Chapter Thirty-One

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?”

Chapter 40

I was deposited in the same room where he’d given me his blood, and then I’d stabbed him. Him. I stared at the damp mark on the wood floor, where the blood had been cleaned up.

Him.

I needed to stop referring to him that way. He had a name. A real one. I may never say it when and how he wanted, but I needed to stop thinking about him as if he were Hawke or somehow nameless.

His name was Casteel. Cas.

This was where he had saved my life and the chamber where I then attempted to take his.

He succeeded.

I failed.

My gaze flicked to where Kieran stood by the door, eyeing me as if he expected me to make a rush for the window and throw myself out of it. He arched a brow at me, and I looked away.

He had left, to do the gods only knew what, leaving Kieran as a sentry. Well, I did know he’d done something. After he’d left, a dozen or so servants filled the brass tub in the bathing chamber with steaming hot water, and another placed a fresh pair of black breeches and a tunic on the bed.

A part of me was surprised that he’d brought me back here and not to the cells. I wasn’t sure what that meant or if it should matter if it did mean something.

My thoughts still reeling from everything, I didn’t know anything at the moment, and he hadn’t answered any of the questions I’d asked on the way back. Say, for example, was Atlantia still an actual place?

Because as far as I knew, it had been all but leveled during the war.

Then again, everything I thought I knew was turning out to be false.

I rubbed my hand over my cheek as I glanced at Kieran. “Does Atlantia still exist?”

If my random question caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. “Why would it not?”

The corners of my lips turned down. “Do you always answer a question with a question?”

I shot him a droll look.

A faint grin appeared and then slipped away.

What I thought was that talking to Kieran was an exercise in patience and energy, two things I was running low on.

I wanted to. My skin was not just dirty, it was also chilled, and I was still wearing his bloodied shirt.

But I also wanted to be difficult because I was so freaking confused by everything, and as he had warned, I was tired. “What if I don’t?”

I jolted at the sound of his name. His real name. “I am wearing his shirt.”

It took a minute for me to get what he was referencing. When I did, my mouth dropped open. “You can smell…?”

Kieran’s smile could only be described as wolfish.

He chuckled.

Cursing under my breath, I looked around and found several hooks on the wall. I hung the tunic and breeches there. I quickly stripped and stepped into the bath, ignoring the twinge of pain in a very private area as I sank into the lavender-scented water. I didn’t allow myself to think about anything as I got down to scrubbing off my blood and…and his. My stomach turned over as I used the bar of soap to wash my hair. When suds ran down the back of my neck, I dipped under the water and held myself there.

I stayed until my lungs and throat burned, and white spots sparked behind my closed eyes. Only then did I break the surface, gasping for air.

What was I going to do about him? About everything?

A strangled, hoarse-sounding laugh escaped me. I didn’t know where to even begin to start figuring out this mess. I’d just learned that the kingdom of Atlantia still existed, and that seemed like the least crazy thing to have discovered. Gods, I still didn’t even understand how I’d gone from learning who he truly was, stabbing him in the heart, to then willingly falling into his arms.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I dragged my hands down my face. I couldn’t blame the bite, even though it had some kind of arousing effect, just like his blood had. And who, by the way, would’ve ever thought that would feel good?

But damn, it had…

I shivered as a tight curling motion bloomed low in my stomach.

That was the last thing I needed to think about right now if I had any hope of figuring out what I needed to do.

And I needed to come up with some kind of plan and quickly because even though he didn’t seem to hold my attempt to kill him against me, I wasn’t safe here. I wouldn’t be safe anywhere with his people. They hated me, and if half of what he and Kieran claimed about the Ascended and what they’d done was true, I couldn’t blame them, even though I’d done nothing to them. It was what I represented.

Still, it was too much to believe that the Atlantians were the innocent party, and the Ascended were the violent tyranny that had somehow managed to turn an entire kingdom away from the truth.

But…

But I’d never seen any of the third and fourth sons and daughters who were given to the gods during the Rite.

I could never understand how those like Duke Teerman and Lord Mazeen had received a Blessing from the gods.

But never once had I seen an Ascended lift a single finger to fight the Craven, the one thing the people of Solis feared more than death itself.

The one thing they’d do anything and believe anything to remain safe from.

He had claimed that the Royals used the Craven to keep the people in check, and if that were true, it worked. They gave up their own children to keep the beasts at bay.

It had to be true.

Worse yet, others must be involved in this. The Priests and Priestesses. Close friends of the Court, who hadn’t Ascended. My parents?

Gods, I couldn’t lie to myself any longer.

What had happened with him was proof enough. His blood had healed me, not turned me. His kisses had never cursed me. And so far, neither had his bite.

The Ascended were vamprys—they were the curse that had plagued this land. They used fear to control the masses, and they were the evil hidden in plain sight, feeding off those they had sworn to the gods to protect.

And my brother was now one of them.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs. I closed my eyes against the burn of tears, resting my cheek against my knee. He couldn’t be like the Duke. The Duchess wasn’t too bad. Neither was the Queen, but—

But if they were feeding on children, almost draining innocent people and creating Craven, they were no better than the Duke.

I pressed my lips together, fighting back tears that wanted to break free. I’d cried enough today, but Ian… Gods, Ian couldn’t be like them. He was kind and gentle. I just couldn’t believe that he would do those things. I couldn’t.

And then there was me. If it was all a lie, then I would never be given to the gods. What had they planned for me? Why did they make me the Chosen and link all these Ascensions to me? Was it my abilities? I thought about what he had said after I’d taken his pain. He knew something.

Something he needed to tell me.

I wasn’t safe here, and I surely wasn’t safe among the Ascended. If I did manage to escape, how could I go back to them, knowing what I knew now? How could I stay and allow him to take me to Atlantia when I would represent a kingdom who had slaughtered untold numbers of their people, who had enslaved their Prince to use him to make more vamprys?

How could I stay with him?

No matter what I felt for him, I could never trust him, and what I felt for him was also something I could no longer pretend didn’t exist. I loved him.

I was in love with him.

And even if by some small chance I’d been able to move past the fact that he had come to Masadonia with the intention of taking and using me as a bargaining tool, I could never get over the blood that had been spilled because of him. I could never forget that Rylan and Vikter, Loren and Dafina, and so many others were dead, either by his hand, by his command, or by what he represented. I could never trust what he claimed when it came to us.

What had he claimed about us, though?

He had led me to believe that he had feelings for me. That I was anything but someone he needed to protect as Hawke, and needed to use for his own means as a Prince of Atlantia. He’d been intrigued from the start because I wasn’t who he expected me to be, which apparently, was an immoral, spoiled supporter of the Ascended. He’d been kind and interested because he needed to discover all he could about me, and maybe because he was drawn to me. But what did that truly mean?

What happened in the woods may have proven that he was attracted to me, and that wasn’t a farce, but lust was not love, it was not loyalty, and it was not long lasting.

Neither as Hawke nor as Casteel had he claimed anything regarding us.

The reality was jarring, and it hurt. It sliced deep because he’d made me feel warm, but it was reality, and it had to be dealt with.

I mulled over the options in my head. Escape. Find my brother because I had to know if he was the same and then…what? Disappear? But first, I needed to figure out how to escape.

The wolven could track me, and he…

Escaping him would be nearly impossible.

But I had to try, and there had to be a way. Maybe when my head didn’t feel as if it were full of cobwebs, I would know what to do. Weary, I let my thoughts drift. I must’ve dozed off somehow, still curled up against the tub, because the next thing I heard was my name being called.

Jerking my head up, I blinked rapidly as Kieran’s face came into view. What the…?

One eyebrow rose. “You are surrounded by people who tried to murder you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

I stared at him. “You shouldn’t be in here, and I shouldn’t have to explain that.”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel good to hear that or more annoyed.

A ghost of a smile appeared. “And then he’d be…intrigued.”

My mouth opened, but my mind took that and leapt with it. I had nothing to say. Absolutely nothing, but I thought about what I had read about the wolven and the Atlantians. There was a bond between some of them, and while not much was known about what that bond entailed, I was confident that a Prince was of the class that wolven would be bonded to. I wanted to ask, but considering I was in a tub and naked, now wasn’t the time.

Kieran’s gaze dropped, moving down my arms to the curve of my stomach and thigh. “Among my people, scars are revered. They are never hidden.”

The only scar he could see was the one along the side of my waist. At least, I hoped. “Among my people, it’s not polite to stare at a naked woman in a bathtub.”

Chuckling, Kieran rose with nearly the same grace and fluidity that he moved with. “The Prince wouldn’t want you sitting in cold, dirty water. You should probably finish up your bath.”

My nails were digging into the skin of my legs. “I don’t care what he wants.”

Chapter 41

After quickly drying off and changing into clean, dry clothing, I did everything in my power to forget that the brief conversation in the bathing chamber with Kieran had happened.

The breeches were a little tight, causing me to wonder if they had belonged to a child, but they were clean and soft, and I wasn’t complaining. The long-sleeve tunic was made of heavy wool and reached my knees. The slits in the sides ended at the hips and would’ve made for easy access to my dagger.

But I hadn’t seen my dagger since the stables, and based on what I’d done with the last one…

I winced.

I doubted I’d have access to one anytime soon, which made escaping difficult. I needed a weapon, any weapon, but what I wanted was the dagger Vikter had given me.

I added that to my plan that wasn’t quite a plan. At least, not yet.

Kieran left shortly after I came out of the bathing chamber, locking the door behind him. I doubted he went very far. Was probably standing outside the door.

I started to braid my still-drying hair, but remembered the mark on my neck and let the strands hang loose. I then roamed the room aimlessly. There was no avenue of escape. I couldn’t even fit through the window. Was I going to be kept here until whenever time he deemed fit for me to leave?

Sighing, I plopped down on the bed. It was soft, so much thicker than the straw mat in the cell. I lay down, facing the door as I curled on my side.

What would happen when he returned for me? Would his seeming acceptance of my attempted murder change? Everything he’d said about the Ascended may very well be true, but he was still the Dark One, and he was just as dangerous. He’d said so himself.

There was a lot of blood on his hands.

With how thinly my nerves were stretched, I didn’t think I would doze off again, but that was exactly what happened. It had to be…it had to be the still-tender bite and its effect. Because one moment, I was alert, staring at the closed door. The next, I was out, slipping into a deep sleep where I did not dream. I wasn’t sure what woke me at first. It wasn’t my name being called. It wasn’t words at all.

It was a faint touch on my cheek and then on the side of my neck, just above the bite. My eyes fluttered open. The room was dim except for the sconces and the single oil lamp on the nightstand, but I still saw him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and there was a dipping motion in my chest at the first sight of him, like always happened. I imagined it always would, no matter what I knew about him.

At least, he’d found a shirt.

And had bathed somewhere, because his hair was damp, curling against his temples and ears.

Dressed in all-black, he cut an imposing, striking figure, and I no longer saw his attire that of the uniform of a guard. I saw the Dark One. I glanced down at the sleeve of the dark tunic I wore and then to my curled leg, where I expected to see the black breeches. Instead, I saw a threaded quilt draped over my legs. Unsettled, I lifted my gaze to his.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did I. Not for a long time. His fingers remained on my throat, above the mark. After what felt like an eternity, he removed his hand and asked, “How are you feeling?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. A giggle burst free.

His head cocked to the side as a half-grin appeared. “What?”

Yes? No? Maybe?

The grin deepened. “I’m relieved to hear that you care. I’m perfectly fine.”

He was right, of course, because without realizing what I was doing, I reached out with my senses to see if he was in physical pain. He wasn’t. What I’d done earlier had worn off. I knew this because I felt the anguish that always brewed just below the surface. There was something else there, though. I’d felt it before. Confusion or conflict.

Surprised, my gaze shot to his.

He appeared to mull that over and then nodded. “I believe so.”

I snapped my mouth shut as my stomach churned with nausea. “You didn’t die. Obviously.”

He chuckled.

Annoyed, I shoved the quilt off my legs and scooted to the other side of the bed. “Why are you here? To take me back to the cell?”

I stood. “Then why don’t you?”

I stared at him, hands opening and closing at my sides while he remained seated on the bed. “So, what now? How is this going to work, Your Highness?” Satisfaction surged when I caught the way his jaw tightened. “You’ll keep me locked up in a room until you’re ready for us to leave?”

He was quiet for a moment. “You would know, wouldn’t you? After all, you’ve been imprisoned since you were a child. Caged and veiled.”

There was no denying that. I’d been kept in both comfortable cages and bare ones. The reasons were different, but the end result was the same. Folding my arms, I looked at the small window, to the night sky beyond.

His brows lifted. “No?”

I knew I was being difficult over something not worth it. Just like I had been with Kieran. But I was not going to be at anyone’s beck and call. I wasn’t the Maiden any longer. And things were not okay between us just because we had a temporary loss of rationale in the woods. He’d betrayed me. I’d tried to kill him. He still planned to use me to free his brother. We were enemies, no matter the truths.

No matter that I loved him.

Or more alluring.

I shook my head. “I am hungry.”

He sighed. “Then what’s the problem, Princess?”

My eyes widened as I lowered my arms. “You’re…there’s something wrong with you.”

Part of me was awed—still shocked that he wouldn’t stop me from fighting. The other half was infuriated that he thought he could control any part of me. As a whole, I let out a small shriek of frustration. “Of course, you won’t! What good am I to you dead? I imagine you still plan to use me to free your brother.”

A muscle along his jaw flexed. “You are nothing to me if you’re dead.”

I sucked in a sharp, stinging breath that scorched my lungs. What in the world had I expected him to say? That he wouldn’t want me dead because he cared? I knew better.

I had to know better.

Every part of my being demanded that I do just what he claimed he enjoyed. It wanted me to fight him every step of the way, but common sense prevailed. Barely. I was hungry, and I needed to be at my strongest if I planned to escape. Plus, I needed his people to see that I was off-limits. If eating dinner with him like we were the closest friends would provide that, then I needed to deal.

So that was what I did.

I let him lead me out of the room, and I wasn’t even surprised when I found Kieran waiting for us. Based on the hint of amusement in his features, he must have heard at least half of our argument.

Kieran opened his mouth.

Chuckling under his breath, Kieran said nothing as he fell into step behind us. We took the same stairs we’d sped down hours earlier, and I tried not to think about my mad dash in the woods. What had happened when he caught me.

But a heatwave hit my veins nonetheless.

He glanced down at me, a questioning look in his gaze that I ignored while praying he couldn’t sense where my thoughts had gone.

As soon as we entered the common area, Kieran slowed his pace so he walked directly behind me. I knew that was no unconscious act. Descenters lined the walls, their faces pale as they whispered to one another, their eyes following us. I recognized some of them who’d stood in audience outside the cell. I saw Magda. There was no pity in her eyes now. Just…speculation.

I lifted my chin and straightened my spine. The Ascended might very well be evil incarnate, and an untold number of people in Solis may be complicit, but what they did to me proved that they were no better.

We rounded the corner, and my gaze lifted—

His hand landed on my shoulder, steadying me as I stared at the walls of the hall. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe as horror choked me.

Now I understood the pale faces in the common area. Bodies lined the walls, arms outstretched, and spikes of bloodstone nailed through their hands. Some had received a reddish-brown stake through the center of their chests, others through the head. Some of them were mortal. Some were Atlantian. A half a dozen of them on either side. I saw Rolf and the man I had rendered unconscious, and I saw…

I saw Mr. Tulis.

My knees weakened as I stared up at him. He was dead, face a ghastly gray color. He was mortal, but a stake protruded from his still chest nonetheless.

All he’d wanted was to save his last child. He’d been given an opportunity to do so. He’d escaped, and now…now he was here.

Not all of them were dead.

One still breathed.

Jericho.

I locked down my senses before I could reach out and see what kind of pain he was in. His shaggy head hung as his chest rose in ragged, uneven breaths. Bloodstone pierced his palms, but the final fatal spike was thrust through his throat. Crimson colored the front of his bare chest, his pants, and pooled on the floor below him.

Bile crept up my throat. “He’s…he’s still alive,” I whispered, staring up at the wolven.

I thought I might be sick.

Kieran’s hand squeezed my shoulder. “They deserved no less.”

Had they?

Even Mr. Tulis, who’d most likely delivered the fatal blow to me.

In a daze, I didn’t realize that I was seated to the right of him at the table, typically a place of honor. Kieran took the chair next to me. Numbly, I sat there as servants unveiled the platters of food while the rest of his entourage followed suit, seating themselves at the table. I recognized Delano and Naill, oddly relieved to see that they were okay. They had defended me, and I didn’t want to think about the reasons behind it.

Laid out before us was a feast. Stewed beef. Roasted duck. Cold meats and cheese. Baked potatoes. All of it smelled wonderful.

But my stomach churned as I sat there, unable to move. Kieran offered me some of the beef, and I must’ve agreed because it ended up on my plate. Then came the duck and potato. He was the one who broke off a hunk of cheese and placed it on my plate as he reached for his glass, seeming to remember that it was one of my weaknesses.

I stared down at my plate. I didn’t see the food. I saw the bodies outside the room as conversation was slow to start but soon picked up and became a steady hum. Glasses and plates clinked. Laughter sounded.

And there were bodies nailed to the walls outside the Great Room.

Blinking, I looked up at him. His golden eyes had cooled, but his jaw was hard enough to cut glass.

I reached for a fork, picking it up and spearing a piece of meat. I took a bite, chewing slowly. It tasted as good as it smelled, but it settled too heavily in my stomach. I scooped up some of the potatoes.

A few moments passed, and he said, “You don’t agree with what I did to them?”

I looked over at him, unsure of how to even answer the question—if it was even a question at all.

He sat back, glass in hand. “Or are you so shocked, you’re actually speechless?”

Swallowing the last bit of food, I slowly placed the fork on the table. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

My chest twisted. “And Jericho?”

Becoming aware that several of the men around us had stopped talking and were listening, I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t know your people very well, but I would think that they have learned a lesson.”

He took a drink. “What I did disturbs you.”

I knew that wasn’t a question. My gaze shifted back to my plate. Did it disturb me? Yes. I think it would unsettle most. Or at least, I hoped so. The blatancy of the kind of violence he was capable of was shocking if not entirely surprising, further separating him from the guard I knew as Hawke.

I bit back the urge to tell him I was capable of determining how much food I needed to consume. Instead, I opened my senses to him. The anguish there was different, tasting…tangy and almost bitter. The urge to reach out to him hit hard, causing me to curl one hand in my lap. Had what happened between us caused this? Was it what he’d done to his own supporters? It could possibly be both. I reached for my drink, closing my eyes, and when I reopened them, I found him watching me through thick lashes.

I could tell him that it did bother me. I could say nothing at all. I imagined that perhaps he expected one of those two things from me. But I told him the truth. Not because I felt like I owed it to him, but because I owed it to myself.

Those heavy lids lifted, and his stare was piercing.

I lifted my chin. “But they’re still mortal—or Atlantian. They still deserve dignity in death.”

His gaze drifted over my face. The muscle had stopped ticking. “Eat,” he repeated.

One side of his lips kicked up. “Eat, and I’ll tell you our plans.”

That got several other people’s attention. Hoping my stomach didn’t revolt, I started eating instead of picking at my food. I didn’t dare look at Kieran, because if I did, I would be looking outside the Great Room to the hall.

He nodded. “As I said, we’ll be going home.”

I took a healthy drink from my glass. “But Atlantia is not my home.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it, not quite sure I heard him correctly. For a moment, I thought something was lodged in my throat. I took a drink, but the sensation was still there.

Delano’s jewel blue eyes sharpened. “Are you suggesting that she’s…”

My hand trembled, sloshing liquid onto my fingers. “That’s impossible,” I whispered.

A faint smile played across his full lips. His gaze too lowered and stopped…on my throat.

On the bite that I realized was barely hidden under the strands of hair. My blood. He knew after…tasting my blood?

Delano’s eyes went wide as he sat back, staring at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen me. Forgetting about the Hall, I looked at Kieran. I saw none of that. He arched a brow at me. This wasn’t news to him. “It’s rare, but it happens. A mortal crosses paths with an Atlantian. Nature takes its course, and nine months later, a mortal child is born.” Kieran paused and ran his thumb over the rim of his chalice. “But every so often, a child of both kingdoms is born. Mortal and Atlantian.”

My heart lurched against my chest. “But my brother, he’s an Ascended now.”

The glass started to slip from my fingers—

His reflexes were lightning-quick. He caught the glass before it could hit the table. Placing it down, he then covered my hand, lowering it to the table. “Your brother is alive.”

My heart had stopped. “How can you be sure?”

Someone cursed and then spat on the floor. I closed my eyes. Part…part Atlantian? If that was why I was the Chosen and was the source of my abilities, then had the Duke and the Duchess known? The Queen? I opened my eyes. “Why would they keep me alive if they knew?”

His lips thinned. “Why do they keep my brother?”

I jolted, my entire body freezing. “I can’t do that. Right? I mean, I don’t have…the, uh, parts for it.”

The Prince slid him a bland look. “Teeth. I do believe she means these.” Curling his upper lip, he ran this tongue over one fang, and my stomach dipped and twisted in a mixture of pleasure and unease. “They don’t need that. They just need your blood for them to complete the Ascension.”

If I wasn’t sitting, I likely would’ve fallen over. I wanted to refute his claim, but I couldn’t come up with one good reason for why he’d lie about this. There was nothing to gain from doing so. I bent slightly in my chair, wondering if it was possible that I was having a heart attack.

My lips parted as a hush descended over the entire room. Still reeling from the whole half-Atlantian thing, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That he was saying…

That damn dimple appeared in his right cheek and then in his left. Casteel Da’Neer, the Prince of Atlantia, smiled fully as he lifted our joined hands and said, “We go home to marry, my Princess.”

* * * *

Also from 1001 Dark Nights and Jennifer L. Armentrout, discover The Prince, The King, and The Queen.

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The Prince: A Wicked Novella

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She’s everything he wants….

Cold. Heartless. Deadly. Whispers of his name alone bring fear to fae and mortals alike. The Prince. There is nothing in the mortal world more dangerous than him. Haunted by a past he couldn’t control, all Caden desires is revenge against those who’d wronged him, trapping him in never-ending nightmare. And there is one person he knows can help him.

She’s everything he can’t have…

Raised within the Order, Brighton Jussier knows just how dangerous the Prince is, reformed or not. She’d seen firsthand what atrocities he could be capable of. The last thing she wants to do is help him, but he leaves her little choice. Forced to work alongside him, she begins to see the man under the bitter ice. Yearning for him feels like the definition of insanity, but there’s no denying the heat in his touch and the wicked promise is his stare.

She’s everything he’ll take….

But there’s someone out there who wants to return the Prince to his former self. A walking, breathing nightmare that is hell bent on destroying the world and everyone close to him. The last thing either of them needs is a distraction, but with the attraction growing between them each now, the one thing he wants more than anything may be the one thing that will be his undoing.

She’s everything he’d die for….

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The King: A Wicked Novella

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From #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout comes the next installment in her Wicked series.

As Caden and Brighton's attraction grows despite the odds stacked against a happily ever after, they must work together to stop an Ancient fae from releasing the Queen, who wants nothing more than to see Caden become the evil Prince once feared by fae and mortals alike.

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The King must have his Queen....

Bestowed the forbidden Summer’s Kiss by the King of the Summer fae, Brighton Jussier is no longer just human. What she is, what she will become, no one knows for sure, but that isn’t her biggest concern at the moment. Now Caden, the King, refuses to let her go, even at the cost of his Court. When the doorway to the Otherworld is breached, both Brighton and Caden must do the unthinkable—not just to survive themselves, but also to save mankind from the evil that threatens the world.

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Table of Contents

Book Description

Book Description

About Jennifer L. Armentrout

Also from Jennifer L. Armentrout

Acknowledgments from the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

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