The War of Two Queens: Chapter 42

“Great,” Emil muttered as Vonetta groaned. “These fuckers again.”

But their stitched mouths…

I would definitely have nightmares about this later.

“Don’t,” Reaver warned Rune, who prowled toward the mouth of the tunnel. “Don’t bite them. What’s in them is not blood. It’s poison.”

Casteel’s gaze cut to the draken. “They’ve attacked Gyrms before.”

“Not this kind.” Reaver lifted his sword. “These are Sentries. They’re like Hunters. Neither type you would’ve encountered before.”

The corners of Casteel’s lips turned down. “I’m going to have to take your word for it.”

“You’d better,” Reaver replied. “Or the junk that’s in them will eat the insides out of the wolven.”

My eyes widened. “Don’t engage with them,” I ordered the wolven. “Guard Malik.”

None of them looked happy about that, especially Delano, but they backed off, circling an even-less-thrilled Atlantian Prince.

“Maybe you should use your fire then,” Kieran suggested. “Especially since you’re all about burning shit.”

“The fire will not work on them,” Reaver said. “They are already dead.”

“What?” Casteel mouthed, and I had so many questions—all that would have to wait. Eather pulsed in my chest as I gripped the wolven dagger. These looked like a creepy combination of the ones the Unseen had conjured in Saion’s Cove and what had been guarding Iliseeum. I shuddered. The Primal essence had worked on the Gyrms and the skeletons before, but did that mean it would work on this type?

“We do this the old-fashioned way.” Casteel shifted his sword to his other hand.

The Gyrms had exited the tunnel and stopped moving, their arms at their sides. All of them. Well over a dozen.

“Do you think they have hands?” Casteel asked.

My gaze flicked down. The sleeves of the robes were too long to tell. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re looking at.”

Kieran glanced at me. “What are you looking at?”

“Did you see their mouths?”

“Of course,” Casteel murmured.

“I can’t stop staring at them.”

Kieran sent me a sharp look. “Really?”

“Their mouths are stitched closed. It’s creepy, but I guess it’s a good thing,” I said.

Casteel looked over at me. “And why do you think that’s a good thing?”

“Because that means there can’t be—” I quieted as one of the Gyrms cocked its head to the side. A low, breathy moan came from its sealed mouth.

“That’s…well, disturbing,” Emil noted.

Vonetta shook her head as she palmed her blades. “You are the king—”

“Of good looks and charm?” he suggested.

“Of understatements.”

My grin froze as the Gyrms moved in unison—and they were fast. Long, slender blades descended from both sleeves—blades that glinted like polished onyx in the slivers of sunlight. “Shadowstone,” I muttered as Naill inched around a blood tree.

One of the Gyrms’ heads snapped in his direction. Its hairless head tilted. The creature moved, its robe billowing out from behind it like a stream of shadow. Perry spun, his blade meeting the Gyrm’s, a clash of crimson and night.

The remaining Gyrms streamed forward, moving in a precise vee. I shot forward as Casteel’s sword arced through the air, cleaving the creature’s head from its shoulders as the Gyrm grabbed for me.

“All right, these aren’t like the skeletons in Iliseeum,” Casteel announced. “Head or heart seems to do the trick.”

“Thank the gods.” Emil spun, slicing off a Gyrm’s head.

I moved under another’s outstretched arm. In the back of my mind, I noticed that the Gyrm hadn’t swung on me, which was notably odd. I popped up behind the creature as it turned, slamming the dagger into its chest. The Gyrm shuddered and then collapsed into itself, reminding me of what happened to Ascended when struck down by bloodstone. But this creature didn’t crack. Instead, it shriveled as if all moisture had been drained from its body in one breath and then shattered into nothing. All of it, including the shadowstone sword, leaving only the smell of lilacs behind—stale lilacs.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, bony fingers pressing through my cloak, jerking me back. I twisted at the waist, bringing my arm down on the Gyrm’s with a hard enough blow to knock the grip loose. Casteel leapt through the air, slamming into the Gyrm, spinning it around. I whirled, thrusting the dagger into its chest as Casteel shot me a wild grin before turning to meet another.

Delano’s thoughts brushed against mine in a wave of springy-fresh air as I stepped back. These Gyrms aren’t attacking you.

I followed his imprint back to him as one of the Gyrms swung its sword on Perry. I noticed.

Maybe they recognize you.

Maybe they did, but that wasn’t stopping them from attacking the others…or coming at me. Two Gyrms started toward me, blades at their sides. The eather vibrated, pressing against my skin. I opened my senses, but like with the other Gyrms, I felt nothing but emptiness—cold hollowness.

Kieran shoved a Gyrm back against a tree. “More are coming.” He thrust his blade through a creature’s chest with a snarl. “About another dozen.”

“Of course.” I stalked forward.

“At least, they’re not coming out of the ground this time,” Vonetta pointed out as she thrust her blade through a chest.

“There is that,” Naill agreed, swinging his sword through the air.

A Gyrm to the left made a move as if he sought to get behind me. “I don’t think so.”

Turning sharply, I kicked the creature in the chest. It stumbled back. I twisted, swinging the wolven dagger down on another Gyrm’s forearm. The bloodstone, ever so sharp, sliced through the papery-thin skin and hollow bone, severing the arm. The pale fingers spasmed open, releasing the shadowstone sword it clutched. Catching it by the handle, I swung the sword high and wide, cutting through the other Gyrm’s neck, meeting utterly no resistance. The shadowstone sword collapsed in my hand, disappearing as Casteel struck down the one it belonged to.

I pouted. “I kind of liked that sword.”

Kieran shot me a look as he pushed another Gyrm back. “Too bad.”

“You’re no fun.” I firmed my grip on the dagger. “You know that, right? No fun—”

“Holy shit,” Emil exclaimed, stumbling back. “Their mouths. Holy shit. Their mouths.”

“Is he just now realizing they’re stitched closed?” Casteel shoved his sword through the back and into the heart of a Gyrm.

“Told you it was disturbing.” I knocked a Gyrm’s hand aside. “Touching without permission is not okay.”

The Gyrm’s head tilted, and then it smiled. Or tried to. The stitches stretched and then popped, tearing free. The mouth dropped open as something black and shiny wiggled out—

“Why does it have to be snakes?” I jumped back, stomach churning with horror as the serpent slithered forward, quickly blending in with the dark ground. “Snakes. I hate snakes.”

“I warned you all.” Emil slammed his sword into the ground and the sound the serpent made when he struck it was not right. It was so wrong. It was an ear-piercing shriek.

“What the fuck?” Malik hopped onto a low wall.

“You did not give details!” Vonetta shouted, dancing back as Sage pawed at the ground, sending a snake flying through the air. “Once again, you failed to give details!”

“All you said was ‘their mouths.’” I gasped, scanning the ground, having lost sight of the little wiggling bastard. “Why? Why are there snakes?”

“Most Gyrms have them inside,” Reaver said, slamming his sword into a serpent.

I couldn’t even process that utter…fuckery. A Gyrm prowled forward, another disgusting creature spilling from its mouth. I backed into a boulder. Scrambling off the ground, I rose to my knees on the rock. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Will eather work on these things?” I asked Reaver.

“From you?” His lip curled in disgust as he stabbed a serpent. “Yes, only because you’re a Primal about to finish the Culling.”

Casteel spun toward me as a grin tugged at his lips. “Are you hiding on a boulder?”

“Yep.”

“You’re adorable.”

“Shut up.” The eather pulsed violently in my chest as Casteel chuckled. I let the energy come to the surface. A silvery glow washed across the ground—oh, gods, there was more than one serpent. Three. Seven—

Kieran snapped forward, slamming his boot down on one. The sound. The stain. Bile clogged my throat.

Six. I saw six snakes. There were probably more, and I was so not going to sleep for the next ten years. The Primal essence answered my will as it spread out from me as a network of shimmering, silvery-white light laced with churning shadows. It washed over the ground, sparking when it hit a snake and then igniting. The ropey nightmares screamed, blistering my ears as they went up in smoke.

The remaining Gyrms spun toward me. Like with those skeleton soldiers in Iliseeum, the essence drew them like a Craven to spilled blood. Stitches tore, mouths opened, and serpents spilled onto the ground, racing toward the boulder.

“Maybe it’s time for you to go all Primal on these creeps,” Malik called from his wall.

My skin and hands tingled, warming as the corners of my vision turned silvery-white. Power rushed through my veins. Essence erupted from my hands in silver flames from where I knelt.

The eather crackled and spat, darting between Perry and Delano and striking the Gyrm behind them as the fiery essence licked and rolled across the ground, burning through the newest batch of snakes. I turned, eyes narrowing as I saw the remaining Grym stalking the wolven. It was gone in a flash of silver.

And then the blood trees were empty of anything that could spew serpents from its mouth. “Any more coming?”

Kieran had edged closer to the mouth of the tunnel. “I don’t think so.”

“Stand back,” I said, getting an idea. Using the eather, I twisted toward the opening in the rock and sent a thin stream of energy forward. Light splashed against the walls as it traveled deep into what was clearly a cave.

When it revealed no more Gyrms, I pulled the eather back. The silvery glow faded.

“Did any of those serpents bite anyone?” Reaver demanded. “Answer now. Their bite is toxic.”

Everyone answered in the negative as Delano planted his paws on the boulder and stretched up, nudging my arm. I reached over, sinking my fingers into his fur as I sheathed the dagger.

Breathing heavily, I looked over to where Reaver stood in the wagon. “I just need to know,” I said, willing my heart to slow, “why do they have snakes inside them?”

“They have no insides. No organs,” Reaver answered. “The serpents are all that fills them.”

All of us turned to Reaver. Perry swallowed as if he were one second from vomiting. I dropped my hand from Delano’s neck. “Well, that…that is even more disturbing. I wish I hadn’t asked.”

Casteel stopped in front of me, extending his hand.

“I’m fine.” I sat. “Just going to stay right here.”

“For how long?” he asked as Delano hopped onto the boulder, settling onto his belly beside me.

“Not sure.”

His lips twitched.

“Don’t you dare smile,” I warned.

“I’m not,” he swore, and that was definitely a lie. “There are no more serpents, Poppy.”

“Don’t care.”

Casteel wiggled his fingers. “You can’t stay up there, my Queen. We need to get Malec, and we may need your extra-special Primal badassery to do it.”

My eyes narrowed on him. “It irritates me when you’re right.”

“Then you must be irritated often,” Casteel replied.

Kieran snorted. “Please, get down from there before my sister joins you, and we have to talk three of you off a boulder.”

“I am this close to joining you,” Vonetta admitted as she kept looking at the ground.

Delano nudged my arm again, and I sighed, taking Casteel’s hand as I scooted off the boulder. When Delano hopped down beside me, I tipped my head back. “If I see a snake, it’s your fault.”

Laughing under his breath, Cas pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Adorable.”

“So, I couldn’t be the only one who noticed that they weren’t attacking her,” Perry pointed out as Malik lowered himself to the ground.

“Oh, yeah.” I turned to Reaver. “Did they recognize me as his…niece or something?”

“They probably recognized the Primal essence,” Reaver said.

“But the Gyrms conjured by the Unseen did go after her,” Casteel bit out.

“I don’t know what these Unseen are, or how or why they’d be summoning Gyrms,” Reaver said. “Tell me.”

I gave him a brief rundown. “I guess the whole Unseen thing came into creation while you all were sleeping.”

“Sounds about right,” Kieran muttered.

“Three things.” Reaver held up three fingers. “First off, I need my rest. If I don’t get my rest, I get cranky.”

“Who sounds like the sensitive one now?” Kieran fired back.

“And when I get cranky, I like to set things on fire and then eat them,” Reaver continued, and I briefly closed my eyes. “Secondly, those weren’t just some random Gyrms that can be conjured to do one’s bidding. As I said, they were Sentries.”

I opened my eyes. “What is the difference between them?”

Reaver still held up one finger. “Most of them were once mortal—those who summoned a god and pledged servitude to them upon death in exchange for whatever favor the god granted them. Hunters hunt things. Sentries—you guessed it—guard things. Items. Usually, people. But Sentries, like Hunters and Seekers, can sense whatever they’re searching for. They either find said thing and bring it back, or they die in the process of defending it.”

My gaze flicked back to the ground. Those things had once been mortal? Good gods…

Now, I felt a little bad about killing them.

Casteel slid his arm around my waist, squeezing. “So, these Gyrms were down there for hundreds of years?”

Reaver nodded.

“That must’ve been really boring,” Emil said.

“Again.” Vonetta looked at him. “Understatement.”

“And it wasn’t whatever your mother did that sent the Sentries here,” Reaver said.

“What do you mean?” Casteel’s eyes narrowed. “And can you please stop giving Kieran the middle finger?”

“I was actually giving it to everyone, but whatever.” Slowly, Reaver lowered his middle finger. “I have a feeling this mountain formed as a way to guard Malec’s tomb, but these types of Gyrms can’t be summoned by Primal magic. They can only be sent by a Primal.”

Slowly, I turned to the mouth of the cave. “You think Nyktos sent them? That he and the Consort knew where their son was?”

Reaver was quiet for a long moment. “When Malec left Iliseeum, he did so right before the others went to sleep. He didn’t leave on good terms, but the…Primal of Life, even in sleep, would’ve sensed his vulnerability. The deity bones would’ve likely blocked their ability to know where he was,” he said, and I realized that whatever Isbeth kept Ires in likely had to be the same. “While sleeping, the Primal of Life must’ve summoned the Sentries to protect him.”

My Primal badassery wasn’t exactly needed from there. No more Gyrms appeared as we entered the cave, coming upon the bone-smothered casket at the end, resting halfway under the earth in the center of a chamber that was barely large enough for all of the Gyrms to have waited in.

I didn’t want to think about that. About how Nyktos had sought to protect his son. Reaver destroyed the roots of the blood trees that had wound their way around the chains. I didn’t want to imagine how his inability to find Ires and do the same for him must plague him every second, both awake and asleep. It had to be why the Consort slept so restlessly.

We left the bone chains on the casket in case the movement stirred the one inside. All of us were quiet, listening for any signs of life as the wooden, unmarked casket was carefully carried out from the cave and placed in the wagon. Reaver stayed with it as we began our trek back to Padonia.

At first, I thought it was out of worry that Malec would wake and attempt to escape, but I saw Reaver a few times, sitting beside the casket with his hand resting on top of it and his eyes closed. And that…that left me with a messy knot of emotion in my chest.

As we neared the edge of the Blood Forest, and Casteel and I rode beside the casket, I finally asked Reaver what preyed on my mind. “Were you friends with Malec?”

He stared at the casket for quite some time before answering. “We were when we were younger, before he began to visit the mortal realm.”

“It changed after that?” Casteel asked as he guided Setti around several piles of rocks.

Reaver nodded. “He lost interest in Iliseeum, and that loss of interest became a…a loss of affection for all who resided there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Casteel said, his gaze flicking over my head to where Malik rode beside Naill.

Reaver’s stare followed his. “It is strange, is it not, that he was named so closely to Malec?”

I didn’t say a word.

Casteel did. “My mother loved Malec. I think a part of her always will. Naming Malik was a way to…”

“To honor what could have been?”

“Yeah.” Casteel was silent for a moment. “I was thinking about what you said. If Nyktos could send Sentries to watch over Malec, wouldn’t he have known when Malec was entombed? Couldn’t he have prevented that?”

Reaver was quiet for a moment. “The Primal of Life could have. Malec must have been weakened greatly to be entombed. Hurt. Both Nyktos and the Consort would’ve felt that. Neither intervened.”

I stared at the casket, a general sense of unease returning. They sought to protect him but not free him.

“Do you know why they didn’t?” Casteel asked.

Reaver shook his head. “I don’t, but I imagine they had their reasons.”

None of us slept all that well when we stopped to rest the following nights. I thought that we were more than a little unnerved about who was in that casket more than the creatures that called the Blood Forest home. That feeling didn’t ease until we finally rode out from beneath the crimson leaves on the ninth day.

“You think we’ll reach Padonia by nightfall?” I asked as we rode farther ahead.

“I do,” Kieran said from the horse that kept pace beside ours.

“We’ll have a day of rest before we have to leave for the Bone Temple,” Casteel tacked on.

“I wish we had longer—ouch.” I leaned back, pressing my palm against my suddenly aching jaw.

Casteel frowned as he glanced down. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.” A taste gathered in my mouth, iron-rich. “My mouth hurts.” I prodded at my upper jaw—

“If it hurts,” Casteel said, curling his fingers around my wrist, “then maybe you shouldn’t poke at it.”

“That would make too much sense,” Kieran remarked as Casteel drew my hand away from my mouth.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” I shot back.

Kieran grinned. It faded quickly, though.

“Poppy.” Concern radiated from Casteel as his gaze flicked up from my hand. “Your mouth is bleeding.”

“What?” I ran my tongue along my gums. “Well, I guess that explains the taste of blood in my mouth. That’s kind of gross.”

“Cas…” Kieran eyed him.

I frowned, opening my senses to them. The concern had disappeared. “What?”

“Is it your mouth or your jaw that’s been hurting?” Casteel asked, still holding my wrist as if he expected me to keep poking myself.

Which was possible.

“It’s more like my jaw—the upper. And the pain sometimes radiates to my temple,” I said.

“And it comes and goes?” Casteel changed his grip on the reins.

I nodded. “Yeah. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. And I think it stopped bleeding.” I glanced back at him. “Why are you asking?”

One side of his lips curled. “Because I think I know why it’s been hurting.” The grin deepened until the dimple appeared. “Or, at least, I’m hoping so.”

Smiling, Kieran shook his head as Casteel urged Setti to the side of the road, slowing him so that Emil and Vonetta rode past us. The wolven following at our side did the same as Casteel drew up to where Reaver remained in the back of the wagon. Malik and Naill rode on the other side.

“What?” Reaver asked.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Got a question for you,” Casteel started, letting go of my wrist.

“Great,” Reaver muttered.

Casteel was unfazed by the less-than-eager response. “Do Primals have fangs?”

My eyes went wide.

Reaver scowled. “To answer that random-as-hell question, yes. How do you think they feed?”

The other dimple graced us with an appearance as Casteel tilted his chin down. “That’s why I think your jaw’s been hurting.”

I couldn’t say anything for a full minute. “You…you think I’m getting fangs?” I asked.

Casteel nodded. “We don’t get ours until we’re about to complete the Culling. Our mouths will hurt on and off and bleed. It’s like teething.”

“Why am I not surprised you haven’t realized that yet?” Reaver muttered, giving us his back.

I was going to have…fangs?

Holy shit.

Immediately, I lifted my hand, and Casteel caught my wrist once more with a chuckle. “Don’t mess with your mouth, Poppy.”

How could I not? I was growing fangs! I ran my tongue over my gums, feeling nothing strange there. Sugary amusement filtered through from Casteel, but that wasn’t the only thing I felt as he rejoined Kieran. A spicy, smoky flavor gathered in my throat, too.

My neck craned back as my eyes snapped to his. “You’re excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Hell, yes, I am.” He lowered his head to mine, his voice low when he said, “I cannot wait to feel your fangs on my skin.”

Warmth crept into my face. “Cas—”

“On lots of places,” he added.

“Fucking gods,” Kieran muttered.

Casteel laughed as he brushed his lips over mine. He then explained what he thought I could expect, changing the subject to something a bit more appropriate. The fangs would come in, pushing out the other teeth, which was really gross to think about. But he said they descended once they broke through. None of that sounded like fun.

“It really isn’t,” Kieran said when I voiced exactly that. “Cas was a fucking whiny baby that day.”

“Yeah, well, when you have two teeth being pushed out, let me know how that feels,” Casteel shot back.

Thoughts of my teeth occupied my mind for the remainder of the journey, and there was a good chance those thoughts would also haunt my dreams. It wasn’t that I was disturbed by the idea of having fangs. They would actually make feeding easier, but it would be different.

Further proof of how much I’d changed.

And was still changing.