“But we must speak of the past,” his mother said, and Casteel went rigid. “Just not in the way you think,” she added with a heavy exhale. I finally opened my senses, letting them stretch out toward her. The tanginess of anguish was so extreme that I almost took a step back. She smoothed a hand over her already coifed hair as her husband joined her at her side in the same silent way Casteel often moved. He placed a hand on her shoulder as she said, “I need to apologize. I truly didn’t mean to cause offense, but I know that I have. My shock over the entire situation has obviously made a mess of me,” she said, reaching up and folding a hand over her husband’s. “But there is no excuse. Because you both are right.”
Her gaze swept back to me. “Especially you. What was done was not your fault or my son’s, and what I had planned to say to you was how sorry I am for what happened.” There was sincerity there, tasting of contrition, and I relaxed a little. “But both Valyn and I are relieved that you are…that you stand before us with our son.” There was a beat of emotion I couldn’t read because it came and went so quickly. “I should’ve said this as soon as you walked into the room, but I…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I am deeply sorry, Penellaphe.”
I watched Casteel’s father dip his chin to kiss his mother’s temple, an act that tugged at my heart, reminding me of Casteel. The breath I took no longer scalded my throat, even if my skin still pricked with pent-up frustration. But Casteel’s parents had been dealt a shock. I couldn’t forget that she likely knew I shared the same blood as her first husband. I was a painful reminder of a past she probably wished never to think of.
And while the part of me that existed in the center of the hum in my chest wanted me to turn around and leave, I knew that would be as pointless as lecturing Casteel. Besides, I was capable of compassion, and I did feel empathy for his mother—for both of his parents. I was not what they expected. Ever.
“It’s okay. You haven’t had a chance to really see Casteel, let alone speak to him. And I can understand why you’d be shocked to see me as I am and not as one should be after an Ascension,” I said. There was no missing the twin bursts of surprise from both his parents.
Queen Eloana blinked rapidly while her husband stared at me as if I’d sprouted a third arm. His mother recovered first. “Thank you for being so understanding, especially when we are the ones who have much to atone for. Please,”—she extended an arm to identical settees that sat across from the one she had been seated upon—“have a seat.”
Casteel glanced back at me, the question clear in his eyes. He was leaving it up to me, whether we stayed or left. I reached out to him, welcoming the weight and feel of his fingers around mine. I nodded.
Relief was evident from both his parents. “Would either of you like something to drink? Kieran?” she asked.
We passed on the offer as we sat in the thickly cushioned settee—the kind I could easily imagine curling up in to read a book.
Just not that damn diary.
Kieran remained standing, taking up a guard position behind the settee, and it didn’t escape me that that was exactly what he was doing. He was standing guard directly behind me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
That had to send a rather uncomfortable message.
“I hope what you saw of Atlantia yesterday has shown you that your experiences with us so far are not who we are,” King Valyn stated, his stare nearly as intense as his son’s as he revealed their knowledge of how we’d spent the day before. He and his wife sat. “And those you may have met yesterday are more of a representation.”
“I want nothing more than for that to be true,” I admitted. “What I’ve seen so far of Saion’s Cove has been lovely.”
His father nodded. “I want to make sure that is the only truth you come to know.”
“We learned last night that we owe you our gratitude, something else I should’ve said already.” The Queen’s citrine-bright gaze fixed on me. I tasted the lemon of curiosity, a tart blast of confusion, and the tangy undercurrent of sorrow. “Thank you for aiding the child who was injured in the carriage accident. You prevented a great, unnecessary tragedy.”
I glanced at Casteel, unsure of how to answer. You’re welcome seemed like an odd way to respond in this situation. His hand tightened around mine. “I…I only did what I could to help her.”
The King arched a brow. “Only did what you could? You saved that child’s life. That was no simple act.”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable.
“My wife is far humbler than I am,” Casteel asserted, and there was a soft, barely audible but recognizable snort from behind me. The corners of my lips turned down as Casteel’s gaze slid to mine. “If I were capable of doing what she did, I would have my greatness inked on my skin.”
“Really,” I replied dryly. “That sounds excessive.”
“But as you already know, I am excessive in all things,” he told me in a voice that was all lush, decadent smoke.
Warmth crept into my cheeks as a wicked heat settled low in my belly. Immediately, I thought of what we’d done on the beach the night before. That had been…excessive.
Casteel grinned.
His father cleared his throat. “Have you always been able to do what you did with the child?”
Pulling my gaze from Casteel, and my mind from very inappropriate places, I answered. “No, I haven’t,” I said and then gave a brief recap of the evolution of my abilities. “They were changing before I Ascended.”
“I figured it had to do with the Culling,” Casteel supplied.
“The Culling would explain the change,” his mother agreed.
“And this was before the Ascension? I know of no other half-Atlantian to go through the Culling.” His father eyed me closely. “Or any Ascended mortal with Atlantian blood who went through a Culling and did not become a vampry. But then again, I know of no other half-Atlantian descended from the gods, who is alive today.”
“Me, either,” I said and then cringed. Obviously, I didn’t. Gods.
Amusement trickled in from Casteel, and surprisingly, his father. A faint grin appeared on the King’s face as Casteel said, “You said you know of no other that is alive today. Are you saying there were others like her before?”
I almost wanted to smack myself for not catching that earlier.
The Queen nodded. “It didn’t happen often, but deities did create children with either Atlantians or mortals. When that happened, the eather of the deity often manifested in the child in one way or another. Of course, that manifestation was stronger if the other parent was Atlantian.”
“The children? The ones from those who were mortal?” I asked, my need for answers great. “They were still mortal?”
She nodded as she picked up her small white cup from the table. “From what I remember, they healed faster than most mortals from injuries, and they were not often sick,” she explained as she looked to her husband, taking a sip. I had always healed fast, and I rarely ever got sick. “But they remained mortal—aging the same as any other. They probably would’ve lived slightly longer if it weren’t for their need to chase after death.”
“What does that mean?” Casteel asked.
“Those who carried the blood of the gods were often warriors—the first to stop a fight, and sometimes start one,” the King explained. “They were the bravest men and women I’ve ever known, fighting in the trenches alongside Atlantian soldiers. Most, if not all of them, died in the war or were taken captive by the Ascended once they realized the blood they carried within them.”
My stomach soured. They were probably fed upon or used to create more Ascended, facing a brief but no less horrific taste of what Casteel had suffered, and his brother currently lived. My lip curled as I shook my head. “Gods.” I swallowed hard as Casteel squeezed my hand. “How long have the Ascended been doing this?”
“As long as they have breathed,” the King said, and I shuddered. “They have committed atrocious sins agains
None of what he said was an understatement.
“The thing is, though,” his father continued as he rested his elbow on the settee, “not even the children of a deity and an Atlantian had abilities that manifested so strongly in them as they have for you. What you did at the Chambers is something not even the most powerful elemental Atlantian can do,” he said, sliding a thumb along his jaw as he looked between Casteel and me. “You asked me in the Temple of Saion if I could explain what happened to you when Casteel Ascended you.”
“And you told us that you didn’t know,” Casteel replied.
“That wasn’t entirely a lie,” he said, glancing at his wife before turning to Casteel. “The past that your mother spoke of plays a role in this—what you’ve become. But it doesn’t explain how.”
Icy fingers of unease touched the nape of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Your parents?” his mother asked as she tipped forward slightly. “You believed them both to be mortal?”
“I did,” I said, shoulders tensing. “But I’m not so sure now. I don’t even know if they were my birth parents.”
Her throat worked on a swallow. “And you have a brother?”
Alastir had definitely informed them well. “I do. He is older by two years.”
“And he Ascended?” she asked, and I nodded stiffly. She clasped her hands lightly in her lap. “Are you sure of that?”
“He has only ever been seen at night,” Casteel confirmed. “Beyond that, there is no way of knowing. But he has been seen multiple times. I do not believe they are using him for blood—in the same way they intended to use Penellaphe.”
I knew what his parents were thinking. That Ian was either my half-brother or not my brother by blood at all. If either were the case, I didn’t care. He was still my sibling. Just as my parents, who had given their lives to protect us, would always be the only mother and father I knew.
“I believe that we can answer some of the questions you have,” his mother stated, her gaze briefly meeting her husband’s.
Casteel squeezed my hand as I said, “Alastir told me that I share similar abilities with—”
“Malec?” Queen Eloana interjected, her sorrow becoming a thickness that cast a pall on the room. “You do. You would. He spoke the truth.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I was stunned and even more surprised by the fact that I was so shocked. Apparently, some part of me hadn’t wanted to believe it was true. I sat back, trying to pull my hand free of Casteel’s grip.
He held on as he angled his body toward mine. “It doesn’t matter, Poppy. I told you that before.” His gaze snared mine. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“And it doesn’t matter to us,” Kieran stated softly from behind us, bravely speaking for the entirety of the wolven.
“You actually look like him,” Casteel’s mother whispered, and my head swung in her direction. “Even if I hadn’t seen the power radiating from you, I would’ve known exactly who you came from. You have many of his features and his hair—though his was a shade of red that carried more brown in it, and his skin was a little darker than yours.”
I could feel the blood slowing in my veins. “I was always told that I looked like my mother—”
“By who?” she asked.
“By…” Queen Ileana had told me that. Ever since I could remember, she’d said that I was a replica of my mother when she was my age. I never once questioned that growing up, and even though I was beginning to suspect that at least one of my parents wasn’t related to me by blood, I’d never truly thought it was my mother.
Casteel stared at me for a moment and then turned to his mother and father. “What are you saying?”
“What we’re saying is that it’s impossible for the ones you believed to be your parents to be who you remember them to be.” King Valyn’s tone was softer than what I even imagined him being able to accomplish. “Or they were not your parents at all. Because we know who one of them was.”
The sympathy that radiated from the Queen nearly choked me. “Malec had to have been your father, Penellaphe.”
Chapter 27
I stared at Casteel’s parents, caught in a cyclone of confusion and disbelief. I wanted to stand, but Casteel still held onto my hand tightly. And where could I go?
“For you to have your abilities, you have to be the child of a deity and not just share their blood,” King Valyn explained in that same gentle way. “And it also means that neither of your parents could’ve been mortal.”
I inhaled sharply. “What?”
“There’s simply no way that you were ever mortal,” Queen Eloana said, her gaze searching mine. “That doesn’t mean that the mother you knew isn’t your mother. It just means that she was never mortal.”
I shook my head as my brain rapidly tried to process this new information. “But wouldn’t Alastir have known that? He met her.”
Queen Eloana lowered her gaze, and I knew then that she had said what she had to lessen the impact.
My stomach hollowed. “Don’t do that—don’t lie to soften the blow. I appreciate it. I do.” And I did. It meant that she cared in some fashion about my feelings. “But I need to know the truth. I need to face it.”
A measure of respect rippled through the Queen as she nodded. “He would’ve known if the woman he met was not mortal.”
“It also means that Leopold couldn’t have been Malec.” Kieran had moved to perch on the arm of the settee. “Alastir would’ve known and would’ve said as much.”
I focused on taking deep, even breaths as I reminded myself that I had already suspected that at least one of my parents hadn’t been related to me by blood. I’d even started to accept that, and I…I could accept this. But Malec as my father? Something didn’t add up about that. But my thoughts were too much of a whirlwind to figure out what that was at the moment.
“And he would’ve told me if he had happened across Malec,” Casteel’s mother stated, snapping my attention back to her. “He would’ve told both of us.”
Casteel’s fingers slipped from mine then, and my heart stuttered at the blast of iciness that rolled off him as he stared at his parents. “Did you two know about Penellaphe before me? Did you know what Alastir took part in that night in Lockswood?”
Oh, my gods.
I…I hadn’t even considered that. But I tasted it then, the sourness of shame, coming from both of them. The center of my chest hummed, and Kieran inhaled raggedly as he stretched his neck from left to right. “You…you knew?”
“We knew that he had found what he believed to be a descendant of Malec’s,” Queen Eloana answered as her husband reached between them, clasping her hand. “But we did not know anything else about you or your family. He didn’t even know then that you were Malec’s child. He only came to realize that when he met you again.”
Casteel’s body was impossibly rigid, and I saw Hisa inch away from the window and move toward his parents. “But you knew that he killed her parents? Left her to die?”
His father met his stare. “We only knew after the fact. There was nothing we could’ve done then.”
A moment passed, and then Casteel started to stand. I snapped forward, grasping his arm. “He’s right,” I said, swallowing thickly as his head swung in my direction. His eyes reminded me of frozen topaz. “There was nothing they could’ve done after the fact. This is not their fault.”
So focused on Casteel, I couldn’t quite place the strange sensation again, a fleeting emotion that was sour yet also tangy. I had no idea who it came from or if I had really even felt it when Casteel’s rage was a fire storm. “They’re not to blame for what Alastir did,” I told him, curling my other hand around his arm. “They’re not.”
He didn’t move for several heartbeats and then stiffly returned to sit beside me. The muscles under my hands remained tense as Hisa stepped back to her post by the window, her hand easing away from the hilt of her sword.
“How?” Casteel demanded raggedly. “How could either of you continue a friendship with that bastard after knowing what he did?”
That…
That was an excellent question.
His father’s chest rose with a heavy breath. “Because we thought that he was acting in the best interests of Atlantia.”
“He allowed a child to be attacked by Craven,” snarled Casteel. “How in the fuck is that in the best interests of Atlantia?”
“Because Malik was gone, you showed no interest in taking the Crown, and a descendant of Malec, raised among the Ascended, cared for by a Handmaiden of the Blood Crown, would’ve been able to claim the throne,” his mother said, and I felt Casteel flinch. “And even not knowing the extent of the blood that she carried in her, there was no way that Alastir or either of us believed it to be a coincidence that a Handmaiden was masquerading as the mother of a child who was the heir to Atlantia.”
Masquerading as the mother…
“Gods,” Kieran muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
Casteel sat back, a muscle flexing in his jaw as he looked at me. “Poppy, I—”
“Don’t. Don’t you dare.” Releasing his arm, I clasped the sides of his face. “Don’t you dare apologize. This isn’t your fault either. You were trying to find your brother then. You had no idea what Alastir would do or that I even existed. Don’t you take on that kind of guilt. Please.”
“She’s right, son.” His father cleared his throat. “This is not on you.”
“And you truly think you hold no responsibility in this?” Casteel said, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No, we do,” his mother said quietly. “We didn’t like what was done, but we did not disagree with it. And that is something we’ve lived with since then and will continue to live with.”
“Just like those you killed to protect the location of Iliseeum?” Casteel broke my hold as he turned to his parents. “Is that another thing you both live with?”
“It is,” King Valyn confirmed, and if either were surprised that we had learned about Iliseeum’s location, they didn’t show it. “And if you become King, you will have to do many things that will turn your stomach, haunt your dreams, and that you’ll have to live with.”
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