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

“You’ve got to let go, baby. You need to hide, Poppy—” Momma stilled and then pulled away, reaching inside her boot. She pulled a slender, black blade free and then spun, rising so fast I could barely track her movements.

Someone else was here.

“How could you do this?” Momma stepped to the side so she partially blocked the cupboard, but I could see that a man was in the kitchen. Someone clothed in night.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and I didn’t know his voice.

“So am I.” Momma swung out, but the cloaked man caught her arm…

And then they stood there, not moving. I was frozen in the cupboard, heart racing and sweating.

“It has to be done,” the man said. “You know what will happen.”

“She’s but a child—”

“And she will be the end of everything.”

“Or she is just the end of them. A beginning—”

Glass broke, and the air filled with shrieks. “Momma!”

Her head jerked around. “Run. Run—”

The kitchen seemed to shake and rattle. Darkness flowed into the room, sliding down the walls and spilling across the floor, and I was still frozen. Gray and dull things filled the chamber, dripping red. “Momma!”

Bodies snapped in my direction. Mouths with sharp teeth. Shrill howls ripped through the air. Bony, cold fingers pressed into my leg. I screamed, scrambling back inside the cupboard—

Something wet and smelly splashed across my face, and the cold fingers released me. I started to climb farther back.

The dark man filled the mouth of the cupboard. He reached inside, and there was nowhere to go. He grabbed my arm, yanking me out. “Gods, help me.”

Panicked, I tugged at his hold as he swept out his other hand, knocking down the creatures as they came at him. My foot slipped in the wetness as I twisted sideways—

Momma was there, her face streaked with red. She was bleeding as she thrust the black blade into the man’s chest. He grunted, saying a word I’d heard Papa say once. His grip slipped away as he stumbled backward.

“Run, Poppy.” Momma gasped. “Run.”

I ran. I ran toward her—

“Momma—” Claws caught my hair, scratched my skin, burning me like the time I’d reached for the kettle. I screamed, straining for Momma, but I couldn’t see her in the twining mass on the floor.

I saw Papa’s friend in the doorway. He was supposed to help us—help Momma—but he stared at the man in black as he rose from the mass of twisting, feeding creatures, and his bitter horror filled my mouth, choking me. He backed away, shaking his head, leaving us. He was leaving us—

Teeth sank into my arm. Fiery pain ripped through my arm and lit across my face. I fell, trying to shake them off. “No. No. No,” I screamed, thrashing. “Momma! Papa!”

Deep, forbidding pain sliced through my stomach, seizing my lungs and my body.

Then they were falling all around me and on me, limp and heavy, and I couldn’t breathe. The pain. The weight. I wanted my momma.

Suddenly they were gone, and a hand was on my cheek, my neck. “Momma.” I blinked through blood and tears.

The Dark One stood above me, his face nothing but shadows beneath the hooded cloak. It wasn’t his hand at my throat but something cold and sharp. He didn’t move. That hand trembled. He shook. “I see it. I see her staring back at me.”

“She must…he’s her viktor,” I heard Momma say in a voice that sounded wet. “Do you understand what that means? Please. She must…”

“Good gods.”

The cold press was gone from my throat, and I was lifted into the air, floating and floating in the warm darkness, my body there but not. I was slipping away into the nothingness, surrounded by the smell of flowers. Of the purple blossoms the Queen liked to have in her bedchamber. Lilacs.

Someone else was with me in the void. They drew closer, a different kind of darkness before they spoke.

What a powerful little flower you are.

What a powerful poppy.

Pick it and watch it bleed.

Not so powerful any longer.

Waking was a chore.

I knew I needed to. I had to make sure my people were okay. There was Casteel. And that nightmare… I wanted to get as far away from it as possible, but my body felt heavy and useless, not even connected to me. I was floating somewhere else, and I drifted and drifted until I no longer felt weighed down. I took a sudden, deep breath, and my lungs expanded.

“Poppy?” A hand came to my cheek, warm and familiar.

I forced my eyes open.

Kieran hovered above me, just like…like the Dark One had in the nightmare. Kieran’s face was only fuzzy around the edges, though, not unseen to me. “Hi.”

“Hi?” A slow smile spread as a rough laugh left him. “How are you feeling?”

I wasn’t sure as I watched his features clear even more. “Okay. I think. What happened?” I swallowed—and stiffened—at the earthy, woodsy flavor in the back of my throat, quickly becoming aware that I was lying on something impossibly soft. “Did you feed me? Again?” I didn’t hear Reaver or anyone else. “Where are we?”

“One question at a time, okay?” His hand remained on my cheek, keeping my eyes on his. “That shadowstone arrow was coated in some kind of toxin. Millicent said it would only leave you unconscious for a few days—”

“Millicent?” My brows furrowed.

“The Handmaiden. That’s her name,” he told me. “Since I’d trust a pit viper over her, I gave you blood, just in case.”

“You…shouldn’t have given me more blood. You need it.”

“The wolven are like the Atlantians. Our blood replenishes itself quickly. It’s one of the reasons we heal so fast,” he said, and I remembered Casteel saying something similar. “Does your arm hurt at all? The last time I checked, it looked healed.”

“It doesn’t hurt. Thanks to you, I’m sure.” I started to turn my head, but his thumb swept over my chin, holding me there. My heart stuttered as something else he’d said came to the forefront of my mind. “How long have I been out of it?”

The way he looked at me sent my heart racing. “You were asleep for about two days, Poppy.”

I held his stare, and I wasn’t sure which thing hit me first. The salty breeze lifting the sheer curtains from a nearby window. The soft bed I lay upon that had always been big, no matter how small I’d been. The lack of the Huntsmen cloak and the muted gray, sleeveless tunic Kieran wore in its place. Or that the eerie rhyme I’d heard in my nightmare had been slightly different. I turned my head. This time, Kieran didn’t stop me. His hand slid from my cheek to the bed. Beyond him, I saw a sweeping marble and sandstone ceiling higher than many homes—one painted in pastel blues and whites—between curved columns that flowed from the walls and along the dome-shaped…tower chamber.

The eather hummed in my chest as my gaze shifted to where I knew two pillars would stand, framing a door plated in gold. One that had often been left unlocked, but I seriously doubted was now. The chamber wasn’t small or large, but it was as lush as I remembered. Pale gray canopies were tied back to the four posts of the bed. A thick, cream rug covered the floor between the bed and the pillars. A dainty, gold-trimmed table sat to one side with gold-adorned chairs. A sprawling wardrobe took up one wall—one that had once held more dolls and toys than it did clothing.

Kieran barely had a chance to avoid colliding with me as I sat up. “You should take it easy—”

Swinging my legs off the bed, I stood. I felt dizzy, but it had nothing to do with the shadowstone or the toxin. Disbelief flooded me as I crossed the circular chamber.

“Or not,” he muttered.

I went to the window, my heart in my throat. Grabbing a fistful of the buttery-soft curtain, I yanked it aside, even though I knew what I would see.

The tops of covered breezeways that traveled across the manicured courtyard, which sat in the shadow of an inner wall taller than most Rises. The stately estates that sat nestled beyond yet another wall. My eyes latched onto the rows of bright, pinkish-purple jacaranda trees lining the road beyond the inner gates. I followed them into the rolling hills full of bright green trees, and the terracotta roofs, sitting side by side, covered in vines smothered by red poppies. I saw the Temples. They were the tallest buildings in Carsodonia—stretching higher than even Wayfair Castle, and both could be found in the Garden District. One was constructed of shadowstone, and the other was made of diamond—crushed diamond and limestone. I followed the vibrant trees straight to where the Golden Bridge glinted in the sun.

We were in Carsodonia.

I whipped around. “When did we get here?”

“Last evening.” Kieran rose. “They brought us straight to Wayfair. Some golden fuck was waiting for us at the doors. He wanted to separate us. Said it would be inappropriate for us to be together or some shit, but I told him exactly how—in great detail—that wasn’t going to happen.”

I had no idea who the golden fuck was. “And Reaver?”

“The draken is in a chamber below. We’re in the—”

“East wing of Wayfair. I know. This was my chamber when I lived here,” I interrupted, and his jaw flexed in response to that piece of information. “Have you been in here this whole time? How do you know Reaver is okay?”

“They’ve brought him by when I demanded to see him. He was rather well-behaved, which was probably the most unnerving thing. But like me, they gave him clean clothing and food. He’s under guard in his chambers.” He smirked. “Well, as locked in as they think we are. They have no clue what he is. If they did, I doubt they’d just put him in a chamber, lock the door, and call it a day.”

“And he truly stayed in his room?”

He nodded. “Even he seems to know better than to go off half-cocked when we’re literally in the heart of enemy territory.”

The Primal essence pressed against my skin, responding to the whirlwind of emotions. I felt as if I might go off half-cocked. “The satchel—”

“It’s right there. I grabbed it.” He nodded to the ivory-cushioned chair on the other side of the bed.

Thank the gods. “Have you…have you seen her?”

The Blood Queen.

Isbeth.

“No. I haven’t even seen any Ascended other than a small army of knights. They’re everywhere. Outside this room, in the hall, on every floor,” he told me. “I half-expected them to be in the damn wardrobe. The Handmaidens and that golden dick have been the only ones to interact with us.”

But she was here.

She had to be.

“Malik?”

Kieran shook his head.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Who is the golden one you speak of?”

“Name’s Callum. He’s a Revenant. And there’s something really off about him.”

“There’s something really off about all of this,” I murmured. My head felt as if it were all over the place, bouncing from the confusing nightmare to the knowledge that we were in Carsodonia. Inside Wayfair. It was a lot to process—how much our plans had gone off the rails. How much control we’d either lost or never had. A fissure of panic bolted through me, threatening to sink its claws in deep. I couldn’t let that happen. Too much was at stake. I had to deal.

My hands trembled as I closed them at my sides. “What about that Handmaiden? Millicent?”

“Haven’t seen her since we arrived here.”

I drew in a shallow breath. “Did you catch how she said we wouldn’t get into Carsodonia unnoticed if we didn’t go with her? Not that we wouldn’t escape. Did that seem odd to you?”

“There’s literally not one thing about her that I don’t find odd.”

Well, I had to agree with that.

Willing my thoughts to slow and focus, I placed my hands on the warm ledge of the window and looked out. Faint pink streaked the sky. My gaze immediately landed on the shadowstone spires of the Temple of Nyktos and then the shimmering diamond dome of the Temple of Perses. They sat across from one another, in different neighborhoods, one looking to the Stroud Sea and the other in the shadows of the Cliffs of Sorrow.

If Casteel was underground and in a tunnel system like the one in Oak Ambler, he could be under either of them.

So could my father.

I was where I wanted to be, but it wasn’t how I’d wanted to get here. I focused on the distant Golden Bridge, which separated the Garden District from the less fortunate areas of Carsodonia. My heart finally slowed. My thoughts calming as the eather settled in my chest. “This isn’t entirely bad.”

“It’s not,” Kieran agreed, joining me at the window. “We’re here.”

“It’s not like we’ll have free roam of the castle or the city,” I reasoned. “We will be watched closely, and there’s no telling what the Blood Queen has planned. She won’t leave everyone in their rooms fed and clothed for long.”

“No, that’s not her style.” Kieran’s gaze followed mine.

Seagulls dipped and swayed over the Rise, where it began to curve and look out over Lower Town and then the sea, where the setting sun glistened off the blue waters. The soft glow settled over the rooftop gardens and pitched roofs, and even farther out, where the homes were stacked one upon another and there was barely room to breathe, warm light bathed the city. Carsodonia was beautiful, especially at dusk and dawn, just like the Blood Forest. Further proof that something so stunning on the surface could also be ugly underneath.

“Where do you think our armies are now?” I asked.

“The armies should be at New Haven or even Whitebridge by now,” he told me. “They’d be three to four days out.” His head tilted as he eyed me. “If we don’t return to Three Rivers when we told Valyn, they’ll come looking.”

I nodded.

“How far were you able to communicate with Delano through the notam?”

“Pretty far. He was able to contact me from the Wastelands once, but I don’t think I could reach him this far out.”

“I don’t think so either.” He looked at the window. “But Carsodonia can’t be much bigger than the distance between the Wastelands and Pompay, is it?” Kieran turned to me. “What if he was able to get close to the Rise?”

I stared at the massive wall that loomed in the distance. “I could reach him.”

Sometime later, I stood, blank eyes staring at me from shiny, porcelain faces neatly lined up along the shelves on one side of the wardrobe.

“Please close that door,” Kieran said from behind me.

“Scared of dolls?”

“More like I’m scared of those dolls stealing my soul.”

A wry grin tugged at my lips as I closed the door. I’d been snooping, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. I still had my wolven dagger on me, but they’d stripped Kieran’s and Reaver’s weapons. I’d offered Kieran the blade, but he’d refused. Neither of them was defenseless, but it would’ve made me feel better if he had taken the dagger.

“Did you actually play with them as a child?” Kieran stared at the closed wardrobe as if he expected a doll to crack open the door and stick its head out.

“I did.” Turning to him, I leaned against the wardrobe.

“That explains a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “She…Isbeth used to give me one every year on the first day of summer until they sent me to Masadonia. I used to think they were beautiful.”

Kieran’s lip curled. “They are terrifying.”

“Yeah, but their faces were smooth and flawless.” I touched the scar running along my now-warm cheek. “Mine obviously wasn’t, so I pretended I looked like them.”

His features softened. “Poppy…”

“I know.” My entire face felt like it was on fire. “It was silly.”

“I wasn’t going to say it was silly—”

A loud bang sounded on the gilded doors a second before they swung open.

It was her.

The Handmaiden.

Millicent sauntered into the chambers, her long-sleeved black tunic was without any adornment and ended at the knees, just above tightly laced boots. The winged mask was painted onto her face once more, this time in black. The contrast to her pale eyes was startling.

“Good evening.” Millicent clapped her hands together as three Handmaidens entered behind her. They were dressed similarly, but they wore loose cowls that covered their heads and their mouths, leaving only their painted masks visible. Two of them had those nearly colorless blue eyes. One had brown. Something struck me then. It was possible that not all Handmaidens were Revenants, but it was clear that not all had those pale blue eyes. My mother…she’d had brown eyes.

“Glad to see you up and moving about.” Millicent tipped her head at Kieran, and her hair caught my attention. It was a flat, midnight-black, but it looked…patchy and faded in areas. “Told you she’d be right as rain in a day or two…and a half.”

I pushed off the wardrobe, immediately reaching out to read her. My senses brushed against a wall, sending a flare of annoyance through me. She was blocking me. “What was that toxin?”

“Something scraped from the insides of some creature.” One shoulder rose. “It would’ve killed an Atlantian. Definitely a mortal. Only one guard carried those arrows. You know, as an insurance policy in case you wanted to continue on your godly Harbinger of Doom warpath.”

“If you continue calling me a Harbinger, I will likely restart that godly warpath.”

Millicent laughed, but the sound was nothing like the one on the road. It rang falsely. “I would strongly advise against that. Everyone is on edge right now, especially after the missive the Crown received.”

“What missive?”

“The Crown got word that New Haven and Whitebridge have fallen under Atlantian control,” she told us. “And we expect Three Rivers to be seized at any moment.”

Vonetta and the generals were right on schedule. I smiled.

The Handmaiden’s lips mimicked mine. “The Queen requests your presence.”

My smile disappeared.

“Hot water is being brought to your bathing chamber,” Millicent announced as she crossed the bedchamber and dropped into the chair by the bed. “Once you’re presentable, you will be escorted to her.”

“We will be escorted to her,” Kieran corrected.

“If that’s what makes you happy, then by all means, please feel free to join your much beloved Queen.” She lifted a half-gloved hand. Another Handmaiden entered. A swath of white lay across one arm as she headed to the wardrobe.

“You can stop right there,” I said. “I’m not wearing that.”

The Handmaiden halted, looking at Millicent, who had readjusted herself so her shoulders were on the seat, and her legs against the back of the chair, crossed at the ankles. Her head hung off the edge of the seat, and I really had no idea why she was sitting like that or how she’d gotten into that position within seconds. She gave me an upside-down frown. “And why not?”

“She wants to put me in the white of the Maiden.” I stared at the gown. “I don’t care what her reasons are, but she will never have a say in what I wear again.”

Those pale eyes watched me from behind the painted mask. “But that’s the only gown I was given.”

“Not my problem.”

“It’s not mine either.”

I faced the Handmaiden. “Your name is Millicent?”

“Last time I checked.”

My spine straightened. “I need you to understand something, Millicent. If she wants me to come to her, you will find me clothing that is not white. Or I will go to her as I am.”

“You have dirt and blood and the gods only know what else on you,” she pointed out. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but your mother has a thing for cleanliness.”

“Do not refer to her as my mother.” Eather vibrated in my chest as I stepped toward the Handmaiden. “That is not who she is to me.”

Millicent said nothing.

“Either you find me something else to wear, or I go like this,” I repeated. “And if that is unsuitable, I will go to her with nothing but the skin I was born in.”

“Really?” She drew out the word.

“Really.”

“That would almost be worth letting you do, just to see the look on her face.” Millicent was still for several seconds and then kicked her heels off the back of the chair. I crossed my arms as she half-rolled, half-flipped out of the chair onto her feet. She pivoted toward me, the flat, patchy hair half in her face. “Then it is my problem.”

“Yep.”

Millicent exhaled loudly. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” She grabbed the gown from the other Handmaiden. “Actually, I don’t get paid at all, so it’s even worse.”

“Fucking weird,” Kieran muttered under his breath as we watched her…flounce from the chamber.

The other Handmaidens remained, still and silent, their features obscured by their painted masks. How had I forgotten about them? I suppressed a shudder at the memory of them moving silently through the halls. And my mother, the only woman I knew as one, had been one of them?

“Do you all have names?” Kieran asked, watching them closely. Silence greeted him. “Thoughts? Opinions? Anything?”

Nothing.

They didn’t even blink as they stood there between us and the open doors. I let my senses reach them. I found walls similar to Millicent’s, and in my mind, I pictured tiny cracks in those shields. Just little fissures that filled with silvery-white light. I squeezed through the openings, feeling—

One of the Handmaidens gave a little jerk as I tasted something airy and like sponge cake. Peace. Surprised, I pulled out and almost took a step back. How in the world could they feel peace? That was nothing like what I’d picked up on from Millicent.

“Makes you wonder why the other one is so talkative,” Kieran observed. “And these aren’t.”

“Because I don’t think she’s entirely like them. Is she?” I asked the Handmaidens as Kieran sent me a quick glance. “She’s different.”

“In ways other than the obvious?” Kieran drawled.

“She doesn’t smell like them.”

Kieran’s brows pinched as he turned back to the other Handmaidens. “You’re right.”

Millicent returned shortly after that, carrying garments as black as the ones she wore. She stomped past Kieran and me, dropping the clothing onto the bed. “This is the best I could manage.” Turning to me, she planted her hands on her hips. “I hope this makes you happy because it will surely annoy her.”

“Do I look like I care if she’s annoyed?”

“You don’t.” She paused. “Right now.” A chill swept down my spine as she went to the chair and sat, crossing one leg over the other. “You should get ready. I’ll keep your…man company.”

“Great,” Kieran muttered.

“I want to see Reaver before I meet with the Queen.”

“He’s fine.”

“I want to see him.”

Her lips thinned as she stared up at me. “Is she always this demanding?”

“What you call demanding, I would say is asserting her authority,” Kieran replied.

“Well, it’s annoying…and unexpected.” Her unblinking gaze latched onto mine. “She wasn’t always like this.”

“How would you know?” I asked.

“Because I remember you when you were as quiet as a tiny mouse, not making a single sound unless it was night, and bad dreams found you in your sleep,” she said.

That chill returned, once more skating down my spine.

“I was here then. I feel like I’ve always been here,” she said with a sigh. “I’m old, Penellaphe. Almost as old as your King—”

Before I even realized I had moved, I was in front of her, my hands on top of hers, pressing them into the arms of the chair. “Where is Casteel?” I asked, aware of Kieran coming up behind me as the other Handmaidens stepped forward.

When Millicent said nothing, the Primal essence throbbed in my veins as I lowered my head so we were at eye level. “Have you seen him?” The smokiness returned to my voice.

A long moment passed. “If you want to see him,” she said, and I almost missed it—the quick, darting glance she sent in the Handmaidens’ direction. “I suggest you get out of my face, get your face ready, and do it quickly. Time is of the essence, Your Highness.”

I held her stare and then slowly backed off. Snatching the clothing from her, I went into the bathing chamber, quickly washing in the clean, warm water that someone had brought in. I could hear Millicent asking Kieran if he was a wolven and then her prattling on about how she’d never spoken to one. Kieran gave little to no response.

The clothing appeared to have come straight from her wardrobe. The chiton-style tunic was sleeveless and sat off the shoulder, resting where the wound from the shadowstone arrow should’ve been if the injury hadn’t already healed, leaving not even a mark behind. The bodice was tight, but the leather bands around the waist and hips allowed me to loosen the material so it fit my fuller figure. The hem reached the knees and had slits on either side, allowing the wolven dagger to remain hidden but easily accessible. I managed to secure the pouch to one of the bands at my waist and let the ring lay behind the neckline, against my breasts. She’d brought a pair of breeches that I didn’t think belonged to her, but they fit, so I really couldn’t care less who they’d come from.

I moved to the vanity, my heart pounding as I stared at my reflection. The silvery glow behind my pupils was bright, and I thought the aura had grown a little. I blinked. No changes.

As I stood there, I thought about the dream—the nightmare. My…mother had said something to the Dark One. He was her viktor. That’s why Tawny had said it sounded so familiar. I’d heard it before. That night, and the gods only knew how many times in the nightmares I couldn’t remember since. Leopold. My father. He was…he was like Vikter. The breath I exhaled was a little ragged.

My grip on the porcelain vanity tightened as my gaze tracked over the scars. They had faded a little when I Ascended, but they seemed more noticeable now than ever. I didn’t know if it was the bright lamplight or just the mirror in this castle—in this city—that made them seem so stark.

My heart continued pounding as a mixture of dread and anticipation rolled through me. It kept coming in waves, ever since I’d woken to discover that we were in Wayfair. I was here. Where Casteel was. Where my father was. Where Isbeth was.

“I’m not afraid of her,” I whispered to my reflection. “I’m a Queen. I’m a god. I’m not afraid of her.”

I closed my eyes. In the silence of the chamber, my heart finally slowed. My stomach settled, and my grip eased from the vanity. With steady hands, I braided my still-damp hair.

I couldn’t be afraid of her. I couldn’t be afraid of anything. Not now.

For the first time, the scars on my arms and face were visible for all to see as we descended onto the main floor of Wayfair Castle.

It was a surreal feeling.

Millicent had taken me to see Reaver, and she didn’t put up much of an argument when he followed us back into the hall. The draken was quiet, his head bowed and face obscured by his sheet of blond hair, but I knew he missed nothing as we crossed the atrium that had once seemed so much larger and so beautiful.

As a child, I used to find the vines carved into the marble columns and overlaid in gold to be appealing. I would trace the delicate etchings as far as I could, but the designs traveled all the way to the arched ceilings. Ian and I used to sneak into the atrium in the middle of the day and call out to each other, listening to our voices echo against the tinted glass above.

Now, I found it all to be…excessive. Gaudy. As if all the gold trim and artwork were trying to cover up the bloodstains no one could see.

But the fact that it felt smaller now could have something to do with the number of people who escorted us. Besides Millicent and the four Handmaidens, six Royal Knights flanked us, and what I could only assume was the additional arrival of Revenants based on their scent and what I’d come to learn was an eerily silent way of walking. The vamprys wore similar neck and face clothes, leaving only their eyes visible below their helmets. I wasn’t worried about them. If they tried something, I could take them out. The Revenants would be an issue, but we had Reaver.

We entered the Hall of Gods, where statues of the gods lined each side of the corridor. I knew exactly where we were headed. The Great Hall.

Vases of lilacs were intermingled with night-blooming roses, a favorite flower of mine, and sat between the massive statues. None of the gods’ faces had been captured in any detail in the statues. They were just smooth stone, turned upward to the pitched ceilings. This was another place where Ian and I would play, racing in and out of the statues one moment and then sitting at the feet of them the next as Ian made up grand adventures for the gods to take part in.

My chest tightened as I looked ahead to the smaller, domed atrium, where only two statues stood, both chiseled from rubies.

The King and Queen of Solis.

“Tacky,” Kieran muttered upon seeing them.

Millicent stopped in front of us, and to our right, I saw two Royal Guards stationed outside a set of red-painted doors. The guards opened them, and sound rushed out from the side entrance of the Great Hall—murmurs and laughter, cries, and shouts of blessing.

Millicent looked over her shoulder, placing her finger to her rosy-colored lips before entering the Great Hall. The Handmaidens didn’t follow. They stepped to the sides, leaving a path for us as Millicent walked out onto the alcove I remembered circling the entire Great Hall.

Pressing my palm against the pouch, I joined her. I didn’t take in the crowd below or the Ascended that filled the other sections of the alcove. My attention went straight to the raised dais—its width and length the size of most homes. The thrones were newer versions, still diamond-and-ruby-encrusted, but their backs no longer bore the Royal Crest. They were now shaped to resemble a crescent moon. And both were empty.

But not for long.

Behind the thrones, Handmaidens parted crimson banners, and the Great Hall fell silent. Not a single word was uttered. Chairmen in gold robes appeared, their hold on the wooden rails firm as they walked out, carrying a caged litter, one that reminded me of a gilded birdcage. My brows lifted as I took in the red silk wrapped around each bar, and the gauzy layers of curtains on the sedan chair, obscuring who sat inside.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Kieran muttered as the chairmen lowered the litter to the floor.

I couldn’t respond as the Handmaidens pulled the curtains aside, and the Blood Queen stepped out from the gilded litter. Cheers erupted, and thunderous applause echoed off the banner-covered walls and the glass-domed ceiling.

Every part of my being focused on her as she crossed the dais, garbed in white—a white gown that covered all but her hands and face. The crown’s diamond spires atop each ruby hoop connected by polished onyx dazzled and taunted. Her dark hair shone auburn in the glow of the numerous sconces lining the dozens of columns holding the alcove floors and framing the dais. Even from where I stood, I saw that her eyes were heavily outlined in black, and her lips were a glossy, berry hue.

The essence twisted and tightened inside me as I placed my hands on the railing while she sat on the throne, her head tilting as she basked in the reception. It took everything in me not to tap into the roaring power filling my veins and lash out at her, right here, right now. My fingers curled into the stone, pressing into the golden scrollwork that swirled over the railings, the columns, across the floor, and along the visible sections of the walls.

“Son of a bitch,” Kieran snarled from my other side.

I tore my attention from the Blood Queen to the dark man who’d joined her, standing to her left. My breath scorched my lungs. Golden-bronze skin. Brown hair touched by streaks of sun and pulled back from uncannily familiar features. High cheekbones. Full mouth. A hard jawline.

“Malik,” I whispered.

The bitterness of anger grew in the back of my throat, tinged by tangy anguish. I lifted a hand, placing it on the one beside mine. Kieran gripped the stone just as tightly as I had. I closed down my sorrow and fury, channeling a bit of warmth and…and happiness. A tremor went through him, and under my palm, the tendons of his hand relaxed.

“Prince Malik,” Millicent corrected softly. “Your brother-in-law.”

My head cut to her. She was looking at Malik. As close as we stood, I saw tiny spots across her cheeks beneath the painted mask. Freckles. I squeezed Kieran’s hand. She watched the Prince much like he’d watched her in Oak Ambler, jaw tight and motionless.

Reaver passed behind her, the muscles in his biceps and forearm taut. He didn’t appear to be bothered by those in the alcove—the Ascended in their fancy silk gowns and glittering jewels. Though they were definitely looking at us with curious, midnight eyes.

No, it was the massive statue of the Primal of Life that had garnered the draken’s attention.

It stood in the center of the Great Hall, chiseled from the palest marble. Like the other statues in the Hall of Gods, nothing but smooth stone appeared where the face should be, but the detail elsewhere was striking and hadn’t faded in the years since I’d last seen it—not from the heavy-soled caligae or the armored plating shielding the legs and chest. He held a spear in one hand and a shield in the other.

The mortals gave the statue and the black petals, pulled from night-blooming roses and scattered around his stone feet, a wide berth.

“I doubt Nyktos would be pleased to know his statue remains here,” I murmured.

“That is not a statue of Nyktos.” Reaver’s words were a low rumble.

“He’s right,” Millicent added.

The crowd quieted before I could ask what they’d meant, and then she spoke. “My people, how you honor me.”

Her voice.

My insides went cold at the soft, warm tone that was so at odds with her special brand of cruelty.

“How you humble me,” she said, and my fingers returned to pressing into the railing. Humble? I almost scream-laughed. “Even in times of such uncertainty and fear, your faith in me has never wavered.”

Kieran slowly turned his head to me.

“I know,” I muttered.

“And for that, I will not waver. And neither will the gods. Not in the face of a godless kingdom or the Harbinger.”