The War of Two Queens: Chapter 35

A dull roar filled my ears. My hand fell from Casteel’s arm. Born of mortal flesh, a great primal power…

“At first, I thought you knew this,” Reaver continued, drawing me from my thoughts. “You were able to summon us. You held the Primal notam, but then I realized you knew so very little about, well, anything.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

“And you didn’t think to tell her?” Casteel asked. “Once you realized she didn’t know?”

The draken shrugged.

Casteel straightened to his full height. While my emotions were too all over the place, his anger was red-hot. “Did you just shrug?”

“Yes, he did.” Kieran glared at the draken. “If you’d been around him longer, that wouldn’t have surprised you.”

“Look, I figured she was already dealing with enough,” the draken reasoned. “Whether she knew or not, wouldn’t have changed anything. She’d already survived the beginning of the Culling. There’s no danger to her or risk to her completing the Ascension as this point.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” I blinked rapidly. “You could’ve told me so that I was prepared. So I wouldn’t learn this on the same day I learned I had a sister. Or when I—”

“Sounds like you know what to say,” Reaver interrupted dryly. “And you haven’t finished your Culling. So, congratulations. You’ll be prepared.”

“You are the worst,” I whispered, suddenly remembering something he’d said about the draken knowing what my will was. It has always been that way with the Primals. And when I’d said I wasn’t a Primal, he hadn’t agreed. Come to think of it, I didn’t think he’d ever referred to me as a god, either.

“Wait a minute. Why would the notam have been an indicator that she was a Primal?” Kieran asked. “The gods have the notam.”

“Why would you think that?” Reaver frowned. “It’s a Primal notam. Not a god notam. Only a Primal can form any type of notam—a bond such as that.”

“Because that’s—” Kieran cursed. “I don’t think anyone really knew. We just assumed it was connected to the gods.”

“You assumed wrong,” Reaver stated flatly.

Out of the chaos that was my mind, something suddenly made sense. “That’s why Malec never had the notam.” I turned to Casteel and then Kieran. “I thought it was because of his weakening powers, but he wasn’t a Primal.” My head swung back to Reaver. “That’s why you said I would be more powerful than my father. Why I wouldn’t have to feed as often. And the mist? I didn’t summon it, did I?”

“Only a Primal can create the mist.” Reaver’s head tilted, and a curtain of blond hair fell across his cheek as he picked up another biscuit. “Which is a sign that you’re probably close to completing the Culling. That, and your eyes.”

“The streaks of eather?” I asked. “They’re going to stay like that?”

“They may turn completely silver like Nyktos’,” he answered. “Or they may stay like this.”

Feeling dizzy, I started to take a step back. Casteel’s hand came around the nape of my neck. He turned, stepping in close.

“A Primal?” A slow grin spread across his lips as he caught my gaze, holding it. “I don’t know what I should call you. Queen? Highness? Neither seems fitting.”

“Poppy,” I whispered. “Call me Poppy.”

He bent his head, brushing his lips over the bridge of my nose as his mouth neared my ear. “I’ll call you whatever you like, as long as you call me yours.”

I let out a short laugh and felt Casteel’s smile against my cheek. He’d successfully pulled me back from the edge of a panic spiral.

Reaver made a gagging sound. “Did he seriously just say that?”

“Unfortunately,” Kieran muttered.

Ignoring them, I fisted the front of Casteel’s shirt. “You knew?”

“I only just figured it out. Some things that both Isbeth and Millicent said—they didn’t make sense. Or I couldn’t remember right away.”

Drawing back, I stared up at him. “Like what?”

His gaze searched mine. “Like when both spoke of Isbeth’s plans to remake the realms. And the time they gave me blood, and she said…” Shadows crept into his golden eyes. He briefly closed them and then looked at Reaver. “One thing I don’t understand. How is she a Primal and not Malec or Ires?” he asked, sliding his hand under my hair and cupping the nape of my neck. “And how is she a Primal born of mortal flesh?”

Reaver was quiet as he set his half-eaten biscuit aside. “That is something I cannot answer.”

“Cannot, or will not?” Casteel stated, his eyes hardening into golden jewels.

Reaver stared at Casteel and then his gaze flicked to me. “Cannot. You are the first Primal to be born since the Primal of Life. I do not know why. Only the Primal of Life can answer that.”

Well, it was highly unlikely that we’d be able to make a trip to Iliseeum anytime soon to try and figure that out.

“But what’s even more important is why the Blood Queen believes that she will destroy the realms.” Reaver eyed Malik.

“She won’t,” Casteel stated without hesitation or doubt. “The Blood Queen is so consumed by vengeance that she’s convinced herself that she can use Poppy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. In the beginning,” Malik added. “But then I learned that Isbeth wasn’t the only one who believed that the last Chosen would awaken as the Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction.”

“Bullshit,” Casteel growled, even as the gentle sweep of his thumb continued. “The prophecy is bullshit.”

“Not when spoken by a god,” Reaver bit off. “Not when voiced by the goddess Penellaphe, who is tied closely to the Fates.”

Malik looked at me. “Isbeth naming you after the goddess who warned of you was no coincidence. She did it thinking it would bring her good luck with the Arae.”

For a moment, a brief second, a bolt of pure panic went through me, stirring the eather in my chest. If I were to fully become a Primal, I would be powerful enough to do just as the prophecy stated. My gaze snapped to Kieran, and he knew where my mind had gone. He too was thinking of what I’d asked of him. Kieran gave a curt shake of his head.

I started to take a step back—to go where, I didn’t know. But I reminded myself that I was more than just a byproduct of Isbeth’s vengeance.

I…I wasn’t Isbeth’s tool. Her weapon. I was mine.

My thoughts—my ideals, choices, and beliefs—were not preordained nor governed by anyone but me. The panic eased, breath by breath. “No matter what the prophecy says, I have free will. I control my actions. I wouldn’t do something like that,” I told him, and a whisper rose from that cold place deep in my chest. One I desperately ignored. “I won’t take part in whatever Isbeth thinks I will do.”

“But you already have,” Malik countered, and a chill swept over my skin as those words echoed in Isbeth’s voice. “You were born. Your blood was spilled, and you Ascended. Upon that Ascension, you were reborn—birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals. You awakened.” He shook his head. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps your choice—your free will—is greater than a prophecy. Than the Fates and what Isbeth believes. Hell, that’s what Coralena believed. She was sure you would usher in change, but not in the way Isbeth wanted.”

My body flashed hot and then cold. “You knew my mother?” As soon as I said it, I realized that, of course, he had known her. He would’ve been at Wayfair when she served as a Handmaiden.

“I did.” His gaze lowered as tension bracketed his mouth. “She believed that, given a chance—if you were raised away from Isbeth and the Ascended—you wouldn’t become the Harbinger who would destroy the realms.”

A shudder ran through me as a memory of that night surged.

“It has to be done,” the faceless man said. “You know what will happen.”

“She’s but a child—”

“And she will be the end of everything.”

“Or she is just the end of them. A beginning—”

I stepped back, my heart thumping. “A beginning of a new era,” I whispered, finishing what Coralena had said to…

Malik watched me, and my stomach twisted with nausea.

Casteel’s arm encircled my waist as he pressed into me from behind. “Poppy?” He lowered his head to mine. “What is it?”

My skin kept flashing from hot to cold as I stared at Casteel’s brother, but I didn’t see him. I saw the man with shadows for a face. The cloaked figure.

The Dark One.

“Poppy.” Casteel’s concern radiated in waves as he shifted so he stood beside me.

The sourness of shame crowded the back of my throat as Malik said roughly, his voice pitched low, “You remember.”

That voice.

His voice.

“No,” I whispered, disbelief flooding me.

Malik said nothing.

“What the hell is going on?” Casteel demanded, his arm around me tightening as my stomach churned. I started to bend over, forcing myself to swallow down the bile that had risen.

“I was broken,” Malik said to Casteel. “You were right. What they did to Preela broke me. But I was never loyal to that bitch. Never.”

Casteel tensed at the name.

“Preela?” I whispered.

“His bonded wolven,” Kieran growled.

Oh, gods…

“Not after what she did to you. Not after what Jalara did to Preela. Not what she made me do to Mil—” He inhaled sharply, stiffening as raw, suffocating anguish lashed my skin. The kind of sorrow that went beyond the bone and hurt more than any wound could. And it was so potent I could barely feel Casteel and Kieran’s surprise. It got lost in the icy agony. “I wanted to kill Isbeth. The gods know I tried before I realized what she was. I would’ve kept trying, Cas, but that prophecy.” His nostrils flared as he shook his head. “It was no longer about her. You. Me. Millie. None of us mattered. Atlantia did. Solis did. All the people who would pay the price for something they had nothing to do with. I had to stop her.”

Casteel’s arm slipped away from my waist, and he turned to his brother.

Malik’s eyes closed tightly. “I couldn’t let Isbeth destroy Atlantia or the mortal realm. I couldn’t let her destroy Millie in the process. And she was destroying her.” Anger and guilt swirled through him, stirring the eather deep in my chest. Flat eyes opened, locking on mine. “I had to do something.”

The floor felt as if it rippled under my feet. I couldn’t feel my legs. A cup toppled behind me, rolling across the counter. Reaver caught it, his eyes narrowing as they cut to the trembling blinds over the window. The rattling daggers on the table.

“You had to do what, exactly?” Kieran asked, but Casteel had gone silent because he…gods, he was processing everything. Fighting with himself to believe it.

Malik still stared at me. His voice hoarse, he said, “I was prepared to do anything to stop Isbeth, and Coralena knew that. Because Leopold did.”

But she had—

He’s her viktor.

Memories of that night in Lockswood slammed into me, clear and without the shadow of trauma. I leaned into the counter as they came, one after another after another. All of it in rapid succession and in seconds, stunning in its clarity.

Shocking in what the recollections revealed.

Anger surged through me, burning away the disbelief. But that wasn’t the only emotion. There was a storm of them, but the sorrow was just as powerful because I remembered. Finally. And a part of me, something that was either not touched by that fury or stemmed from that same cold place in me, also understood.

“I remember everything,” I said, and the room steadied. I steadied as I focused on Malik. “Why? Why didn’t you do it, then? Finish it?”

Casteel’s head turned to me, and I saw that his skin had paled, almost as bad as it had when he’d been in bloodlust. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things—committed deeds that will haunt me to my last breath and beyond—but I couldn’t go through with it. Even believing what I did, I couldn’t,” he said with a dark, choked laugh. “Apparently, killing a child was a line I could not cross.”

“Motherfucker,” Kieran rasped.

“No,” Cas said, and that one word was harsh. It brooked no room for argument. It was a proclamation. A plea. “Tell me it isn’t so.”

I wanted nothing more than to be able to do so.

“I had my chance, too. When I pulled you out from the cupboard? I was going to then—right then. I was going to end it. But I couldn’t. And I tried again.” Malik’s head fell back as he looked up at the ceiling, and my hand fluttered to my throat where I felt the phantom press of a cold blade. “I tried again, but that time, I saw it—saw what Coralena did.”

I see it. I see her staring back at me.

Those disjointed memories made sense now that they had been pieced back together. “What did you see? Who?”

Malik’s eyes closed then, and all the while, Casteel hadn’t moved. “Her. The Consort. I saw her in your eyes, looking back at me.”

I inhaled sharply as Reaver cursed.

“I don’t know how it’s possible. She’s asleep, right?” Malik said. “But I saw her.”

“The Consort sleeps fitfully,” Reaver said. “Sometimes, things happen that reach her even in sleep, partly waking her.”

“You’re the Dark One,” Casteel said in that deceptively soft way of his. I swung to him, and I should’ve paid attention to him sooner. If I hadn’t been caught up in my discoveries, I would’ve sensed the void of icy rage forming beside me. “You led the Craven to the inn in Lockswood. You went there to kill her.”

“The Craven followed the trail of blood I left behind,” he admitted. “It was the only way I knew I’d get past Coralena and Leo.”

Kieran said something. It caused Malik to flinch, but Casteel was a throbbing mass of fury, and it stroked the essence in my chest. I had to shut my senses down. It was too much.

Casteel’s eyes were a bright gold, and his voice—gods, his voice was smooth and laden with power. A whisper that was a boom had his words falling over my skin and filling the room. “Pick up a dagger, Malik.”

And Malik, Casteel’s brother, picked up a dagger with a shaking hand—a long, thick one with a wickedly sharp blade. The tendons in his neck stood out.

“On your knees,” Casteel demanded.

Malik’s entire body trembled as he obeyed, falling to his knees.

“Put it to your throat,” the King coaxed, his voice velvet and iron.

A compulsion.

He was using compulsion.

Malik did just as he’d been forced to do.

“Just so everyone knows,” Reaver said, “I’m not cleaning up this mess.”

I was rather conflicted. On the one hand, I was glad to see that Casteel had gotten a lot of his strength back. On the other, he was going to force his brother to slit his own throat.

I didn’t know how I felt about that—about the knowledge that it had been Malik. My brother-in-law. I didn’t know how to feel about the fact that I actually understood why Malik felt he needed to do what he had.

But what I did know was that I couldn’t let Casteel do this. It wouldn’t kill Malik, but it would do some serious damage, and Casteel didn’t need that weighing on him. That was a mark I would not let him bear.

I stepped forward, glancing at Kieran. He glared at Malik, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his skin thinning. The wolven would be no help here. “Don’t do it, Casteel.”

“Stay out of this,” he barked, his gaze having captured his brother’s. Casteel’s chin rose. A faint trickle of blood appeared, coursing down Malik’s throat.

“Not going to happen. Malik didn’t harm me,” I reasoned. “He stopped before he could.”

“He stopped before he could? Do you hear yourself?” Casteel fired back. “You were hurt because of him.”

“She was,” Malik whispered.

I shot a glare at the Prince. “You should just be quiet.”

“He left you there to be torn apart by the Craven!” Casteel roared.

“He didn’t, though. He got me out of there,” I said. “I remember now.”

“The Craven had already gotten to her,” Malik told him. “Bit her. Clawed her—”

“Shut up,” I hissed at Malik as a shudder ran through Casteel. Reaching out, I grabbed his arm. “He thought he was doing what was right. It was messed up. He was wrong. But he stopped. He didn’t hurt me—”

“Stop saying that!” Casteel’s head whipped toward me, his eyes swirling, golden spears. With his attention broken, his compulsion on Malik shattered. The dagger hit the floor as Malik’s shoulder slumped. “He did hurt you, Poppy. Maybe not with his hands, but those Craven never would’ve been there if it weren’t for him.”

“You’re right.” I pressed my palm against his cheek, channeling—

“Don’t.” Casteel jerked his head back from my touch. “Don’t you dare use your powers. I need to feel this.”

“Okay. I won’t,” I promised, placing my hand on his cheek again. He didn’t pull away this time, but I felt his muscles flexing under my palm. “You’re right. The Craven never would’ve been there if it weren’t for Malik, but he acted on what Isbeth believed. The fault lies with her.”

“That changes nothing.” He glared down at me as Malik rose to his feet. “He’s not innocent in this. He wasn’t manipulated. He made a choice—”

“To protect his kingdom. To protect you. The realms. That is why he made his choice. None of us have to like it or agree with it, but we can understand it.”

“Understand it? Being ready to kill a child? To even consider it?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “To put you in harm’s way. You? My fucking heartmate?”

“He didn’t know that then.” I fisted the front of his shirt.

“Even if I did, I still would’ve done it,” Malik admitted. “I still would’ve—”

“Shut up!” I shouted.

Malik shook his head. “It’s the truth.”

Casteel moved so fast, I didn’t think even Reaver could’ve stopped him—if he had wanted to. He shot across the kitchen, slamming his fist into his brother’s jaw. The punch knocked Malik back into the chair. He had no chance to recover. Casteel took him to the floor, his arm swinging so fast that it was nothing but a blur. The fleshy smack of his fist making contact echoed through the kitchen.

“Casteel!” I yelled.

He grabbed Malik by the shirt, lifting him from the floor as he kept punching his brother.

I whipped toward Kieran. “Are you going to stop him?”

“Nope.” Kieran crossed his arms. “The fucker deserves it.”

Malik had apparently had enough. He caught Casteel’s wrist and flipped him, then sat up, blood running from his nose and mouth. The brief reprieve lasted a whole second as Casteel sprang to his feet and slammed his knee into Malik’s chin, knocking his head back.

And then down they went again, rolling into the legs of the table.

I turned to Reaver—

“Don’t look at me.” Reaver picked up his biscuit. “This is entertaining as fuck.”

My eyes narrowed. “You guys are useless,” I snapped, pivoting toward the brothers. I was this close to beating the snot out of both of them myself. Tapping into the eather, I lifted my hand. A silvery glow sparked across my fingers. “Knock it off,” I said over the grunts. Either they didn’t hear me or chose not to listen. “Oh, for godssake, I should be the furious one, and yet I have to be the rational, calm one.”

In my mind, I willed them apart, and what I willed…well, it joined with the essence, and it worked. Perhaps a little too well since I wasn’t all that worried about not harming either of them in the moment.

One second, they were rolling around like two overgrown toddlers. The next, they were skidding across the floor in opposite directions. Malik slammed into the wall below the window with enough force that it shook the entire house. I winced as Kieran caught Casteel before he took out the wolven’s leg.

Casteel’s head snapped in my direction. Blood smeared his cut lip as he leaned into Kieran’s legs. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly.” I pulled the eather back in.

“Shit.” Malik pitched to the side, coughing as he braced his weight on one arm. “That hurt more than any of his punches did. I think you cracked a few ribs.”

“I’m about to crack your face if you say one more word,” I retorted.

“Crack his face?” Casteel repeated, his brows flying up.

“Yours, too,” I warned.

A slow, bloody grin spread across his lips, and that stupid, godsforsaken dimple appeared. I just knew he was about to say something that would make me want to punch him.

“Uh, I hate to interrupt,” Clariza said from the doorway, having entered without any of us noticing. I turned to her, my cheeks heating. Her eyes were wide. “But there’s a small army of Rise Guards in the street, going from house to house.”

In the time it took my stomach to drop, the shocking discoveries were swept aside. Casteel was on his feet, joining me as he dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. “How close are they?”

“Two homes down,” Blaz answered, ducking past Clariza. He carried several cloaks, handing one to each of us as he went straight to the table, grabbing two daggers. He sheathed one inside his boot.

Malik cursed. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

“I’ll grab our weapons.” Kieran hurried past us, entering the hall.

“You go out the back.” Blaz tossed Clariza a slender dagger, which she slipped under her sleeve. “We’ll keep them occupied for as long as we can.”

Concern for them blossomed. “Can you not come with us?”

Hiding another dagger, Clariza sent me a brief smile. “I’d love nothing more than to see my ancestral home, and I plan to do that one day, but our place is here. There are people who depend on us.”

“Descenters?” Casteel asked as Kieran returned, handing him a sword. I saw that he had my satchel.

Blaz nodded. “Elian can tell you that quite a few people stand in opposition to the Blood Crown. An entire network working from within to usurp the Ascended. You may hasten that when your armies arrive, but until then, we’re needed here.”

At the sound of his ancestor’s name, Casteel shot Malik a look and then stepped forward, clasping Blaz’s shoulder. “Thank you—thank you both for your aid.”

Clariza bowed as I slipped the cloak on. “It’s our honor.”

A knock sounded from the front of the house, and Casteel turned, grasping my cheeks. His touch calmed my nerves. “My Queen?”

“Yes?”

“I think you’ll be happy to know,” he said, sliding his hands to the edges of the hood as he lifted it, “that you’re about to crack some faces.”

A rough, shaky laugh left me, and my heart calmed. I twisted toward Clariza and Blaz as Reaver and Malik moved to the back of the house. “Be safe.”

“We need to be on our way,” Malik said, lifting the hood of the cloak he’d donned as another knock came from the front.

Clariza lifted her chin as she placed her curled fist over her heart. “From blood and ash,” she said as Blaz did the same.

“We will rise,” Casteel finished, hand over his heart as he, the King, bowed to them.

I stepped behind Kieran, looking up at Malik as Blaz went down the hall. “Will they be safe when the guards come?”

“Possibly,” he answered.

That wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“You and I aren’t done with our conversation either.” Casteel stepped in front of me, his cloak hood shielding his face.

That also wasn’t reassuring.

“That’ll have to wait,” Kieran said, his hand on my lower back.

“Where to?” Reaver reached for the back door.

“The harbor,” Malik answered. “Lower Town.”

Nodding, the draken opened—

Four Royal Guards stood there, their white mantles rippling in the wind.

“Where do you think you’re all going?” an older guard asked.

Only Reaver was uncloaked, but the guard took one look at the rest of us, hooded with our identities hidden, and withdrew his sword. “Step back,” he ordered.

I didn’t have a chance to even summon the eather.

Reaver snapped forward, grasping the guard’s sword arm as he stretched out his neck. His jaw loosened, and his mouth gaped wide. A low rumble came from his chest as a stream of silvery fire rippled out from his mouth.

My eyes went wide.

“Holy shit,” Casteel murmured, stiffening in front of me as silvery flames rippled over the guard.

“Yeah,” Kieran remarked.

Reaver shoved the screaming guard back into another, and the unnatural fire swept over the other man. Turning, Reaver let out another powerful stream of flames, quickly laying waste to the guards at the back door.

The scent of charred flesh rose on the wind, turning my stomach as Reaver straightened. “Path is clear.”

Casteel turned to the draken. “Yeah, it sure is.”

A sharp yelp of pain sounded from the house, spinning me around. Clariza cried out in alarm.

“We need to leave,” Malik insisted, toeing aside burnt remains.

We needed to, but…

“They aided us,” I said.

“And they knew the cost,” Malik argued as rough shouts echoed from the front of the house.

“As did we when we came to their door.” I stepped forward. Kieran’s hand tightened briefly on my cloak and then relaxed.

“Agreed,” Casteel said, his grip firming on the sword.

“For godssake,” Malik muttered. “This isn’t the time to be heroes. If you’re caught—”

“We won’t be.” Casteel’s cloaked head turned to me.

I nodded, letting the essence rush to the surface as heavy footsteps bounded down the hall. Several Royal Guards raced forward. The throbbing eather lit across my skin as my will merged with the essence. A faint, silvery webbing spilled out from me as it sparked across my hand, the shadows twining with the glow thicker now.

“That’s new,” Casteel commented.

“Started a couple of weeks back,” Kieran told him as the guards jerked to a halt.

The swords dropped from the guards’ hands, clattering off the floor as their necks twisted to the sides, cracking.

“You’ll probably be concerned to hear this, but also not surprised,” Casteel said, and the smoky, spicy flavor in my mouth crowded out the taste of death. “But I found that wildly…hot.”

“There’s something wrong with him,” Reaver muttered from behind us. “Isn’t there?”

There most definitely was, but I loved him for it.

Kieran snorted as another Royal Guard entered. The essence stretched out from me as my chin lowered. The webbing pulsed and then recoiled—

“Revenant,” I spat.

The bare-faced, unmasked guard smirked. It was then that I saw his eyes. Pale blue.

Casteel twisted sharply, grabbing a dagger from the table as he threw it in one smooth motion. The blade struck true, striking the Revenant between the eyes. “Let’s see how long it takes for you to get up from that.”

“As long as it takes for the blade to be removed,” came a voice. The golden Revenant strolled out from the shadows of the hall. Callum.

“You,” Casteel seethed.

“I imagine you’re faring much better than the last time I saw you,” Callum replied as fury whipped through me. He wasn’t alone. A quick glance showed at least half of dozen guards with him. All pale-eyed.

“Reaver,” I said. “There’s something I would like you to do for me, and you’ll be really happy about it.”

The draken’s smile was bloodthirsty as he walked between Casteel and me.

Callum glanced at Reaver, a painted wing rising on one side of his face. “I think I know what you are.”

“And I think you’re about to find out for sure.” Smoke wafted from Reaver’s nostrils.

“Maybe later.” Callum held up a hand.

Clariza appeared in the hall, her nose bloodied and a blade at her throat. A guard shoved her in Callum’s direction. He took hold of her as Blaz shuffled forward, held by another guard.

“Are you that much of a coward to use them as shields?” I demanded, furious.

“You say coward,” Callum said as Clariza’s anger gathered, hot and acidic, in my throat. “I say clever.”

Kieran came to stand on my other side. “This fucker’s got jokes.”

“Endless ones.” Callum eyed the wolven. “When this is all over, I shall like to keep you. I’ve always wanted a pet wolf.”

“Fuck you,” Kieran growled.

Anger wasn’t the only thing I picked up from the couple as violence thickened the air. Salty resolve filled them, too. They were prepared to die.

But I couldn’t allow that.

“Stand down,” I said to Reaver.

The draken rumbled, but the smoke faded.

Callum smiled. “Some would say humanity is a weakness.”

“Because it is,” another voice intruded, and every muscle in my body tensed.

Callum and the other Revenant stepped aside as I immediately moved to stand in front of Casteel. A figure cloaked in crimson came forward, but I knew it was no Handmaiden.

Slender hands lifted, lowering the hood, revealing what I already knew.

Isbeth stood before us. The ruby crown was absent, as was the powder that lightened her skin. It struck me then that I had seen her like this in her private chambers, with warmer, pink skin. That time, just at dusk, when she’d shown me the Star jewel—a diamond coveted throughout the kingdom and known for its silver glow.

“The most beautiful things in all the kingdom often have jagged and uneven lines, scars that intensify the beauty in intricate ways our eyes nor minds can detect or even begin to understand,” she had said.

It was true. Just as those like her, with smooth and even lines, flawless skin, and endless beauty could be evil and ugly. And my mother was the most monstrous of them all. What of my sister? She may not want to see the realms destroyed, but what had she done to stop our mother?

“Your compassion for mortals is admirable, but it’s not a strength,” Isbeth said, glancing at Reaver before those dark eyes settled on me. “A true Queen knows when to sacrifice her pawns.”

“A true Queen would do no such thing,” I said, yanking down the hood since there was no point in wearing it now. “Only a tyrant would think of people as pawns to be sacrificed.”

She smiled tightly. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.” Her head tilted toward Casteel. “One of you destroyed my cell. An apology would be welcomed.”

“Do any of us look as if we’re about to give you an apology?” Casteel shifted his stance so he blocked the hooded Malik. Kieran did the same.

“Stranger things have happened,” she said. “Even stranger than a Primal mist that was without Craven until it drew them from the Blood Forest to our walls. Now that was clever. Impressive, even.”

“I don’t care what you think,” I bit out.

Isbeth arched a brow as she looked around the kitchen, her lip curling in distaste. “Did you really think you’d escape? That you’d walk right out of the capital, and with something that belongs to me, no less?”

l snarled as the eather throbbed in my chest.

“I wasn’t speaking of you.” Her gaze moved behind us, and her smile twisted coldly. “Him.”

Casteel stiffened as the Blood Queen stared at where Malik stood quietly. “He doesn’t belong to you either.”

“I was so proud of you,” Isbeth said. “And yet, yet another Da’Neer betrayed me. Shocker.”

“Betrayed?” Malik sounded as incredulous as I felt. “You kidnapped and tortured my brother. You held me captive and used me for whatever you desired. And you accuse me of betrayal?”

“Here we go again.” Isbeth rolled her eyes. “Gods, let it go.”

“Fuck you,” Malik spat.

“Neither of us has been interested in that in many years,” she retorted. “So, no thank you.”

Nausea rose sharply as I stared at this woman—this beast—who was my mother.

Her gaze flicked back to me. “If you had stayed where you belonged, you could’ve avoided this. We would’ve spoken today, and I would’ve given you a choice. One that would’ve resulted in his freedom.” She jerked her chin in Casteel’s direction. “And far less mayhem. But this way? It’s far more dramatic. I can appreciate that, as I too love to make a scene.”

My hands squeezed into fists. “What are you talking about?”

“A choice,” she repeated. “One that I’m still willing to offer because I’m that gracious and forgiving.”

“You are delusional,” I said, rattled by the realization that she truly believed those words.

Isbeth’s eyes narrowed. “You know where Malec is. You said so yourself. If you expect to leave this city with your beloved, you will find him and bring him to me.”