A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  The trees were full of the calls and chirps of birds, but as Beckett had said, the Chambers weren’t that far. We left the wooded area fairly quickly.

  The structure rose against the deep blue of the sky, the limestone and marble a glistening white in the sun.

  We walked through a short field of tiny blue and yellow flowers. The closer I got, the more I realized how large the temple still was. It was nearly the length of Castle Teerman.

  “Good gods,” I said, glancing at Beckett. “This thing is huge.”

  He nodded as he quickly glanced at me. “It’s one of the largest of the Temples here.”

  “Why is it called the Chambers?” I asked as we climbed the steep steps, welcoming the distraction. Vines scaled the wide steps, all the way to the top where they wrapped around the columns.

  “It’s because there are tombs underneath.”

  I stopped near the top and looked at him. “Seriously?”

  A nervous giggle left him. “Yeah. The entrance to them is on the side. It’s where some of the ancient ones have been buried—the deities, I mean.”

  “Sorry. Graveyards and tombs kind of weird me out,” I admitted as I started walking again.

  “Same.” A quick smile appeared. “Especially these. You feel…I don’t know, like those who are entombed are watching you.”

  A warm, salty breeze reached us as we came to the top. I didn’t know where to look first. Pebbles and much larger rocks were scattered across the Atlantian Crest that had been engraved into the stone floors.

  Statues of the gods stood between the columns, each one with one arm outstretched. Nyktos was the tallest of them all, and he stood in the very center of the Temple, the toes of his feet brushing the Atlantian Crest. All were sculpted so it appeared the sun rose behind them, and they held torches in their stone hands, empty of flames, of life.

  Tearing my gaze from them, I walked to one side. The beauty of what I saw was stunning. I’d never seen water so clear. Bright blue, green, and even red coral was clearly visible underneath. Farther out, where the water deepened, it was a shade as blue as the sky above. I knew there were other things to see, like the trees of Aios that were visible from the Chambers, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from the sea. The next breath I took was steady and calming as if I hadn’t taken a breath as deep as this one in, well, forever. I blinked, realizing there were tears in my eyes. Normally, I wouldn’t get choked up by seeing a body of water, but it…it felt like home.

  “Thank you for healing my legs,” Beckett said, startling me. As terrible as it was, I’d forgotten that he was there. “I know I said that before, but I, uh, I just wanted to say it again. You have no idea what you did for me.”

  It took me a moment before I trusted myself to speak. The poor kid was already uncomfortable around me. He didn’t need me to start sobbing all over him. “You didn’t need to thank me before, and you don’t need to do it now.” I touched the warm stone of a column. “I’m glad I could help.”

  Off in the distance, I could make out the Isles of Bele. They appeared large, as if they could house two or three towns the size of Spessa’s End. There was something at the highest peak of the center island. A Temple? I started to ask Beckett what it was when I realized that he hadn’t responded to me.

  Pulling my gaze from the sparkling waters, I turned, and every muscle in my body immediately locked up. Beckett was gone.

  But I wasn’t alone.

  Several people stood by the statue of Nyktos. Mostly men, but a few women. There were at least a dozen, a mix of Atlantian and mortal. Not a single wolven among them. But they were all dressed the same, wearing loose white pants and tighter, sleeveless shirts. Their arms were adorned with golden bands similar to those I’d seen on the Guardians in Spessa’s End. Their attire, the way they stared at me, reminded me of the Priests and Priestesses in Solis.

  Except the Priests and Priestesses didn’t carry weapons. All of them wore a golden, narrow, long dagger strapped across their chests.

  Goosebumps pimpled my skin. I recognized none of them, but I knew what they were feeling. Anger surged from them, thickening the air, and it mixed with my stinging disbelief as what was happening began to sink in. Instinct flared to life.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” an Atlantian said, taking a step forward. “You should’ve never crossed the Skotos Mountains. Your mere presence is a taint, Maiden.”

  These people knew exactly who I was.

  I quickly glanced at the exit—the only exit. They blocked it, and their anger—their hatred—it kept stretching out toward me, coating my skin like a too-coarse blanket, filling the back of my throat with hot acid. I severed the connection, picturing each cord being snipped away until there was nothing inside me but my pounding heart. Once I locked them out, I scanned the Temple again, this time looking for any sign of the young wolven. There was none, and everything inside me knew what had been done, even if I didn’t understand why. He’d been so happy when I first met him. I’d healed him. No other wolven had been unkind toward me.

  But he…he had led me here. He’d offered to bring me here, and then he’d left me.

  Left me to those who I’d never seen or met before but who hated me nonetheless.

  But they did not choose you.

  My skin flushed hot and then cold. It had been a trap. One of opportunity or something planned, I had no idea. And I didn’t know how this had been orchestrated—if these people had been waiting or for how long. But it didn’t change what this was. The betrayal, the disappointment, and the bone-deep hurt sank its razor-sharp claws into me. I stared at the nameless faces, feeling as if my chest had cracked open.

  It had been so silly of me to want these people to accept me. And so incredibly naive for me to take that flicker of hope and hold onto it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to…gods, I wanted to cry. And I wanted to rage.

  But I couldn’t.

  I needed to stay calm. This was a trap, but they knew who I was, and that meant they also had to know that I was Casteel’s wife. They couldn’t seriously think to harm me. I needed to deescalate the situation somehow. The mortals wouldn’t be a problem. The Atlantians standing before them could become one, however.

  Still, I lowered my right hand to where my sweater hid the wolven dagger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this area was forbidden, and I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I am not an Ascended, and I never chose to be the Maiden. I fought against them at—”

  “You’re something worse,” a woman interrupted, and I realized she held something in her closed fist. “We know what you really are. We know how you managed to gain the Prince’s trust, empath. Soul Eater.”

  A prickly wave of dread skated over my skin. None of these people had been in Spessa’s End or at New Haven. Had Alastir told someone? I doubted that Kieran would have during his brief return. At the moment, none of that mattered. What did was that what Alastir had said was right. So was Casteel, even though he hadn’t wanted to say it. And I already suspected as much. Because of who I was and who I wasn’t, they wouldn’t accept me, and they feared me.

  And that fear fed their hatred. That was the most dangerous of all. “I am not that either,” I said, watching the woman’s hand—their hands. A man held something, too. “I cannot feed off emotional energy or heighten fear. I didn’t even know what I was until—”

  “Close your mouth, whore,” the Atlantian spat.

  I blinked, shocked into silence by the slur.

  “You speak out of both sides of your mouth,” he continued. “Your lies may have worked on the others, but they will not work on us.”

  “You will not find what you seek here,” a woman said, and I immediately thought of the voice I’d heard last night. “You will not destroy Atlantia from within. You may have warped the Prince’s mind, but you will not succeed with us.”

  “I haven’t done anything to him.” My fingers curled under the hem of my sweater.

  “Other than attempt to kill him
?” another challenged as the clouds formed above us.

  Well, that was hard to defend, and also something none of them should’ve known.

  “Or led an army of Ascended to the walls of Spessa’s End?” another claimed, and that was also hard to defend. “People died, didn’t they?”

  People had.

  “The Ascended disguised you as a Maiden. Sending you right into the heart of Atlantia,” the Atlantian man said, the one who had spoken first. “We will not let you destroy Atlantia. We will not allow you to destroy us all, whore of the Ascended.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I fought my anger and was losing. I was too damn…hurt, and I refused to stand here and listen to them accuse me of working with the Ascended. I had killed countless people to defend Spessa’s End. I had been prepared to end my own life to protect that town. “I speak nothing but the truth when I say I am sorry for all that you may have suffered at the hands of the Ascended. I can even understand your distrust and dislike of me, but if one of you calls me a whore one more time, you will regret it.”

  “Because of the Prince?” The Atlantian sneered. “Do you think we’re not willing to die to protect our kingdom from even him? The Prince is already lost to us, just as Malik was.”

  “Your Prince is not lost to you.” My fingers brushed the sheath of the dagger as the sun hid behind a dark cloud. “And it’s not my husband you have to worry about. It’s me.”

  Focused on the Atlantian, I’d forgotten about the woman—about what she held. I didn’t even see her lift her arm. It was such a stupid misstep on my part. Vikter would be so disappointed.

  Pain exploded, stunning me. I gasped, clutching my throbbing shoulder as I looked down.

  A rock.

  She’d thrown a rock.

  I almost laughed, only because she could’ve thrown something worse. Like the dagger strapped to her chest. Anything more dangerous than a rock.

  “That hurt,” I bit out as the clouds darkened, becoming fat and heavy. The scent of rain filled the air, and in the distance, the warning of thunder rumbled. “But seriously? A rock?”

  “You think we fear you?” the Atlantian male said, withdrawing his dagger. “You’re not a threat when you can’t touch us. We know how Soul Eaters feed. We know how you sense emotion. You must come into contact with flesh.”

  That was not how that worked. “There appears to be a lot of things you have no understanding of.” I unsheathed the dagger. To hell with making the situation worse. “I am not your enemy, but you’re quickly becoming mine.”

  “But you’re not anything but a scarred whore for the Ascended,” the woman replied calmly as thunder clapped, closer now.

  Before I could even question how I could be both the Maiden and a whore, a new pain erupted along the side of my head, so sudden and shocking that I dropped the dagger as I staggered back. I quickly realized that the stoning was only meant to incapacitate me so they could get closer. Another rock hit me in the stomach, then my leg, my arms—

  A streak of lightning lit the sky over the sea. Thunder boomed, echoing through the columns of the Temple as sudden agony lanced my brow when a rock connected with my forehead and the scarred skin there, so sharp and startling that it sent me to my knees. My hold on my senses loosened and then shattered. It was like a crevice cracked wide open in me as wet warmth trickled down my temple.

  Ascended trash. Soul Eater. Whore. Words fell in time with their rocks, but it was what I felt from them that landed heavier blows.

  “Enough,” I whispered.

  Their anger and hatred beat at me as I looked down, seeing my blood falling against the stone. I couldn’t breathe. Their raw emotions were an endless rolling tide, and underneath it was a hum, a whirring from the very core of me. My skin vibrated. Just like it had when the soldiers surrounded Casteel and I before the wolven had arrived.

  Something red splashed on the ground, tainting the pearly stone. More blood. Another drop joined it, seeping into the cracks. The marble trembled under my feet as roots appeared in the stone, thin as fragile veins, they crept out from the crack. I blinked a sting from my eyes, and the roots disappeared. Another splash of crimson fell and another, this one farther from where I stood.

  It was blood.

  But it wasn’t mine.

  It fell from above.

  The skies bled.

  Chapter 45

  Dizzy, I lifted my head to see blood falling like rain from the crimson-hued cloud that stretched over the Temple and the cove.

  It spattered the pristine white of the Temple floor, dampening my clothing and turning the white clothing of those who stood before me pink. It seemed to stun them as they cast their gazes to the sky.

  “Tears of an angry god,” someone whispered.

  My gaze shifted to the blur of unfamiliar faces.

  “It is an omen,” the Atlantian who had unsheathed his dagger announced. “They’re showing us that they know what must be done and what we will face.”

  “Enough,” I said again.

  “For Atlantia,” a woman said. She was closer. A mortal with Atlantian blood and crimson streaking her face. An Atlantian stood beside her, his lips peeled back to expose his fangs and the hatred in his snarl reminded me of a Craven. Of an Ascended.

  “From blood and ash.” The Atlantian raised the dagger. “We will rise again, my brothers and sisters.”

  The hum in my blood grew, the buzz in my skin intensified, stronger than what I’d felt before, and that ancient sense of knowledge rose deep from my pain. The cords I could see so clearly rippled out from me, connecting me to each and every one of them. It gathered all their burning hatred and scorching loathing, their acidic bitterness and thirst for vengeance after years, decades, centuries of pain inflicted upon them. And I took it.

  I took it all inside me, letting it pour into every vein, every cell until it choked me, until I tasted the blood, until I drowned in it. Until I tasted death, and it was sweet.

  “Enough!” I screamed as the connection to them—to all of them—crackled with energy. The cords that had always been invisible, lit up in silver, becoming visible to not only my eyes but theirs.

  “Your eyes,” the Atlantian with the dagger gasped, staggering back.

  Moonlight glow spilled out of me, seeping over the stone and rippling into the charged air as I stood. Thunder rolled endlessly, shaking the Temple and the nearby trees.

  “Dear gods,” the Atlantian whispered, his dagger slipping from his fingers to fall soundlessly to the tile. “Forgive us.”

  Too late.

  The cords connecting me to all of them contracted as I threw out my arms. All the hate, the loathing, the bitterness and vengeance intensified, tripled, and then erupted from me, traveling through each of those cords, finding their way back home.

  Lightning streaked overhead like a thousand screams as the group’s rancid emotions choked them.

  Hair blew back from faces. Clothing pulled taut against bodies. Feet slid over stone, and they went down, one after another after another as if they were nothing more than fragile saplings caught in a windstorm.

  I watched as their vileness continued feeding back to them.

  I watched as they clutched at their heads, writhing and spasming, screaming and shrieking until the bones in their throats caved in under their contempt.

  And then…nothing.

  Silence in and outside of me. I was empty again—no hatred, no anger, no pain. Empty and cold.

  I sucked in air, staggering as the silver cords connected to them sparked and fizzled out. The rain eased and then stopped, forming pinkish puddles across the floor.

  Those on the stone didn’t move, they didn’t thrash and squirm. Red. There was so much red around them that ran in rivulets to the puddles, deepening the pinkish hue. They lay still, their bodies twisted and contorted as if they had been thrown about by the gods themselves. Eyes wide and mouths hanging open, hands clenched tightly around rocks or their crushed
throats.

  I felt nothing from them.

  The bells tolled again, this time rapidly with no pauses between the gongs, and the Temple shuddered. Stone cracked behind me. The scent of blood and rich soil spilled into the air. A shadow fell over me, stretched across the floor like hundreds of bare bone fingers.

  Slowly, I turned around, and my gaze crawled up thick, glistening bark and across the bare limbs of a massive tree. Tiny golden buds formed all over and blossomed, thousands unfurling to reveal blood-red leaves.

  A Blood Forest tree stood, rooted where my blood had first fallen.

  Movement snagged my gaze. My head jerked to the left, and whatever breath I managed to get into my lungs fled.

  They were sleek shadows prowling up the wide steps, hesitating there, surveying the bodies on the stone floor.

  Heads turned to one another. Pairs of keen, frosted eyes lifted to where I stood before the blood tree, breathing heavily. I tensed.

  Behind them, larger ones pressed forward. Two. Three. Four. So many more. There were dozens. Maybe even a hundred. Perhaps more. Each one greater than the one before them, their fur glossy in the sunlight as the clouds overhead scattered, their eyes an incandescent blue I’d never seen before. Their ears perked and nostrils twitched as they scented the air—the blood.

  As they scented me.

  I recognized the shock of Delano’s white fur and then my heart twisted as I saw Kieran, his unnaturally bright eyes fixed on me, on the silvery light that still glowed around me.

  Claws clicked on stone as they came forward, stepping over the fallen, heads down low, slowly moving around me, circling me, making room…

  Good gods.

  The color of steel, the wolven was double the size of any I’d seen, nearly as tall as me. Maybe even taller, and it stalked forward, paws the size of two of my hands.