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

As if he didn’t already know.

“Don’t call me that.” Pushing to my feet, the chains clanked against the stone floor as I ignored the tender pull of skin around my wound. Standing hurt, but I wouldn’t let him see that.

“But I thought you liked it when I did.”

“You were mistaken,” I replied, and he smirked. “What do you want?”

His head tilted, and a heartbeat passed. “More than you could ever guess.”

I had no idea what he meant by that, and I didn’t care. Not at all. “Are you here to kill me?”

“Now why would I do that?” he asked.

Lifting my hands, I rattled the chains. “You have me chained.”

“I do.”

Fury blasted me at his blasé response. “Everyone outside wants me dead.”

“That is true.”

“And you’re an Atlantian,” I spat. “That’s what you do. You kill. You destroy. You curse.”

He snorted. “Ironic coming from someone who has been surrounded by the Ascended her whole life.”

“They don’t murder innocents, and they don’t turn people into monsters—”

“No,” he cut me off. “They just force young women who make them feel inferior to bare their skin to a cane and do the gods only know what else to them. Yes, Princess, they are truly upstanding examples of everything that is good and right in this world.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as my lips parted. No. I shuddered. No way.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out what the Duke’s lessons were? I told you I would.”

I took a step back, the humiliation of him learning the truth burning through me worse than any lashing the Duke had delivered.

“He used a cane cut from a tree in the Blood Forest, and he make you partially undress.” He grasped the bars as my heart thundered against my ribs. “And he told you that you deserved it. That it was for your own good. But in reality, all it did was fulfill his sick need to inflict pain.”

“How?” I whispered.

One side of his lips curled up. “I can be very compelling.”

I looked away and, suddenly, I saw the Duke in my mind’s eye, his arms stretched out, and the cane shoved through his heart. A tremor rocked me as my gaze swung back to Hawke. “You killed him.”

Hawke smiled then, and it was a smile I’d never seen from him before. It wasn’t closed-lipped this time. Even from where I stood, I could see the hint of fang. Another tremor rippled through me.

“I did,” he answered. “And I never enjoyed watching the life seep out of someone’s eyes more than I did while watching the Duke die.

I stared.

“He had it coming, and trust me when I say his very slow and very painful death had nothing to do with him being an Ascended. I would’ve gotten to the Lord eventually,” he added. “But you took care of that sick bastard yourself.”

I didn’t… I didn’t know what to think of that. He’d killed the Duke, and he would’ve killed the Lord because—

Cutting off those thoughts, I shook my head. I couldn’t understand why he would’ve felt driven to do what he’d done, considering where we stood now. I didn’t need to understand. At least that’s what I told myself. It didn’t matter. Neither did the deep, hidden part of me that was thrilled to know that there was a possibility that what he’d done to me had played a part in the Duke’s ultimate demise.

“Just because the Duke and the Lord were horrible and evil, that doesn’t make you any better,” I told him. “That doesn’t make all Ascended guilty.”

“You know absolutely nothing, Poppy.”

My hands curled into fists as I resisted the urge to shriek, but then he unlocked the door. Every muscle in me tensed.

I glared at him as he entered the cell. I wished there was some sort of weapon, though I knew even if I was armed to the teeth, there would be very little I could do. He was faster, stronger, and he could take me with a flick of his wrist.

 But I would go down fighting.

“You and I need to talk,” he said as he closed the doors behind him.

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, you really don’t have a choice, do you?” His gaze dropped to the cuffs around my wrists. He took a step toward me and then halted. His nostrils flared as the pupils of his eyes dilated. “You’re injured.”

My blood. He scented my blood. Mouth dry, I stepped back. “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t.” His gaze swept over me, stopping at my midsection. “You’re bleeding.”

“Barely,” I told him.

Within the blink of an eye, he was directly in front of me. Gasping, I stumbled against the wall. How had he hidden such speed before? He reached for the hem of my tunic, and panic exploded.

“Don’t touch me!” I side-stepped him, wincing as pain radiated up my side. He stiffened, staring down at me as my heart slammed against my ribs. “Don’t.”

He arched a brow. “You had no problem with me touching you last night.”

Heat swamped my skin as my lips pulled back in a snarl. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “I wish it never happened.”

Gods, that was the truth. I wanted nothing more than to forget how what we’d done had felt beautiful and life-altering, how it had felt so incredibly right.

I was a fool.

His jaw hardened, and a long moment passed. “Be that as it may, you are still wounded, Princess, and you will allow me to look at it.”

Breathing heavily, I lifted my chin. “And if I don’t?”

His laugh reminded me of before, but now it was tinged with cold amusement. “As if you could stop me,” he stated softly, and the truth of what he said was soul-shattering. “You can either allow me to help you or…”

My fingers tingled from how tightly I’d balled my hands into fists. “Or, you will force me?”

Hawke said nothing.

A burn started in my chest as I stared back at him, hating him, hating myself for feeling what I’d promised I would never feel again.

Helpless.

I could refuse and make this very difficult, but what good would that do in the end? He would overpower me, and all I would accomplish is further injuring myself. I was furious enough to do just that, but I wasn’t stupid.

Looking away, I forced a long breath out of my lungs. “Why do you even care if I bleed to death?”

“Why do you think I would want you dead? If I did, why wouldn’t I have agreed to what was demanded outside?” he asked, and my head jerked back to him. “You are no good to me dead.”

 “So, I’m your hostage until the Dark One gets here? You all plan to use me against the King and Queen.”

“Clever girl,” he murmured. “You are the Queen’s favorite Maiden.”

I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want it to, but the knowledge that he wanted to tend to my wound only because he planned to use me stung profoundly.

“Will you let me check you now?”

I gave him no answer because what he’d said wasn’t truly a question. There was no choice. He seemed to be satisfied that I understood because he reached for me, and this time, my body went rigid, but I didn’t move.

Hawke’s hands curled around the hem of the dark tunic. He lifted the cloth, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek when the backs of his knuckles brushed over my lower stomach and hip. Had he done that on purpose? I stared at his glossy dark waves as he continued inching the shirt up. He stopped just below my breasts, exposing what was likely to leave yet another scar.

If I lived that long.

Because after I served whatever purpose they had in mind, I doubted I’d be released. It made no sense for that to occur.

Hawke stared at me, at the bloody, seeping cut, for too long. My pulse picked up, and I could too easily recall how his teeth—no, his fangs—had felt against my skin. I shivered. Was it revulsion? Fear? A leftover, unwanted sensation that the memory triggered? Maybe all of them. I had no idea.

“Gods,” he said, his voice guttural as thick lashes lifted, and his gaze met mine. His cheekbones seemed sharper as shadows blossomed under them. “You could’ve been disemboweled.”

“You’ve always been so observant.”

He ignored that comment as he stared down at me like I was nothing more than a silly girl. “Why didn’t you say anything? This could become infected.”

It took everything in me to keep my arms at my sides. “Well, there really wasn’t a lot of time, considering you were busy betraying me.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s no excuse.”

I barked out a harsh laugh and wondered if I was already developing a fever. “Of course, not. Silly me for not realizing that the person who had a hand in murdering the people I care about, who betrayed me and made plans with the one who helped to slaughter my family to use me for some nefarious means would care that I was wounded.”

Those amber eyes turned luminous, filling with a golden fire. His features turned stark, and goosebumps pimpled my skin. Ice hit my veins at the slow reminder that he was not as I’d always assumed. Mortal. I refused to shrink back, even though I wanted to run.

“Always so brave,” he murmured. He let go of my shirt and turned away, calling out to Delano, who apparently hadn’t gone too far because he was in front of the cell within seconds.

I leaned against the wall, quiet as Hawke waited for Delano to return with the items he’d requested. The fact that he kept his back to me for so long said everything I needed to know about whether or not he viewed me as a threat.

Delano appeared with a basket, and it made me wonder exactly why such things were kept handy. My gaze flickered over the cell. Were they in the business of keeping their prisoners healthy? Better yet, was this where all the Ascended and the Lord from the keep had ended up?

When Hawke faced me, we were once again alone. “Why don’t you lie—?” He glanced around the cell, his gaze centering on the threadbare mattress as if he just realized there was no bed. His shoulders tensed. “Why don’t you lie down?”

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

Impatience brimmed just under the surface as he stalked toward me, basket in hand. “Would you rather I get on my knees?”

A terrible razor-sharp smile pulled at my lips as I started to agree—

“I don’t mind.” His gaze dropped as he bit down on his lower lip. “Doing so would put me at the perfect height for something I know you’d enjoy. After all, I’m always craving honeydew.”

Air punched out of my lungs in shock, but anger quickly crashed into it. I peeled away from the wall, hurrying to the cot. I sat down slower than I stood as I shot him an icy stare. “You’re repulsive.”

Chuckling under his breath, he walked over to the cot and knelt. “If you say so.”

“I know so.”

A half-grin appeared as he placed the basket on the floor. A quick glance showed there were bandages and tiny jars. Nothing that could be fashioned into an ineffective weapon. He gestured for me to recline, and after muttering a curse, I did as he requested.

“Language,” he murmured, and when he reached for my tunic once more, I lifted it myself. “Thank you.”

I gritted my teeth.

A small smile appeared as he shifted onto his knees, pulling a clear bottle from the basket. He unscrewed the lid, and a bitter, sharp scent hit the musty air.

“I want to tell you a story,” he said, his brows lowered as he eyed the wound.

“I am not in the mood for story time—” I gasped as he took hold of my shirt. I gripped his wrist with both hands, barely feeling the cold of the chain against my stomach. “What are you doing?”

“The blade damn near ripped out your ribcage,” he said, eyes flashing an unholy gold once more. “It extends up the side of your ribs.”

The wound wasn’t that bad, but it did crawl up my side.

“I’m guessing this happened when the sword was wrestled from you?” he asked.

I didn’t answer, and when I didn’t let go of his wrists, I expected him to simply break my hold, but instead, he sighed. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to undress you so I can take advantage of you. I’m not here to seduce you, Princess.”

What should have come as a relief had the opposite effect. The burn in my chest crept into my throat, forming a knot I could barely breathe around as I stared up at him. Of course, he wasn’t trying to seduce me. Not since he’d already succeeded in doing so, getting me to not only let my guard down but to also trust him. I’d opened up to him, shared with him my dreams of becoming something else, my dread of returning to the capital and—oh, gods—my gift. I’d shared so much more than just words. I’d let him into my room, into my bed, and then into me. He’d whispered that my touch had consumed him, and he’d worshipped my body, my scars. He’d told me that they made me even more beautiful, and I…

I’d liked him.

I’d done more than just like him.

Gods, I’d fallen for him even though it was forbidden. I’d fallen for him enough that I knew deep down it had played a role in my decision to tell the Queen that I would refuse the Ascension. A tremor coursed through my fingers as the burn in my throat filled the backs of my eyes.

“Was any of it true?” The question erupted from me in a hoarse voice I barely recognized, and the moment the words were set free, I wanted to take them back because I knew…I already knew the answer.

Hawke went as still as the statues that had adorned the foyer in Castle Teerman. I jerked my hands away. A muscle ticked in his jaw as his lips remained pressed firmly together.

A ragged, brittle sob climbed up my throat, and it took everything in me to keep it inside. That did very little to ease the shame that sat in the center of my chest like a hot coal. I will not cry. I will not cry.

Unable to look at him any longer, I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. I immediately saw how he’d gazed at me, lips swollen and glossy. Anger and shame, and a deep hurt I’d never experienced before pricked at my eyelids.

I felt his hands move then, carefully lifting the tunic, stopping short of exposing my entire chest. This time, his knuckles didn’t brush my skin, and like before, even in the dim light, I knew the paler, almost shiny patches of scarred flesh were visible, especially to the eyes of an Atlantian. Last night, I’d disrobed for him and had let him look his fill, believing what he’d said. He’d been so convincing, and my stomach churned at the thought of what he must’ve really thought.

How he must’ve really felt when he touched the scars, kissed them.

He spoke into the silence then, startling me. “This may burn.”

I thought his voice sounded gruffer than normal, but then I felt him lean closer, and the first splash of lukewarm liquid hit the wound. Air hissed through my teeth as scorching pain lanced the right side of my stomach and up my ribs. The bitter astringent scent rose as the liquid bubbled in the cut, and I welcomed the sting, focusing on it instead of the throbbing ache in my chest.

Tipping my head back, I kept my eyes closed as more liquid splashed along the injury, creating more foam and sending another wave of pain shuddering across my midsection.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, and I almost believed that he was. “It will need to sit for a bit to burn out any infection that may have already been making its way in there.”

Great.

Maybe it would burn through my stupid heart.

Silence fell, but it didn’t last long. “The Craven were our fault,” he said, startling me. “Their creation, that is. All of this. The monsters in the mist. The war. What has become of this land. You. Us. It all started with an incredibly desperate, foolish act of love, many, many centuries before the War of Two Kings.”

“I know,” I said, clearing my throat. “I know the history.”

“But do you know the true history?”

“I know the only history.” My eyes opened, and I shifted my gaze away from the chains and twisted bones.

“You know only what the Ascended have led everyone to believe, and it is not the truth.” He reached over, plucking up the chain that crossed a part of my stomach. I tensed as he carefully moved it aside. “My people lived alongside mortals in harmony for thousands of years, but then King O’Meer Malec—”

“Created the Craven,” I cut him off. “Like I said—”

“You’re wrong.” He shifted so he sat back, one leg drawn up, and his arm resting on his knee. “King Malec fell hopelessly in love with a mortal woman. Her name was Isbeth. Some say it was Queen Eloana who poisoned her. Others claim it was a jilted lover of the King’s who stabbed her because he apparently had quite the history of being unfaithful. But either way, she was mortally wounded. As I said, Malec was desperate to save her. He committed the forbidden act of Ascending her—what you know as the Ascension.”

My heart lodged somewhere in my throat, next to the messy knot of emotion.

His gaze lifted and met mine. “Yes. Isbeth was the first to Ascend. Not your false King and Queen. She became the first vampry.”

Lies. Utter, unbelievable lies.

“Malec drank from her, only stopping once he felt her heart begin to fail, and then he shared his blood with her.” His head tilted, those golden eyes glittering. “Perhaps if your act of Ascension wasn’t so well guarded, the finer details would not come as a surprise to you.”

I started to sit up but remembered the wound and the fizzing liquid. “Ascension is a Blessing from the gods.”

He smirked. “It is far from that. More like an act that can either create near immortality or make nightmares come true. We Atlantians are born nearly mortal. And remain so until the Culling.”

“The Culling?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“It’s when we change.” His upper lip curled, and the tip of his tongue prodded a sharp canine. I knew this. It was in the history books. “The fangs appear, lengthening only when we feed, and we change in…other ways.”

“How?” Curiosity had seized me, and I figured that whatever I could learn would help if I managed to get out of this.

“That’s not important.” He reached for a cloth. “We may be harder to kill than the Ascended, but we can be killed,” he went on. I also knew that. Atlantians could be killed just like a Craven could. “We age slower than mortals, and if we take care, we can live for thousands of years.”

I wanted to point out everything was important, especially how Atlantians changed in other ways, but curiosity got the best of me. “How…how old are you?”

“Older than I look.”

“Hundreds of years older?” I asked.

“I was born after the war,” he answered. “I’ve seen two centuries come and go.”

Two centuries?

Gods…

“King Malec created the first vampry. They are…a part of all of us, but they are not like us. Daylight does not affect us. Not like it does the vampry. Tell me, which of the Ascended have you ever seen in the daylight?”

“They do not walk in the sun because the gods do not,” I answered. “That is how they honor them.”

“How convenient for them, then.” Hawke’s smirk turned smug. “Vamprys may be blessed with the closest possible thing to immortality, like us, but they cannot walk in daylight without their skin starting to decay. You want to kill an Ascended without getting your hands dirty? Lock them outside with no possible shelter. They’ll be dead before noon.”

That couldn’t be true. The Ascended chose not to go in the sun.

“They also need to feed, and by feed, I am talking about blood. They need to do so frequently to live, to prevent whatever mortal wounds or illnesses they suffered before they Ascended from returning. They cannot procreate, not after the Ascension, and many experience bloodlust when they feed, often killing mortals in the process.”

He dabbed the cloth along the wound, careful not to exert too much pressure as he soaked up the settled liquid. “Atlantians do not feed on mortals—”

“Whatever,” I snapped. “You expect me to truly believe that?”

His gaze lifted to mine. “Mortal blood offers us nothing of any real value because we were never mortal, Princess. Wolven don’t need to feed, but we do. We feed when we need to, on other Atlantians.”

I shook my head. How could he honestly expect me to believe that? Their treatment of mortals, how they virtually used them as cattle, is what drove the gods to abandon them, and for the mortal populace to revolt.

“We can use our blood to heal a mortal without turning them, something a vampry cannot do, but the most important difference is the creation of the Craven. An Atlantian has never created one. The vamprys have. And in case you haven’t been following along, the vamprys are what you know as the Ascended.”

“That’s a lie.” My hands balled uselessly at my sides.

“It is the truth.” Brows lowered in concentration as he peered down at the wound, he glanced up at me only when he laid the cloth aside. “A vampry cannot make another vampry. They cannot complete the Ascension. When they drain a mortal, they create a Craven.”

“What you’re saying makes no sense.”

“How does it not?”

“Because if any part of what you’re saying is true, then the Ascended are vamprys, and they cannot do the Ascension.” Anger burned through my chest, worse than the liquid he’d used to clean out my wound. “If that’s true, then how have they made other Ascended? Like my brother?”

His jaw hardened, eyes turning glacial. “Because it is not the Ascended who are giving the gift of life. They are using an Atlantian to do so.”

I coughed out a harsh laugh. “The Ascended would never work with an Atlantian.”

“Did I misspeak? I don’t believe I did. I said they are using an Atlantian. Not working with one.” He picked up a jar, screwing off the lid. “When King Malec’s peers discovered what he’d done, he lifted the laws that forbade the act of Ascending. As more vamprys were created, many were unable to control their bloodlust. They drained many of their victims, creating the pestilence known as the Craven, who swept across the kingdom like a plague. The Queen of Atlantia, Queen Eloana, tried to stop it. She made the act of Ascension forbidden once more and ordered all vamprys destroyed in an act to protect mankind.”

I watched as he dipped his hand into the jar and then set it aside. A thick, milky-white substance covered his long fingers. I recognized the smell. It was the same salve that had been used on me before. “Yarrow?”

He nodded. “Among other things that will help speed up your healing.”

“I can—” I jerked as the chilled ointment touched my skin. Hawke spread the mixture over my stomach, warming the balm and my flesh.

And then me.

My knuckles began to ache as an unwanted shiver of awareness skated over my skin. He betrayed you, I reminded myself. He played you. I hated him. I did. The knot in my throat expanded even as a heady flush swept through me.

Hawke seemed to be entirely focused on what he was doing, and that was a blessing. I didn’t want him to see how his touch affected me. “The vamprys revolted,” he said after scooping out more of the ointment. “That is what triggered the War of Two Kings. It was not mortals fighting back against cruel, inhuman Atlantians, but vamprys fighting back.”

My gaze flew from his hand to his face. Some of what he said felt familiar, but it was a twisted, darker version of what I knew to be true.

“The death toll from the war was not exaggerated. In fact, many people believe the numbers were far higher. We weren’t defeated, Princess. King Malec was overthrown, divorced, and exiled. Queen Eloana remarried, and the new King, Da’Neer, pulled their forces back, called their people home, and ended a war that was destroying this world.”

“And what happened to Malec and Isbeth?” I asked, even though I didn’t believe much of what he’d said.

“Your records say that Malec was defeated in battle, but the truth is, no one knows. He and his Mistress simply disappeared,” Hawke claimed, returning the lid to the jar. “The vamprys gained control of the remaining lands, anointing their own King and Queen, Jalara and Ileana, and renamed it the Kingdom of Solis. They called themselves the Ascended, used our gods, who’d long since gone to sleep, as a reason for why they became the way they did. In the hundreds of years that have passed since, they’ve managed to scrub the truth from history, that the vast majority of mortals actually fought alongside the Atlantians against the common threat of vamprys.”

I couldn’t even speak for what felt like an entire minute. “None of that sounds believable.”

“I imagine it is hard to believe that you belong to a society of murderous monsters, who take the third daughters and sons during the Rite to feed upon. And if they don’t drain them dry, they become—”

“What?” I gasped, my disbelief turning to anger. “You have spent this entire time telling me nothing but falsehoods, but now you’ve gone too far.”

Placing a clean bandage on the wound, he smoothed down the edges until it adhered to my skin. “I’ve told you nothing but the truth, as did the man who threw the Craven hand.”

I sat up, tugging down my shirt. “Are you claiming that those given in service to the gods are now Craven?”

“Why do you think the Temples are off-limits to anyone but the Ascended and those they control like the Priests and Priestesses?”

“Because they’re sacred places that even most Ascended don’t breach,” I argued.

“Have you seen one child that has been given over? Just one, Princess? Do you know anyone other than a Priest or Priestess or an Ascended who has claimed to have seen one? You’re smart. You know no one has,” he challenged. “That’s because most are dead before they even learn to speak.”

I opened my mouth.

“The vamprys need a food source, Princess, one that would not rouse suspicion. What better way than to convince an entire kingdom to hand over their children under the pretense of honoring the gods? They’ve created a religion around it, such that brothers will turn on brothers if any of them refuse to give away their child. They have fooled an entire kingdom, used the fear of what they have created against the people. And that’s not all. You ever think it’s strange how many young children die overnight from a mysterious blood disease? Like the Tulis family, who lost their first and second children to it? Not every Ascended can stick to a strict diet. Bloodlust for a vampry is a very real, common problem. They’re thieves in the night, stealing children, wives, and husbands.”

“Do you really think I believe any of this? That the Atlantians are innocent, and everything I’ve been taught is a lie?”

“Not particularly, but it was worth a shot. We are not innocent of all crimes—”

“Like murder and kidnapping?” I threw at him.

“That among other things. You don’t want to believe what I’m saying. Not because it sounds too foolish to believe, but because there are things you’re now questioning. Because it means your precious brother is feeding on innocents—”

“No.”

“And turning them into Craven.”

“Shut up,” I growled, shooting to my feet. The sharp, sudden movement barely causing me any pain.

Rising in one fluid movement, he quickly towered over me. “You don’t want to accept what I’m saying, even as logical as it sounds because it means your brother is one of them, and the Queen who cared for you has slaughtered thousands—”

I didn’t stop to think about what I did next. I was just so furious and afraid because he was right, what he’d said had prompted questions. Like how none of the Ascended were seen during the day, or how no one but they entered the Temples. But, worse yet, it raised the question of why Hawke would make all of this up. What would be the point of concocting this elaborate lie when he had to know how hard it would be to convince me?

No, I didn’t think about any of that.

I just acted.

The chain skidded across the floor as I swung on him, my hand curled into a fist.

Hawke’s hand snapped up, catching mine before it connected with his jaw. Gods, he moved impossibly fast, twisting my arm as he spun me around. He yanked me back against the hard wall of his chest, trapping my arm between us as he grabbed my other hand. A shriek of frustration ripped from my throat as I went to lift my leg—

“Don’t.” His voice was a soft warning in my ear, one that sent a shiver down my spine.

I didn’t listen.

He grunted when the heel of my foot connected with the front of his leg. Jerking my leg up, I kicked back.

Suddenly, I found myself pressed against the wall with Hawke at my back. I struggled, but it was no use. There wasn’t an inch of space between him or the cold, damp wall.

“I said, don’t.” His warm breath drifted over my temple. “I mean it, Princess. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t? You already hur—” I cut myself off.

“What?” He moved my arm so it was no longer caught between us. He didn’t let go, though. Instead, he pressed my hand into the wall, just as he did with the other one.

Clamping my mouth shut, I refused to tell him that he’d already hurt me. Admitting that meant there was something to hurt, to be exploited, and he already had enough to use against me.

“You know you can’t seriously hurt me,” he said, resting his cheek against mine.

I tensed. “Then why am I chained?”

“Because getting kicked, punched, or clawed still doesn’t feel good,” he returned. “And while the others have been ordered to not touch you, it doesn’t mean they’ll be as tolerant as I am.”

“Tolerant?” I tried to push off the wall but got nowhere. “You call this tolerant?”

“Considering that I just spent time cleaning out and covering your wound, I would say so. And a thank you would be nice.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I seethed.

“No. Because you’re either too proud or too foolish to do so. You would’ve allowed yourself to rot instead of asking for help,” he said. “So, I’m not going to get a thank you, am I?”

Thrusting my head back was my answer. He anticipated it, though, and I didn’t manage to hit him. He forced my cheek to the wall. I wriggled, trying to break his hold.

“You are exceptionally skilled at being disobedient,” he growled. “Only second to your talent of driving me crazy.”

“You forgot one last skill.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” I gritted out. “I’m skilled at killing Craven. I imagine killing Atlantians is no different.”

Hawke chuckled deeply, and I felt the sound all along my back. “We’re not consumed by hunger, so we’re not as easily distracted as a Craven.”

“You can still be killed.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You take it however you want.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I know that what I’ve told you is a lot, but it is all the truth. Every part, Poppy.”

“Stop calling me that!” I squirmed.

“And you should stop doing that,” he said, his voice rougher, deeper. “Then again. Please continue. It’s the perfect kind of torture.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant, but then I felt him against my lower back, and my breath caught as a wave of awareness stole through me. “You’re sick.”

“And twisted. Perverse, and dark.” The rough stubble of his chin dragged over my cheek, and my spine arched in response. He seemed to get even closer as his fingers spread over mine. “I’m a lot of things—”

“Murderer?” I whispered, unsure if I was reminding him or myself. “You killed Vikter. You killed all the others.”

He stilled, and the next breath he took pushed his chest against my back. “I’ve killed. So have Delano and Kieran. I and the one you call the Dark One had a hand in Hannes’ and Rylan’s deaths, but not that poor girl. It was one of the Ascended, most likely caught in bloodlust. And I am willing to bet it was either the Duke or the Lord.”

The Lord.

Who’d smelled of the flower that Malessa had carried in earlier that day.

“And none of us had anything to do with the attack on the Rite and what happened to Vikter.”

Gods, I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe I had not slept with the man who’d played a role in Vikter’s death. “Then who did?”

“It was those you call Descenters. Our supporters,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “There was no order given to attack the Rite, however.”

“You really expect me to believe the thing the Descenters follow didn’t order them to attack the Rite?”

“Just because they follow the Dark One, doesn’t mean they are led by him,” he answered. “Many of the Descenters act on their own. They know the truth. They no longer want to live in fear of their children being made into monsters or stolen to feed another. I had nothing to do with Vikter’s death.”

I shivered, believing what he said about his involvement and unsure why. But whether the Dark One actively led the Descenters or not, he was still the cause of Vikter’s death. They’d picked up his cause and acted upon it.

“But the others you claim. You killed them. Owning it doesn’t change it.”

“It had to happen.” His chin moved from my cheek, and then he said, “Just like you need to understand that there is no way out of this. You belong to me.”

My heart turned over slowly. “Don’t you mean I belong to the Dark One?”

“I meant what I said, Princess.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“If you believe that, then you are a fool,” he taunted, pressing his head to mine before I could lash out. “Or you’re lying to yourself. You belonged to the Ascended. You know that. It’s one of the things you hated. They kept you in a cage.”

I never should’ve said anything to him. “At least that cage was more comfortable than this one.”

“True,” he murmured, and a heartbeat passed. “But you’ve never been free.”

“True or not.” And it was painfully true. “That doesn’t mean I’ll stop fighting you,” I warned. “I won’t submit.”

“I know.” There was an odd tone to his voice, one that sounded like…admiration. But that didn’t make sense.

“And you’re still a monster,” I told him.

“I am, but I wasn’t born that way. I was made this way. You asked about the scar on my thigh. Did you look at it closely, or were you too busy staring at my co—”

“Shut up,” I screamed.

“You should’ve noticed that it was the Royal Crest branded on my skin,” he said, and I gasped. It had looked like the Royal Crest. “Do you want to know how I have such intimate knowledge of what happens during your fucking Ascension, Poppy? How I know what you don’t? Because I was held in one of those Temples for five decades, and I was sliced and cut and fed upon. My blood was poured into golden chalices that the second sons and daughters drank after being drained by the Queen or the King or another Ascended. I was the godsdamn cattle.”

No.

I couldn’t believe this.

“And I wasn’t just used for food. I provided all sorts of entertainment. I know exactly what it’s like to not have a choice,” he continued, and horror followed his words. “It was your Queen who branded me, and if it hadn’t been for the foolish bravery of another, I would still be there. That is how I got that scar.”

Without any warning, his hands slipped off mine, and he pulled away. Trembling, I didn’t move. Not for several long moments. When I turned around, he was already outside the cell.

If what he said was true…

No. It couldn’t be. Gods, it could not be.

Suddenly unbearably cold, I folded my arms around myself, crossing the chains.

Hawke stared at me through the bars. “Neither the prince nor I want to see you harmed. As I’ve said, we need you alive.”

“Why?” I whispered. “Why am I so important?”

“Because they have the true heir to the kingdom. They captured him when he freed me.”

I thought that the Dark One was the only heir to the Atlantian throne. If what Hawke said was true, it could only mean…“The Dark One has a brother?”

He nodded. “You are the Queen’s favorite. You’re important to her and to the kingdom. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with your gift. Perhaps it doesn’t. But we will release you back to them if they release Prince Malik.”

All of what he’d just said slowly seeped into my brain. “You plan to use me as ransom.”

“That’s better than sending you back in pieces, isn’t it?”

Disbelief thundered through me, quickly followed by that pulsing pain that came from my chest. “You just spent all this time telling me that the Queen, the Ascended, and my brother, are all evil vamprys who feed on mortals, and you’re just going to send me back to them once you free the Dark One’s brother?”

Hawke said nothing.

A broken, too-wet-sounding laugh left me. If what he said was true, it confirmed what was already becoming evident.

He didn’t care for my safety or well-being beyond making sure I was breathing when the time came to make the exchange.

I lifted my hand to my chest to ease the throb as another laugh crept up on me.

Hawke’s jaw flexed. “A more comfortable sleeping arrangement will be made.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but he surely wasn’t getting a thank you from me.

His chin lifted. “You can choose not to believe anything I’ve said, but you should so that what I’m about to say doesn’t come as such a shock to you. I will be leaving shortly to meet up with King Da’Neer of Atlantia to tell him that I have you.”

My head jerked upright.

“Yes. The King lives. So does Queen Eloana. The parents of the one you call the Dark One and Prince Malik.”

Shocked, I couldn’t move as he turned to leave, but he stopped.

And Hawke didn’t look back as he said, “Not everything was a lie, Poppy. Not everything.”