The War of Two Queens: Chapter 3

Twenty-eight days.

Nearly a month had passed, and the constant ache throbbed so intensely it hurt. I clamped my jaw shut against the scream birthed from the cavern that had become my heart, one of frustration and ever-present helplessness and guilt. Because if I had controlled myself, if I hadn’t lashed out…

There were so many ifs. So many ways I could’ve handled things differently. But I hadn’t, and that was one of the reasons he wasn’t here.

The fluffy and buttery mound of eggs and strips of fried meat before me lost their appeal as the scream built in my throat, pressing against my sealed lips. A bone-deep sense of desperation rose and swiftly gave way to potent fury. The center of my chest hummed, the ancient power pulsing with barely leashed rage.

The fork I held trembled. Pressure seized my chest, closing off my throat as eather pulsed and swelled, pushing against my skin. If I screamed, if I gave in to all the pain and rage, the sound of desperation and anguish would become wrath and fury. The scream choking me, the power building inside me, tasted of death.

And a small part of me wanted to let it out.

Fingers several shades deeper than mine closed over my hand, stilling the tremor. The touch, something that had once been so forbidden, jolted me from the dark path, as did the faint charge of energy that passed between us. Slowly, my left hand was turned so the shimmery golden swirl of the marriage imprint was visible.

Proof that he and I were still together, even if separated.

Proof that he still lived.

My gaze rose, colliding with the striking winter-blue eyes of a wolven.

Concern was evident in the sharp angles of Kieran’s handsome face and the tension bracketing his mouth. He looked tired, and he had to be. He hadn’t been sleeping well because I had hardly been sleeping.

The fork trembled again—no, it wasn’t just the fork or my arm that shook. The dishes vibrated, as did the table. Down the hall, the hanging white-and-gold Atlantian banners that had replaced the ones belonging to the Blood Crown shuddered.

Kieran’s gaze flicked past the empty chairs in the Cauldra banquet hall, to where the light-haired Atlantian, General Aylard, stood guard at the pillared opening.

I sensed the same thing now as I had when he first introduced himself. Distrust brimmed beneath his impassive features, tasting of vinegar. It wasn’t a surprising emotion. Many of the older Atlantians were cautious of me, either because I had been raised by their enemies, the Ascended, or because I was many things they hadn’t expected.

A scarred Maiden.

A hostage.

An unwanted Princess who’d become their Queen.

A god.

I couldn’t exactly hold their wariness against any of them, especially when I made the entire manor tremble.

“You’re starting to glow,” Kieran warned in a whisper that I could barely hear, sliding his hand away.

I looked down at my palm. A faint silver sheen emanated from my skin.

Well, that explained why the general now stared.

Lowering the fork to the plate, I steadied my breathing. I forced my mind past the suffocating burst of pain that always accompanied thoughts of him as I slipped my hand under the table to the small pouch secured to my hip and reached for the glass of mulled wine with the other. I washed away the sour taste with spice as Aylard turned slowly, his gloved grip remaining on his sheathed sword. The white mantle draped over his shoulders settled, drawing my gaze to the gold-embossed Atlantian Crest. The same crest now lining the walls of Cauldra—a sun and its rays, a sword and arrow at the center, crossed diagonally so both lengths were equal. Briefly closing my eyes, I finished off the wine.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Kieran asked after a few moments.

I placed the empty glass on the table as I glanced at the open window. Broken pieces of a foundation jutted up from bushy yellow wildflowers. Massene was not well kept. “I ate.”

“You need to eat more.” He rested his elbows on the table.

My eyes narrowed on him. “And you don’t need to be concerned about what I’m eating.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you didn’t leave bacon untouched on your plate—something I never thought I’d see.”

I lifted my brows. “It sounds like you’re suggesting I ate too much bacon before.”

“Nice try at deflecting. But, ultimately, a failure,” Kieran replied. “I’m doing what you and Cas asked of me. I’m advising you.”

His name.

The breath I took stung. His name hurt. I didn’t like to think it, let alone say it. “I’m confident that my daily food intake was not what either of us was thinking when we asked you to be our advisor.”

“Neither was I. But here we are.” Kieran leaned in so only a handful of inches separated us. “You’re barely eating. You’re barely sleeping. And what just occurred? The glowing? The making the entire building shake? You seemed completely unaware of it, and it’s happening more often, Poppy.”

There wasn’t an ounce of censure in his tone, only concern, but I still squirmed because it was true. The essence of the gods was coming to the surface when I wasn’t using it to take away pain or heal. It happened when I felt something too strongly—when the sorrow and rage made my skin feel too tight, pushing at the fragile seams that held me together.

I needed to keep it together. I needed control. I couldn’t lose it. Not when the Kingdoms of Atlantia and Solis were counting on me. Not when he needed me. “I’ll try harder to control it,” I promised.

“This isn’t about you controlling your abilities.” Kieran’s brows knitted. “It’s about letting yourself not be okay. You’re strong, Poppy. We—”

“I know.” I stopped him as memories of nearly the same words whispered through me, spoken from other lips that had blazed a heated path along every inch of my skin.

You don’t have to always be strong with me.

I snapped forward, picking up a slice of bacon. I shoved half of it into my mouth, nearly choking myself. “Happy?” I asked, a piece plopping to the plate.

Kieran stared. “Not exactly.”

“Sounds like that’s your problem.” I chewed, barely tasting the crispy meat.

A huff that sounded like a laugh drew my attention to the large, purplish-black draken resting near the pillared entryway of the banquet hall. Smooth, black horns started in the middle of the flattened bridge of his nose and ran up over the center of his diamond-shaped head. The first couple of horns were small so as not to obstruct his vision, but as they traveled up his head, they lengthened into sharpened points that jutted out from thick frills.

Every time I looked at Reaver, it was a shock. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing such a magnificent, frightful, and beautiful being.

Twenty-three draken had awakened. The youngest, three in total, remained at Spessa’s End to stand guard there, as decided by the draken. Out of the twenty that traveled with the armies, none were as large as Reaver. Instead, they were about the size of Setti, their scales not nearly as thick as Reaver’s and more susceptible to the sharp edge of an arrow. But they would still make quick work of any army.

The draken watched us, and I wondered what he was thinking and feeling. Whenever I attempted to get a read on him or any of the others while around them, I felt nothing. It wasn’t like the cold hollowness of an Ascended. Either Reaver and the other draken were shielding their emotions from me, or I simply couldn’t read them.

“Would you like some?” I offered to Reaver, lifting the plate. I hadn’t seen him eat, which drummed up a wee bit of concern over exactly what he was eating when he took flight, disappearing from view.

I really hoped it wasn’t people…or cute animals.

But I had no way of knowing. Only Aurelia, one of only two female draken who had awakened, had been in her mortal form long enough for me to learn the names of about half of the two-dozen draken who had left Iliseeum. She’d said that my will was theirs before we left Atlantia and parted ways.

The whole, my-will-was-theirs thing hadn’t exactly been helpful, but I’d learned that it was somewhat like the Primal notam. Reaver seemed to inherently know what I wanted. Like when we left to take Massene, and he’d already hunkered down to sleep for the night. I guessed it was more like the Primal essence in terms of how it responded to what I willed.

Reaver shook his spiked head at my offer of bacon.

“How did he even get in here without bringing the entire building down?” The skin between Kieran’s brows creased.

“Carefully,” I said as the draken’s attention drifted to the wolven. The vertical pupils constricted as his blue eyes narrowed once more. I suspected that the draken would take another swipe at Kieran the next chance he got.

“Shouldn’t Vonetta and the others be returning today?” I asked, directing Kieran’s attention from the draken.

“Any minute now.” Picking up his glass, he added dryly, “As you already know.”

I did, but he was no longer engaged in an epic stare-down with Reaver, which would surely escalate. However, anxiety suddenly took flight like a large silver hawk, and it had nothing to do with the probability of Kieran and Reaver maiming or murdering each other.

It had everything to do with the plans regarding Oak Ambler and Solis. Things I would need to convince the Atlantian generals to support, even though I hadn’t handled the most intricate part of those plans myself.

“I have this feeling,” Kieran began, “that you’re still annoyed I advised you against going with Vonetta.”

I frowned. “Sometimes, I do wonder if you can read minds.”

His full mouth twisted into a smirk as he tapped one finger off his temple. “I just have a knack for knowing things.”

“Uh-huh.” So did his father, Jasper, but Kieran also frequently seemed to know where my thoughts went. Which, admittedly, was as annoying to me as me reading his emotions was to him. “I wasn’t actively annoyed by you advising me against going into Oak Ambler, but I am now.”

“Great,” he muttered.

I sent him a glare. “Why is it when a Prince or a King decides to place themselves in danger or chooses to lead armies into war, it’s not an issue? But when a Queen wishes to do the same, it suddenly becomes a thing they must be advised against? Sounds a bit…sexist.”

Kieran placed his glass down. “It’s not a thing. I tried to stop Cas from doing idiotic, incredibly dangerous acts so many times, it was practically a full-time responsibility.”

A sharp slice of pain cut through my chest. I focused on the unopened bottles of wine the Atlantian Lord who had captained the ship we’d taken to Oak Ambler had shipped in. Perry had ferried in many much-needed supplies. Most importantly, the type of wine Kieran had said Valyn favored.

What better way to get someone to agree to what you wanted than to get them liquored up?

“Namely you,” Kieran continued, intruding on my thoughts. “I tried to stop him from taking you.”

“What?” My head jerked toward him.

He nodded. “When he concocted the plan to masquerade as a guard and take you hostage, I told him, more than once, that it was absolutely insane. That it carried far too many risks.”

“Did one of those risks have to do with the fact that it was wrong to kidnap an innocent person and upend her entire life?” I questioned.

His lips pursed. “Can’t say that really crossed my mind.”

“Nice.”

“That was before I knew you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Probably not, but I don’t think you mind how he upended your life.”

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “I suppose, in a roundabout, really messed-up way, I’m glad he didn’t listen to you.”

Kieran smirked. “I’m sure you are.”

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t feel that it’s right to ask something of someone that I’m not willing to do myself.”

“Which is admirable. That will win you the respect of many of your soldiers. Too bad you’ll likely be captured or end up dead. Therefore, making what you feel irrelevant.”

“That was a bit dramatic,” I said. “Vonetta and the others are risking their lives while I sit here, listening to you complain about what I’m eating.”

“You’re sitting there listening to me complain about what you’re not eating,” Kieran corrected. “And now it’s you who’s being dramatic.”

“I think I’ve changed my mind about you being the Advisor to the Crown,” I muttered.

That was ignored. “It’s not like you’re doing nothing.”

There had barely been a moment when I wasn’t doing something, especially since we’d taken Massene. The Craven in the cells had been dealt with, but I swore I could still smell them if rain came. The manor was in basic disrepair, the second and third floors virtually uninhabitable. The only electricity served a handful of the chambers and the kitchens. The people’s homes weren’t much better, and we’d done our best to make much-needed repairs to roofs and roads in the last five days, but it would take months, if not longer, to finish it. The crops hadn’t fared much better. Especially when so many of those who tended them had been led outside the Rise.

“I just…” Drawing a thumb along the rim of the glass, I leaned back in the chair. I just needed to be occupied. If I weren’t, then my mind wandered to places it could not go. Places that had been hollowed out after the failed meeting with the Blood Queen. Cold and angry like a winter storm. And those holes inside me didn’t feel like me at all.

Or even like a mortal.

They reminded me of Isbeth.

Anger simmered in my gut. I welcomed it because it was far easier to deal with that than sorrow and helplessness. Isbeth was someone I had no problem thinking about. Not at all. She was all I could think about at times, especially in those silent, dark minutes of night when sleep evaded me.

No longer did I find it difficult to reconcile the kindness and gentleness she’d showered upon me with who she had been to him and countless others. A monster. I had come to terms with who she was. Isbeth may have conceived me through means that were most likely unconscionable, but she was no mother to me. Coralena was. Isbeth was nothing more than the Blood Queen. The enemy.

Feeling Kieran’s all-too-knowing stare upon me, I swallowed thickly. “I’m okay,” I said, before he could ask the question that often parted his lips.

Kieran said nothing as he watched me. He knew better. Just as he’d known better earlier, when that icy rage had manifested, rattling the table. However, he didn’t harp on it this time. He changed the subject. “Valyn and the other generals will be arriving any day now. He will approve of how we took Massene.”

I nodded. Valyn didn’t necessarily want war. Instead, he had seen it as something inevitable. Neither he nor any of the older Atlantians were willing to give the Ascended any more chances. Once they learned about what the Ascended here had done, it wouldn’t help change their minds regarding whether or not the vamprys could or wanted to change their ways or control their bloodlust. And it wouldn’t help if the Duke and Duchess Ravarel, those who ruled Oak Ambler, refused our demands.

Shoulders tightening, I stared into the glass of dark wine. Our demands had everything to do with going about war differently. It was why we’d taken Massene the way we had. I fully believed there were steps that could prevent unnecessary loss of life on both sides, especially since the mortals who fought for Solis most likely had no choice—unlike those who had picked up their swords and shields to defend Atlantia.

Some in cities like Massene and Oak Ambler would ultimately pay the price of a violent war, either with their livelihoods or their lives. And then there were the Ascended who were like…

I drew in a ragged breath, briefly squeezing my eyes shut before my mind could call forth an image of Ian—of how I’d last seen him. How he died replayed enough at night. I didn’t need to see it now.

But I believed there had to be Ascended who weren’t evil to their core. Who could be reasoned with.

So that was the basis of our planning. But we knew Oak Ambler wasn’t Massene.

Several days ago, we’d sent Duke and Duchess Ravarel an ultimatum: Agree to our demands or face a siege. Our demands were simple, but we weren’t counting on them to be reasonable and accept their fate.

And that was where Vonetta came in, along with Naill and Wren, the elder Rise Guard who’d witnessed what the Ascended here had been doing. Wren’s extended family—one he believed might be Descenters who supported Atlantia—lived in Oak Ambler. What they were doing, what our plans consisted of, came with huge risks.

However, the impending siege of Oak Ambler and all the ways it could fail in the most spectacular ways possible weren’t our only pressing concerns.

My thoughts found their way to another risk we’d undertaken: Our past plans to enter Oak Ambler ahead of when we were to meet with the Blood Queen. Somehow, she had known, either having simply been prepared for the possibility of us attempting to trick them or because someone had betrayed us. Other than those we trusted, only the Council of Elders had known about our plans. Did we have a traitor in our midst? Either someone we trusted or someone who had reached the upper echelons of power in Atlantia? Or was the simplest explanation the answer? That the Blood Crown had simply outsmarted us, and we’d underestimated them?

I didn’t know, but there was also the issue of the Unseen—the secretive, all-male organization that had once served the deities. Believing that I was the Harbinger of Death and Destruction that the prophecy warned of, they’d resurfaced once I entered Atlantia. They’d been behind the attack at the Chambers of Nyktos and so, so much more. And the threat the Unseen posed hadn’t ended with Alastir’s and Jansen’s deaths.

I watched Aylard, standing between the pillars. The Unseen were still out there, and there was no way of knowing exactly who belonged to the group and who aided them.

“Do I want to know what you’re thinking about?” Kieran asked. “Because you look like you wish to stab someone.”

“You always think I look that way.”

“Probably because you always want to stab someone.”

“I do not.” I glanced at him.

He raised his brows.

“Except for right now,” I amended. “I’m considering stabbing you.”

“Flattered.” Kieran raised his glass, eyeing Reaver. The draken slowly rapped his claws on the floor. “You often seem to want to stab those you care about.”

“That makes it sound as if I’m…twisted or something.”

“Well…” Kieran lowered his glass, narrowing his eyes at the draken. “Would you like me to pose for a painting? Then you can gaze upon me even when I’m not around.”

My brows flew up. “Can you not?”

“He started it,” Kieran muttered.

“How?”

“He’s staring at me.” A pause. “Again.”

“So?”

“I don’t like it.” Kieran frowned. “At all.”

“You sound like a small child right now,” I informed him, and Reaver huffed out another laugh. I turned to him. “And you’re not any better.”

Reaver reared back his spiked head, blowing out a smoky breath. He looked affronted.

“You’re both ridiculous.” I shook my head.

“Whatever.” Kieran’s head turned to the entryway at the same moment Reaver’s did. “Finally.”

I looked over, realizing that both had heard another’s approach. How, as a god, I hadn’t been blessed with better hearing was beyond me.

Vonetta strode past Aylard, her long legs encased in dusty breeches. She had her tight and narrow, waist-length braids swept up in a knot, highlighting her high, angular cheeks. Except for her deeper skin tone that often reminded me of lush night-blooming roses, in her mortal form, she shared similar features with her brother and looked a lot like their mother, Kirha. While Kieran favored their father, Jasper.

As Vonetta approached us, I wondered who their little sister would take after. The babe had been born only a few weeks ago, and I wished the siblings were with their family now, celebrating the newest addition. But instead, they were here with me, near lands ravaged hundreds of years ago, on the eve of yet another war.

Vonetta wasn’t alone. Emil always seemed to be wherever she was of late.

I bit down on the inside of my lip, stopping my grin. At first, I wasn’t sure that Vonetta appreciated her Emil-shaped shadow. But that was until I’d seen her coming out of his chamber in the early morning hours on the day she’d left for Oak Ambler. The soft, sated smile on her face made it utterly unnecessary to probe any deeper into her emotions.

Vonetta’s steps faltered as she entered the banquet hall, taking note of Reaver. Her brows lifted. “How in the world did you get in here?”

“See?” Kieran lifted a hand. “Valid question.”

The draken thumped his heavy tail on the floor as he huffed out a breath. I had no idea what that meant, but he made no move to approach Vonetta or Emil.

Before I could speak, Emil lowered to one knee as he extended an arm wide in an elaborate bow. “Your Highness.”

I sighed. Many had taken to using that title instead of Your Majesty since it had been used when the gods were awake.

Vonetta stopped, looking behind her. “Are you going to do that every time?”

“Probably.” He rose.

“That means yes in Emil language,” Vonetta remarked as movement beyond the pillars snagged my attention.

Aylard no longer stood there now that Emil and Vonetta were present. Instead, a hunched figure I’d become familiar with the past five days shuffled past the pillars. Emil had taken to calling her the widow, even though no one knew if she had been married. I wasn’t exactly sure what she had done in the manor, as I only ever saw her walking about, sometimes in the ruins in the pines behind Cauldra, which led to Kieran being convinced that she was not flesh and blood but spirit. I’d heard that Aylard had asked her what she was doing here in the manor on the first day, and her answer was only that she was waiting.

Weird. But not important at the moment.

I turned to Vonetta. “Has everyone returned? Wren? Naill—?”

“I’m fine,” Vonetta cut in smoothly as she reached over, briefly touching my hand. A soft burst of energy passed between us. “Everyone is fine and back in the camp.”

I exhaled slowly, nodding.

“She’s been worrying this whole time, hasn’t she?” Vonetta asked her brother.

“What do you think?” he replied.

I almost kicked Kieran under the table. “Of course, I was worried.”

“Understandable. I would’ve worried if it was you roaming the streets of Oak Ambler, looking for Descenters and warning others of the impending siege if the Ravarels refused our demands.” Vonetta glanced down at the plates. “Are you finished with that? I’m starving.”

“Yes. Help yourself.” I shot Kieran a look of warning when he opened his mouth. His lips smashed together in a thin, hard line as his sister snatched up a slice of bacon. I glanced at Emil and then looked back at Vonetta. “How did it go?”

“It went good. I think.” Vonetta dropped into the chair opposite Kieran, nibbling on the bacon. “We spoke to—gods. Hundreds? Maybe even more. Quite a few of them were…” She frowned slightly. “It was like they were ready to hear that someone was doing something about the Ascended. These weren’t like the ones who don’t question the Rite, believing it an honor or whatever. These were people who didn’t want to give their children over to the Rite.”

I couldn’t think of the Rite and not picture the Tulis family, begging the Teermans to speak to gods who still slumbered on their behalf—pleading to keep their last child.

And no matter what had been done for them, the entire family was now dead.

“You were right, by the way. About telling them about you,” she added between bites.

“What I would’ve paid to see their reactions to that news,” Emil mused. “To learn that not only had their Maiden married the dreaded Atlantian Prince but that she was now the Queen of Atlantia and also a god.” A faint smile appeared. “I bet many dropped to their knees and started praying.”

“Some did,” Vonetta reported wryly.

I winced a little. “Really?”

She nodded. “And since they believe the gods are still awake, the news that you joined with Atlantia got a lot of them thinking. Even a few said the gods may no longer support the Ascended.”

The curve of my lips matched hers.

“I suppose we should be grateful that they lied about the gods backing Solis instead of speaking the truth—that the gods had nothing to do with the war and are asleep,” Kieran noted. “With their lies, they set the expectations of the gods changing their alliances.”

I toyed with the ring on my pointer finger. “It wasn’t my idea, though. That was…that was his. He recognized that the lies the Ascended told would ultimately be their downfall.”

“Cas did know that,” Emil confirmed. “But that was before he or any of us knew you were a god. It was your idea to reveal that. Give yourself credit.”

My neck warmed, and I cleared my throat. “Do you think they’ll listen? That they will tell others?”

“I think many will.” Vonetta glanced at her brother and then back at me. “We all know that telling the mortals what we planned was a risk—one we believed was worth it, even if the Ravarels learned of our plans.”

I nodded. “Giving the mortals a chance to leave the city before we take it so they won’t be caught in the middle is worth this dangerous move.”

“Agreed,” she confirmed. “So, some didn’t believe the part about you being a god. They think the evil Atlantians somehow manipulated you,” she said, reaching for the other slice of bacon as Emil leaned in and did the same. He was faster. “Hey, that’s mine.” She shot him a glare. “What are you even doing here?”

“Actually, the bacon is—” Kieran began, and I did kick his leg under the table this time. His head jerked in my direction.

“We can share.” Emil snapped the bacon in two and handed half over to a less-than-grateful Vonetta. “And I’m here because I missed you that much.”

“Whatever,” Vonetta muttered. “Seriously, why are you here?”

Emil grinned, his amber eyes warm as he finished off his half of the slice. “I’m here because someone delivered a missive to the Rise,” he announced, wiping his hands on a napkin. “It’s from the Duke and Duchess Ravarel.”

Every part of me tensed. “And you’re just now sharing this?”

“You had questions about their time in Oak Ambler. Figured I’d let them get answered,” he reasoned. “Plus, Vonetta was hungry, and I know better than to get between a wolven and food.”

Vonetta whipped toward Emil, nearly coming out of her chair. “Are you seriously blaming your inability to prioritize on me?”

“I would never do such a thing.” Emil pulled a slip of folded parchment from the breast pocket of his tunic as he grinned at Vonetta. “And none of that changes the fact that I did miss you.”

Kieran rolled his eyes.

Vonetta opened her mouth and then closed it, sitting back in her chair, and I did what I probably shouldn’t. I opened my senses. What I tasted from Vonetta was spicy and smoky. Attraction. There was also something sweeter underneath.

“I need wine.” She started to lean forward, but Emil was, once again, quicker. As he handed the missive to me, he snagged the bottle of wine and poured her a drink. “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass and swallowing an impressive mouthful. She looked at me. “So, what does it say?”

The thin slip of folded parchment felt as if it weighed as much as a sword. I glanced at Kieran, and when he nodded, I opened it. One sentence was written in red ink—a response we all expected but that still came as a blow.

We agree to nothing.