A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash Book 2)

Moonlight glinted off the golden swords strapped to Casteel’s side as we walked across the Rise. Delano, who had met us at the door, had given them to him.

The short-sleeved, lightweight cloak I wore over the dark blue tunic and leggings had been Casteel’s idea. If any Ascended were among those nearing Spessa’s End, they may be able to see me with their heightened vision. That was the only condition Casteel had given when I rose from the bed.

“The hood goes up as soon as they arrive, and it stays up for as long as it can,” he’d said. “Don’t make yourself a target.”

“I have good news, potentially bad news, and hopefully good news,” Emil said as he met us just outside a battlement. “Our scouts have reported that it’s the smaller group that’s set to arrive.”

“How many?” Casteel asked.

“About two hundred.”

“I think I can guess what the potentially bad news is,” Casteel said. “Since it wouldn’t have taken this long to arrive, they waited on the larger army and for night to fall.”

Meaning, there were most likely vampry among them, and there was at least several hundred more not far behind.

“That and they’ve brought what appears to be catapults with them,” Emil said. “These walls may be damaged by whatever they plan to throw at us, but I doubt they will have anything that can take them down if they remained standing throughout the War of Two Kings.”

“These walls will not fall,” Casteel vowed.

“What is the hopefully good news?” I asked.

“Since they waited for their larger armies to join them, it’s hopefully given us time for reinforcements to arrive,” Naill answered as he crossed the Rise.

“Hopefully being the operative word,” Emil added. “There are a lot of what-ifs here. Alastir and Kieran would’ve had to travel nonstop. A sizable group of our soldiers would’ve had to be near Saion’s Cove and ready to travel.”

Fear trickled through me, but I didn’t give it room to breathe—to grow. Having fear wasn’t a weakness. Only the foolish and the false claimed to feel no fear, but that emotion could spread like a plague if given too much thought. I couldn’t think of what could happen—if we weren’t able to hold off the Ascended. If Kieran and Alastir hadn’t been able to send reinforcements in time.

 “And that’s not taking into consideration the mist in the Skotos and how it would’ve responded to such a presence.” Emil paused. “Your Highness.”

I jolted at the title. “Excuse me?”

Casteel glanced at me, a slight grin appearing in the moonlight. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a Prince.”

My eyes narrowed. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“And we’re married,” he continued. “Which makes you a Princess.”

“I know that, but the Princess thing isn’t official. I haven’t been…crowned or whatever.”

“It’s customary to refer to you as Your Highness or my Princess, even before the crowning,” Naill explained.

“Can we not?” I asked.

“It would be considered a great dishonor.” Naill paused. “Your Highness.”

I looked at him, and the Atlantian smiled innocently at me.

Casteel snorted.

“By the way, congratulations on the marriage,” Emil said, drawing my gaze to him. My senses told me he was sincere. “I have a feeling you will make a very interesting Queen.”

Queen?

Oh gods, how in the world did I forget that in the whole this-marriage-is-now-for-real thing? There was no way Malik would be in any shape to lead the kingdom once and if he was freed. Casteel would take the throne. Eventually. And I would be…

Okay.

I was not going to think about that.

“Then we will be calling you—Your Majesty,” Emil said, winking at me. “Isn’t that right, Cas?”

“Right,” he replied flatly, placing his hand on my hip. “Both of you should be getting into position.”

Emil and Naill made a great show of bowing before they left. “What was that about?” I asked. “You sending them off like that?”

“It’s official,” Casteel said, watching Emil as he stopped to speak to one of the Guardians. “I’m going to have to kill him.”

My head whipped in his direction. “What? Why?”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Confused, I glanced back to where Emil was walking toward the stairwell. “How does he look at me?”

His hand was a scalding brand on my hip, even through the layers of clothing. “He looks at you like I do.”

My brows lifted. “That’s not true. You look at me like…”

Those heated amber eyes met mine. “How do I look at you, Princess?”

“You look at me like…” I cleared my throat. “Like you want to eat me.”

Casteel’s eyes narrowed into thin slits as his gaze return to Emil. “Exactly,” he snarled.

I stared at him and then laughed. His gaze flew to mine, his eyes bright and wide like they always were when I laughed. “You’re actually jealous.”

“Of course, I am. At least I can acknowledge that.”

And he was jealous. I could feel it, an ashy coating in the back of my throat. “You are…”

“Devilishly handsome? Wickedly clever?” He turned back to the western sky, where it still carried the haze of fire. “Stunningly charismatic?”

“That wasn’t what I was going for,” I told him. “More like ridiculous.”

“Endearingly ridiculous,” he corrected.

I rolled my eyes. “You know, not once have I even considered seeking the affections of another. Not since I met you.”

“I know.” He bent his head, brushing his lips over my brow. “My jealousy is not rooted in anything you’ve done.”

“Or in logic.”

“That we will have to disagree on. I know how he looks at you.”

“I think you’re seeing things.”

“I know what I see.” He pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. “Every time I look at you, I see a gift I’m not worthy of.”

My breath caught as my heart swelled. It wasn’t new—him saying things like that. What was new was me believing them. “You are worthy,” I told him. “Most of the time.”

He cracked a grin. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I wondered if that was true as we stepped into a parapet. Bows and stocked quivers were placed against the wall. I looked down at the dark road and fields ahead, seeing nothing.

“Are they down there?” I asked, recalling what I’d learned when they discussed strategies. “The wolven?”

“They are in the fields, well hidden, even from vampry eyes.” He placed his hands on the stone ledge, and the ring on his finger snagged my gaze. “The Guardians are in place, waiting for my lead. Those who can wield a sword are in the courtyard, and the others, the ones skilled with a bow, will be up here.”

Pulling my gaze from his ring, I looked over my shoulder. They were already arriving. Mortals who were too old to lift more than a bow. The Guardians escorted them to different parapets. The trickle of fear returned as I turned back to Casteel. “How many do we have? The final count?”

His jaw hardened. “One hundred and twenty-six.”

I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes as I forced myself to take a deep, even breath.

“I wish you’d gone with Alastir and Kieran,” he said quietly. “You would be far away from here. Safe.”

I opened my eyes.

Casteel stared into the darkness. “But I’m glad you’re here. Spessa’s End needs you. I need you.” He looked at me then. “But I still wish you weren’t here.”

I could accept that. “I wish you weren’t here,” I whispered. “I wish they weren’t coming.” I let a little of the fear through. “We still plan to free your brother and see mine, right? We still plan to prevent a war?”

He nodded.

“But after tonight?” I swallowed as I looked out to the western sky. “It may be too late. War has come to us.”

“It’s never too late. Not even after blood has been drawn and lives have been lost,” he said. “Things can always be stopped.”

I hoped so. I really did.

He turned to me, touching my cheek. “We may be absurdly outnumbered, but everyone who picks up a bow or sword to fight for Spessa’s End, for Atlantia, does so because they want to. Not for money. Not because joining the army was their only option. Not out of fear. We fight to live. We fight to protect what we’ve built here. We fight to protect one another. None of them—the Ascended, the knights, Solis soldiers—will fight with heart, and that makes the difference.”

I blew out a steadier breath. “It does.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then I felt his lips against my cheek, against the scars. “I will ask one other thing of you, Poppy. Stay up here. No matter what. Stay up here and use the bow. And if something were to happen to me, run. Go to the cavern. Kieran will know to find you there—”

“That’s asking two things of me.” Pressure clamped down on my chest.

“You are what they want,” he said. “With you, they will be able to do more harm to both Atlantia and Solis than if anything happens to me.”

“If anything happens to you—” I cut myself off, unable to go there when everything between us now was still so new, when it would breathe life into the fear I already felt. “These people need you more than they need me.”

“Poppy—”

“Do not ask me to do that.” I looked at him. “Do not ask me to run and hide while someone I care about is hurt or worse. I will not do that again.”

He closed his eyes. “This is not the same.”

I started to demand how it wasn’t when I heard the low call of warning from the fields. Both of us turned as fire sparked and a torch flamed to life in the distance, one after another until light spilled across the empty road.

Casteel signaled back as he reached for the hood of my cloak, pulling it up. As he fastened the row of buttons at my throat, the archers rushed forward, dropping behind the battlement walls.

Heart rate kicking up and breaths becoming too quick, I picked up a bow and an arrow out of the quiver—it was the kind I was familiar with—and stepped back so I wouldn’t be seen beyond the stone walls. Casteel remained where he stood, the only person visible to the approaching regiment. Instead of what marched forward, I stared at him, focused on the straight line of his spine and the proud lift of his chin. And as the silence gave way to the sound of dozens of boots and hooves falling upon the packed earth and the creak of wooden wheels turning, my senses stretched out to him. There was the bitter taste of fear, because he was no fool, but it was such a small amount because he was no coward.

“This kind of reminds me,” he noted, “of the night on the Rise in Masadonia. Except you’re not wearing slippers and a rather indecent nightgown. I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed.”

My heart slowed, and my breaths were no longer shallow. My spine straightened, and my chin lifted. “You should be grateful. You won’t be distracted tonight.”

He laughed softly. “Still a little disappointed.”

I smiled as my grip tightened on the bow.

There were no more words then as we watched the soldiers of Solis draw closer, shoving torches into the road and embankments. Their front lines were mortal soldiers, carrying heavy broadswords and wearing plates of leather. Horses pulled three catapults, and beyond them were the archers and mounted soldiers in metal armor, wearing black mantles. Knights. They were maybe two dozen or so of them. Not many, but enough to be a problem.

The knights parted as a windowless, crimson carriage rolled forward between two of the wooden catapults. There was something in them. I squinted. Sacks? It wasn’t gunpowder or other projectiles. Instead of relief, unease blossomed.

Soldiers parted, making way for the carriage that bore the Royal Crest. Several of the knights rode forward, surrounding the conveyance as the wheels stopped, protecting whoever was inside.

It had to be a Royal.

The door opened, and someone stepped out—someone so heavily cloaked that when they moved around the door, I could not tell if it was a man or a woman who walked forward, flanked by knights. Whoever it was, took their sweet old time, stopping once they stood in front of the soldiers. Gloved hands rose, shoving back the hood.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath.

Duchess Teerman stood before the Rise, her face as pale and pretty as I remembered, but she wore no finery in her brown hair tonight. It was pulled back from her face in a simple twist as she stared up at the Rise.

And it was then when I truly feared what I would discover when I saw Ian with my own eyes. Duchess Teerman had been kind—well, she had never been particularly cruel to me. She’d been as cold and unreachable as most Ascended were, but when I killed Lord Mazeen, she had told me not to waste a moment more thinking of him. I believed that perhaps she too had been a victim of the Duke’s perversities. Maybe she had been, but the fact that she was here could only mean one thing.

She was the enemy.

Would that make Ian one, too?

Her berry-red lips curved into a tight, humorless smile. “Hawke Flynn,” she said, her voice too familiar as I quietly nocked an arrow. “Or is there another name you prefer?”

“It doesn’t matter what name you call me,” he answered, sounding about as bored as Kieran did during, well, everything.

“It would be rude if I called you by a false name,” she replied, clasping her hands together. The soldiers and knights remained silent and still behind her. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“I go by several names. The Dark One. Bastard. Cas. Prince Casteel Da’Neer,” he said, and there was no mistaking the slight widening of her eyes. She hadn’t known that—who he truly was. “Call me whatever you like as long as you know it will be my voice that will be the last sound you hear.”

“Prince Casteel,” she spoke the words as if she’d been presented with an entire chocolate cake…or with an elemental Atlantian. She laughed. “Oh, I’ve heard all about you from our Queen and King. They always wondered where you disappeared to. What happened to you. Now I can tell them that their favorite pet is well and alive.”

Pet? The grip of the bow dug into my palm.

“You know, I might just let you live, Duchess. Just so you can return to your King and Queen to let them know their favorite pet cannot wait to see them again.”

Teerman smiled even broader. “I’ll be sure to do so. That is if you allow me to live.” There was a coyness to her tone that skated across my nerves. Was she flirting with him? “But before you get to the killing, I’m here to prevent death.”

“Is that so?” Casteel asked.

She nodded. “You have to know that there are more than those who stand behind me.” A hand extended with all the elegance of a ballroom dancer. “One of your dogs made it back to you, did he not? The other, well, our horses have been well fed.”

Nausea seized me. She couldn’t be serious. I wanted to vomit.

“You know that we outnumber whatever you have behind those walls. There can’t be many living in ruins,” she said, giving away the knowledge that she knew very little of Spessa’s End. That eased some of the horror churning within me. “Even if it were hundreds of Descenters with a few—albeit one less—overgrown mutts, you will not walk away from this. So, I am here to prevent that.”

“And I am here to tell you that if you refer to a wolven as a dog one more time, I will strike you down before those knights have a chance to blink,” Casteel warned.

“My apologies.” Teerman bowed her head. “I meant no offense.”

Really? I rolled my eyes so hard that it was no wonder they didn’t get stuck back there.

“I do hope we can come to an agreement. Believe it or not, spilled blood makes me squeamish,” she said. “It’s so…wasteful. So, most of my armies have remained back in a show of good faith. In hopes that you will listen.”

“It doesn’t appear as if I have the choice not to listen. So, please. Speak.”

The Duchess heard the insolence in his tone. It showed in the tensing of her jaw. “You have what belongs to us. We want it back. Give us the Maiden.”

Belonged to them? It? I drew on every ounce of willpower I had not to lift the bow and send a bloodstone arrow straight through her mouth.

“Give the Maiden back to us, and we will leave this pit of bones untouched for you to cross back to whatever remains of your once-great kingdom.”

If her words represented the entirety of the Ascended, they truly had no idea what they were up against. What kind of hailstorm could descend upon them if something did happen to Atlantia’s Prince.

“And if I did, you would just walk away? Allow me and mine to live?”

“For now? Yes. You’re far too valuable to kill if we can capture you, but right now, the Maiden is the priority.” Her pitch-black eyes reflected no light. “And there will be more chances to capture you later. You’ll be back. For your brother, correct? Isn’t that why you took our Maiden? To ransom her for him?”

Casteel stiffened, and the fact that he remained silent was evidence of his willpower.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there will be no ransom. You either give her to us or…”

When Casteel said nothing, she inclined her head, searching the battlements. “Penellaphe? Is she up there? I’ve heard you have grown quite…familiar with her.”

Casteel said nothing as I stared down at her, not allowing myself to think too hard on how she could’ve learned that.

“If you are up there, Penellaphe, please say something. Show yourself,” she called. “I know you must think terrible things of us now, about our Queen and King. But I can explain everything. We can keep you safe as we always have.” Her gaze flickered past where Casteel stood. “I know you miss your brother. He’s learned of your capture, and he’s sick with worry. I can bring you to him.”

I almost stepped forward, almost opened my mouth. She knew how to get to me, but she also must’ve thought I was an incredible imbecile if she thought that would work.

“Do you know what happened to the last Ascended who came looking for the Maiden?” Casteel asked.

“I do,” Duchess Teerman replied. “That will not happen here.”

“Are you sure?” he retorted. “Because what you seek never belonged to you in the first place.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Teerman countered. “She belongs to the Queen.”

My self-control snapped, and I moved before I could stop myself, reaching the battlement as I said, “I belong to no one, and especially not her.”

Casteel slowly turned his head toward me. “This is not staying unseen,” he said in a low voice. “In case you’re unsure.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

Duchess Teerman’s tight, toothless smile returned. “There you are. You were up there this entire time. Why didn’t you say something earlier?” She held up her hand. “No need to answer that. I’m sure it’s because of what you’ve been told—one very biased side of the story.”

“I’ve heard enough to know the truth,” I told her. “Have those who stand behind you? Do the soldiers know the truth of what you are? Of what the King and the Queen are?”

“You have no idea what Queen Ileana is, and neither does the false Prince standing beside you,” she replied. “And you’re wrong, Penellaphe. You belong to the Queen. Just like the first Maiden did.”

“The first Maiden? The one I supposedly killed but never met?” Casteel demanded. “The one that probably doesn’t even exist?”

“I may have insinuated that you were directly responsible for her fate,” the Duchess replied. “But the first Maiden was very real, and she too belonged to the Queen. Just like you do, Penellaphe. As did your mother.”

“My mother?” The string of the bow was taut between my fingers as I kept the arrow pointed down. “My mother was her friend. Or at least that was what I was told.”

“Your mother was so much more than that,” she called back. “I’ll tell you everything about her—about you.”

“She knows nothing,” Casteel said. “The Ascended are masters of manipulation.”

“I know.” And I did. “There is nothing you can say that I will believe. I know about the Rite. I know what happens to the third sons and daughters. I know how the Ascension works. I know why you need me.”

“But do you know that your mother was Queen Ileana’s daughter? That you are the Queen’s granddaughter? That is why you are the Maiden. The Chosen.”

My lips parted on a sharp inhale.

“You’re not even a good liar,” Casteel snarled. “What you’re suggesting is impossible. Ascended cannot have children.”

The Duchess tilted her head. “Who said that Queen Ileana is an Ascended?”

“Every Ascended in Solis has claimed as much. Your history books have stated it,” I exclaimed. “The Queen herself has called herself an Ascended. Are you seriously trying to say she is not what she is? When she does not age? When she does not walk in the sun?”

“They were lies designed to protect the truth—to protect your mother and you,” she replied.

“Protect me?” I laughed, and the sound was harsh to my ears. “Is that what you call keeping me locked in my rooms? Forcing me to wear the veil and forbidding me to speak, eat, or walk without permission? Is that what the Duke was doing when he took a cane to my back simply because I breathed too loudly or didn’t respond in a way he found appropriate? When he put his hands on me? Allowed others to do the same?” I demanded as Casteel stiffened even more. Anger flooded me, and I almost lifted the bow then, almost released the arrow. “Is that how you and the Queen protected me? Don’t tell me you didn’t know. You did, and you allowed it.”

Duchess Teerman’s porcelain features hardened. “I did what I could when I could. If he hadn’t met his fate at the hands of the one beside you, he surely would have once the Queen knew.”

“You mean, my grandmother? Who sent Lord Chaney after me? Who bit me?” I demanded. “Who most likely would’ve killed me?”

“I didn’t know that,” she argued. “But I can explain—”

“Shut up,” I said, done with her, done with their lies. “Just shut up. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me believe you. So get whatever it is you think you’re going to do here over with, Jacinda.”

Her features sharpened at the use of her first name, something she sporadically required from me.

“Feisty,” Casteel murmured. “I like it.”

“I’m this close to shooting her in the face with an arrow,” I warned him.

“I like that, too,” he replied.

The Duchess stepped forward. “I can see that nothing I say at this time will help make this go smoothly. Perhaps the gifts I brought will change both of your minds.”

Casteel straightened as she tilted her head back, toward the soldiers. Several moved to the catapults. Soldiers gripped the sacks, emptying whatever was in them and then knelt as releases were thrown. I tensed as metal groaned.

The catapults swung forward, one after the other, releasing the gifts as Casteel grabbed me, shielding my body with his.

But what was sent at us flew high above us. They flung through the air, over the battlements. We turned as they hit the stone walls behind us. The sound of them, the fleshy smack, the smear they left behind on the walls that could be seen even in the moonlight and along the floor as they tumbled forward, turned my stomach as the bow loosened in my grip. The nocked arrow trembled.

One had long, black hair.

Another a shroud of silver.

A glimpse of skin that was once a beautiful onyx.

An expression frozen in fear for an eternity.

Heads. They were heads.

So many of them.

Magda.

The mother of the woman who’d died.

Keev, the wolven.

The Atlantian man who’d refused my touch.

A head rolled to a stop by Casteel’s feet. The moment I saw the blood-stained beard, my throat sealed.

Elijah.