A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Some were young, just past maturity. Some were older, their hair gray and bodies already breaking down with age,” he said after a few moments. “I tried to keep count of how many had been brought into my cage, but I…I wasn’t able to. Even so, between Malik and me, I don’t know how there could be any more out there.”

  Ian had been the last to Ascend, and it had only been him. Before that, it had been several years since the last Ascension. Dread surged through me. Ascensions had been carried out annually for several years, but then they’d all but stopped when I was a child. The implications of that brought forth the concern I’d had before. What if Malik was no longer alive?

  Kieran and Casteel both believed that Malik lived, but there was no evidence of that. And I wanted to know if Casteel had truly considered that. I bit down on my lip.

  “You look like you want to say something,” he observed.

  I did, but how could I ask what I wanted? I didn’t think I should, so I said what I also believed I needed to say. “You did what you needed to do to survive. I hope you truly believe that.”

  Casteel didn’t answer, and when I looked over at him and saw the vast emptiness in his expression, my heart ached. Because I knew.

  I knew he didn’t.

  And all I wanted in that moment was to bring warmth back to him. “I still want to stab you.”

  His head shot in my direction.

  “Just not as frequently,” I amended.

  One side of his lips curled up, and then he laughed. The sound was rough and a little hoarse, but it was real. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  I looked forward, smiling. “That is such a weird statement.”

  “What can I say? I have a thing for women with violent tendencies.”

  “That doesn’t sound any better,” I said, even though I wondered if Shea had been that way. Prone to stabbing him when she was angry? I wasn’t so sure about that, considering what he’d said I deserved when this was all over. A relationship with no stabbing or punching. Or kidnapping.

  I shoved those thoughts aside before they could weigh me down. We were pretending, and that meant there was no future, even if we couldn’t escape the past.

  Luckily, a distraction arose a few moments later. Riding out of the wooded area, I finally saw what Casteel had built.

  My grip loosened on the saddle as I took in a piece of Atlantia hidden away in Solis.

  Stygian Bay glistened like the darkest hour of night to our right. Ahead of us was a town the size of New Haven. Yet again, I was struck speechless as we rode along the dirt road. I only half-noticed those who acknowledged our arrival, who either bowed or called out.

  One-story homes made of sandstone and clay dotted the gently rolling landscape. There had to be around a hundred of them, and each one was spaced out to accommodate private, curtained terraces, and small gardens. As we drew closer to the homes, I could see that the gardens were full of ripe tomatoes and tall stalks of corn, cabbage, and other vegetables planted in neat rows. The only homes in Solis that had any land beyond a patch barely large enough to grow a tree were the ones in places like Radiant Row.

  “My gods,” I whispered as I looked around.

  “I’m hoping that’s an exclamation of approval,” Casteel stated as we neared the crest of a small hill.

  “It is. These homes… And the gardens? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Food supply is far easier to manage when each household harvests as much as they can,” he said, drawing Molly closer to him when the mare appeared to take note of a vivid, yellow butterfly. “All the gardens were planted by farmers who have experience with crops. Those who agreed to settle in Spessa’s End were required to apprentice with farmers to learn how to keep them healthy and spot disease. With the temperatures rarely dropping below freezing at night, we’re able to grow some of the crops longer than places farther north.”

  In Solis, food had to be paid for or grown, but very few had the land to grow anything, which meant that many spent the bulk of their income to acquire food. If there was no money, there simply was nothing to eat.

  As soon as we reached the top of the hill, the scent of grilled meat replaced the sweetly scented breeze. It was then that I realized I hadn’t truly seen anything yet. The town center lay in the valley between the homes. There were other buildings—larger than the houses, numerous columned pavilions adorned with bright canopies or curtains, housing various markets. There were businesses—butchers, seamstresses, blacksmiths, and bakers, and in the very center and raised higher than any of the other buildings was the ruins of what had once been a great coliseum. Or so it appeared. Only half of the structure remained.

  “Concerts and games were once played there,” Casteel said, having followed my gaze. “I remember sitting in those seats, watching plays.”

  Thinking of all the souls that had once filled the massive coliseum twisted my heart. “Will it be repaired?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he admitted as we traveled down the sloping hill. “I never wanted to tear it down. It’s become a monument in a way, a reminder of what once stood here. Perhaps one day we will repair it.”

  There were more people in the town center, drifting between the pavilions and stalls. Pretending that he was just Hawke and I was Poppy ended as the people either rushed forward to greet Casteel or lingered back until others passed on.

  There were wolven and Atlantians among the Descenters, and out of the blur of faces, I realized that all of them seemed genuinely happy to see Casteel. Most called him by name and not by his title, which was something not tolerated in Solis. All Royals were addressed as Lord or Lady, and to not do so was seen as greatly disrespectful, and worse yet, potentially a sign of being a Descenter.

  I watched Casteel as he grinned or laughed at something someone said, asked about a family member or friend, seemingly as fascinated with them as I had been with the Guardians. I smiled when he introduced me to those who approached. My fiancée. My fiancée. My fiancée. I listened as he spoke to many, addressing them by name, and he was attentive and welcoming as we traveled along. If this wasn’t another mask—if this was who he was with his people—he was a Prince that anyone would be honored to rule beside.

  Something nameless and unknown inside of me softened and then opened up even as my senses thrummed under my skin, stretching and throbbing in response to the cyclone of conflicting emotions spilling out of the crowd and into the air around me.

  I noticed that, more often than not, the people’s reaction to me was far more subdued. Smiles went from warm and genuine to cold and tight. Welcoming glances became ones of curiosity or turned blank. Some gazes lingered on the scars for the briefest of moments while others openly stared. There were quickly averted gazes, and mumbled greetings.

  Even as I struggled to keep my senses in check—even though I knew that many of the people of Atlantia didn’t welcome me—I started pretending again.

  But this time he was Casteel, and I was Poppy, and he truly was my Prince.

  Chapter 28

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Casteel said as we rode past the town center, beyond the crowds of people.

  The tightness in my chest eased with the crowd’s dispersal, but balls of nervous energy formed in my stomach. Would this person be friendly? Would they stare?

  “You okay?” he asked as he guided the horses to a stop outside of one of the homes where vines with tiny pink flowers climbed the terrace’s latticework.

  I nodded as my gaze shifted up the road, drawn by the clang of a hammer. Homes were being built. Men were on the roofs, their skin damp with sweat, and women ran tools over the exterior walls, smoothing out the clay.

  A young wolven loped out from the inside of the house, dancing around the women’s legs, tail wagging. Remembering what was said the night before about not many young being here, I figured it was Beckett. A grin tugged at my lips as he nudged a spade with his nose, rolling it toward one of the wo
men.

  Casteel dismounted as the door to the house opened wider. Kieran strode out, his brows rising upon seeing me astride my own horse.

  Before I could even feel embarrassment over what had happened this morning, he opened his mouth. “Dear gods, you have her on her own horse? Soon, she’ll be running one of us over instead of stabbing us.”

  My eyes narrowed. “This is who you wanted me to meet?” I asked. “Not sure if you realize this or not, but I’m well aware of who he is.”

  Casteel laughed as he came to my side. “It’s not him I want you to meet.” He held Molly steady. “You want to dismount on your own?”

  I nodded, rising and drawing one leg up and over the saddle. I lowered myself to the ground, nowhere near as gracefully, but I did it.

  Kieran applauded. “Good job.”

  “Shut up.”

  The wolven laughed as one of the workers called out Casteel’s name.

  Casteel looked over, squinting. He touched my lower back. “I’ll be right back.”

  I nodded as I turned to Molly, scratching her behind the ear as I watched Casteel jog toward the house.

  “By the way,” Kieran approached me, “I hope you’re not embarrassed about this morning.”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” I whispered.

  “You’re not?” He sounded doubtful.” “You won’t look at me.”

  “I was just looking at you a few moments ago.”

  “Only because you wanted to do violent and terrible things to me.”

  I smiled because that was true.

  “You look like you want to do that now.”

  Brows raised, I looked at him. “Happy? I’m looking at you now.”

  A half-grin appeared. “Yes, but your face is as red as a tomato.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered.

  “And you still look like you want to murder me.”

  I sighed.

  He adjusted Molly’s halter as he said, “You know what you felt during the feeding and what surely came afterward is only natural.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need you to tell me this.”

  “Then maybe you would like some advice?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

  “Of course, you are.”

  “If you wish for future feedings—and I’m sure you realize there will be future ones—to be less intimate, you could offer him your wrist.”

  I spun toward Kieran. “Well, that information is so very helpful now.”

  Kieran laughed, not even bothering to move out of the way when I punched his arm.

  “Ouch,” he murmured. “That was actually hard.”

  “Do I even want to know why you just hit Kieran?” Casteel asked as he rejoined us.

  Kieran’s eyes lit as he opened his mouth—

  “No,” I jumped in, shooting Kieran a look that promised death if he spoke as Casteel came to stand beside me. “You do not.”

  Grinning, Kieran backed up. “When has she ever needed a reason to be violent?”

  “Good point.” Casteel glanced down at me, one side of his lips quirking. The damn dimple winked into existence. “I guess I should be grateful that she didn’t stab you.”

  “There’s always later,” I muttered.

  A throaty, feminine laugh snapped my head around. “You’re right, Kieran. I like her.”

  Standing barefoot in the terrace’s doorway was a stunning woman dressed in black leggings and a bright yellow, sleeveless tunic that fit the curve of her hips and chest. Golden cuffs encircled her wrists and upper arms. Her jet-black hair, braided in narrow, tight rows, nearly reached her waist. The pale, wintry blue eyes were a striking contrast to skin as beautiful as the rich black of the night-blooming roses. There was some vague familiarity about the slant of her cheeks and the shape of her brow, but I knew I’d never met the female wolven before.

  “Because she insinuated that I could be stabbed later?” Kieran muttered. “Shocker.”

  Oh, gods, I really needed to stop talking about stabbing people.

  The woman laughed. “Of course.” She stepped out of the doorway, her gaze flicking to Casteel. “Why are you standing there so quiet?”

  “I am not interrupting you.” Casteel held up his hands. “The last time I did, you knocked me on my ass.”

  I blinked.

  “That is not why I knocked you on your ass,” she replied. “I don’t exactly remember why I did it, but I’m sure it was because you did something to deserve it.”

  The corners of my lips turned up.

  “Since both of them have no manners, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Vonetta, but everyone calls me Netta. I’m Kieran’s sister.”

  Shock rippled through me. “You have a sister,” I blurted out.

  Vonetta shot her brother a look. “Wow, Kieran.”

  “Hey, Casteel never said I had one either.”

  “Don’t drag me into this,” Casteel remarked.

  “My feelings are hurt, and I am the baby of the family. My feelings should never be hurt,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I expect an extra batch of the candied fruit.”

  “As soon as I have an hour to make some, I will.”

  “You have had plenty of hours to do so already.” Facing me, she extended a hand. Her nails were painted a yellow as brilliant as her tunic.

  “I’m Penellaphe,” I said, taking her hand. The moment our skin touched, her eyes widened. “Did you just feel something weird?”

  “Yeah. Like a static charge,” she answered as Casteel moved in closer. She let go of my hand. “That’s strange.”

  “Coulton felt the same thing,” Casteel said.

  “And I felt something like that back in New Haven,” Kieran reminded me.

  “That’s right.” I clasped my hands together. “I'd forgotten.”

  “Well, I'm kind of offended now,” he muttered.

  “Do you feel anything like that?” I asked Casteel, recalling a similar feeling a few times we’d touched.

  “I have,” he said, head tilted as he examined me closely, like I was a strange new species. “I thought it was my imagination.”

  “I’ve felt it when I’ve touched you.” I turned back to the siblings. “But I didn’t feel anything now or when Coulton or Kieran felt something earlier.”

  “Apparently, we’re not as special as Casteel,” Vonetta commented.

  “You should’ve already known that,” he replied.

  She shot him a look. “You saying something like that was probably why I knocked you on your ass the last time.”

  I laughed. “I like her.”

  “Of course, you do.” Casteel sighed as he placed his hand on my back. But when I looked up at him, he had that look to him again. Like he’d lost his breath. Swallowing, he looked over at Kieran’s sister. “Are you going to invite us in?”

  “Are you going to be less annoying?”

  “Probably not, but since I’m your Prince….”

  “Whatever. Fine.” Then she smiled. “Come in. I just finished making sandwiches.”

  The living area was a round, cozy area full of color. Thick sky-blue floor cushions circled a low-to-the-ground white table. Bright orange and deep purple throw pillows covered a black settee. The breeze let in by the open windows and terrace doors lazily turned the blades of a ceiling fan. A stack of books on an end table by the settee snagged my attention as Casteel tugged me down onto one of the cushions on the floor while Vonetta and Kieran disappeared through a rounded archway.

  “Is lemonade fine?” Vonetta’s voice carried out from the other room. “Kieran made it, so it’s more sweet than sour.”

  Casteel glanced at me, and when I nodded, he called out, “That’s perfect.”

  A few moments later, Kieran returned carrying four glasses, which he placed on the table before dropping onto the cushion on the other side of Casteel.

  “Thank you,” I said, picking up the cool glass. Ice cubes clinked together, a
nd I realized there must be a cold room underground somewhere since there appeared to be no electricity running in Spessa’s End yet.

  “Don’t be polite,” Kieran remarked. “It weirds me out.”

  I cracked a grin at that as I took a sip. The sweet and sour mix was perfect. “This is actually really good.”

  “Kieran is a master at making drinks,” Casteel shifted back on one arm, leaning slightly into my shoulder. “Especially the kind involving alcohol.”

  “A man must have his talents.”

  “Even if said talents are generally useless,” Vonetta commented as she entered, carrying a silver tray loaded with sandwiches cut into narrow strips and a large bowl of strawberries dusted with sugar.

  “I’ll remember that the next time you ask me to make you a drink,” Kieran replied.

  Vonetta snorted as she sat beside me. “I hope you like cucumber sandwiches. Other than cold cuts, it’s the only sandwich I can manage.”

  “They’re one of my favorites. Thank you,” I said, picking one up. “And it’s the only sandwich I’ve ever made, actually.”

  “Really?” Casteel asked, handing me one of the napkins from the tray.

  I nodded. “I wasn’t allowed to cook or to learn how, but I did sneak into the kitchens sometimes and watch,” I admitted, and then felt silly the moment the words had left my mouth. I had no idea how much Vonetta even knew about my past. Heat crept up my throat as I sat back a little, distancing myself from Casteel. I quickly shoved half the sandwich into my mouth.

  “Kieran told me a little bit of what it was like for you,” Vonetta said, her tone soft. “But honestly, the not being allowed to learn how to cook part sounds amazing.”

  I glanced up at her in confusion as Casteel reclaimed the short distance that separated us. His arm pressed to mine as he reached for a sandwich and then remained there.

  “I don’t mean the not having a choice part. That sounds terrible. That is terrible.” She took a drink of lemonade. “But if I didn’t have to learn, then I’d have an excuse for why I’m horrible at cooking. Our poor mother spent many moons attempting to teach me how to bake bread. I’d rather sharpen a sword than knead yeast. Of course, Mom excels equally at both.”