Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A chorus of denials echoed through the banquet hall, but none of the men had so much as twitched in their seats. Some of them were even chuckling, and I…I stared at the red coursing down the length of Casteel’s fingers, dripping onto the floor.

Casteel leaned forward, plucking up Landell’s napkin. Strolling back to his chair, he idly wiped his hand clean.

I watched him sit, my heart thumping as he turned to me, his gaze sheltered by a fringe of heavy lashes.

“You probably think that was excessive,” he said, dropping the crumpled, blood-stained napkin onto his plate. “It wasn’t. No one speaks of you or to you like that and lives.”

I stared at him.

He sat back. “At least, I gave him a quick death. There is some dignity in that.”

I had no idea what to say.

I had no clue what to feel. All I could think was, oh my gods, he just ripped a wolven’s heart from his chest with his bare hand.

The men who stood by the doors were picking up Landell when one of the men at the table asked, “So, when is the wedding?”

Laughter greeted the question, and there was a hint of a smile on Casteel’s lips as he leaned toward me. “There is no side of you that is not as beautiful as the other half. Not a single inch isn’t stunning.” His lashes lifted, and the intensity in his stare held me captive. “That was true the first time I said it to you, and it is still the truth today and tomorrow.”

My lips parted on a sharp inhale. I almost reached for my face again but stopped myself. Somehow, in the process of getting used to being seen without the veil of the Maiden, I’d forgotten about my scars—something I’d never thought possible. I wasn’t ashamed of them, hadn’t been for years. They were proof of my strength, of the horrific attack I had survived. But when I was unveiled in front of Casteel for the first time, I’d feared he would agree with what Duke Teerman had always said. What I knew most thought if they saw me unveiled or looked upon me now.

That half of my face was a masterpiece, while the other was a nightmare.

But when Hawke—Casteel—had seen the pale pink, jagged streak of skin that started below my hairline and sliced across the temple, ending at my nose, and the other that was shorter and higher, cutting across my forehead through my eyebrow, he had said that both halves were as beautiful as the whole.

I’d believed him then. And I’d felt beautiful for the first time in my life, something that had also been forbidden to me.

And gods help me, but I still believed him.

“What he said was more than an insult. It was a threat that I will not tolerate,” Casteel finished, sitting back as he picked up his chalice with the same hand that had torn a heart free from its cage moments before.

My gaze fell to where the dagger still lay on Landell’s plate. What the wolven would’ve attempted to do with that dagger shouldn’t have come as a shock. It wasn’t like I didn’t know that many of those at this table would rather see me sliced into pieces. I knew I wasn’t safe here, but all of them had seen the hall outside this room. They had to know what would happen if they disobeyed Casteel.

Some unconscious part of me still underestimated their hatred of anything that reminded them of the Ascended. And that was me, even if I hadn’t done anything to them other than defend myself.

Conversation picked back up around the table. Quiet discussions. Louder ones. Laughter. It was like nothing had happened, and that rattled me. But what left me wholly unsettled was what I couldn’t admit, even to myself.

Kieran cleared his throat. “Would you like to return to your room, Penellaphe?”

Pulled from my thoughts, it took me a moment to respond. “You mean my cell?”

“It’s far more comfortable and not nearly as drafty as the dungeon,” he replied.

“A cell is a cell, no matter how comfortable it is,” I told him.

“I’m fairly certain this is the same conversation we had earlier,” Casteel commented.

My gaze swiveled back to Casteel. “I’m fairly certain I don’t care.”

“I’m also sure that we came to the conclusion that you have never been free, Princess,” Casteel tacked on. The truth of those words was still as brutal as it was when they had first been spoken. “I don’t believe you would even recognize freedom if it were ever offered to you.”

“I know enough to recognize that’s not what you’re offering,” I shot back, fury returning in a hot, welcoming wave, warming my too-cold skin.

A faint smile appeared on Casteel’s mouth, though it wasn’t his tight, calculating one. My anger gave way to confusion. Was he purposely baiting me?

More than a little agitated, I focused on the wolven. “I would like to return to my more comfortable, not-nearly-as-drafty cell. I assume I won’t be allowed to walk there myself?”

Kieran’s lips twitched, but his expression smoothed out pretty quickly, proving that he had the common sense not to smile or laugh. “You would assume correctly.”

Without waiting for His Highness to give permission, I pushed back my chair. The legs screeched across the stone floor. Internally, I sighed. My motions weren’t as dignified as I wished, but I kept my head high as I started to turn.

One of the men who’d been at the door and had retrieved Landell’s corpse stalked across the banquet hall, headed straight for the Prince. He bent low, whispering in Casteel’s ear as Kieran rose. Without waiting for Kieran, nor looking at the smear of blood across the wall, I took a step.

Suddenly, Casteel was at my side, his hand on my arm. Not having heard him rise, I swallowed a gasp of surprise and moved to pull my arm free as the man who’d spoken to Casteel stepped away.

“Don’t,” Casteel whispered, holding onto my arm. Something about his tone in that one word stopped me. I looked up at him. “We’re about to have company. Fight me all you want later. I’ll probably enjoy it. But do not fight me in front of him.”

My eyes met his as knots formed in my stomach. Again, his tone struck a chord of unease within me as I looked at the door. Who was coming? His father? The King?

Casteel shifted so that he stood partially in front of me as a group of men filled the doorway. The sandy-haired man who walked in the center, tall and broad of shoulder, snagged my attention. I inherently knew that this was who Casteel had spoken of.

The man, his wealth of blond hair brushing a square, hard jaw, appeared much older than Casteel. If he was mortal, which I doubted, I would’ve pegged him for someone on the verge of approaching mid-life. I didn’t think this man was Casteel’s father. He looked nothing like him, but I supposed that didn’t mean much.

He strode toward us. The heavy cloak he wore, dusted with melting snow, parted, revealing a black tunic with two gold lines overlapping across his chest. As he drew closer, I somehow managed not to gasp. It wasn’t the pale blue eyes I associated with the wolven. It was the deep groove in the center of his forehead as if someone had attempted to slice open his head. I, of all people, knew better than to be surprised by scars. Shame crept up my throat as I averted my gaze. It wasn’t that the injury was ugly. The man was handsome in a rugged way that reminded me of a lion. It was just a shock to see someone, a possible wolven, scarred. Vaguely, I became aware of Kieran coming to stand at my back.

“What in the gods’ teeth is happening here?” the man demanded.

The breath I had taken got stuck as my gaze flew back to the man. His voice…it sounded so familiar to me.

“Or do I even want to know?” he continued, his brows lifting as he saw the blood on the wall. The others who’d traveled with them moved among those at the table, all except one. He was shorter than Casteel and more compact. His hair was a reddish-brown mop of waves, and his eyes were a brilliant gold like Casteel’s. This one remained close to the man, and his gaze seemed to track every breath I took.

“I’ve just been doing a little redecorating,” Casteel replied, and the wolven chuckled as the two males clasped hands.

I felt a catch in my chest again, a tug at my heart. His laugh…it was raspy and rough as if his throat weren’t sure what to do with the emotion. Like Vikter’s. My heart squeezed. That was why his voice and laugh sounded familiar to me.

“I didn’t expect you to be here so soon, Alastir,” Casteel said.

“We rode hard to get ahead of the storm headed this way.” Alastir’s gaze slid past the Prince to me. Curiosity marked his features, though not the flush of anger or the coldness of distaste. “So, this is her.”

“It is.”

Every muscle in my body tensed as Alastir’s gaze lowered. His head tilted, and it took me a moment to realize that he was staring at my neck—

The damn bite!

My braid had slipped over my shoulder, revealing my throat.

The skin around Alastir’s mouth tightened as his gaze shifted back to Casteel. “I feel like things have occurred since we last spoke.”

Had Alastir been with Casteel’s father when he left New Haven to speak with him? If so, where was the King?

“Many things have changed,” Casteel answered. “Including my relationship with Penellaphe.”

“Penellaphe?” Alastir repeated in surprise, one eyebrow arching. “Named after the Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty?”

Since I very well couldn’t stand there and ignore him, I nodded.

A faint smile appeared. “A fitting name for the Maiden, I imagine.”

“You wouldn’t think that if you knew her,” Casteel replied, and I clamped my lips shut against a retort.

“Then I cannot wait to do so.” Alastir’s smile tightened.

“You will have to wait a little longer.” Casteel glanced back. His eyes briefly met mine, but it was long enough for me to know that he wished for me not to challenge what he said next. “Penellaphe was just about to retire.”

Kieran stepped closer, placing his hand on my lower back to urge me forward. I squelched the urge to refuse, having enough sense to realize that Casteel didn’t want me around this man, and there was probably a good reason for that.

I walked forward, well aware of several gazes following me. I’d made it halfway to the door when I heard Alastir ask, “Is it wise to allow the Maiden to roam freely?”

I stopped—

“Keep walking,” Kieran said under his breath. The handle of the knife I’d stolen dug into my palm.

“It wouldn’t be wise to refuse her to do so,” Casteel said with a laugh, and it took everything in me not to throw the blade at him.

Kieran kept pace with me as we passed the men who’d returned to standing sentry at the large wooden doors. Striding forward, I told myself not to look up, but my eyes lifted anyway as I passed the impaled body of Mr. Tulis.

Pressure clamped down on my chest. He and his wife had come before Duke and Duchess Teerman, pleading to keep their third-born son, their only remaining child, who had been destined to go into service to the gods during the Rite. I’d felt their soul-deep pain and desperation, and even without my gift, I would’ve been affected. I’d planned to plead their case to the Queen. To do something, even if I weren’t successful.

But they’d escaped. His entire family, his wife and infant son, given a chance at a new life. And he’d taken that opportunity to deliver what would’ve been the wound that killed me if it hadn’t been for Casteel.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell, “why?” as I stared at the pale face and the dried blood that stained his chest. Why had he made that choice? He’d thrown everything away for a short-lived sense of retribution. Against me, who had done nothing to him or his family. None of that had mattered in the end. Now, his son would grow up without a father.

But at least he would live. If he’d been given over in the Rite, he’d likely face a future worse than death. I had no idea how long the third sons and daughters survived within those Temples. Were they…fed upon immediately, even as infants? Small children? Third sons and daughters were given over annually, while the second sons and daughters were given to the Court between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. They lived—well, most of them. Some died at Court due to a sickness of the blood that took them during the night. Casteel had said the vamprys struggled to control their bloodlust, and I now doubted that there’d been an ailment that took them. Instead, it was like what had happened to Malessa Axton, who’d been found with a bite on her throat and her neck broken. It was never confirmed, but I knew Lord Mazeen, an Ascended, had killed her and left her body there, half exposed for anyone to find.

At least Lord Mazeen will harm no one else, I told myself as a savage wave of satisfaction flowed through me. I easily recalled the look of shock etched onto his face when I chopped off his hand. I’d never thought I would be glad to kill anything but a Craven, but Lord Mazeen had proven that false.

The violent joy came to a swift end as thoughts of the children crept back in. How could anyone, mortal or not, hurt young ones like that? And they had been doing it for years—hundreds of years.

Realizing I’d come to a standstill, I started walking again. Chest heavy, I didn’t even bother to look at Jericho. I could tell by the pitiful whimpers coming from him that he was still alive.

I believed everyone deserved dignity in death, even him, but I didn’t feel even one iota of empathy for what he’d brought upon himself.

And Landell? Did I feel sorry for him? Not particularly. What did that say about me?

I didn’t want to think of that so I asked, “Who was that man?”

“His name is Alastir Davenwell. He’s the advisor to the King and Queen. A close family friend. More like an uncle to both Casteel and Malik,” Kieran said, and I jerked a little at the mention of Casteel’s brother.

“Is that why Casteel didn’t want me around him? Because Alastir is an advisor to his parents? Or because he too will wish to chop me into pieces?”

“Alastir is not a man prone to violence, despite the scar he carries. And while he knows his place with the Prince, he is loyal to the Queen and King. There are things that Casteel would not want to get back to his father or mother.”

“Like the ridiculous marriage thing?”

“Something like that.” Kieran shifted the conversation as we rounded the corner and entered the common area where the air was free of the stench of death. “Do you feel pity for the mortal? The one Cas helped escape the Ascended with his family?”

Cas.

Gods, that sounded like such a harmless nickname for such a dangerous man.

I glanced at Kieran as we entered the narrow stairwell, noting that he was without his short sword and bow as he moved in front of me. But he was far from defenseless, considering what he was. I didn’t even bother to make a run for it. I knew I wouldn’t make it more than a foot. Wolven were incredibly fast.

Kieran stopped without warning, spinning around so suddenly that I backed up, hitting the wall. He took a step toward me and dipped his head to mine. Every muscle locked as he inhaled deeply.

Was he…?

His head lowered, the bridge of his nose brushing my temple. He inhaled again.

“What are you doing?” I jerked to the side, putting space between us. “Are you smelling me?”

He straightened, his eyes narrowed. “You…smell different.”

My brows lifted. “Okay? I don’t know what to tell you about that.”

He didn’t seem to hear me as his eyes brightened. “You smell like…”

“If you say I smell like Casteel again, I will punch you in the face,” I promised. “Hard.”

“You do smell like him, but that’s not it.” He shook his head. “You smell of death.”

“Wow. Thanks. But if I do, that is not my fault.”

“You don’t understand.” Kieran eyed me for a moment longer and then turned, starting up the stairwell once more.

No. I didn’t understand, and I really didn’t want to.

I sniffed the sleeve of my tunic. It smelled like…roasted meat.

“Earlier, you said you didn’t feel sympathy for any of them,” he said as I followed him.

“That hasn’t changed,” I said. “They wanted me dead.” We stepped out of the stairwell and onto the covered walkway. Damp, cold air greeted us. “But I can’t help but feel pity for Mr. Tulis.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well, I do.” Shivering, I ducked my chin against the sharp gust of wind. “He was given a second chance. He threw it away. I feel pity for that choice and for his wife and son. And I guess I feel sorry for the families of any of them that are now on that wall.”

Kieran fell into step beside me, taking the brunt of the wind. “The pity for the families is rightfully placed.”

I stopped in surprise but said nothing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I murmured.

He issued a soft chuckle. “You think I’m not capable of compassion?”

I glanced out over the yard below. A fine layer of snow shone brightly in the moonlight. Beyond, I saw nothing but the thick darkness of the encroaching woods. It was strange to look out and not see a Rise, the often-mountainous walls constructed from limestone and iron mined from the Elysium Peaks. The sleepy town of New Haven had one, but it was much smaller than what I was accustomed to in both Masadonia and Carsodonia.

“I don’t know what you’re capable of,” I admitted, touching the banister’s cool wood as the wind picked up, lifting the shorter strands of my hair that had escaped my braid. “I hardly know anything about the wolven.”

“My animal side doesn’t cancel out my mortal one,” he replied. “I’m not incapable of emotions.”

My gaze cut to his. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” I trailed off. What had I meant? “I guess I did mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s not like you’ve met many wolven,” he reasoned.

“Yes, but that’s no excuse.” I gripped the railing with one hand. “There are a lot of different people from various places that I haven’t met and know nothing about. That doesn’t mean it’s okay to make assumptions.”

“True,” he replied, and I almost cringed. How many times had I made assumptions about the Atlantian people? The Descenters? Biases were taught and learned. Maybe that wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t make it acceptable.

But nobody at that table had even twitched in their seats as Casteel killed Landell. What did that say about them? “Is what happened tonight common?”

“Which part? The marriage proposal or the open-heart surgery?”

I shot Kieran a dark look. “Landell.”

He studied me for a moment, and then his stare turned to the yard and the trees. “Not particularly. Even if you don’t see this yet or don’t want to, Cas is not a murderous tyrant. Honestly, it’s rare that any question him. Not because what he does or doesn’t do is always reasonable, but because he has no problem getting blood on his hands to assert his authority to get what he wants or to keep those he cares for safe.”

There was a measure of relief, knowing Casteel didn’t rip hearts out of chests often. That was a good thing…I guessed. Although, I didn’t dare believe that I fell into the category of those he cared for. I was someone he needed.

“What Cas did wasn’t about Landell questioning him.” Kieran angled his body toward me. “It wasn’t as simple as Landell not being able to understand how or why the Prince would choose you. It wasn’t even about him challenging Cas. Atlantians and wolven do anything to protect their home, and it was clear that Landell saw you as a threat to it,” Kieran told me, and I wondered what I had to do with Landell’s concern over their land growing too small and useless. “Cas was right to do what he did. If he hadn’t, Landell would’ve thrown that dagger he pulled. There will be others who will want to do the same thing.”

Dread settled in my bones. “Was Landell another warning, then? How many warnings will there need to be?”

“As many as are needed.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Some of them are your friends, right?”

“If someone is idiot enough to insult and threaten you in front of Cas, it’s likely someone I wouldn’t have been particularly close to in the first place.”

I almost laughed at that, but none of this was funny. “Everyone seems so full of emotion one moment and then absolutely apathetic the next.”

“You haven’t tried to feel my emotions to know what I am feeling?” Kieran asked, delivering another dose of the unexpected. My gaze cut to him.

Then I remembered that Kieran had been there when I used my gift to ease the pain of a dying guard. Still, it was bizarre to discuss this with anyone after spending so long forced to hide my abilities and never speak of them.

“Cas told me that it started with you only being able to sense and ease pain. But he also said that changed.”

I nodded. “It did change, only a little while ago. I don’t know why. I asked the Duchess about it because I thought maybe the first Maiden had been able to do the same.” Tension crept up my neck. Duchess Teerman had told me that the first Maiden’s gift had grown from sensing pain to reading emotions, and that the growth was because she was near her Ascension—like I was. Honestly, little was known about the first Maiden. Not even her name or what era she lived in. But the Duchess had insinuated that the Dark One had killed the first Maiden.

Casteel.

I shivered, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the cold. “I haven’t tried to read your emotions. I try not to do that since it feels like an invasion to do so.”

“Maybe it is a breach of privacy,” he agreed. “But it would also give you an upper hand when dealing with people.”

It could.

“Do you think he’s told others?” I asked.

“Cas? No. The less others know about you, the better,” he answered, and my brows rose. “I don’t know of any Atlantian alive today who can experience what others feel.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure yet.” He started walking. “You coming? Or are you planning to stay out here and turn into an ice cube?”

Sighing, I pulled myself away from the railing and went to where he stood in front of the door.

He slipped a key from his pocket. “Your ability would especially help you when it comes to dealing with Cas.”

“I have no intention of dealing with him.”

A small smile appeared as he held open the door. I walked into the room, warmed by the heat of the fireplace. “But he has every intention of dealing with you.”

Keeping the meat knife hidden under my tunic, I faced Kieran. “You mean he has every intention of using me.”

His head cocked to the side. “That’s not what I said, Penellaphe.”

“Why not? Do you think he really has given up on his brother? I don’t. He even said that I’m the Queen’s favorite,” I spat, the last two words acidic on my tongue. “This marriage thing has to be a part of the plan to get his brother back. Though why he didn’t just fess up to that at the table, I have no idea.”

“I don’t think either of you knows the truth.”

My spine stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Kieran eyed me. He was quiet for so long, the unease within me tripled. “He told you the truth about the Ascended, didn’t he?”

I wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with what he’d said, but I answered. “The Ascended are…vamprys, and everything I’ve been taught—that everyone in Solis believes—is a lie. The gods never Blessed King Jalara and Queen Ileana. The gods aren’t even—”

“No, the gods are real. They are our gods, and they now rest,” he corrected. “You know the Ascended aren’t Blessed. They are as cursed as those bitten by a Craven are. Except they don’t decay. You know this, but do you understand?”

His words were like a punch to the chest. “My brother—” I cut myself off. I didn’t need to talk about Ian. “I understand.”

“And do you believe what Cas told you about the Ascended?”

I looked at the fire, not answering. On one hand, I’d seen the evidence of what Casteel claimed—saw it branded on his skin. The Ascended had held Casteel captive before they took his brother. He’d been tortured, forced to do and take part in things I knew were utterly horrific based on the few small details he’d shared with me. What I felt when I thought about that was too heavy and noxious to be called disgust. And the ache in my heart was only the beginning, knowing that Casteel’s brother had been captured while freeing him.

I could be furious with Casteel.

I could even hate him.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to scream for all the agony Casteel had experienced and for what his brother was surely suffering at this very moment.

Did that mean that all Ascended were evil? Every last one of them, including my brother? I believed in what I saw proof of. But Casteel… I couldn’t trust more than half of what left his mouth, and it wasn’t like all Atlantians were utterly innocent.

“If you do believe him, then what are you fighting to go back to?” Kieran asked, and my gaze flew to his. “Isn’t that what you’re doing by refusing Cas?”

“Refusing to marry him has nothing to do with the Ascended, and everything to do with him,” I argued. “He lied to me about everything.”

“He didn’t lie about everything.”

“How do you know?” I challenged. “You know what? Don’t even answer that. It doesn’t matter. What does is that he plans to ransom me to the very people who did these horrible things to him and countless others. He plans to hand me over to the people who will most likely use me as a blood bag until I die. And even if, by some small chance, those plans have changed, they only did so because he realized I was part Atlantian. How is that any better? Why would I marry him?”

“Why would he marry someone he plans to ransom off?” he queried.

“Exactly!” Exasperated, I mashed my lips together as my focus shifted to the dark night beyond Kieran. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.”

He fell quiet again. “You push him like you have no fear, even after all you’ve seen?”

“Should I fear him?” I asked. An incredibly stupid part of me almost didn’t want to know the answer. I’d trusted Hawke with my secrets, my desires, my body, my heart, my…life. I’d trusted him with everything, and nothing about him had been real. Not even the name Hawke.

I’d stumbled and tripped for him, and I was afraid that I would keep falling despite his betrayal. That was what I was afraid of.

“He has done things some might find unforgivable. Things that would haunt your sleep and leave you with nightmares long after you wake. He may hate being called the Dark One, but he has earned that name.” Kieran’s pale eyes met mine as a shiver curled its way down my spine. “But he’s the one thing in all the kingdoms that you, and only you, never have to fear.”

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