From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash Series Book 1)

Cold to my very core, I drew in a short, measured breath as I watched him take a drink from his glass. I knew I had to choose my words carefully. It wouldn’t change what was to come, but it could determine the severity. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you,” I started. “I—”

“Do you even know what you have done that has disappointed me?”

Muscles in my shoulders stiffened, and my gaze darted from the silent Lord to the corner of the suite, where several, narrow pieces of reddish-brown wood were propped against a bookcase. They were fashioned from a tree that grew within the Blood Forest. When I looked back at Lord Mazeen, I saw that he was smiling. I was beginning to think that he had reported something back to the Duke, but if I was wrong about that, it would only add to my problems.

And Lord Mazeen knew this as he watched me. He gave no indication of the role he played in this. Even if his part was only to bear witness. He rarely spoke when he attended these lessons. While his silence would typically give me relief, it only heightened my anxiety now.

 I forced the next words out even though they rolled off my tongue all wrong. “I don’t, but I’m sure, whatever it is, I am at fault. You’re never disappointed in me without cause.”

That was so not true.

There seemed to be times when the way I walked or how I cut my food at supper was a disappointment to the Duke. I was sure how many breaths I took in a minute could be of offense to him.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be disappointed for no reason at all,” he agreed. “But this time, I find myself blindsided by what I have been told.”

My stomach turned over as sweat dotted my brow. Dear gods, had he learned of my time at the Red Pearl?

I’d feared that Hawke would say something, had obsessed and stressed over it. A part of me must not have wanted to believe it was possible, though, because the ripe feeling of betrayal tasted like spoiled food in the back of my throat. Hawke most likely had no idea what went down in this room, but he had to have known there would be consequences. Wouldn’t he? He probably thought I’d receive nothing more than a stern lecture. After all, I was the Maiden, the Chosen.

I would receive a dressing down.

But I doubted Hawke had any idea that the Duke’s lessons were not…normal.

Teerman took a step toward me, and all my muscles tensed up. “Remove your veil, Penellaphe.”

I hesitated for only the span of a few heartbeats, even though it was not uncommon for the Duke or the Duchess to request such a thing while in their presence. They didn’t like speaking to half a face. I couldn’t blame them, but normally, the Duke made me keep it on when Lord Mazeen was present.

“You do not want to test my patience.” His grip had tightened on his glass.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we…we are not alone, and the gods forbade me from showing my face,” I said, knowing full well that I’d done this before, but in situations vastly different.

“The gods will not find fault in today’s proceedings,” the Duke interrupted.

Of course, not.

Willing my hands steady, I lifted them and undid the fine clasps of the veil near my ears. The headdress immediately loosened. Keeping my gaze lowered as I knew he preferred, I slipped it off, over where my hair had been bound in a simple knot at the nape of my neck. My exposed cheeks and brows prickled. Teerman came forward, taking the veil from me and placing it aside. I clasped my hands and waited. I hated doing so.

But I waited.

“Lift your eyes,” he demanded softly, and I did just that. His ebony gaze slowly tracked over my features, inch by inch, missing nothing, not even the wisps of burnt copper hair that I could feel curling against my temple. His perusal lasted an eternity. “You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” I murmured, revulsion bubbling in my stomach. I knew what was coming next.

The tips of his fingers pressed into the skin under my chin, tilting my head to the left and then to the right.

He clucked his tongue. “Such a shame.”

And there it was.

I said nothing as my focus shifted to the large oil painting of the Temples, where veiled women knelt before a being who was so bright, he rivaled the moon.

“What do you think, Bran?” he asked of the Lord.

“As you said, such a shame.”

I didn’t give a Craven’s ass what Lord Mazeen thought.

“The other scars are easy to hide, but this?” The Duke sighed almost sympathetically. “There will come a time when there will be no veil to hide this unfortunate flaw.”

I swallowed, resisting the urge to pull away when his fingers left my chin to trail down the two ragged indentations that started at my left temple and continued downward, skirting my eye to end just beside my nose.

“Do you know what that new guard of hers said?”

The Lord didn’t speak, but I imagined he shook his head no.

“He said she was beautiful,” the Duke answered. “Half of her is truly stunning.” There was a pause. “You look so much like your mother.”

My gaze flew to his in shock. He knew my mother? He’d never—not once—mentioned that before. “You knew her?”

His eyes met mine, and it was hard to stare into the never-ending darkness. “I did. She was…special.”

Before I could even question that, he said, “You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise? Wouldn’t have spoken the truth.”

I flinched as my chest hollowed.

Having spotted the reaction, the Duke’s smile returned. “I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could’ve been far worse.”

The damage could’ve included a missing eye, or worse, death.

But I didn’t say that.

My gaze shifted back to the painting, wondering how his words could still sting after all these years. When I was younger, they’d hurt. His words had cut deep. But the last couple of years, there’d been nothing but numb resignation. The scars were not something I could change. I knew that. But today, they sliced through me as they had when I was thirteen.

“You do have such pretty eyes.” He removed his fingers from the scars and pressed one to my lower lip. “And a well-formed mouth.” He paused, and I swore I could feel his gaze lower and linger. “Most will find your body pleasing.”

Bile clogged my throat and crawled across my skin like thousands of spiders. Only by sheer will, was I able to hold myself completely still.

“For some men, those things will be enough.” Teerman dragged his finger across my bottom lip before lowering his hand. “Priestess Analia came to see me this morning.”

Wait. What?

My heart started to slow as confusion surfaced. The Priestess? What could she possibly have to say about me?

“Do you not have anything to add?” Teerman asked, raising one pale brow.

“No. I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what Priestess Analia would have to say. I last saw her a week ago, in the second-floor parlor, and all seemed fine.”

“I’m sure it did since you only spent half an hour there before leaving unexpectedly,” he said. “I was advised you didn’t once pick up your embroidery set, nor did you engage in any conversation with the Priestesses.”

Irritation flared, but I knew better than to cave to it. Besides, if this was what he was upset over, it was far better than what I’d feared. “My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite,” I lied. The real reason I didn’t engage in their conversation was because the women spent the entire time speaking poorly of the Ladies in Wait and how they were not deserving of the gods’ Blessing. “I must’ve been daydreaming.”

“I’m sure you’re very excited about the Rite, and if this had been just one situation, I would’ve easily overlooked your poor conduct.”

He was lying. The Duke never overlooked any perceived poor conduct.

“But I’ve learned that you were just in the atrium,” he continued, and my shoulders slumped.

“Yes. I was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be,” I said, and that wasn’t a lie. “I don’t go often, but—”

“Spending time in the atrium is not the issue, and you’re smart enough to know that. Don’t play coy with me.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

“You were speaking with two of the Ladies in Wait,” he continued. “You know that is not allowed.”

Knowing this was coming, I remained silent. I just hadn’t realized he would find out so quickly. Someone must have been watching. Perhaps his steward or one of the other Royal Guards.

“Do you have nothing to say?” he asked.

Dipping my chin, I stared at the floor. I could tell him the truth. That I hadn’t said more than one sentence to the Ladies, and that this was, as far as I knew, the first time they’d visited the atrium. It wouldn’t matter, though. The truth didn’t work with the Duke.

“Such a demure Maiden,” the Lord murmured.

I could practically feel my tongue sharpen, but I softened my words as much as I could. “I’m sorry. I should’ve left when they entered, but I didn’t.”

“And why not?”

“I was…curious. They were talking about the upcoming Rite,” I told him, looking up.

“I’m not surprised to hear that. You were always an active child with a curious mind that flicked from one thing to the next, something I warned the Duchess you wouldn’t grow out of easily,” he continued, his features turning taut, a glint of anticipation forming in his eyes. “Priestess Analia also informed me that she fears your relationship with your lady’s maid has become far too familiar.”

My spine stiffened as he turned, straightening the veil he’d draped over a chair. The back of my skull tingled as I said, “Tawny has been a wonderful lady’s maid, and if my kindness and gratefulness has been mistaken for anything else, then I apologize.”

He slid a long look in my direction. “I know it may be hard to keep boundaries with someone you spend so much time with, but a Maiden does not seek intimacies of the heart or the mind with those who serve them, not even those who are to become members of the Court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were Chosen by the gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

The words I forced past my lips scratched at my heart. “I understand.”

Teerman took another drink.

How much had he already consumed? My heart rate tripled. Once, when I’d upset the Duke, his lesson had been carried out after he’d indulged in what I’d heard the guards call “Red Ruin,” a liquor brewed in the Cliffs of Hoar. The Lord had been with him then.

That was the time he’d struck me, and it had taken several days before I’d been able to resume training with Vikter.

“I don’t think you do.” His tone hardened. “You were Chosen at birth, Penellaphe. Only one other has ever been Chosen by the gods. It was why the Dark One sent the Craven after your family. It was why your parents were slaughtered.”

I flinched once more, my stomach hollowing.

“That hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. That should’ve been the only lesson you ever needed.” Placing his glass on the table, he faced me while the Lord unfolded his legs. “But between your lack of awareness regarding overstepping boundaries, your lack of attention with Priestess Analia, your blatant disregard today for what is expected of you, and…”—he drew the word out, enjoying the moment—“the attitude you displayed yesterday toward me. What? You thought I wouldn’t address your behavior while we discussed Ryan’s replacement.”

The air I inhaled did nothing to inflate my lungs. That wasn’t his name.

“You stared back at me as if you wished to do me physical harm.” He chuckled, amused by the idea that I could do such a thing. “The meeting would’ve ended vastly different if others had not been present, and we weren’t there to discuss Hawke replacing Ryan—”

“Rylan,” I snapped. “His name is Rylan. Not Ryan.”

“There it is,” Lord Mazeen echoed the words he’d spoken the night Malessa had been found. He chuckled. “Not so demure now.”

I ignored him.

Teerman cocked his head. “You mean his name was Rylan?”

I sucked in air that seemed to go nowhere.

“And does it really matter? He was just a Royal Guard. He would’ve been honored that I even thought of him.”

Now, I truly wanted to inflict physical harm.

 “Either way, you just proved that I must double my attempts to strengthen my commitment to make you more than ready for your Ascension. Apparently, I’ve been too easy on you.” The gleam in his eyes brightened. “Unfortunately, that means you require yet another lesson. Hopefully, it will be your last, but somehow, I doubt it.”

My fingers spasmed where I twisted them. Anger rose so swiftly, I was surprised that I didn’t breathe fire when I exhaled. That was the last thing Teerman hoped for. If he couldn’t find a reason to give me a lesson, then he’d have a complete breakdown.

“Yes,” I bit out the word, my control slipping. “Hopefully.”

He cut me a sharp look and a long, tense moment passed. “I believe four lashes should suffice.”

Before I could remind myself who I was, what Teerman was, fury burned through my blood, seizing control. Nothing he’d taken me to task for mattered. None of that had anything to do with the Descenters and the Dark One being behind my attempted abduction and Rylan’s murder. The gods blessed the Ascended with near immortality and unfathomable strength, and they spent their time worrying about who I was speaking to? I couldn’t stop myself. “Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.”

His gaze hardened. “How does seven sound?”

Apprehension flickered through me, but I’d received ten before.

“I see that number agrees with you,” he said. “What do you think, Bran?”

“I think that is sufficient.” There was no mistaking the eagerness in his tone.

The Duke looked back to me. “You know where to go.”

Holding my chin high, it took everything in me to walk past him and not lay him flat on his back. That was the worst part as I walked to the shiny, cleared surface of his desk. The Ascended were stronger than even the most skilled guard, but neither Teerman nor Mazeen had raised a hand in combat since the War of Two Kings. I could easily knock him flat on his back.

But then what?

There’d be more lessons, and word would make its way back to Queen Ileana. She’d be disappointed, genuinely so, and unlike the Duke, I cared about what the Queen thought and felt. Not because I was her favorite, but because it had been she who had taken care of me as a wounded, terrified child. Her hands had changed my bandages and held me when I screamed and cried for my mother and father. And it was Queen Ileana who had sat with me when I could not sleep, terrified of the dark. She’d done things no Queen needed to do. Without her caring for me as my own mother would have, I would’ve been lost in a way I doubted I could have ever recovered from.

I stopped in front of the desk, hands shaking with barely leashed rage. I believed in my heart of hearts that if Queen Ileana knew what the Duke did in this room, things would not end well for the Ascended.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Lord lean forward as Teerman picked up the red, narrow cane, smoothing his hand down its length.

But the Queen wouldn’t know.

Letters sent to the capital were always read, and I wouldn’t see her until I returned. But then? Then, I would tell her everything.

Because if he did this to me, I was sure he did this to others, as well. Even if no one ever spoke of it.

He came to stand beside me, that glint of eagerness now a shine in his eyes. “You’re not ready, Penellaphe. You should know better by this point.”

Clamping my jaw shut, I looked away as I lifted my hands to the row of buttons. My fingers only trembled once and then stilled as I undid the bodice, all too aware that Mazeen had picked his seat with knowledge of what was to come. He had an unobstructed view.

The Duke remained at my side, watching as the bodice of my gown gaped, revealing the all-too-thin undergarment underneath. Both slipped down my shoulders until the clothing pooled at my waist. Cool air washed over my back and chest, and I wanted to stand there as if I was wholly unaffected by the entire ordeal. Wished I could be strong and brave and unmoved. I didn’t want them to see how humiliating this was, how much it bothered me to be seen like this, and not by someone of my choosing—someone worthy.

But I couldn’t.

Cheeks burning and eyes stinging, I folded an arm over my chest.

“This is for your own good,” Teerman spoke, his voice going dark and rough as he walked behind me. “This is a necessary lesson, Penellaphe, to ensure that you take your preparations seriously and are committed to them so you do not dishonor the gods.”

He almost sounded like he believed what he said, as if he weren’t doing this simply because it excited him to inflict pain. But I knew better. I knew what Mazeen would do if he could, and I’d seen the look in the Duke’s eyes. I saw it far too many times before when I made the mistake of looking. The kind of look that told me if I wasn’t the Maiden, he would inflict a different kind of pain. Just like I knew Mazeen would. I couldn’t suppress the shudder that followed that thought.

A moment later, I felt his hand on my bare shoulder, and everything in me recoiled. It wasn’t just the touch of his too-cool skin against mine, but it was also what I didn’t feel.

I felt nothing.

No faint trace of anguish that all people carried within them, no matter how long ago the source of the hurt that had inflicted its damage. There was no pain of any kind, and it was that way for every Ascended. While that should bring me some sort of relief that I wouldn’t pick up on pain, it only left me with the feeling of crawling skin.

It was a reminder of how different the Ascended were from mortals, what the Blessing of the gods did.

“Brace yourself, Penellaphe.”

I planted a palm on the desk.

The room was silent except for the sound of the Lord’s deep breaths, and then I heard the soft whistle of the cane cutting through the air a second before it struck my lower back. My entire body jerked as fiery pain rippled across my skin. The first strike was always a shock, no matter how many times it had happened before or that I knew what was coming. Another strike landed across my shoulders, pushing out a rough burst of air as fire swept across them.

Five more.

Another blow landed, and my body trembled as I lifted my gaze. I will not make a sound. I will not make a sound. My hips knocked against the desk with the next hit.

The settee creaked as Lord Mazeen rose.

 Skin burning, I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. I stared through the haze of tears at the painting of the veiled worshippers, wondering how horrible the Atlantians must’ve been for men like the Duke of Masadonia and Lord Mazeen to receive the Blessing of Ascension from the gods.