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

The gray of dusk had long since given way to the sun as we continued riding west and to the south. The sunken earthen road known as the Western Pass was nestled between heavily wooded land that bordered the outer Rises of both Three Rivers and Whitebridge.

Kieran and I rode beside the wagon led by Reaver. We’d been silent most of the morning. All of us were alert, our muscles tense. We’d already passed one group of Huntsmen. I kept my head down, the wide-brimmed hat and cloak shielding my face as I kept my senses open, searching for any signs of suspicion. There had been none as they nodded and hurried on, more focused on getting to their next location than looking at us too closely. No one wanted to linger outside a Rise, not even with many hours of daylight left.

I glanced over at Kieran. He was staring into the woods. Nothing had been awkward or weird between us when I woke that morning. It wasn’t like I was pretending I hadn’t fed from him. It just wasn’t a thing. Following his gaze, I squinted as I searched through the glistening leaves. It had rained that morning. Not long, but enough to leave puddles in the road. Through the trees, I saw that land had been cleared at the foot of the Rise for farming. We caught glimpses of people, their backs bent as they worked the fields.

“Are they children?” Reaver asked, having checked out what we were looking at.

They were too far away for me to tell for sure. “It wouldn’t be uncommon if so.”

“Should they not be in some sort of learning institute?”

“Not every child receives an education,” I told him, realizing that Reaver would have no knowledge of what life was like in Solis. “Only those who can afford to send their children to school do, and that’s not many. So, a lot of the children take on work, some as young as ten years of age. They end up in the fields until they can learn a trade or enter training to guard the Rise.”

“That is…” Reaver trailed off.

“Awful?” I supplied for him.

“And Atlantia? Is it no different?”

“It’s completely different,” Kieran answered. “All children are educated.”

“No matter their wealth?” the draken questioned.

“There’s not a wealth gap like there is here in Solis. Atlantia takes care of their people, whether or not they can work or what skills and trades they have learned.”

“What was Iliseeum like?” I led Winter around a rather large dip in the road.

“Depends on where you were,” he answered. “Depends on what you found beautiful and what you found frightening.”

I frowned, but before I could ask him to elaborate, he said, “I guess the mortal realm hasn’t changed all that much since the last time I was in it.”

My brows lifted. “You were here before?”

He nodded. “I was here when the area I believe we are riding to was known by the name Lasania.”

“Lasagna?” Kieran’s brows furrowed while I frowned. Where had I seen that name before?

“No. I didn’t say lasagna. I said Lasania. La-sa-nee-ah,” Reaver snapped.

“Sounded like lasagna to me,” he muttered. “What was it like when you were awake? This Lasania you speak of?”

The angular features of Reaver’s face were shadowed by the brim of his hat as he looked through the trees. “I didn’t enter the mortal realm often. Only a few times. Only when necessary. But I think it was a lot like this. Like Solis. It’s where the Consort was born. She was once the Princess, the true heir.”

My jaw had to be on the muddy ground. “What?”

“The Consort was mortal?” Kieran’s surprise matched mine.

“Partly mortal,” Reaver corrected, his gaze following a swath of birds that flew overhead.

“How can anyone be partly mortal?” I demanded.

“Just like you were partly mortal,” he pointed out.

Oh. Well. He had me there.

I leaned forward, staring up at where he sat on the driver’s box. “How was she partly mortal, Reaver?”

There was a heavy sigh as if it were knowledge we should already have. “She was born with an ember of the Primal of Life in her.”

“Well.” I drew out the word. “That sounds far dirtier than I assume was intended.”

Reaver snorted.

“What does that even mean?” Kieran asked, and I had to think it was possibly the nicest way he’d ever posed a question to Reaver.

“It means she was born with the essence of the true Primal of Life in her,” he answered, which explained nothing. “And, no, I’m not talking the kind the third sons and daughters have. This was an ember of pure power.”

I shook my head. “Why am I always more confused after speaking with you?”

“That sounds like a personal issue,” Reaver stated.

Kieran made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a choked laugh. My head swiveled to him. He smoothed out his expression.

“Hold up,” Reaver said, stiffening. “There is another group on this road.”

I faced the road, seeing nothing in the dappled sunlight. “Is it more Huntsmen?”

“I don’t think so.” Kieran’s head cocked to the side as he listened. “There are too many horses.”

“How in the world do you hear anything?” I muttered, squinting at…nothing.

“This is definitely a far larger group,” Reaver said as another cluster of birds took flight.

“Could they be soldiers?” I slowed Winter. We’d seen none so far, which meant the Blood Crown had to be moving them through the Stroud Sea, or they’d already arrived and were within the Rises. The only other option was unlikely—that the Blood Crown had abandoned the cities.

“Give me a few moments.” Kieran handed his reins over to me. “I’ll see if I can get close enough.”

“Be careful.”

With a nod, he quickly dismounted and disappeared into the trees and shrubs.

“I hope he’s quieter than that,” Reaver remarked dryly.

“He will be.”

The handful of minutes that passed before Kieran’s return felt like an eternity. “Definitely soldiers. About two to three dozen total,” he said. My heart lurched. “They’re roughly where the woods thin out.”

My gaze cut to the road. Two to three dozen was a lot.

“I can just burn them.”

My head swung toward Reaver. “No.”

“But it would be quick.”

“Absolutely, not.”

“Let me take care of this.” He started to dismount.

“Do not go all draken and start burning people, Reaver.”

“Why not? It’s fun.”

“That’s not fun for anyone—”

“It is for me.”

“Stay on your wagon,” I ordered. “You shifting and burning things will alert everyone that we have a draken with us. If Isbeth taught Vessa how to harness Primal magic, then she could also use it to kill the remaining draken,” I reminded him. “As far as they know, we no longer have any with us.”

“Whatever,” he muttered.

“I have an idea,” Kieran said. “It’s not much, but if they get close enough to you, they’re going to see that you’re no Huntsman.”

They would also see the scars.

Kieran crouched, and I watched in confusion as he dipped his hands into one of the puddles. “This won’t be fun, but it’ll offer some camouflage as long as they don’t look too closely at your eyes.”

The silvery-white aura behind my pupils was a bit hard to conceal, but this was better than nothing. I leaned down, closing my eyes as Kieran reached up. The feel and texture of the sludge wasn’t pleasant as he smoothed it over my brow, along my cheeks, and then on my chin. I didn’t dare breathe too deeply in case that wasn’t just rain and mud.

Kieran did the same to himself. He didn’t offer the same treatment to Reaver, and I wasn’t sure if it was the look the draken sent him or the fact that it would be far more bizarre for all of us to be covered in mud.

“They’re almost upon us,” Reaver stated.

Kieran took the reins and returned to the saddle. He leaned over, tugging down the brim of my hat. Our eyes met. He spoke low. “What you said to Reaver. Does the same go for you?”

The essence pulsed intensely in my chest. “I hope it doesn’t come to me having to make that choice, but I won’t be as noticeable as Mr. Burn Everyone over here if it does.”

Reaver snorted.

“I won’t allow us to be taken,” I told Kieran, holding his stare. “But remember what I asked.”

He knew what I meant. That if I used the essence and got a little too murderous—if I didn’t pull back—he would stop me.

Kieran’s jaw was hard, but he nodded, straightening himself on his saddle. I kept my chin ducked as I lifted my gaze. Reaver’s right hand casually rested on the hilt of the sword I knew was stowed between the two seats of the box.

“No matter what, don’t shift.” I looked at Reaver. “Don’t reveal who you are.”

He didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

The sound of approaching horses drove my heart against my ribs, and the eather vibrated in response, whispering through my veins. Mud-splattered horses rounded the bend. I saw the soldiers’ crimson and white armor, each bearing matching shields engraved with the Blood Crown’s Royal Crest. The essence pressed against my skin, telling me I could stop this before it started. I could do it quietly, snapping their necks with just my will. We could ride right past them as if nothing had happened.

But something would’ve happened.

I would’ve killed men who had yet to prove a threat. An action that would be discovered and lead to questions—ones that could alert others to our presence. An action that made that hollow place inside me even colder.

“Halt,” a soldier called out, his helmet adorned with a comb made of red-dyed horsehair. Knights wore the same, but for a mortal, it symbolized that he was of high rank. Most likely a lieutenant.

We obeyed as any Huntsmen would upon an order from a high-ranking soldier.

The lieutenant rode forward, flanked by three others who bore no combs on their helmets. A gaiter—a thin, black cloth—covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes visible beneath the helmet. He sent a cursory glance in Reaver’s direction and then looked at us. “Where do you travel from and where to?”

“New Haven, sir. We are headed for the Willow Plains.” Kieran didn’t miss a beat. “Ordered to deliver the recent batch of whiskey.”

I let my senses reach out as I focused on the lieutenant. Salt gathered in my throat, either distrust or wariness. Neither was uncommon.

The lieutenant remained by Kieran’s side as another rode forward. “Three Huntsmen transporting whiskey? Seems like that’s one too many.”

“Well, sir,” Kieran replied, “some would think double the amount isn’t enough to guard something as valuable as these spirits.”

One of the other soldiers chuckled roughly while another lifted the tarp on the back of the wagon. He nodded at the lieutenant.

I bit down on the inside of my lip as the soldier reached in, checking the crates. The weapons we’d stored in there were closer to the box, but if he found them, it wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.

“We hope to make it to the Willow Plains before nightfall,” Kieran added, and I slipped my right hand under the fold of my cloak as the taste of wariness grew from the lieutenant. I grasped the handle of the wolven dagger—just in case.

The lieutenant urged his horse forward. “I bet you do.”

I stiffened at the low, smoky rumble that Reaver gave. No one else seemed to have heard. I glanced at him, but his attention was fixed on the lieutenant.

My grip on Winter’s reins tightened as the soldier gave Kieran a closer once-over. The man was older, possibly in his fourth or fifth decade of life, and that was unusual for anyone who spent any amount of time outside a Rise. “What happened to you?”

“Ran into some Craven in the middle of the night,” Kieran answered. “Things got a bit messy.”

The soldier nodded as the lieutenant drew closer, his gaze moving from Kieran to me. I held myself still.

“You’re a shy one, aren’t you? Too afraid to look up and meet the stare of your superior, and yet you’re out here beyond the Rise?” The lieutenant tsked under his breath. “And young by the looks of it.”

Unease blossomed as he continued to stare. Though my head was bowed, I felt his gaze.

His hand lashed out, snapping his fingers in front of my face. A rush of prickly heat swept over my skin. “Look at me when I speak to you.”

Acidic anger crowded my mouth as my gaze lifted past the black cloth, to meet steely gray eyes.

A long, tense moment of silence stretched as the other soldier turned his horse around. The lieutenant held my stare, his eyes slowly widening. I knew then that he saw the glow behind my pupils. His emotions clogged my throat. Distrust gave way to a quick burst of bubbly awe and then the taint of bitter fear. “Good gods,” he uttered, and I knew then that our paltry cover was blown. “The Harbinger—”

I snapped forward, unsheathing my dagger in one quick move. The lieutenant’s reflexes were well-honed, but he was mortal, and I was not. He withdrew his sword, but that was as far as he got. I thrust the dagger through the neck of his gaiter and into his throat. His words ended in a wet gurgle.

“That was for snapping your fingers in my face.” I jerked the blade free. The lieutenant grasped for his throat as he toppled from his saddle, hitting the muddy road on his side.

A sort of controlled chaos exploded as Reaver twisted at the waist, releasing a slender knife. The blade struck the soldier before the man had a chance to react to his lieutenant’s demise. Kieran was off his horse in the blink of an eye and beside the other. He caught the soldier by the arm, tearing him from his mount.

“Can I burn them now?” Reaver asked as the remaining soldiers sprang into action. Several charged forward on their horses as Kieran leapt onto the back of a soldier’s horse. A blade glinted in the sunlight as it swept across the soldier’s throat.

“No.” I swung off Winter, landing in a crouch as I sheathed the wolven dagger. “No burning.”

“No fun, more like it.” Reaver reached down, withdrawing a crossbow I hadn’t even known was by his feet as I reached to my hip, pulling a short sword free.

Reaver rose from the box, crossbow in hand. He fired in rapid succession, taking out several soldiers with envious precision. Soldiers on foot raced behind the fleeing horses. I met the heavy swing from a much bigger, broader soldier. The impact of the blow rattled my arm. The soldier laughed. I grunted as the essence merged with my will. I used it to give the mountain of a man a little push. Nothing that required a large expenditure of energy, but the soldier skidded back several feet, his eyes above his gaiter flaring wide.

I did as Vikter had drilled into me through our hours of training. I shut it down. All of it. My senses. My fear that either Kieran or Reaver may misstep and be taken down. That they would be injured or worse before I could get to them. I closed down my emotions as the man caught himself before falling backward. I did what Vikter had taught. But this time, I fought as if each breath my friends took might be their last. Dipping low, I planted my free hand in the damp soil as I kicked out, sweeping the soldier’s legs out from under him. He hit the ground with a groan.

Kieran was suddenly there, slamming his sword down, just above the breastplate as I rose. He gave the blade a quick twist as he met my gaze. “We need to get out of here.”

“Agreed.” I looked up to see Reaver striking down another soldier with a brutal blow to the head.

“Incoming,” Kieran warned as he withdrew his sword from a soldier’s back.

My head snapped forward. Up ahead, at the bend, a group rode hard, the white mantle of the Royal Guard streaming from their shoulders. Their presence was not remotely good. My mind raced through the possibilities. We had to get out of here fast, which meant abandoning the wagon. That could pose a problem down the road, but we’d have to deal with that later.

Prowling forward, I stepped into the attack, twisting under the swing of a sword. I spun back as an arrow whizzed past my head, slamming into the side of the wagon where the shaft vibrated. I shoved the sword into the man’s chest between his plates of armor. Whirling around, I gripped a soldier’s helmet, yanking his head back as I drew the blade across his throat. I released the man, letting him fall forward as another arrow cut through the air, hitting the ground before me.

I drew to a halt, the air punching out of my lungs as I saw the arrowhead—the shiny, black arrowhead—embedded in the ground.

Shadowstone.

My eyes shot to the Royal Guards as they descended on us. Another arrow streaked through the air, nearly striking Reaver. Fury exploded, mingling with the eather. Kieran whipped toward the Royal Guards, cursing as I summoned the Primal essence. It responded in an immediate rush, hitting my skin, and crowding the edges of my vision in silver as I lowered the sword, walking forward. Passing Kieran, I tossed the swords aside as the eather spilled out from me, flowing over the muddied earth in rippling light—light, and faint, churning shadows. My will merged with the essence of the Primal god as the first row of Royal Guards bore down on us, their swords raised.

Their heads jerked sharply to the side, one after another. Five of them. Their swords slipped from their suddenly empty grasps, and they fell with their weapons, dead before they even left their saddles. The horses galloped past me as Kieran shouted—

Red-hot pain exploded near my collarbone, knocking me back a step. I sucked in a burning breath as I looked down to see an arrow jutting from my shoulder.

The eather throbbed violently, matching the pumping wave of pain radiating from my arm. The Primal essence poured into every cell and space in my body, filling my throat with that shadowy, smoky-sweet taste. The taste of death.

And that was what I became.

Death.

The Harbinger the lieutenant had called me.

“Oh, shit,” Reaver muttered from behind me.

I gripped the shaft of the arrow, feeling nothing as I tore it free. My lip curled as I caught sight of the shadowstone and the blood dripping from it—my blood. The essence sparked from my fingers and rippled across the arrow, burning the shaft first before seeping into the shadowstone tip, shattering it from the inside.

Under my feet, the road trembled and cracked open. Thick roots spilled out, unfurling, and then sinking deep into the mud. The scent of blood and rich soil grew heavy as the ground groaned. A shadow fell upon me as a blood tree grew, its bark a glistening gray. Tiny buds sprouted from the bare limbs, unfurling into bright red, blood leaves.

I heard shouts as Kieran reached for me. Calls to fire as Reaver clashed with the Royal Guards who streamed from between the trees. Another voice came from under it all. One that urged caution. Demanded the guards fall back. One I almost recognized.

Lifting my head, I scanned the soldiers, finding the archer to the side of the road, crouched at the trunk of a tree. My eyes narrowed as my will swelled once more. His neck twisted as did his body, bone cracking as he jerked sideways. The arrow released as he fell, finding a target in one of the Royal Guards. A sharp yelp of pain followed. The eather churned wildly around me, snaking between my legs, snapping off the ground, spreading toward the massive oaks. And that cold, aching, empty part of me grew and grew as I turned my attention to the others riding up on us. The bitterness of their fear, the hot acidity of their anger, and their salty resolve stretched out, filling that hollow space within me. I took it in. I took it all in as the shimmering cords stretched out in my mind, arcing across the road and connecting with each of them.

I turned it back on them, feeding them all that fear and anger. All the determination, fury, and…death.

They dropped their reins and weapons, clutching their heads as all that emotion poured into them. Their screams—their howls of pain—tore the air as I drifted forward. I glided between the anxious horses, their riders tumbling from the saddles both behind me and in front of me. They withered on the road, tearing at their hair as the churning mass of light and darkness pulsed, rippling out from between the prancing horses, searching and searching—

“That’s enough,” a shout rang out.

A voice that stopped me.

One I finally recognized.

I found it. Found her standing in the center of the road, a nightmare of crimson—a crimson coat like a second skin, buttoned from her waist to her chin. Inky black hair that fell over her shoulders, framing a face half-obscured by a mask of wings painted in a deep red.

But I knew it was her.

“You,” I whispered, and that one word reached her in a wave of smoke and shadow.

The Handmaiden smiled. “We meet again.”

She wasn’t alone.

I didn’t focus on the Royal Guards standing near her, their swords trembling. It was the others. The ones cloaked in the color of blood. Ten of them. None of their faces were visible. Nor were their hands, or any other parts of their bodies. But I knew in my bones that they were Revenants.

The Primal essence swirled and snapped around me, stretching out and then recoiling as it neared the Revenants. I felt the press of Kieran’s body behind me and heard Reaver’s low snarl. My attention remained fixed on her. “I’m not here for any of these cities,” I told her.

Her pale, pale silver-blue stare met mine. “Yet.”

“Yet,” I confirmed.

“I know what you’re here for.”

My fingers splayed at my sides, sparking embers of silvery fire and thick shadows. “Then you should know you won’t stop me this time.”

“Debatable.”

Anger pulsed through me, silencing the little voice that wanted to remind me of what I’d felt when the Blood Queen had ordered her forward—that desperation and hopelessness. Two things I’d felt over and over every time Duke Teerman summoned me to his offices.

What she felt couldn’t matter.

Reaver crept in close, his voice only for me to hear. “Can I burn them?”

The corner of my lips turned up, and I started to tell him yes.

“She will kill him,” the Handmaiden spoke.

Everything stopped. Reaver’s breath. The pulsing eather. Everything. My entire being focused on her as I felt Casteel’s ring between my breasts like a brand.

“If you somehow, in the unlikely event, make it past us, she will know, and she will kill him,” the Handmaiden said softly. “She’ll tell you she didn’t want to, and a part of her will be speaking the truth because she knows what that will do. What pain it will cause you.”

“I’m no fool,” I snarled.

Her head cocked. “Did I say you were?”

“You must think so if you believe I can be convinced that she actually cares about the pain she inflicts.”

“What you believe is irrelevant. All that matters is that she believes it. Actually, it’s not all that matters. Her killing him also does,” she added with a half-shrug. “Doesn’t it? She’ll make a dramatic show of it, too. Send him back in more pieces this time. One at a time—”

“Shut up.” I stepped forward, the essence whipping around me, lashing an inch from her face.

The Handmaiden didn’t even flinch. “We’ve been waiting for you to make a move. To come for your King. We knew there were two paths you’d likely attempt. The Queen believed you would come straight for Carsodonia, right to the gates of the Rise, proving to the people that you are the Harbinger of Death and Destruction.”

My stomach soured with returning dread. If the people were being told I was a Harbinger, the war and its aftermath would be so much more complicated.

“I didn’t believe that,” she continued. “I said you’d come in through the back door. The mines.” The Handmaiden smiled, and Kieran cursed behind me, but there was something about her smile. Something familiar. “That’s what I would do.”

It was not entirely shocking that they suspected I would attempt something like this. We knew that. What was surprising was that this Handmaiden had assumed correctly.

At the moment, none of that was important. “She knows what I will do if she kills him. She wouldn’t dare.”

“But she would.” The Handmaiden stepped forward. “I am her favorite…after you.”

Again. There was something about the way she said that. It cracked the hold my fury had on me. I wasn’t sure what it was, though.

“Poppy,” Kieran spoke quietly behind me. “If she speaks the truth…”

I wouldn’t risk Casteel.

Not again.

The breath I took tasted less of smoke, fire, and death. I pulled the eather in. The tendrils retracted, slipping over the grass and road as the hum in my blood calmed. The anger remained, only leashed. As the silvery glow faded from my vision, the deep throb in my shoulder flared to life, reminding me that one of them had managed to hit me.

I would have to deal with that later.

“What happens now?” I asked.

The Handmaiden’s chin dipped. “We will escort you to Carsodonia, where you will meet with the Queen.”

I laughed. “Not going to happen.”

“I don’t think you understand—”

“No, you don’t understand.” I crossed the short distance between us, stopping directly in front of her. Up close, I realized we were the same height. Her build was a little narrower than mine, but not by much. “Just because I won’t kill you doesn’t mean I will go along with any of your plans.”

“That would be a mistake.” Her eyes narrowed behind the paint. “Why do you have mud on your face?”

“Why do you have paint on yours?” I fired back.

“Touché,” she murmured. “But that’s not an answer.”

The breeze stirred then, kicking up a scent—one of decay and…stale lilacs. My gaze flickered to the immobile Revenants. “They stink.”

“That’s rude.”

I looked back at her. “But you don’t.”

“I don’t,” she said, and that was strange.

But it also didn’t matter. “I think you just need to take your merry band of stinkers and get out of our way.”

The Handmaiden laughed—it was deep and short but sounded genuine. “And let you and your merry band of extremely good-looking men pass?” She dipped her head to mine, speaking so quietly I barely heard her. “Not going to happen, Penellaphe.”

Staring at her, I opened my senses to her and felt sugary amusement. That was all. And it didn’t tell me much.

“You’re out of choices, Queen of Flesh and Fire,” she said. “If you’re as smart as I hope, I would think you’d realize that you won’t get into the capital unnoticed. Not through the mines or the gates.”

I zeroed in on her word choice. She didn’t say that I wouldn’t escape. Only that I wouldn’t get into the capital unnoticed. That was strange.

But also, she was right.

There would be no sneak attacks. I wouldn’t risk Casteel by allowing Reaver to finally get what he wanted. This wasn’t the best way into the capital. We would be under guard, but it was a way in.

“Let my people go, and I will not fight you on this,” I told her.

“Absolutely, not,” Kieran barked out, appearing at my side at once. “We will not be separated.”

I turned to Kieran, but he cut me off before I could say another word. “Don’t start. We’re not leaving your side. At all.” He said the last in the Handmaiden’s direction. “It’s not going to happen.”

His loyalty was admirable, and I…

The draken stepped forward. “If you want the Queen of Flesh and Fire, the Bringer of Life and Bringer of Death…” he said—admittedly, I preferred his version of the title the prophecy had given me—“to accompany you to the capital, then you will allow her advisor and me to travel with her as a continuation of that good faith.”

Kieran’s gaze held mine, a clear warning in them that neither he nor Reaver would allow me to go alone. Swallowing the frustration and worry that this was far too dangerous for them, I turned to the Handmaiden. “That is your choice. Because contrary to what you think, I am not out of choices.”

“Whatever,” the Handmaiden replied. “I couldn’t care less. It’s not like you’re prisoners.”

Kieran’s head snapped in her direction.

“What?” she asked, widening her eyes in feigned surprise.

“We’re not prisoners?” I questioned.

“No. You will be guests.” The Handmaiden bowed with the kind of flourish I’d only thought Emil capable of. “Honored guests. You are, after all, the daughter of the Queen, and a god. You and whoever accompanies you will be treated with the utmost respect,” she said with a bright, overly wide smile. “And if they didn’t want to join you, they could fuck right off for all I care.”

I didn’t believe the being-treated-with-respect part for one second.

“Either way, I do hope we’ll be on our way shortly. The Queen wishes to speak with you about the future of the kingdoms and the True King of the Realms,” she added, holding my stare and…

“You haven’t blinked once. That’s creepy,” I told her, glancing back at the Revenants. They still hadn’t moved. “Not as creepy as them, though.”

She snorted. “You haven’t seen creepy yet.”

“Something to look forward to, I suppose.”

“Then…” She stepped to the side, extending her arm.

A mixture of dread and anticipation rose. “I will…” A floral taste filled the back of my mouth as a whirl of tingles flowed from my throbbing shoulder, over my chest and down my legs.

Kieran grabbed my arm, but I didn’t feel it. “Poppy?”

“I—” A sudden rush of dizziness swept through me, followed by the sharp rise of nausea. I twisted away from Kieran, half afraid I might vomit on him. My wide, stinging eyes connected with the Handmaiden’s.

“Shadowstone,” I whispered hoarsely.

She stared at me, her lips moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I couldn’t hear anything. My heart lurched, and then my legs went out from under me.

And then…there was nothing.