What Alastir believes about me doesn’t matter, I told myself as I watched Casteel prowl forward, moving toward the nameless men who bled the bitter taste of fear into the air. I hadn’t done anything to deserve what Alastir and they had done. I had only defended myself. My parents had only trusted him. My grip tightened on the dagger.
Casteel was so incredibly fast.
I didn’t even realize what he’d done until the man farthest away from Alastir toppled over. Five more followed like dominos, and I didn’t see the moonlight glinting off his slick sword until it stopped a mere inch from Alastir’s neck. He’d severed their heads. All of them except Alastir. In a few heartbeats.
I sucked in the breath that seemed to leave Alastir’s body. The wolven was so still that it was like he was made of stone.
“You betrayed your King and Queen,” Casteel said, his voice showing no emotion. And I…I felt nothing from him as he held the blood-soaked edge of the sword to Alastir’s neck. “You betrayed me, and you betrayed Atlantia. But none of those are the worst of your sins.”
Alastir turned his head just enough to look up at Casteel. “I did—”
“The unthinkable,” Casteel said.
“The prophecy—”
“Is utter bullshit,” Casteel snarled.
Alastir was silent only for a few moments. “I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, Casteel. I had to do it. She had to be dealt with. I hope you will understand that someday.”
A tremor coursed through Casteel as I felt his temper rise, hot as the molten ore used to forge steel. For a moment, I thought that Casteel would do it. That he would end Alastir’s life right there. And, honestly, I wouldn’t have held it against him. If Alastir had done this to Casteel, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
But Casteel did.
With awe-inspiring self-control, he pulled the sword away from Alastir’s neck and lowered it, slowly using the tunic Alastir wore to wipe the weapon clean.
The insult heightened the color on Alastir’s cheeks.
“You are responsible for the years of nightmares that have plagued Poppy, aren’t you?” Casteel asked as he finished cleaning his sword. “And then you befriended her. Looked her in the eyes and smiled at her, all the while knowing that you left her to die a horrific death.”
Alastir stared straight ahead. “I did.”
“Those Craven may have been the ones to tear into her skin, but it was ultimately you who is responsible for her pain—for the scars both visible and hidden. For that alone, I should kill you.” Casteel sheathed his sword. “But I won’t.”
“W-what?” Alastir’s head jerked in his direction. “You…you offer me a reprieve?”
“I’m sorry.” Casteel didn’t sound even remotely apologetic. Emil was right. He was amused. “I think you misunderstand. I said I should kill you, but I won’t. I didn’t say you wouldn’t die tonight.” He looked over his shoulder at the trees.
To where I waited.
Emil nodded as he stepped aside.
I walked forward.
A harsh breath was the only sound as I crossed the distance. Alastir’s eyes widened. Our gazes met and held. A guttural rumble of warning came from behind me. Warm fur brushed my hand as Kieran prowled forward, coming to stand beside me.
Heart strangely calm, I held the dagger under the cloak as Alastir looked up at me in shock. “How…?” His handsome, scarred face contorted as his surprise slipped away, and rage etched his features. His hatred was a tangible entity. “Do it. I dare you. It won’t matter. This doesn’t end with me. You’ll prove me right. You will—”
Swinging my arm in a quick, sweeping arc, the bloodstone sliced deep into his throat, ending the poisonous words in a gurgle.
I knelt, catching Alastir by the shoulder before he fell forward. We were at eye-level now, the shock of the wound replacing the hatred in his eyes. I had no idea what mine showed—if they showed anything.
“I will never think of you again after this night,” I promised, wiping the blade clean on the front of his tunic, just as Casteel had. “I just wanted you to know that.”
His mouth opened, but nothing but blood came out. I rose as I let go of him. He toppled, jerking as his blood spilled freely.
“Well,” Casteel drew out the word. “That will not be a quick death.”
Watching the stone turn black in the moonlight for a moment, I looked at Casteel. “I was wrong before. Some don’t deserve the honor of a quick death.”
One side of his mouth quirked, hinting at a dimple as his gaze flickered over my face. “Such a stunning, vicious little creature.”
I turned as Kieran stalked past me to where the body thrashed on the ground. He planted a massive paw on Alastir’s back, his claws digging in as he lifted his head to the sky. A deep howl pierced the silence of the night, echoing through the valleys and over the sea. Tiny goosebumps prickled my skin. The sound was haunting, seeming to hang in the air even after he lowered his head.
A heartbeat passed.
Down below, near the dark sea, a long, keening howl answered. Farther out, there was another and another. Then, throughout the city, hundreds answered Kieran’s call, their yips and barks only overshadowed by the pounding sound against the ground, the rush of their bodies racing among the trees. The thousands of claws digging into soil and stone.
They came.
Like one of the relentless waves crashing against the rocks below, they came in flashes of fur and teeth, both large and small. They came, and they devoured.
Chapter 14
Dawn arrived in vivid streaks of pink and blue as we followed a tree-heavy path around the Temple of Saion, along with the realization that the pleasure derived from retribution was unfortunately short-lived.
It wasn’t that I regretted taking Alastir’s life or not ensuring that his death was a quick one. It was just that I wished it wasn’t necessary. As the sun rose, I wanted it to be rising on a day not overshadowed by death.
I didn’t realize that I was still clutching the wolven dagger until Casteel quietly pried it from my fingers and slipped it into the sheath at his side.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
His gaze flew to mine, his eyes a glittering shade of topaz. I thought he was about to speak, but he said nothing as wolven rose from among the bushes and trees. There were so many of them, some large, and others small, barely bigger than Beckett. My chest squeezed as I watched them prowl alongside us. All of them were alert, their ears perked.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had done to Alastir and the others—the sounds of flesh tearing and bones cracking. Tonight would stay with me for a long, long time. I wondered if such an act upset their digestion.
I didn’t ask, though, because I figured that was a rather inappropriate question.
But right now, I was more focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Every step took energy I was quickly running out of. The exhaustion could’ve stemmed from the lack of sleep as we traveled across the Skotos for the second time, the lack of rest from our first trip, or from everything that had happened from the moment I arrived in Atlantia. It could’ve been a combination of all those things. Casteel had to be equally exhausted, but the good news was that I was once more exposed to sunlight, and my skin wasn’t decaying or doing anything equally disturbing.
So that was a plus.
“You hanging in there?” he asked in a low voice as we approached Setti, the horse’s coat a gleaming onyx in the morning sun. He grazed in the grass.
I nodded, thinking this likely wasn’t the homecoming Casteel had wanted. How long had it been since he’d even seen his parents last? Years. And this was how he had to greet them, with an attack on him, me, and a potential wedge being driven between him and his father.
A heaviness settled in my chest as one of the Guardians led Setti to us. I looked up at the looming Skotos to see a canopy of glistening red.
The landscape of Atlantia had been forever changed, but what
did it mean?
“Poppy?” Casteel’s voice was quiet.
Realizing that he was waiting for me, I dragged my gaze from the mountains and reached up, grasping Setti’s saddle. I didn’t find out if I had the strength to pull myself up as I’d done outside the hunting cabin. Casteel lifted me and then quickly followed.
Kieran joined us, having returned to his mortal form, now dressed in the clothing Niall had brought back with us. He mounted one of the horses, and I saw the shadows gathering under his eyes. We were all tired, so it was no surprise that we rode away from the Temple in silence, followed by the wolven. I didn’t see Emil or Naill when we left, nor did I catch sight of Quentyn.
It took some time for us to navigate the cliffs and come upon the field of pink and blue wildflowers. I looked at the trees at the other end of the field but couldn’t see the Chambers of Nyktos from the road. I wondered what kind of shape the Temple was in. Sighing, I faced forward. My heart skipped in my chest as I looked ahead and saw the Pillars of Atlantia once again. The marble and limestone columns were so high they nearly reached the clouds. Shadowy markings etched the stone in a language I couldn’t read. This was the resting place of Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his sister Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance. The columns were connected to a wall that was as large as the Rise that surrounded the capital of Solis and continued on as far as I could see.
Home.
I still felt that way. It was the skip in my chest. The sense of rightness. I looked over my shoulder at Casteel to tell him as much, but I picked up on the anger brewing inside him. It pooled in my mouth like acid, and his concern was a too-thick cream in the back of my throat.
“I’m okay,” I told him.
“I wish you’d stop saying that.” His grip tightened on the reins. “You’re not okay.”
“Am, too,” I insisted.
“You’re tired.” Casteel looped his arm loosely around my waist. “You’ve been through a lot. There’s no way you’re okay.”
I stared at his grip on the reins. Sometimes I wondered if he could feel my emotions or read my thoughts. He couldn’t, but he knew me better than those who’d known me for years. It was sort of amazing how that had happened in such a relatively short period of time. But right now, I almost wished he didn’t. I blinked back the hot rush of pointless tears. I didn’t even understand why I suddenly felt so emotional, but I didn’t want it weighing on his mind. I started to reach for him but stopped, dropping my hand into my lap instead. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?”
I swallowed hard as I lifted my gaze to Kieran’s back. “Just…for everything.”
Casteel stiffened behind me. “Are you serious?”
“Yes?”
“What exactly is this everything you’re apologizing for?”
I doubted repeating the word would suffice. “I was just thinking about how you haven’t seen your parents in years, and how your homecoming should’ve been a good one—a happy one. Instead, all of this happened. And Alastir…” I shook my head. “You knew him far longer than me. His betrayal has to bother you. And I was also thinking about the Chambers of Nyktos and wondering how damaged it must be now. I bet the Temple has been there for thousands of years. And here I came and—”
“Poppy, I’m going to stop you right there. Part of me wants to laugh—”
“Same,” Kieran commented from up front.
My eyes narrowed on the wolven.
“The other part of me finds absolutely nothing funny about you apologizing for things you have no control over.”
“I also second that,” Kieran tossed out.
“This conversation doesn’t involve you, Kieran,” I snapped.
The wolven shrugged a shoulder. “Just chiming in with my two cents. Carry on. My father and I will pretend we can’t hear either of you.”
I scowled at him as I glanced to where Jasper rode past us in his mortal form. I had no idea when he’d shifted.
“Look,” Casteel said, his voice low, “we’re going to need to talk about a lot when we’re somewhere private, and I’ve had a chance to make sure your injuries have healed.”
“What injuries?”
Casteel sighed behind me. “Since you apparently didn’t notice, you were still covered in bruises after you rested in the hunting cabin.”
After he’d Ascended me into…whatever I was now. “I’m—”
“Don’t tell me you’re fine again, Poppy.”
“I wasn’t,” I lied.
“Uh-huh.” He shifted me closer to him, so I leaned into his chest. “What you need to know now is that none of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong, Poppy. None of this is on you. You understand that? Believe that?”
“I know that. I did nothing to cause any of this,” I told him, speaking the truth. I didn’t blame myself for other people’s actions, but I was still a disruptive presence, whether I intended to be or not. It was a different kind of guilt.
We fell silent as my gaze shifted beyond Kieran to the sprawling city of Saion’s Cove. Ivory and sand-colored buildings—some square and others circular—gleamed under the fading sun, dotting the sweeping, rolling hills and valleys. Some structures were as wide as they were tall, sitting closer to the ground. Once again, it reminded me of the Temples in Solis, but these were not made out of the black, reflective stone that those were. These captured the sun, worshipped it. Other buildings were taller than even Castle Teerman, their sleek towers sweeping gracefully into the sky. And every rooftop I could see was covered in green. Trees rose from them, and vines spilled from the rooftops, all bursting with vivid pink, blue, and purple flowers.
Saion’s Cove was nearly the size of Carsodonia, and this was just one of Atlantia’s cities. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Evaemon, the capital of Atlantia, must look like.
The first signs of life we saw were from the farms just outside the city. Cows and fluffy sheep grazed in the fields. Goats nibbled at weeds and low-hanging branches near the road. Orchards bearing yellow fruit were mixed among various crops, and seated back from the main road, cream-colored walls of homes peeked out from behind mossy cypress trees. Many buildings were there, among the trees, all of them spaced apart and large enough to house a decent-sized family. This was nothing like Masadonia or Carsodonia, where sprawling manors and estates were prevalent, and the workers either traveled from the city or stayed in barely livable huts on the properties.
The livestock took no notice of the wolven that followed us as we passed the farms. Perhaps they were used to their presence or sensed they were of no threat to them. Had the farmers or people in the city heard the wolven in the middle of the night as they came to the Temple of Saion? That must have been a sound to wake up to.
But thoughts of the wolven’s howls fell to the wayside as nervous energy jolted my system. The city suddenly appeared before us.
There were no gates, no inner walls or buildings heavily stacked upon one another. The scent of people forced to live in cramped, narrow spaces didn’t stain the air. That was the first thing one smelled when entering either Masadonia or Carsodonia. It always reminded me of misery and desperation, but Saion’s Cove smelled of fruit from the nearby orchards, and salt from the sea. The farmlands and moss-strewn cypresses simply transitioned into the city, and that was a statement.
There was no separation between those who fed the city and the tables that food sat on.
Seeing that brought forth a rush of faith and possibility, and I sat a little straighter. I didn’t know much about Atlantian politics, and I knew the kingdom wasn’t without problems. They were quickly becoming overpopulated, something Casteel hoped to alleviate through negotiations with Solis officials and by reclaiming the lands east of New Haven—a large and mostly uninhabited chunk of Solis. Some may not even notice how significant this one difference was, but it was huge. And it was proof that if Atlantia could do it, so could Solis.
But how could that happen? If Caste
el and I were successful in overthrowing the Blood Crown, Solis would remain as it was, only safer for mortals because only the Ascended who agreed to control their thirst would survive. But the power remained with the wealthy. And the wealthiest were among the Ascended. They thrived in a stratified system, which would be harder to break than stopping the Rites and the murders of innocents.
And could the majority of the Ascended be trusted to change? Would the new King and Queen who replaced the ones who currently ruled the Blood Crown even agree? Would Solis really be any different? We had to try, though. It was the only way to avoid war and prevent further destruction and countless deaths. First, we had to convince Queen Ileana and King Jalara that, unlike what the Duchess had claimed about my union with the Prince, it would be the Ascended’s undoing and not the downfall of Atlantia. Both the Duchess and Alastir were wrong—and dead.
In a way, the Ascended had kickstarted their downfall by creating the Maiden and convincing the people of Solis that I had been Chosen by the gods—gods the mortals believed were very much awake and constantly vigilant. The Ascended had made me their figurehead and a symbol of Solis to the people they controlled through manipulation. My marriage to Casteel would serve two purposes. It would prove that the Atlantians were not responsible for the plague known as the Craven—another lie the Ascended had spun to cover their evil deeds and to incite fear to make controlling people easier. And the people of Solis would believe the gods had approved of the Chosen joining with an Atlantian. Because of their lies, we held the upper hand. The only way any Ascended could remain in power was if they understood that. Because if they turned against me, their entire kingdom of lies would crack underneath them. Casteel had been right when he’d said that Queen Ileana was clever. She was. She had to agree. We would prevent a catastrophic war and maybe be able to reshape Solis in the process—for the better.
But a voice inside me, a strange one that sounded a lot like mine but wasn’t and came from the same place that ancient thing in me had seemed to awaken, existed deep in the very core of my being. What that voice whispered left me unsettled and cold with dread.
The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood And Ash Series Book 3) Page 18