A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash Book 2)

My arm was on fire.

The flames blazed through my body, so intense and all-consuming, I feared it would stop my heart.

I was scared that it already had because I was burning alive, screaming as I pressed against the floor, trying to escape the pain, get away from what was happening, but it invaded every part of me. I could feel it—him drawing my blood into him, breaking off pieces of me with each swallow. It was nothing like when Casteel had bitten me. The pain did not ease. It didn’t go away. It ratcheted up with each passing heartbeat.

He moaned, biting harder, digging his bottom teeth into my skin. Just like a Craven. Just like before. Like that night when I was too small and too young to fight back, too helpless.

The carriage screeched to a grinding halt, knocking Chaney loose. A moment of reprieve came where the burning ebbed enough for my brain to work again. My breath wheezed as my fingers spasmed around the handle of the knife. The knife. I still held it. I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t helpless any longer. Move, Poppy. Move.

Chaney latched on to my arm once more, and the pain was a hot coal against my skin, shoving me past the shock of pain before it could drag me under again.

I swung the knife down, driving it into his back, over and over until he finally felt it, finally reacted with a bellow of rage as he tore his mouth free. He lurched backward and to the side, reaching for the knife. Clutching his shoulder, I held on, jabbing the knife into the wound, into his chest, his face—anywhere I could reach, and he went wild—as wild as me. A new wave of pain exploded along my arm, my cheek, and bright, dazzling lights once more danced across my vision. I screamed as something seemed to rip open inside me. My senses stretched out, attaching to the Ascended. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing but my pain, my rage. It pulsed and throbbed inside me, through me, down the cord, and through the entire carriage, becoming a tangible, third entity as I sliced the knife through his cheek. Chaney jerked back, yelping. Blood sprayed and spurted, running from his eyes and ears. I didn’t stop. Not even when a crash sounded from the roof of the carriage. Not even when I thought I heard shouting from outside. I stabbed as many holes into the Lord as I could, until he sprang so many leaks, my hands were slick with his blood, my blood, and I kept thrusting the knife into him, over and over—

The carriage door ripped open, torn from its hinges. Cold air rushed in with the night, and the night was enraged. It washed over me, its intensity so stunning, it overwhelmed me, shutting down my senses.

And then Chaney was gone, along with the crushing weight and the heavy, too-sweet cologne, but I couldn’t stop. Blinded by rage, pain, and an old, all-too-familiar panic, I kept stabbing at the air, at the night, at the shape that filled the gaping doorway, and then at what appeared above me. Until a hand caught my wrist—

“It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay, Poppy. Stop. Look at me,” a voice demanded. “Look at me, Princess.”

Princess.

The Ascended wouldn’t call me that.

Breathing ragged, my wild gaze swiveled around the carriage, stopping when I found him. He hovered over me, cheeks spotted with blood. “Hawke,” I whispered.

“Yeah. Yes.” He sounded shredded and windblown. “It’s me.”

“I..I didn’t want to go with him,” I told him, needing him to know that I understood—that I really saw the Ascended for what they were, even before I woke up in the carriage. “He had a boy, and I—”

“I know. I found the wolven dagger by the stables. I knew you wouldn’t have left that behind if you’d had a choice.” Gently, he pried the knife from my hand, placing it on the bench. The normally striking lines of his face seemed fuzzy. “And here I thought I would make this grand entrance, rescuing you. I’m not sure you needed rescuing.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. My rolling gaze landed on the bloodied knife. Even as dazed as I was, as much as my thoughts were muddied, I knew I wouldn’t have killed Chaney. I wasn’t even sure how badly I’d wounded him. He would’ve recovered quickly, and he would’ve bitten me again. He would’ve kept biting me, feeding off me, and—

“Hey, stay with me.” Casteel’s soft voice intruded, ending the spiral of panic before I realized I was even falling down it. His fingers touched my chin, drawing my gaze from the knife. His eyes roamed over my face, lingering where my jaw throbbed viciously, and then his gaze dipped. Tension crept into his jaw. “He hurt you.”

Lifting my head took more effort than I thought it would. It was strangely heavy as I looked down. The front of my tunic was ripped, streaked with red.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice rough as he touched the skin below the corner of my lip. That too ached, but then his hands carefully peeled back the left sleeve of my tunic. He became as still as the statues inside Castle Teerman, as if he too were fashioned from the limestone they were made of.

His eyes were like shards of brilliant amber. “Did he bite you anyplace else?”

“No.” I swallowed dryly, the rigidness seeping out of my muscles. “It hurt. It felt like a Craven’s bite.” A tremor rocked me. “It felt nothing like—”

His eyes met mine, and a long moment passed as he stared down at me like he…like he cared, as if he would do anything to take back the pain I felt. “He wanted it to hurt.”

“Bastard,” I whispered, letting my head fall back.

Casteel slipped his hand under my head before it could make contact with the hard floor. I wanted to tell him thank you, but my face hurt—my entire body ached, and my arm throbbed and throbbed.

“He could’ve killed you,” he said, and for the first time since I’d met him, I thought he sounded weary. “You’re only half-Atlantian.”

Something about that was important—something Chaney had said. But my thoughts were like scattered wisps of smoke.

“Bloodlust would’ve consumed him, and he wouldn’t have stopped. There nearly always has to be another vampry with them to get them to stop. And sometimes, that’s not even enough. I didn’t think…” His exhale was frayed, tattered. “I didn’t think you’d be alive when I reached you.”

Yet again, he sounded concerned, but that had to be the head injury I’d most definitely acquired. Or maybe it was the fading adrenaline.

Or perhaps the blood loss.

“Why?” he asked.

“He had…that boy. I had to do something,” I forced my tongue to move. My eyelids were too heavy. Everything was too heavy, even as I felt Casteel gather me into his arms, lifting me from the carriage floor. “It was the only way he’d let the boy go.”

“But he didn’t,” Casteel said as my eyes closed, and I slipped into oblivion. “He didn’t let that boy go.”

The journey back to the keep was a tumble of hazy images, broken pieces of dreams and pinwheeling stars. Casteel’s face was so close to mine that I’d thought he would kiss me, but it seemed like a strange time for that. There were sounds. Voices I recognized, ones tinged with concern. Then a strange taste against my tongue that reminded me of spice, citrus, snow, and Casteel. Warmth like the summer sun invaded my veins, and when the heat started to seep into my muscles and spread across my skin, I thought I heard the trickle of water and smelled something sweet, like lilac. But Casteel was a heavy whisper against my skin, and then there was nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, confusion swept over me. I recognized the exposed rafters of the ceiling and the dark spice and pine scent that lingered on the blanket tucked around me, but I had no recollection of how I got back here. My gaze shifted to the gray light creeping through the small window. The last thing I remembered was Casteel carrying me out of the carriage. There were disjointed images, things that didn’t make sense no matter how hard I tried.

“Poppy?”

Heart kicking suddenly against my ribs, I turned my head toward the sound of his voice.

Casteel was near the fireplace, rising from a chair. He was dressed as he had been when I saw him last, all in black. Only the swords were missing. He prowled slowly toward the bed, his face clear of the spots of blood. “How are you feeling?”

I had to tug down the cobwebs choking my thoughts to answer that question. “I…I feel okay.” And I did. I felt like I’d spent an entire night in restful sleep.

He stopped by the edge of the bed, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t sound like that’s a good thing.”

“I don’t understand. I should—” My next breath caught in my throat as I pulled my arms out from under the blanket. The loose sleeves of the nightgown slipped down to reveal…skin that was more reddish pink than normal in two spots, but not an angry shade, not torn. Slowly, I lifted my fingers to my mouth and then to my jaw. The skin wasn’t swollen there either. There was only a faint ache when I swallowed. I lowered my hands to the soft blanket as the spiced citrus and snow taste blossomed in the back of my mouth.

“Poppy?”

I swallowed again. “How did I get into this nightgown?”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and when I looked back at Casteel, both of his brows were raised. He seemed utterly caught off guard.

“Did you…did you do it?”

He blinked and then shook his head. “No. Magda did. We thought you’d be far more comfortable.”

That meant Magda was alive.

“Is that all you have to ask?” he said.

My gaze fell back to the faint puncture wounds on my arm. “You gave me your blood.”

“I did.”

“Was I that badly injured?”

“You were bruised and bleeding, and that is bad enough,” he stated, and I looked to him once more. “There was also a worrisome lump on the back of your head. Kieran didn’t believe it was all that serious, but I…I will not take any chances.” His jaw flexed. “And we cannot risk lingering here to allow time for you to heal. Others will be coming for you.”

Others.

“They were following us,” I said, clearing my throat. “Lord Chaney told me that they’d discovered that—”

“I know,” he said, and a hint of a grin appeared. “I had a small conversation with the vampry, and I can be very persuasive when it comes to obtaining information.”

Fragments of what Lord Chaney had said slowly pieced together. “He…he saw the bite mark on my throat, and he knew that I’d learned the truth.” My brows knitted. “He said he couldn’t understand how the Duke or Duchess had never fed from me—how they resisted knowing what I was. He said my blood is potent.”

His jaw clenched. “To a vampry, Atlantian blood would taste like a fine wine. A full-blooded Atlantian would be like—”

“Aged whiskey?”

He cracked a small grin. “Very aged, and very smooth.”

I shook my head. “Well, I guess the Teermans resisted because they knew the Queen and King would be mad. Plus, it would expose the truth about them.” I toyed with the edge of the blanket. “Chaney was wounded.”

“Elijah got a good swipe in before the coward ran off.”

I wished I’d seen that, but something else Chaney had said slowly fought its way to the surface. “I told him…I told him that I knew why they needed me alive. He insinuated that I wasn’t correct.”

Casteel smirked. “Of course, he would. I doubt the Queen or King would want you to know the truth or to believe it. They want you willing, to not fight them—for them to be able to lie to you until they have you where they want. If he hadn’t been wounded, he probably would’ve told you that everything was a lie. He would’ve worked to gain your trust.”

“But the lure of my blood was too much?”

Casteel nodded.

My stomach twisted with nausea. “When I saw Lord Chaney, he always seemed…kind,” I said. “And more mortal than the Duke or Mazeen.”

“The Ascended are masters of hiding their true natures.”

But so was Casteel.

My heart tripped over itself, still unable to think that all Ascended were like that. I thought of the Duchess, who’d told me to not waste one more moment thinking of Lord Mazeen when I questioned if I’d be punished or not. Maybe there was a reason I’d never seen her and the Duke touch one another. Just because she was a vampry, that didn’t mean she was protected from his cruelty. And then I thought of Ian.

In the silence and in my desperation to not think about my brother, I thought of the knight—Sir Terrlynn. Inherently, I knew he was the one who’d spoken while in front of the keep, the one who had disemboweled the Descenter. “Did you kill the knight?”

“I did what he’d done. Sliced him open and let him bleed. He was a vampry, but it was not without pain.” Casteel’s eyes burned with golden fire. “And then I killed him.”

“Good,” I whispered.

A measure of surprise flickered across his face. “There was very little dignity in his death.”

That was true. “But he’s dead now?”

Casteel nodded.

“At least it was a…relatively quick death.” I didn’t feel even remotely bad that the knight had suffered. And maybe I should be concerned about that. I probably would be later. I took a deep breath. “How many were lost?”

How many names would be added to the walls?

“Four were killed, in addition to Mrs. Tulis. Six seriously wounded, but they will survive.”

My heart ached. “What of the boy? He’s okay, right?”

His gaze turned sheltered, and suddenly I remembered what Casteel had said. He didn’t let the boy go. I rose onto my elbows. “The boy is okay, right? That’s the only reason why I laid down my dagger. Chaney said he’d let the boy go.”

“He did what all Ascended do. He lied.” Tension bracketed his mouth as I jerked. “The only blessing was that it was a quick death. His neck was snapped. He wasn’t fed upon.”

For several moments, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even speak as the image of the boy’s wide, panic-stricken gaze filled my mind. Horror and grief seized me. “Why?” A knot clogged my throat. “Why would he do that? Why kill him and not even feed upon him? What was the point?”

“You’re asking for an answer to something that not even I can fully comprehend,” he replied quietly. “The vampry did it because he wanted to and because he could.”

Closing my eyes, I pressed my lips together as my heart squeezed and twisted. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I wanted to—I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage at the pointlessness of it all.

I didn’t know how long it took me to gain control, to not burst into tears or fall headfirst into the helplessness-induced rage. I’d done all that I could to save that boy, and it meant nothing. Nothing. He would still be just another name added to a long, endless list of them. And for what? And the Tulis’s son? I knew in my heart of hearts that he too was dead. I exhaled raggedly as I lay back down, smoothing my hands over my face. My cheeks were damp.

Casteel remained quiet, silent and watchful. When I opened my eyes again, I asked, “What was his name?”

“Renfern Octis,” he told me.

“And his parents?” I asked hoarsely.

“His parents died some time ago. His mother by a Craven, and his father to sickness. His uncle and aunt cared for him.”

“Gods,” I whispered, staring at the rafters. “I…I saw the knight take him. I couldn’t stand by and watch that happen.”

“I’d hoped that you would, but I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”

My bleary gaze shifted to him. The words weren’t spoken in annoyance. I thought I detected respect in them. “That’s why you gave me my dagger.”

Casteel said nothing.

“Do…do you have it?”

He nodded.

I started to ask for it back, but Casteel said, “No matter how much death I’ve seen, it never gets easier.” His lashes lowered, shielding his gaze. “It’s never less shocking. I’m glad for that, because I think if it ever does stop shocking me, I might stop valuing life. So, I welcome that shock and the grief. If not, I would be no better than an Ascended.”

What I’d said to him the other day soured on my tongue. “I know you’re not like them—like the Ascended. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

Casteel stared at me for so long, I started to grow concerned. But then he said, “You’re not going to ask if you’ll turn into a Craven now? You’re not angry that I gave you my blood?”

“I know I’m not going to turn into a Craven.” I sat up easily and leaned against the headboard. “Did you use compulsion?”

“Not to make you drink. You were surprisingly amicable to that, which caused me to worry all the more,” he told me, and I was suddenly grateful that I had no recollection of that. “Once you started to feel the…effects of my blood, I did use compulsion to help you sleep. I assumed you would appreciate that.”

Considering how I’d reacted the last time, I did appreciate that. I drew a leg up under the blanket. “I’m not mad. I don’t hurt, and I would’ve been in a lot of pain.” I looked at my arm again, still shocked to see nothing more than faint marks. “How often can you give me your blood? I mean, would something happen if you continued to do it?”

“I hope that I don’t have to continue doing so, but nothing would happen if I did.” His lips pursed. “Or at least, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean by ‘at least’ you think that?”

“Atlantians don’t often share their blood with mortals, not even half-Atlantians.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “In fact, it’s forbidden.”

 “Is it because of your bloodline?”

“Our blood doesn’t have much impact beyond its healing and aphrodisiac qualities to mortals. But you’re not completely mortal. I imagine it may strengthen the part of you that is Atlantian, at least temporarily.” He faced me again. “But there is a worry that sharing one’s blood with those who have mortal blood could eventually lead to an Ascension.”

“Oh.” I could see why that would be a concern. “Would you get in trouble if it was discovered?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I do,” I blurted out.

An eyebrow raised. “Then you’re worried about me, Princess?”

My skin flushed. “If something happens to you, then that would jeopardize what I want.”

His head tilted as he studied me. A too-long stretch of silence passed. “No one who saw how injured you were either time will ever share that I gave my blood to you.”

That was good to know. “But what would happen?”

He sighed. “Kieran was right. You do ask a lot of questions.”

My eyes narrowed. “Curiosity is a sign of intelligence.”

Casteel smiled at that. “That is what I hear.” The dimple disappeared. “The King and Queen would be unhappy, but since I’m their son, they would probably yell at me, and that’s about it.”

I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“I figured you’d be mad,” he admitted.

“How can I be mad when you made sure that I’m not in pain?” I asked, and I truly wasn’t. “It didn’t hurt me. It doesn’t hurt you, right? I’m just glad I don’t have a throbbing headache and…” I looked at the faint marks. “I won’t have yet another scar.”

Two fingers pressed under my chin and lifted my gaze to his. “Your scars are beautiful,” he said, and there was a swift, swelling motion in my chest that couldn’t be deflated no matter what my brain yelled at it. “But I refuse to allow your body to be scarred again.”

My heart started thumping once more. “You say that like you mean it.”

“Because I do.”

I wanted that to be true, and that was enough of a warning. I leaned away from his grasp. “When…when do we leave?”

“Naill is out scouting, making sure there is no unexpected traffic on the western roads. I can’t leave until I am sure that there are no immediate threats to the keep,” he explained, and that made sense. “I hope we will be able to leave by morning or the following day at the latest.”

Nodding, I closed my eyes. When I started to see Lord Chaney’s face, I shifted my thoughts beyond that to what I’d learned before the Ascended arrived. I’d likely discovered what bloodline I descended from—a line of warriors.

The need to get up, to move—to do something—hit me again, but this time, I had a purpose. “Are the injured ones in pain?”

Casteel’s brows knitted. “They’ve been given what we have on hand to ease their pain. Magda left to retrieve more.”

“I can help them.” I scooted to the other side of the bed and pushed the blanket off.

He rose. “Poppy—”

“I can help,” I repeated, coming to my feet. “You know I can. Why shouldn’t I?” I raised my brows when he didn’t answer. “There’s no good reason for why I shouldn’t.”

“Other than that you were just injured?” he suggested.

“I’m fine, thanks to you.” My hands opened and closed at my sides. “You know I hated not being able to use my abilities before, being forced to do nothing when I can help people. Don’t do that to me.”

“I’m not trying to do that to you.”

“Then what are you trying to do?” I demanded. “These are your people. I want to help them. Let me do that.”

“You don’t understand.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “The people here don’t know you. They don’t—”

“Trust me? Like me? I already knew that, Casteel. I don’t need either of those things. That’s not why I want to use my abilities.”

Casteel fell quiet and stared at me for so long that I braced for an argument. “Then you should get changed,” he said, turning away. “I’ll get jealous if anyone else sees how pretty your legs are.”