The War of Two Queens (Blood And Ash Series Book 4)

Poppy

Unable to sleep the following night, I sat on the boulder outside of the tent, feet dangling above the ground as I watched the limbs of the blood trees sway in the distance. Nightbirds called from the smattering of oak trees we’d hidden our little cluster of tents and wagon under. Just inside the tent, Kieran dozed in his mortal form. I had been relieved to see that when I looked in on him a little bit ago. He didn’t need to lose sleep simply because my mind wouldn’t shut down.

I was restless.

Hungry again.

And thirsty.

My gaze crept across the landscape. The Blood Forest was oddly beautiful, especially at dawn and dusk, when the skies gave way to paler shades of blues and pinks. It was vast. I didn’t think many people realized just how large it was, encompassing the distance between Masadonia and the outskirts of Carsodonia. Basically, it was the length of the Niel Valley, and Malec was entombed somewhere in there.

Hopefully.

The forest was beginning to thin out, though. Through the trees, I caught tiny glimpses of the horizon. And beyond that, the capital.

Where Casteel waited.

Forty days had passed since I’d last seen him in person. Felt so much longer than that, each day a week. At least I should be grateful that my monthly menstruation had ended while in Oak Ambler and I wasn’t dealing with that out here in the woods.

This would be our last night camping outside the Blood Forest. Tomorrow, we would reach the Western Pass. Then, we were roughly a two-day ride to where the Elysium Peaks began in the Willow Plains. According to Kieran, it would only take about a day—maybe two—to travel through the Peaks and reach the other portion of the mines that connected to the Rise. My heart lurched with a dart of anticipation.

But from here, if we kept traveling southwest, we’d reach the Niel Valley in a day and then the rise of Carsodonia in a day and a half. From here, we were no more than two days from being in the same city as Casteel. Not four.

We couldn’t keep going straight, though. There would be no way to get past the gates. We had a better chance if we took the extra days.

Then, we would be in Carsodonia, and—

A sudden chill erupted along the nape of my neck, sending a rush of goosebumps across my skin. It wasn’t just the cold air. More like the heavy press of awareness. The Primal essence throbbed in my chest.

I slid forward, lowering my feet to the ground. Scanning the Blood Forest for any hint of the mist, I reached for my wolven dagger and slid it free. I stepped forward, my footfalls silent as I searched and searched. There was no mist, no shrill shrieks of the Craven shattering the silence, but that feeling was still there, pressing down on the back of my neck.

Wait.

It was completely silent. The trees that had been swaying moments before had stilled. I looked up at the elms. No nightbirds sang. Everything was still. But that sensation, that heavy awareness, prevailed. A kiss of coldness brushed the nape of my neck. I reached behind me, folding my hand over my skin. It felt as if a hundred eyes were upon me.

Turning slowly, I scanned the thick shadows between the trees and beyond, still seeing nothing. Another shiver erupted over my flesh as I went to Winter’s side where his head had risen from its droop. His ears were perked, nostrils flaring as if he, too, sensed something.

“It’s okay, boy.” I rubbed the side of his neck.

A breeze swept in, rattling the leaves above and taking with it that oppressive feeling of not only being watched but also not being alone. The same feeling I often felt in Massene and the Pinelands. The sensation lifted from my shoulders. The icy touch on my nape faded. A short, tentative trill echoed from a bird and, after a moment, was answered. Sound returned.

Life returned.

Uneasy, I moved closer to the tent, keeping my eyes on the reddish-black leaves of the blood trees. Minutes ticked by without more strange occurrences. If it hadn’t been for the horse’s reaction, I might have thought it was my imagination.

Not too long after, Reaver rose from his wagon to take over watch for the remainder of the night. I’d tried to tell him that he could sleep, but he simply pointed in the direction of my tent and then turned away.

I went but didn’t enter. Instead of doing what I should be doing, which was sleeping, I started pacing again. My mind still wouldn’t shut down, and I was really hungry.

And I knew what that meant.

I needed to feed.

Gods.

Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back. My body was telling me, even though I’d never experienced such hunger before. And I knew that if I waited, it would only worsen. I would weaken. And if I went past that? I remembered what that had done to Casteel. And while he hadn’t fallen off that ledge, I would be of no help to anyone if I fell into any sort of bloodlust. I knew I couldn’t delay this.

I groaned.

But I also felt about seven different kinds of awkward. Sure, Kieran had offered himself, and it wasn’t because I felt that feeding from him would be wrong or uncomfortable. It was just that, well, the experiences I had with feeding—those that I actually remembered—involved…other things.

Things I only felt for Casteel—with Casteel.

What if Kieran’s blood elicited the same reactions as Casteel’s—which was nothing short of an aphrodisiac? No, I told myself. That was the effect of Atlantian blood. Casteel had never mentioned that wolven blood had the same effect.

My chin snapped down as something occurred to me. Did Casteel have that same kind of visceral reaction when he fed from other Atlantians? Like Naill? Emil?

I was really curious about that—for research purposes.

Fiddling with his ring, I brought it to my lips. Feeding had to be intense, no matter what. But what if I didn’t like the taste of Kieran’s blood? I wouldn’t want to offend him—

“What are you doing?”

I swallowed a squeak of surprise as I spun at the sound of Kieran’s voice, then lowered the ring. The muted glow of the gas lamp cast soft shadows across his face as he bent at the waist, barefoot in the entryway. One arm was outstretched, holding the curtain of the canopy back. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Watching you pace for the last thirty minutes—”

“It has not been thirty minutes.” I let go of the ring, letting it fall against the lapel of my coat.

“Your inability to realize how much time has passed is a little concerning.” He moved aside. “You need to be resting. I need to be resting.”

“No one is stopping you,” I muttered, knowing damn well that it was I who was stopping him. If I slept, he did. If I was awake, so was he. Which meant I had to be at least three times more annoying than usual. Because of that, I stomped—loudly and heavily—forward and dipped under his arm, entering the tent.

“This should be a fun night,” Kieran muttered.

He has no idea, I thought as I shrugged off my coat, letting it fall wherever it landed, and then all but threw myself down on the bedroll.

Kieran stared as he let the flap of the tent fall shut. He slowly approached me, having to walk half bent over. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Let’s try that again.” Kieran sat cross-legged beside the bedroll, utterly unbothered by the cold, packed earth. “I’m going to ask you what’s up—”

“Which you already did.”

“—and you’re going to answer honestly.” A moment later, I felt him tug on my braid. “Right?”

“Right.” I turned my head toward him, feeling warmth creep into my cheeks and my stomach flip over and over as I focused on the collar of his tunic. “I’m hungry.”

“I can get you—” Kieran’s jaw loosened. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, lifting my gaze to his. “I think I need to feed.”

Kieran stared down at me. “So, that’s why you flung yourself onto the ground?”

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t fling myself onto the ground. I flopped onto this bedroll. But, yes. That’s why.”

His lips twitched.

I narrowed my eyes even further. “Don’t laugh.”

“Okay.”

“Or smile.”

One side of his lips tipped up. “Poppy, you’re being—”

“Ridiculous.” I sat up so suddenly that Kieran jerked back. “I know.”

“I was going to say cute,” he replied.

I rolled my eyes. “There’s nothing cute about needing to drink my friend’s blood. Someone who also happens to be my advisor and my husband’s best friend. It’s awkward.”

A choked laugh left him, and I reached over to punch his arm like the mature adult I was. He caught my hand. “There’s nothing awkward about this, other than you flopping around.”

“Wow,” I muttered, tasting his sugary amusement in the back of my throat.

His wintry eyes glimmered as he leaned in, lowering his chin. “What you need is natural. It may not feel that way right now because it’s new to you, while I’ve been around Atlantians my whole life. There’s nothing awkward or bad about it.” His gaze searched mine. “I’m actually proud of you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me that you think you need to feed,” he said. “I honestly didn’t think you would. Figured you would wait until it got to the point where you were weakened or worse.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. “I think.”

“It’s a compliment.” He slid his fingers from my wrist to my hand. “You know, I wish you had this much trouble asking me to entomb you.”

“I didn’t want to ask that of you. But—”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve fed from Cas, right? Other than when you Ascended?”

I nodded as my gaze dropped to our joined hands. His hand was the same size as Casteel’s, the skin only a few shades darker. “On the ship to Oak Ambler,” I told him. “I didn’t feel like I do now—being hungry, throat dry or my head hurting—which I’m not even sure has anything to do with that.”

“Cas would get headaches sometimes. Usually, before he got hungry.”

Well, that explained that then. “He had me feed just in case. I’m lucky that he did because I probably would’ve needed to feed sooner.”

“You have used the eather a lot, especially practicing with it while we were in Pompay.” Kieran squeezed my hand. “I imagine without the training, you probably could’ve gone longer.”

“I know that Casteel could go longer than a month without feeding if he wasn’t wounded, was eating well, and—” I sucked in a shaky breath. “Do you think he’s been allowed to feed?”

Kieran’s eyes met and held mine. “He was the first time.”

“But the first time, they kept him starving. To the point where he killed when he fed. We both know that. We both know what it did to him.” I closed my eyes against the surge of pain. “The first time I dreamt of him—he was thinner. There were these cuts all over him. I didn’t see him like that this time, but I think… I think he was able to change the way he appeared because he knew we were soul walking and didn’t want me to worry.”

“He fed on the ship, right?”

I nodded.

“Then, worst-case scenario, it’s been forty days since he last fed,” Kieran said.

My head jerked up. “You’ve been counting.”

“Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He smiled, but I tasted the tangy, bitter sorrow. “We know he’s been injured, but we’re close. We’re almost there. He’ll be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

I squeezed his hand.

“I know you would rather feed from Cas, and I wish he was here. For a multitude of reasons, Poppy. But he’s not, and you need to feed.” He lifted his other hand, clasping the side of my cheek. His skin was warm. “Not just for Cas. He will need you when we free him, of course, but more importantly, for yourself. So, let’s do this.” He dropped his hand from my cheek. “Okay?”

“Okay.” I could do this without making things awkward. I was a Queen. I straightened my spine. I was a god. My shoulders squared. I could do this without making it weird.

Or weirder than I’d already made it.

Kieran still held my hand as he reached for a dagger that lay in a pile of weapons. He picked up a slender steel one that he normally wore inside his boot.

“Feedings can get intense,” he reminded me, drawing my gaze to his. “Whatever you feel or don’t feel during this doesn’t matter. What does is that you know that this—all of it—is natural. There’s no shame here. No judgment. I know that. Cas knows that. You need to know that, Poppy.”

All of this was new to me. Everything was, but I did know I never had anything to be ashamed of when it came to Casteel or Kieran. Tightness eased in my lower back, and then in my chest where I hadn’t even realized tension had settled. Letting out a long, slow breath, I nodded.

“You’re safe here.”

And I knew that, too.

Kieran turned our hands over. My stomach gave a little flip as he placed the edge of the blade against the inside of his wrist. A part of me couldn’t believe what I was witnessing—that this was my life now. And another bit was still the person from six months ago, who never would’ve even considered the act of drinking blood and who probably would’ve vomited a little in her mouth at the thought of feeding.

But that other me from the past didn’t stop who I was today or from doing what I needed to do.

I wasn’t used to feeding. I wasn’t used to being a Queen or a god. I wasn’t even used to being able to freely make decisions for myself, let alone for other people. There was a lot I still had to get used to, and like with everything else, there hadn’t been a lot of time to come to terms with it.

I just had to do it.

Kieran didn’t move as he pressed the blade into his skin, blood welling as he made a short, quick cut along his wrist. I flinched. I couldn’t help it. I kind of wished I had fangs now. A bite had to be far less painful. Then again, since I had no idea what I was doing, a bite from me would probably be worse.

But that two-inch slice reminded me of what I’d seen on Casteel, and I wished I hadn’t thought of that either.

Still holding my hand, Kieran lifted his wrist. My heart had started pounding at some point. When, I wasn’t sure. The scent of his blood reached me, and there was no heavy, iron smell. No, Kieran’s blood smelled of the woods—earthy and rich, just like his imprint.

I didn’t know what to expect. My mouth to start watering? My stomach to growl? Neither of those things happened. What did was…ordinary. That was the only way I could describe it. Like a new instinct gently waking without alarm, quieting the concerns. Ancient knowledge took hold, guiding me. I lowered my head.

Tentatively, my lips and then the tip of my tongue met the warm blood, and it was a jolt—a rush almost as powerful as when I tasted Casteel. But Kieran’s blood tasted like his imprint—like breathing in earthy, woodsy air. The moment his blood reached the back of my throat, the unrelenting dryness eased, and my chest warmed, reminding me of the first swallow of whiskey. That warmth beat back the coldness there—the chill I feared had very little to do with needing to feed.

My eyes drifted shut. The thick warmth slid lower, hitting my belly as the urge to clamp down on his skin and really feed hit me hard. I jerked as a sharp swirl of tingles darted through my veins and then hit my skin. It was like…like sensation was returning to my skin when I hadn’t even realized it had vanished.

“You need to drink.” Kieran’s hand tightened on mine. “Not sip. And that’s what you’re doing. You’re sipping.”

He was right, which was annoying, but I gave in to that urge, closed my mouth around the wound and drank, pulling his blood into me. That was another jolt—a brighter one that was powerful in its own way. Different from Casteel’s but still rattling. And it came with the strangest array of colors that moved behind my eyelids—greens and blues that swirled and whirled. Tension in my arms and legs faded as I swallowed. His taste was earthy and raw. Wild. I drank deeper. His blood—

An image came to me suddenly, birthed of the churning colors. Two young men. Shirtless and with their pants rolled up to their knees as they waded through murky water. Laughing. They were laughing as they bent, dipping their hands into the water as they grabbed for fish. Even though their frames were leaner, and their skin wasn’t yet marked by their lives, I knew at once that it was Casteel and Kieran. A memory of them as young men—perhaps right before Casteel’s Culling or just after.

Casteel jerked upright suddenly, a squirming fish between his hands. “Thought you were an expert hunter,” he taunted.

Kieran laughed, shoving him, and somehow, they both went down in the water and the fish swam free.

The image crumbled and faded like smoke. I caught brief flashes of other images, the pictures coming in and out too quickly for me to make sense of them, no matter how hard I tried. And then I saw fire.

A bonfire.

The night sky, full of twinkling stars, heady, intoxicating music, and churning, twisting shadows. The beach—the one at Saion’s Cove. I latched on to the memory. Driven by curiosity, I opened my senses wider, following the dancing stars and smoke until I saw…me.

I saw me on the beach, wearing that stunning cobalt blue gown that almost made me feel as beautiful as I did when Casteel looked at me in that way—the one that carried the heat and weight of his love. And I was in Casteel’s arms, leaning against his chest.

My pulse pounded, and in the distant recesses of my mind, I knew I should close down my senses, find a way out of Kieran’s memory. But I couldn’t.

I…I didn’t want to as I watched Casteel lower his head to my neck and saw his hand under the wispy folds of the gown, his fingers sliding between my thighs. My breath caught as I saw myself responding to his touch, moving my hips in tight circles. The image of us was as decadent as it was scandalous—lush and wanton and free.

Everything had felt free on that beach.

And Kieran…he hadn’t just seen me watching him and Lyra. He’d watched. The spiciness of arousal filled my throat. My veins. My stomach tumbled in a way that reminded me of standing too close to the edge of a sheer cliff because that wasn’t the only thing I saw…or felt in Kieran’s memory. I saw Casteel nipping at the skin of my throat and lifting his gaze as he pressed his lips there to soothe away the sting. He’d watched, too, and that throbbing in my pulse hit my chest, my stomach, and—

“So nosy,” Kieran murmured.

Losing my hold on the memory, my eyes flew open, and I peeked up at Kieran. His eyes were closed, the lines of his face relaxed. His full lips were parted in a slight, barely-there grin.

“Should’ve known you’d be nosy,” he continued, but he didn’t sound mad. He sounded amused, and as if he’d just woken up.

Dimly, I was aware that he no longer held my hand. I held his and his arm, just below where my mouth moved against his skin.

Thick lashes lifted, and heavily hooded blue eyes met mine. “There’s so much silver in your eyes.” He touched the side of my face with just the tips of his fingers. “I can barely see any green.”

My senses were open, and under the taste of his blood, there was something smoky—something I wasn’t sure had to do with the past or the present, and I knew I should’ve closed down my senses before this. I did so then and thought…

I thought I should stop. It was enough. The dryness in my throat was gone. The gnawing ache in my belly had vanished. Every sense felt heightened but also relaxed. Sated. I imagined Kieran had to know I’d taken enough, but he didn’t stop me. Slowly, I realized that he wouldn’t. Kieran would prevent me from taking too much from Casteel, just as he had before. But now? Just like Casteel, he’d let me feed and feed.

And a tiny part of me wanted to keep feeding. To drown in his earthy taste. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to weaken him. I lifted my mouth from his arm. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Kieran’s chest rose with a deep breath. “You don’t need to thank me, Poppy.”

My heart was still thrumming. So was my body. I felt flushed, like the sweater I wore was almost too thick. Not as hot as it had been with Casteel, when I had ignited and caught fire. This was different. More like the pleasant haze seconds before falling asleep.

I still held Kieran’s arm, and I didn’t know what provoked me to speak what I saw. If it was the blood or the feeling of being lighter, warmer, and less empty. “I saw your memories. I forgot that could happen.” I watched his face closely. “I saw you and Casteel when you were younger—”

“We were trying to catch fish with our hands,” he finished for me. “Malik had dared us. I don’t even know why I thought about that. Just popped into my head.” He paused. “That’s not all you saw.”

“No.”

There was no hint of embarrassment in his features. No shame. “You’re going to be irritated.”

I didn’t think I was capable of feeling that at the moment. “Why?”

“When I realized you were in my head, I changed what I was thinking about,” he said, and I wondered if those rapid, brief images I couldn’t catch was him flipping through his memories. “I thought of the beach on purpose. Figured it would shock you.”

“Jerk,” I muttered.

“But the thing is,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard me, “I don’t think it shocked you at all. I think it intrigued you.”

I’d been wrong.

I was capable of feeling annoyance. I started to let go of his arm when I noticed that his wound still seeped blood.

Sliding my fingers closer to the cut he’d made, I felt a kind of tingling warmth dancing down my arms that wasn’t all that different from how his blood made me feel. A soft, silvery glow radiated over his forearm, seeping into the cut he’d made.

Kieran jerked a little. “That feels…different.”

I realized I had never healed Kieran before. “Does it feel bad?”

“No.” His throat worked on a swallow.

“Let’s hope you never have to feel that again.” I let go of his arm, and he looked down at his wrist. There was nothing but a thin line of blood that he quickly wiped away, revealing a faint pink mark that would likely be gone by morning.

“You’re not going to acknowledge what I said about you being intrigued?” he asked.

“Nope.” I scooted back on the bedroll and lay down on my side.

Grinning, he looked up from his arm. “You going to pretend that you don’t know I was watching the both of you and that you and Casteel were watching us?”

“Yep.” I closed my eyes. My heart was slowing, so was the thrumming in my blood. “You’re welcome, by the way. For healing your cut.”

There was a soft snort as I felt him move. I heard the click of the lantern turning off and then the sound of him undressing. A few moments later, I felt him lay down beside me in his wolven form. Then I fell asleep and slept deeply.

But I didn’t find Casteel.