Casteel hadn’t expected the move, and he slipped to the side—or maybe he was just humoring me. Probably the latter. Either way, I scrambled to my knees and turned on him, throwing a wild punch.
Casteel caught my hand. “Then I guess it would be repetitive of me to tell you how much you’re turning me on now?”
“That and how incredibly disturbing it is.”
He smiled up at me, his eyes twin golden flames. “I do so prefer hand-to-hand combat with you,” he said, catching my other wrist when I swung my fist down. “I like how close it brings us, Princess.”
I shrieked my frustration—my irritation—at him. At myself. “There is something so wrong with you!”
“Probably, but you know what?” He lifted his head off the ground. “That’s the part you like the most.”
“There is nothing—” My response died on the tip of my tongue. Under his head, the snow seemed to be rising off the ground, but that…that wasn’t right. I lifted my gaze, seeing white, misty clouds rolling softly along the snow. Mist. “Do you see that?
“What?” Casteel twisted his head. “Shit. Craven.”
My heart stammered. “I didn’t think there were any Craven here.”
“Why would you think there’s no Craven here?” Disbelief rang in his tone. “You’re in Solis. The Craven are everywhere.”
“But there’s no Ascended here,” I argued as the mist thickened and spread. “How can there be Craven?”
“There used to be Ascended here.” He sat up, bringing me closer. “They fed, and they fed a lot. Elijah and the others keep the Craven back, but with Whitebridge on the other side of these woods, and young, pretty girls blindly running through them in the middle of the night, it’s not like they don’t have a food source.”
“I didn’t run into the woods blindly,” I snapped.
“But you did, and you didn’t even realize there were Craven in these woods.” His voice hardened with hints of his earlier anger. “And all you had was a damn meat knife. Why did you run, Poppy?”
A high-pitched shriek sent a bolt of dread through me. “Do you think now is a good time to have this conversation?”
“Yes.”
I shot him an incredulous stare.
“No?” he said and then added a sigh. He rose as swiftly as the air, pulling me to my feet. Letting go of one of my arms, he bent and swiped up the sword he’d dropped.
Another shrill cry sounded, followed by the sound of snapping tree limbs, freezing the blood in my veins. “I think—”
Casteel hauled me against his chest without warning. Before I knew what he was even about, his mouth was on mine, stealing my breath and scattering my thoughts. The kiss was hot and raw, a clash of lips and teeth. I was reminded again of how, as Hawke, he’d held himself back when he kissed me, and how much he hid. It wasn’t just the fangs, it was also the power—his power.
He lifted his mouth from mine, his eyes nearly luminous as he stared down into my wide ones. “But we will have that conversation later,” he promised, thrusting the sword into my hand. “Make me feel incompetent and kill more than me, Princess.”
For a moment, I was rooted to the spot where I stood, the hilt of the sword cold against my palm. The Cravens’ screams jolted me from my stupor. I turned just as Casteel picked up the other sword. There was no time to think about anything, especially not the kiss. The mist grew, reaching our knees—
They streamed out from a cluster of trees, a tide of sunken, gray bodies, bared fangs, and blazing, coal-red eyes. I’d never seen the Craven so…decayed. Their skulls were bare of hair, or only patchy, clumpy strings remained. Ribcages were all but exposed through the ragged clothing they wore. They were so emaciated, so withered away that I couldn’t help but feel pity for the mortals they used to be and the rotting corpses they’d become.
I braced as they spilled over the fallen branches and boulders. Because even in their condition, they were fast, and they would be deadly in their bloodlust.
The first to reach me may have been a woman once, given the faded yellow frock and the jeweled ring still on her finger. She screamed, reed-thin legs pumping as she reached for me with outstretched hands, her fingers ending in razor-sharp claws that could easily shred skin.
I was proof of that.
Her jaw hung open, exposing the two elongated canines along the top, and the two that jutted up from the bottom. Meeting her halfway, I thrust the sword into her chest. Rotten blood spurted, filling the air with putridness. If the blade weren’t bloodstone or a stake fashioned from the trees within the Blood Forest, she would’ve kept coming, tearing herself in two to get to me. I’d seen a Craven do that before. But the blade was bloodstone, and she was dead the moment the sword pierced her heart.
Yanking the weapon free, I turned as she crumpled to the ground. Casteel had lopped off the head of a Craven, another surefire way of killing them. I wasn’t worried for him. I imagined it would take dozens of Craven, if not more, to overwhelm an Atlantian.
Piercing the chest of another Craven, I couldn’t help but acknowledge that if there had been any semblance of truth behind the Ascended’s claims of the Dark One controlling the Craven, I doubted they’d be trying to rip his skin open right now. I already knew that though, having seen the Craven go after him in the Blood Forest before. This was just more evidence of the truth he spoke.
And the lies I’d been told.
Fury energized me as I sliced the bloodstone through the neck of a Craven, severing its head. I whirled from the gore, only to come face-to-face with ghastly, inhuman eyes, and snapping teeth. A moment of pure, unadulterated terror swamped me when my gaze locked with the Craven’s. It threatened to toss me back through the years to when I couldn’t keep my grip on my mother’s slippery, blood-soaked hand as the pain of the first claw and then the first bite turned into a never-ending nightmare.
I wasn’t a small child now, incapable of defending myself. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t prey.
With a rage-filled shout I barely recognized as mine, I jabbed the blade through the Craven’s caved-in chest. The ungodly light went out in its eyes, the last vestiges of life.
“Six,” Casteel called out. “You?”
“Four,” I answered, calming myself as I almost wished I didn’t know what he’d meant. I darted under the arms of another Craven, driving the sword deep into its back. “Five.”
“Shameful,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes.
A wailing Craven jerked my head around. It raced toward me, and I stepped in, gripping the hilt with both hands as I shoved the blade through its chin. Tearing the sword free, I saw that the mist was all but gone now.
Heart thumping as Casteel drove his blade through the last Craven, I lowered the sword. Taking a step back, I dragged in deep breaths. As he pulled his weapon free, his head swiveled in my direction. I didn’t know if he was looking to see if I was still standing or to make sure I wasn’t running away—or at him with the sword.
He didn’t have to worry about the last two things. I was far too tired to run anywhere.
“I was hoping to have the chance to rescue you.” Casteel bent, wiping his sword clean on the leg of the fallen’s pants. “But you didn’t need my help.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” My gaze shifted to the Craven before me. He wore no shirt, and that was how I could see the wound on his stomach, four deep indentations along his waist that were an ugly shade of purple, whereas the rest of his skin was the color of death. He hadn’t been fed upon by an Ascended. I wondered how old he’d been before a Craven’s bite had cursed him. What had he’d done for a living? Was he a guard or a Huntsman? A banker? A farmer? Did he have a family? Children who had been ripped apart in front of him? “Did I tell you that a Craven bit me?”
“No,” he answered quietly. “Where?”
“On my leg. Scarred as it is now, it looks like claws did it, but it was fangs,” I said, unsure why I was talking or thinking about this. “I never understood why I survived
the bite while everyone else bitten was cursed. I’d planned to tell you about it after we were…together, but things happened. I didn’t say anything before because it was another thing I was told to keep silent about. The Queen told me it was because I was the Maiden, the one Chosen by the gods. That was why I didn’t turn. But I wasn’t chosen by anything or anyone.” I looked over at him. “It’s because I’m part Atlantian, isn’t it?”
Slipping his sword into the scabbard as he walked toward me, he stopped beside me. “A Craven’s bite does not curse an Atlantian, but in enough numbers, and I suppose depending on if they managed to sever our heads, they could kill us.”
“I think the reason I was never allowed to use my gift or tell anyone about the bites is because those things are Atlantian traits,” I said. “Maybe the Ascended were afraid that if people knew, someone would realize what that meant.”
“Did anyone know?” he asked.
“Vikter knew about the bites and my gift, but Tawny didn’t. My brother did—I mean, he does. He knows.” My brows knotted. “And the Teermans.”
“There are Atlantians among the Descenters. If one of them had become aware of your gift or the bite, they would’ve known.” He lifted his hand to my cheek. I tensed as he smoothed his thumb down the side of my face to below the scar. “Craven blood,” he explained, wiping it away. His eyes met mine. “If I’d known those marks were bites, I would’ve realized what you were right away.”
“Yeah, well….” I trailed off. “Would that have changed anything?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he said, “No, Poppy. You being mortal or half-Atlantian wouldn’t have changed what was already happening.”
“At least you’re honest.” An ache pierced my chest as I dragged my gaze from his and looked over the Craven. They’d come from the direction I’d been heading. I let out a heavy breath, knowing I wouldn’t have survived. There was no way I could have taken on a dozen Craven by myself. And only with a meat knife. I could admit that. I would’ve died tonight, and that wasn’t the kind of freedom I’d been looking for.
For some reason, I thought about what he’d said to me before, during what felt like a different life. “Do you remember saying that you felt like you knew me when we met?”
“I do.”
“Was that a lie?”
His features hardened and then smoothed out. “Was it a lie to you?”
I shook my head no. “Why, then?”
Thick lashes lowered. “I think it’s the Atlantian blood in us recognizing each other, showing the connection in a feeling that would probably easily be overlooked,” Casteel said as I felt his hand over mine, over the one holding the sword. He slipped it from my grasp, and I didn’t try to fight him. I watched as he cleaned the blade and then sheathed it next to the other.
I met his gaze again. “I’m not handing over the meat knife.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” A long, silent moment passed between us. “It’s time.”
I knew what he meant. It was time to go back. And it was. The fight for this battle had left me. “I’ll try to escape again.”
“I figured as much.”
“I’m not going to stop fighting you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
I thought that was weird. “And I’m not going to marry you.”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“No, we won’t,” I said, starting toward my cloak with weary steps. I drew up short, cursing under my breath.
“What?” Casteel followed.
“There’s a dead Craven on my cloak.” I sighed heavily.
“That was an especially inconvenient place for it to fall.” He nudged it off the cloak, but the damage was already done. I could see and smell the rotten blood staining the garment.
“If I put that on, I will vomit,” I warned him.
Picking up my satchel, he draped it over his shoulder as he rose. “You ran far. Farther than I thought you would get,” he said. Since he wasn’t looking, I allowed myself a small smile. “But I don’t think you’ll freeze to death on the way back. Then you’ll rest,” he said, facing me. “You’ll need all your strength for the battles ahead, Princess.”
Chapter 5
The trip back to the keep was quiet and long. The wind had picked up, battering both of us. I’d begun to wonder if the gods had awakened, and this was their punishment. After all, if everything Casteel and the others had claimed was true, wasn’t I as counterfeit as the Queen and King of Solis? I’d done everything possible to handle how much the cold had begun to affect me, but it seemed impossible to hide anything from Casteel. Halfway through our journey, he ended up wrapping his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to him as we forged forward, his body absorbing the brunt of the wind.
Gods help me, but I didn’t resist. I chalked it up to being far too tired and cold. It had nothing to do with his lush scent masking the stench of the Craven. It didn’t have anything to do with how…good it felt to lean on someone, for them to take the worst of the wind, to carry their weight and mine. Nor did it have anything to do with the simple luxury of being allowed this close to someone without fear of reprimand or being found unworthy.
Casteel was just…warm.
When we finally made it back to the keep, there was no telling what time it was. But despite my failure, I welcomed the warmth of the room. I was a walking ice cube, unable to feel my nose, and unsure if it was even still attached.
What I did not welcome was finding Kieran waiting inside the room, sitting in the corner chair by the fire.
He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “What took you two so long? I was actually beginning to wonder if she beat you.”
“You seem real concerned sitting there,” Casteel replied, ushering me toward the fireplace. I allowed it, as I was shivering so badly, I swore my bones were trembling.
Kieran grinned. “I was beside myself with worry.”
Casteel snorted. “We worked things out.”
“No, we didn’t,” I gritted out between chattering teeth.
Ignoring that, Casteel pried my clenched hands apart. “We ran into some Craven,” he told Kieran, tugging my damp gloves off. He dropped them onto the hearth. “A little over a dozen.”
Kieran tilted his head at me as Casteel moved to the side, slipping off my satchel. “Wonder how that would’ve worked out for you with your meat knife.”
“S-shut up,” I stammered, holding my fingers as close to the fire as I could without shoving them into the flames.
“She knows it wouldn’t have worked out all that well for her.” Casteel shoved a hand through his snow-kissed hair, dragging the thick strands back. “That’s why she’s cranky.”
“I doubt that’s the only reason,” Kieran remarked.
I shot him a look that would’ve withered him on the spot if he cared.
Apparently, he didn’t care, at least based on how his grin kicked up a notch. “I had a bath drawn. The water would be warmer if you had simply come back without too much trouble.”
I almost raced straight to the bathing chamber, but the way he said, “too much trouble” dripped with amusement. “Do you expect a thank you?”
“It would be nice,” he replied. “Doubt I will get one, though.”
Warmth crept back into my fingers in a prickly rush as I spared a quick, longing look toward the bathing chamber. “Your expectations would be correct, then.”
“They usually are.” He studied me for a moment and then rose from the chair. “I’ll wrangle up some men and go out and take care of the Craven.”
“I’ll come with you,” Casteel said, and I glanced over at him in surprise. He caught my stare before I could look away. “We don’t let them lay out there and rot. They were once mortal,” he explained. “We burn them.”
The same was done in Masadonia whenever the Craven reached the Rise, but it was the fact that he was volunteering to go back out there that shocked me. I would’ve expected t
hat from Hawke, but this was the Prince. And it was freezing out. Then again, he didn’t appear even remotely fazed by the cold.
I bit down on my lip to stop myself from asking, but that didn’t work. Curiosity always got the best of me. “Does the cold not affect you?”
“I have thick skin,” he answered, and I frowned, not sure if that was true. “To go along with my thick skull.”
Now that was something I was sure of.
“I would ask that you hold off on any more attempts at escape tonight. Make use of the bath and rest,” Casteel said, and I gritted my teeth. “But in case you feel like testing out how much cold your body can withstand, just know that Delano will be standing guard outside this room.”
Poor Delano, I thought. The last time he played guard, things hadn’t exactly been easy for him—or me.
Casteel joined Kieran at the door. He was halfway out when I heard him say, “Behave, Princess.”
A thousand retorts rose to the tip of my tongue as my head whipped toward him, but he was already closing the door. I let out a rather filthy curse, and as the lock clicked into place, I heard him laugh.
Instead of running and kicking the door like I wanted to, which would serve no purpose but to bruise my frozen toes, I tore myself away from the fire. Unhooking the thigh sheath, I placed it near the flames so it would dry. I left the knife on the small wooden table by the bed and then quickly stripped out my nearly frozen clothing. Leaving them in a pile by the fire, I hurried to the bathing chamber. Several oil lamps had been lit, casting a soft glow over the tub and several pitchers still full of fresh water. Dipping my fingers into the water, I was relieved to find that it was still warm.
I probably should’ve thanked Kieran since it had been a considerate thing to do.
But he was also party to my captivity, so I shouldn’t be too grateful. I wouldn’t.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I stepped into the tub. As I sank into the warm water, wincing as it met my chilled skin and scraped knees, the reality of tonight set in like lead balls in my stomach. Neither Casteel nor Kieran had been anywhere near the room when I made my escape, and yet they’d still discovered my absence. Maybe I’d waited too long to leave, and one of them had already been on their way to my room.
A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire Page 6