The War of Two Queens (Blood And Ash Series Book 4)
The War of Two Queens: Chapter 24

The low sound of hissing rolled across the Great Hall’s floor and through the alcove, coming from mortals and Ascended alike. The back of my neck tensed as Kieran and Reaver stiffened.

“‘The Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction to the lands gifted by the gods,’ has awakened,” the Blood Queen said, and the hissing ceased. Silence greeted her words—silence and my rising disbelief. “It is true, the rumors you’ve heard about our cities to the north and east. They have fallen. Their Rises torn down. The innocent raped and slaughtered, fed from and cursed.”

I…I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Stunned, my gaze swept out over the crowd—over the pale faces as bitter fear scraped against my shields. What I dreaded was true. The prophecy was no longer a barely known cluster of words but a weapon.

An expertly wielded one that was nothing but horrific lies. Lies that were sold and bought without hesitation or question. Lies that had already become truth.

Eather burned from the center of my chest as my grip tightened on the railing. Anger pumped through my veins.

“And those left alive, now captives to barbaric rulers who have spent centuries plotting against us. The gods weep for us.” She leaned forward on the throne, spine straight as more lies spilled from her berry-hued lips. “Our enemy wants to end the glorious Rite—our honorable service to the gods.”

The hissing came again, as did cries of denial.

“I know. I know,” the Blood Queen cooed. “But do not fear. We will not cave to them. We will not submit to the horror they have awakened, will we?”

The shouts were even louder now, a boom as powerful as any blast of thunder. Kieran slowly shook his head, and my skin started to hum.

“We will not live in fear of Atlantia. We will not live in fear of the Harbinger of Death and Destruction.” The Blood Queen’s voice vibrated as the essence did inside of me. “The gods have not abandoned us, and because of that, because of your faith in the Ascended, in me, they never will. You will be spared. That, I promise. And we will have revenge against what has been done to your King. The gods will see to it.”

As the people roared their support in a false god, the Primal eather swelled and pressed against my skin. Under my hands, I felt a tremor in the railing.

Millicent looked down and then took a small step back. She turned her head to me and leaned in. “Calm yourself,” she warned. “Unless you wish to alert the people to the fact that the Harbinger is among them.”

My gaze shot to hers. “I’m not the Harbinger.”

“You’re not.” She sent a pointed glance at the railing.

To the faint cracks beginning to appear in the marble.

“Poppy.” Kieran touched my back as Reaver stepped in closer. “I hate to agree with her, but now would not be the time to do anything rash—no matter how justified.”

“I’m thinking now is as good a time as any,” Reaver commented.

I had to agree with Reaver, but I had no knowledge of where Casteel was being held. No knowledge of my father’s whereabouts. The Blood Queen may be right before me, but that didn’t mean either was located somewhere safe. If I lashed out at her, someone else could strike against them.

And this wasn’t just about them or me. It was about the people on the floor who already believed I was this monster—the Harbinger. If I did anything right now, it would undo everything being done to free them.

A shudder went through me as I pushed the essence down. It took a couple of moments, but I felt Kieran relax, and Millicent turn back to the Great Hall. Eventually, I became aware of what was happening. The Blood Queen was speaking.

“You may come forward,” she said.

“What in the hell is this?” Kieran muttered.

Slipping my hand from his, I looked down to see a frail young woman dressed in a beige gown that hung from sunken shoulders. An older couple aided her, all three under the watchful stares of the knights standing on either side of the wide, curved dais steps. The young woman reached the top, and the couple helped her to her knees. She lifted a shaking arm—

The Blood Queen extended hers, folding her pale, steady hands around the much smaller, trembling one. Only one ring adorned her fingers—a pink diamond that glittered under the light. I’d shut down my senses, but the moment the Blood Queen bowed her head, the young woman’s joy burst through my shields, sweet and smooth.

And my stomach turned. “It’s the Royal Blessing. I didn’t know she was still doing this.”

“Do I even want to know what that is supposed to be?” Kieran asked. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Mortals believe that the touch of a Royal has healing properties,” I told him. Tears ran freely down the woman’s cheeks. My stomach continued to churn. “I remember them lining up for days to get a chance to receive the Blessing.”

“They still do,” Millicent remarked.

“I used to believe it. The Blessing seemed to work sometimes. I didn’t know how. If it was just the power of the mind over the body or…” I watched the Blood Queen take a gold chalice from a nearby Handmaiden and lift it to the woman’s lips. Isbeth smiled warmly, and when she did, she actually looked loving and caring as she tipped the chalice, allowing the woman to sip. My eyes narrowed. “Or if it’s what’s in that cup she has them drink from.”

Kieran slowly turned his head to me. “Blood? Atlantian blood?”

It had to be.

“Gods,” he growled. “It wouldn’t heal someone suffering from some sort of terminal illness, but it could give them a reprieve. It could work long enough to convince the mortals that the gods had blessed the Blood Crown. That their touch could heal. That they and all the Ascended had been Chosen.”

And it had.

After a few moments, the woman’s coloring improved. Her features no longer appeared so gaunt. And then…she stood on her own. Her movements were jerky, but she stood.

Cheers erupted from the mortals packing the floor of the Great Hall. Many dropped to their knees, tears streaming down their faces as they clasped hands in prayer and gratitude. And the Blood Queen lifted her chin—raised those dark eyes to the alcove.

To me.

And she smiled.

“I don’t like how they stare at you.” Reaver’s voice rumbled just above a whisper, swept away by the hum of conversation and the soft strings of music drifting to the high ceiling of the receiving chamber we’d been brought to after the Royal Blessing had ended.

“For once, I can agree with you,” Kieran drawled from my other side.

Wealthy mortals weren’t the only ones in attendance, standing in groups or sprawled across thick, crimson settees, their fingers and necks dripping with costly jewels, and their stomachs full of the treats served by silent servants.

The Ascended surrounded us.

Lords and Ladies existed among the others like empty voids, their jewels larger, their stares darker, and their stomachs likely full of a different kind of treat.

The mortals kept stealing curious glances in our direction, their stares lingering on the two beside me for reasons that had nothing to do with why they looked upon me. They were rather covert about it. Meanwhile, the Ascended gawked openly.

“They stare because they find you two appealing to look upon. They stare at me because I’m flawed,” I told them. “And they cannot figure out why I would be among them.”

“What the hell?” Reaver muttered, frowning.

“The mortal elite of Solis mimic the Royals, and the Ascended covet all things beautiful. Look at them,” I advised. “They’re all perfect in one way or another. Beautiful.”

Reaver scowled. “That’s the stupidest godsdamn thing I’ve heard in a while, and I’ve heard a lot of stupid.”

I shrugged, a little surprised by the fact that I wasn’t bothered. The idea of any of them seeing the scars had once been mortifying to consider, even though I had always been proud of them—of what I had survived. But I had been a different person then—someone who cared about the opinions of the wealthy and the Royals.

I couldn’t care less now.

My gaze flicked to where the Royal Guards stood at the entrance. They too watched, as did the Handmaidens. Millicent had disappeared to the gods only knew where. Time was of the essence, she’d said, and it was. The eather pulsed in my chest. I was growing very impatient.

The Blood Queen knew I was here, and she kept me waiting. It was a silly power move. She’d put me in this chamber because she believed I would behave myself among so many mortals.

Mortals who had no idea a god was among them.

The urge to change that was hard to resist. I touched the ring through my tunic. If I had learned anything, it was that my actions could have unintended consequences. Ones that wouldn’t only end with someone being harmed but could further brand me as the Harbinger. So, I waited. Impatiently. And while I did, I watched the knights. About half of them stood with the unnatural stiffness of the Handmaidens. Their chests didn’t move too much. They didn’t twitch or shift. They rarely blinked.

“I think there are Revenants among the Royal Guards,” I quietly said.

“Would make sense,” Kieran observed. “Less easy to pick out than having them run around in red robes.”

Finally, the guards stepped aside and opened ornate gold doors. Two Handmaidens entered first, their cowls in place, covering their hair and casting their painted faces in shadows. The Blood Queen walked in behind them, still dressed in white.

I lowered my hands to my sides. Anger pulsed so furiously through me that I truly believed I deserved some sort of recognition for not unleashing my rage right there. For just standing still as the mortals and Ascended bowed to her. The three of us did no such thing, and that didn’t go unnoticed. Shock fell like icy rain from the mortals as they rose. Whispers whirled through the chamber as the small orchestra continued playing from their corner.

Kieran stiffened beside me, and my attention briefly shifted to the man who’d entered behind Isbeth.

Malik.

I let my senses stretch to him, and like before, I hit shields as thick as his father’s.

The Blood Queen drifted through the crowd, doling out pretty smiles and brief embraces. Her diamond and ruby crown glittered under the bright chandelier as she turned her head toward me, and her stare met mine.

My heart didn’t pound.

My pulse didn’t speed up.

My hands and body were steady.

There was no fear or anxiety. I wasn’t nothing. I was just icy, banked rage which had infiltrated every cell of my being as she crossed the chamber, the hem of her gown trailing behind her. In other words, I was rather calm.

I held her stare as the cowled Handmaidens followed her and Malik. The guards had moved, taking up stations every so many feet, creating a staggered wall between us and those in attendance.

Isbeth stopped a mere foot from me, that warm and caring smile still upon her berry-red lips. Those dark but not endless eyes flickered over my attire. “This isn’t what I sent you to wear.”

Fury blasted off Kieran, so hot and intense I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had ignited a fire. But I…I was nothing but that cold rage. “I know.”

I saw a slight tightening at the corners of her lips as her eyes rose to mine. “What you wear isn’t befitting of a Queen.”

“What I wear will be my choice. What befits a Queen, I will decide.”

“Now that was said like a Queen,” she replied. “Unlike the last time we spoke.”

“A lot of things have changed since then.”

“Have they?”

“Yes. Starting with the fact that you rule over several cities less than you did last time,” I answered.

“Is that so?” The Blood Queen lifted a hand. The pink diamond glittered as she snapped her fingers. “What was lost yesterday can easily be regained tomorrow.”

My lips twisted into a thin smile. “I never thought you to be a fool.”

Her eyes sharpened on me. “I would hope not.”

“But you must be one if you think you will easily gain anything you have lost,” I told her, aware that we held the rapt attention of the Ascended and mortals alike. They couldn’t get close enough to hear us, though. The guards and Handmaidens prevented that.

“Hmm,” she murmured, taking a glass of what appeared to be champagne from a servant who’d arrived. “Would you like a drink? Any of you?”

We didn’t take her up on the offer, but Malik did, drawing Kieran’s attention. “You look well, Prince Malik.”

That half-smile that hinted at a lone dimple in his left cheek surfaced as he took a sip of his champagne, saying nothing.

Isbeth eyed Kieran. “And you look as scrumptious as you did the last time.”

Kieran’s lip curled. “I think I will vomit now.”

“Adorable.” Unbothered, she looked at Reaver, her delicate, dark brows lifting. “You, I do not recognize.”

Reaver stared back, unflinching. “You wouldn’t.”

“Interesting.” She gave him the once-over from above the rim of her slender flute. “Tell me, daughter, have you been able to resist the ample charms of the men you surround yourself with?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” I replied, and Malik’s grin deepened.

“Smart move.” She winked, and my stomach turned. “By the way, you are wrong.”

“About?”

“Being unable to easily reclaim what I’ve lost,” she said, lifting her chin. “I have you.”

An icy shiver of anger swirled down my spine. “You only have my presence because I’ve allowed that.”

“Ah, yes. You agreed to come. My apologies.” She stepped in closer, and both Kieran and Reaver tensed. I did not. “Did you really think you would be able to sneak in here and free him? Come now, Penellaphe. That was foolish.”

My insides burned from how cold I felt. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You are, and I am glad.” Her gaze searched mine. “We have so much to discuss.”

“The only thing we have to discuss is Casteel’s release.”

She took another sip. “Do you remember what happened the last time you made demands?”

I ignored that. “And the release of my father.”

The Blood Queen lowered her glass as the striking lines of her features tensed. “Your father?”

“I know who he is. I know you have him. I want both of them.”

“Someone’s been talking,” she murmured. “Your father and your King are well. Safe where they are.”

Safe? I almost laughed. “I want to see them.”

“You haven’t earned that,” she replied.

Earned? The essence pressed against my skin, threatening the icy calm. “Do the people in this room know who I am?”

A curious look settled into her features. “Only a few in my Court know you’re my daughter.”

I stepped forward, and the Handmaidens moved. Isbeth held up her hand. “I’m not talking about that. Do they know I’m a god and not this Harbinger you speak of?”

She said nothing.

“What do you think will happen if I reveal that?” I asked. “What would’ve happened if I’d done so during your farce of a speech and the Royal Blessing?”

“Better yet, what do you think will happen if you do?” Isbeth countered. “Do you think they will drop to their knees and praise you? Welcome you? That they will no longer see you as the Harbinger the gods warned about?”

“The gods warned of no such thing,” I said. “And you know that.”

“What, my dear, do you think a prophecy spoken by a god to be, other than a warning spoken by a god?” Isbeth countered.

My nostrils flared. “I’m not the Harbinger.”

She smiled as her gaze swept over my face. “My sweet child, I see one thing hasn’t changed.”

“My rampant dislike of you?”

Isbeth laughed softly. “You still haven’t accepted who and what you are.”

“I know exactly who and what I am,” I said, ignoring the sudden burst of dread—of unease. “And soon, all those you have lied to will know the truth. I will make sure of it.”

“Again, what do you expect of the people, Your Highness?” Malik asked. “For them to turn their backs on her? When she is all they know and trust? You were a Maiden they believe either dead or changed. A stranger from a kingdom they fear.”

“Shut up,” Kieran growled.

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Malik responded. “They will fear her.”

“Instead of fearing the false god in front of them? A demis who has stolen the essence of a long-forgotten Primal and used it to kill the King of Gods’ guards? Who sanctioned the slaughter of countless children in the so-called, honorable Rite?” I arched a brow at Isbeth. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I wonder how they will feel to learn that not even your name is real.” I laughed softly. “Fake, just like the Blessing. Just like the Rite and everything that makes up the Blood Crown. False, just like the god you believe you are.”

“Careful,” Isbeth warned.

“What about the other Ascended?” I pushed. “Those who aren’t favored by you? What do you think they will do if they learn you’re not one of them? Should we find out?”

She stared at me, her glass forgotten in her hand as Malik edged into our space. “I wouldn’t suggest doing anything so reckless, Your Highness,” he said to me, placing his hand on the Blood Queen’s arm. “You may be the one to walk out of whatever catastrophe you create, but many of those in this room and beyond won’t. Is that what you want?”

I stared at his hand, momentarily stunned. Disgust built inside me, joining the cold anger. “How can you even touch her?”

Malik lifted a shoulder. “How can I not?”

“You fucking bastard,” Kieran snarled, stepping forward.

I grabbed Kieran’s arm, stopping him, somehow becoming the rational one.

The Prince eyed Kieran. “It’s been a while since we were around each other for any amount of time, so I’ll let that slide. You’ve apparently forgotten I can kick your ass from here to Atlantia without breaking a sweat.”

Kieran’s wintry eyes brightened. “I haven’t forgotten shit.”

“Good.” Malik smiled. “Now you know that hasn’t changed.”

My eyes cut to Malik, to that bored, indifferent smile, and I let my senses reach out to him again. I brushed against those thick shields, and this time, I didn’t pull back. I didn’t stop the dark urge to find those vulnerable spots. I let the essence follow my senses, let the power gently wash over those walls, discovering the cracks.

Malik’s gaze snapped to mine, and that lazy smile of his froze. I didn’t stop myself. I sank the eather into those mental walls, digging in with claws, into those tiny slivers of weakness. Blood drained rapidly from the Prince’s face as I tore those fissures wide. The glass slipped from his fingers as I shattered his shields.

Emotions poured out, raw and unfettered, as Malik stumbled to the side—a wild, spiraling mix that was almost too fast and too chaotic to make sense of. Almost. I caught the sugary residue of fleeting amusement and pooling, acidic anger. Malik shuddered, bending at the waist as his fingers dug into his hair. The Handmaidens stepped in, blocking him from the view of others as I continued to pull his emotions from him. I tasted hints of sourness and tart tanginess. Equal parts shame and sorrow, but it was the dagger-sharp bitterness that overpowered everything else. Fear that had grown into an ever-present panic.

I pulled back then, recoiling from the holes now left in his shields. He lifted his head. Blood trickled from his nose. His stinging pain eased off, becoming a dull, throbbing ache as he stared at me.

“Get him out of here,” Isbeth ordered in a clipped voice. Two guards stepped forward. One of them took hold of his arm.

Malik shook them off. “I’m fine,” he rasped, but he didn’t fight them when they turned him. When he walked off, his steps were shaky.

“And someone clean up this mess,” she snapped, her dark eyes flashing with a hint of eather. “That was not kind of you, daughter. He is, after all, your brother-in-law.”

“He had it coming,” Kieran said with a smirk.

“Maybe.” Isbeth stepped to the side as a servant hastily cleaned up the shattered glass. She took a deep breath, and the faint glow faded from her eyes. The strain left her mouth. “As I was saying, there is much to be discussed. This war. The kingdoms. The True King. That is why I allowed you to enter the capital.”

Still rattled by Malik’s emotions, I said, “You want to have a discussion? That’s not going to happen until you release Casteel and my father.”

The Blood Queen’s laugh was like wind chimes. “My darling, think of what you’re asking. You want me to give up leverage—the only thing that keeps you from doing something incredibly reckless and foolish? Something you’d regret? You should thank me.”

I drew back. “Thank you? Are you out of your—?”

“You are my daughter, Penellaphe.” Her hand snapped out, curling around my chin. This time, I warned Kieran and Reaver off with a raised hand. Her hold wasn’t painful. Her touch wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold like an Ascended’s. “I carried you in my womb and cared for you until it was no longer safe for me to do so. That is why I tolerate from you what I would not allow from others.” Her eyes flashed once more. “That is why I will give you—only you—what you haven’t even begun to earn. But you must make a choice. You either see your King or your father. Not both.”

“I want both.”

“That’s not an option, Penellaphe.” Her eyes bored into mine. “And soon, neither will be. So, make your choice and do so quickly.”

I stiffened, hands curling into fists. “Casteel,” I forced out, and guilt churned, bordering on shame. My father was important, but I couldn’t choose differently.

Isbeth smiled. She had known who I would pick. She dropped my chin. “I will let you see your precious King, and then you and I will talk. And you will listen.”

“Your Highness.” The male in front of me bowed at the waist. He had to be the Revenant Kieran had spoken about. Callum. Everything about him was golden—his hair, skin, clothing, and the winged mask painted on his face. Everything except his eyes. They were the same milky blue as Millicent’s. She’d resurfaced when they led us out of the chamber, along with a less pale but not-so-smug Malik.

From what I could see, the Revenant was handsome, the curve of his chin and cheeks almost delicate. Oddly enough, he reminded me of one of the porcelain dolls stowed away in the wardrobe.

“It is an honor to finally meet you,” Callum said, straightening.

I doubted it was an honor, so I said nothing.

Callum smiled, nonetheless. “You wish to see your King?”

“Yes.” Opening my senses, I brushed against thick, shadowy walls.

“Then follow me.” Callum started to turn. “But only you. They cannot come.”

“We’re not leaving her,” Kieran stated.

“I said I would let you see him,” the Blood Queen spoke, surrounded by Handmaidens and silent Royal Knights, who also appeared to be a mixture of vampry and Revenant. “Not all of you. That is asking for too much, while thinking little of my intelligence. They will remain behind to ensure your behavior.”

Reaver shook his head, his chin low. “You insult our intelligence if you think we will allow her to walk off alone.”

The Blood Queen’s gaze flicked to the draken and lingered far longer than was comfortable. “If you choose not to agree, then you will not see him at all.”

Kieran stiffened, as did I. He knew what I would decide before I could even speak. “I agree,” I said, meeting Kieran’s stare. “I will be fine.”

“Of course, she will,” Callum confirmed.

I ignored him as I looked at the Blood Queen, catching and holding her gaze. The Primal essence burned in my chest, sparking. The air charged around me. “If anything happens to them, I will bring this entire castle down on your head, stone by stone.”

“Goosebumps,” Callum murmured, lifting his arms. “You’ve given me goosebumps. Remarkable.” His gaze flicked to me. “I haven’t felt such power in, well…” The edge of his teeth dragged over his lip. “In a very long time.”

Reaver’s head swiveled in Callum’s direction. “How long?”

“Long,” he said.

I saw that Isbeth’s features had tightened. “Yes. Remarkable.” Her chin tilted. “Nothing will happen to them. Malik.” She snapped her fingers, and he came forward like a loyal hound. “Show them to their rooms—and I do mean their individual rooms.”

I reached down, gently squeezing Kieran’s hand as several knights joined Malik. “I’ll be fine.” I turned to Reaver and then returned my gaze to Kieran. “Go with him.”

A muscle throbbed in Kieran’s jaw. “I’ll be listening for you to return.”

Meaning he would be in his wolven form, allowing me to communicate with him. I nodded and then stepped forward, stopping at Malik’s side. He looked straight ahead, his body rigid. I could still taste his anguish. That sorrow could have come from many different sources, but I stopped myself from going down a road that would surely end in disappointment. I forced myself to walk past him.

“Ready?” Callum asked in a jovial tone as if he were questioning if I would join them for supper.

Leaving Kieran and Reaver with Malik and the knights was extremely difficult, but I didn’t think Isbeth would attempt something wretched yet.

Millicent and the Blood Queen fell into step beside me as I followed Callum through the winding, crimson-banner-adorned halls, my hands clasped, much like I used to do when walking the halls of Castle Teerman as the Maiden. Except, this time, it wasn’t because I had been instructed to walk as such. I did it to stop myself from doing something reckless.

Like strangling my mother.

“I can remember the last time you walked these halls,” the Blood Queen started. “You were so quiet and quick, always running about—”

“With Ian,” I cut in, noting the thinning of her mouth as we passed the kitchens. “Do you remember the last time he walked these halls?”

“I do,” she replied as Millicent walked beside me, very much in the same manner as I did, hands clasped and alert. “I think about him every day.”

Anger rose, scorching the back of my throat as I saw two Royal Guards ahead, opening heavy, wooden doors. At once, I knew we were headed underground. “I bet you do.”

“You may not believe this,” the Blood Queen said, her crown’s shine dulling as we entered an older part of Wayfair where only gas lamps and candles lit the halls, “but very few things pain me as greatly as his loss.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you.” My fingers curled inward, pressing against my palms as we descended the wide, stone stairs. “You killed him. You didn’t need to, but you did. That was your choice, and he didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be Ascended.”

“He didn’t deserve to be granted a long life where he would not have to worry about sickness or injury?” Isbeth countered.

I choked out a harsh laugh. “A long life? You made sure that didn’t happen.” Feeling Millicent’s gaze on me, I relaxed my fingers. “I don’t want to talk about Ian.”

“It was you who brought him up.”

“That was a mistake.”

The Blood Queen went quiet as we entered the underground hall. Even belowground, the ceilings were high, the openings to other paths rounded and meticulously cleaned. It was eerily silent—not a whisper of sound. My gaze roamed ahead, following the seemingly endless rows of sandstone columns rising to the ceiling to where it wasn’t nearly as well lit, and shadows huddled at the edges of the columns. I could almost see myself now—much younger, veiled, and so very lonely as I crept down the hall.

Callum stopped, facing us. “We cannot allow you to see where we go. You will be blindfolded.”

I didn’t like the idea of being unable to see what any of them were doing around me, but I nodded. “Then do it.”

Millicent stepped behind me as quiet as any spirit. A heartbeat later, I could see nothing but darkness.

The path we took was a silent and confusing journey. Millicent held my arm, steering me along for what seemed like an eternity. It felt as if I were walking straight and then making constant, continuous turns. I had to applaud her skill because I had no hope of ever retracing our steps.

I had the spell, though. And based on the length of time we walked, I knew I couldn’t use it in the chambers under Wayfair. We had to be near or under the Garden District by the time Millicent stopped us, which meant we could possibly enter the tunnels via one of the Temples.

The air had grown colder, damp, and musty, sending a jolt of alarm through me as Millicent untied the blindfold. How could anyone be kept down here and be well? My heart sped up.

The cloth fell away, revealing Callum towering over me. Surprised, I took a step back, bumping into Millicent. The mustiness of the underground tunnels must’ve been strong to hide the sweet scent of decay. He was so close now, I saw a mole beneath the golden face paint, just below his right eye.

Callum smiled as his pale gaze tracked over my features—over the scars. “It must have hurt something terrible.”

“Do you want to find out?” I offered, and that closed-lip smile of his went up a notch. “You will if you continue standing so close to me.”

“Callum.” The Blood Queen spoke from behind us.

The Revenant retreated, bowing slightly. His smile remained, as did his unblinking stare. Holding his gaze for a moment longer, I quickly looked around. I saw nothing but damp stone walls lit by torches.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

“At the end of the hall to your left,” Callum answered.

I started forward.

“Penellaphe,” Isbeth called out, the sound of my name dripping from her lips hitting my nerves like Craven claws against stone. “I promised the safety of your men. How you behave next will determine whether or not that promise is kept.”

Her words…

A chill went down my spine as I slowly turned to her. Guards and Handmaidens surrounded her. Only Millicent stood off to the side, across from Callum. Isbeth’s words were a warning, not just for what she’d do, but what I would soon find.

The Primal essence thrummed just beneath the surface of my skin. A hundred different retorts burned the tip of my tongue, filling my mouth with the smoke of promised violence. But once more, I pulled on all those years of silence—no matter what was said or done. I swallowed the smoke.

“Casteel has never been a…pleasant guest,” she added, her dark eyes glimmering in the firelight. Guest? A guest? “And, unlike his brother, he has never learned how to make a situation easier for himself.”

A burst of acidic anger hit the back of my throat, coming in a sharp, quick punch from Millicent. Not for one second did I believe the emotion stemmed from talk of Casteel. It was the mention of Malik. Her reaction was curious, as was his when we’d been at Oak Ambler. I filed that all away as I turned from the Blood Queen. And I didn’t say anything as I walked forward. If I did, it would end badly.

Each step felt like twenty, and I lost any semblance of calm I might have had as I grew closer and saw the shadow-filled opening curved into the cell wall. My hands repeatedly opened and closed as fear for what I would see—what I would do—crashed into the anticipation and rage within me. This place wasn’t even fit for a Craven, and she had Casteel here?

A sound came from the recesses of the cell. It was rough and low, a snarl that didn’t sound mortal as I hurried through the opening into the dim, candlelit space.

I spotted him then.

And my heart cracked under the weight of what I saw.

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