longer. His teasing grinds and rolls. I lifted my hips, trying to urge him to move faster, go deeper, but he held back until I cried out and pulled at his hair.

He half-laughed, half-growled as he lifted his head. “I know what you want, but…”

Heart racing out of control, I squirmed under his weight. “But what?”

His hips continued moving in maddeningly slow circles. “I want you to say my real name.”

My lips parted on a sharp inhale.

He stilled once more, his eyes luminous. “That’s all I ask.”

All he asked? It was a lot.

One side of his lips curled. “Some call me that, yes, but that’s not the name I’m waiting to hear, Princess.”

I wanted to deny him. Gods, did I ever.

My grip tightened on his hair as I yanked his head down. There was a flash of surprise in those glowing eyes. “Bad,” I snarled. “Your Highness.”

His mouth opened, but I lifted my legs, curling them around his hips. Taking advantage of his surprise and tapping into my own anger, I rolled him onto his back, fully intending to leave him there, but I hadn’t foreseen what the move would do when I rocked back—

I sank down on his length, my body shockingly flush with his. My shout ended in his groan as I planted my hands on his chest. Gods. The fullness was almost too much.

His chest was moving just as unevenly under my hands. “You know what?”

A startled giggle burst from me. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

Something about his features softened even though stark need shone through the thin slits of his eyes. “Just move.” His hands went to my hips. He lifted me up a few inches and brought me back down. A deep sound radiated from him. “Like that. You can’t do anything wrong. How have you not learned that yet?”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I mirrored his movement, moving up and down as snow fell across his shirt. My palm slipped, angling me forward. A spot deep in me was touched, sending out bolts of intense pleasure in waves. “Like that?” I breathed.

His hands tightened on my hips. “Just like that.”

With each move of my hips, that spot was touched, and more streaks of bliss shot through me. Before I knew it, I was moving faster above him, and I knew he was watching me as my eyes drifted closed, and my head fell back. I knew his gaze was fastened on my breasts and where we were joined, and that knowledge was too much.

The tension whipped out, shattering me. I cried out as I shuddered, body spasming as intense shards of ecstasy sliced through me.

He moved then, rolling me back under him and thrusting his hips against mine. His mouth claimed mine as his body did the same, pounding against me, into me until the pleasure seemed to crest once more, the fierceness shocking as he seemed to lose all sense of control. His large body moved over mine, in me until he pressed hard against me, his shout swallowed in our kisses as he shuddered.

I didn’t know how long we lay there in the falling snow, our hearts and breaths slow to steady, my grip still tight on his shoulders, his forehead pressed to mine. After some time, I became aware of his thumb moving along my waist in idle up and down sweeps.

The heat of passion cooled and, in its wake, was confusion. Not regret. Not shame. Just…confusion. “I don’t…I don’t understand,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

He halted, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

I nodded.

My eyes opened, and I looked at him. He was raised on one elbow, seemingly unaware of the snow falling around us. “I’m fine.”

I shook my head in disbelief. My gift was utterly useless since I was feeling too much to concentrate, so I couldn’t even…cheat. “That’s what I don’t understand. Unless I completely imagined the last couple of days.”

I could lie, but I didn’t. “No. Do…do you?”

He said this like it was the answer to how we had gone from me stabbing him in the heart to tearing off each other’s clothes. I shivered in the cold, damp air as I shook my head again.

Being drawn to one another explained none of that.

We did. Well, I did. He probably didn’t, considering he could be stabbed in the chest and be all right minutes later.

I placed my hand in his and stated what I felt he needed to be reminded of. “I tried to kill you.”

I stared, dumbfounded as he swooped down, tugging up my breeches as he rose. “You don’t?”

I continued to stare.

I stood there, wondering if I was suffering from blood loss or post-orgasmic bliss. Maybe a combination of both because I couldn’t believe this. “You’re…not mad?”

He lifted a brow as his gaze met mine. “Are you not still mad at me?”

I didn’t have to think about that. “Yes. I’m still angry.”

I lifted my arms.

One side of his lip kicked up as he tugged the other sleeve down. “It took a couple of minutes.”

I looked down at the shirt and saw the jagged tear on the front. It didn’t line up with my chest, but with my stomach. My gaze went to his bare chest. There was a wound, the skin pink and torn around it. Stomach churning, I gave a shake of my head. “Will it heal?”

I fed.

My hand fluttered to my throat, to the two tiny wounds that felt as if they’d already started to heal. A faint spike of pleasure pulsed through me. I jerked my hand away. “Will anything happen to me from…from you feeding?”

I went back to staring at his wound. “Does it hurt?”

I didn’t believe him. Placing my palm against his chest, a few inches from the wound, I tried to tap into my gift. I felt it stretching, so I opened up my senses. He became very still. The anguish I always felt was there, heightened and stronger than before, even though he’d gotten control of it at some point. It no longer overwhelmed him, but there was a different kind of pain underneath it. It was hot. Physical pain. The wound might heal, but it hurt, and it wasn’t minor.

I did what I could without thinking once more. I took his pain, both of them, and I didn’t think of the beaches of the Stroud Sea this time. I thought about how I felt when he was in me, moving inside me.

And all of that did nothing but confuse me even more.

He placed his hand over mine, and when I glanced up, I saw that the lines of white tension around his mouth had vanished. There was wonder in his eyes. “I should’ve known then.” He brought my hand stained with our blood to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

I wasn’t exactly following what he was saying, but that could’ve had more to do with my fog-filled brain than anything.

My brows puckered.

His mouth was soft, and a faint grin played across his lips as he stepped around a fallen limb.

My heart about stopped for the hundredth time that day. “Home?” I hadn’t expected him to say that. “Back to Masadonia? Or to Carsodonia?”