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

Sweat dampened my skin as I dipped down and spun, the long, thick braid of hair whipping around me. I kicked out, and my bare foot connected with the side of Vikter’s shin. Caught off guard, he staggered to the side as I shot up beside him. He started to strike back but froze. His gaze dropped to where I held the dagger to his throat.

The corners of his lips turned down.

I smiled. “I win.”

“It’s not about winning, Poppy.”

“It’s not?” I lowered the dagger, stepping back.

“It’s about surviving.”

“Isn’t that winning, though?”

He shot me a sidelong glance as he dragged his arm over his forehead. “I suppose you can look at it that way, but it’s never a game.”

“I know that.” I sheathed the dagger at my thigh. Dressed in a pair of thick leggings and an old tunic of Vikter’s, I walked across the stone floor toward an old, wooden table. I picked up the glass of water and took a long drink. If I could dress like this all day, every day, I’d be a happy girl. “But if it were a game, I still would’ve won.”

“You only got the upper hand twice, Poppy.”

“Yes, but both of those times, I would’ve sliced your neck. You got the upper hand three times, but they would’ve been nothing more than flesh wounds.”

“Flesh wounds?” He barked out a short, rare laugh. “Only you would think disembowelment a paltry flesh wound. You’re such a poor loser.”

“I thought this wasn’t a game?”

He scoffed.

Grinning, I shrugged as I faced him. Dust danced in the sunlight that poured through the open windows. The glass had long since been removed, and the room was either drafty and near frigid in the winter, or unbearably hot in the summer. But no one ever checked for us here, so the extreme temperature variances were more than manageable.

It was the morning after Rylan’s funeral, too early for much of the castle to be moving about. Nearly all the staff and the stronghold’s inhabitants followed the schedule of the Ascended, and the servants, as well as the Duke and Duchess, believed that I was still abed. Only Tawny knew where I was. Rylan hadn’t even known, as Vikter always had morning duties with me.

“How is your head feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.”

He arched a fair brow. “Are you telling the truth?”

A faint, bluish-purple bruise over my temple was all that remained. The skin around my mouth was no longer red. There was a superficial cut along the inside of my cheek that any amount of salt seemed to find its way into, but other than that, I was fine. Not that I would admit it, but Vikter suggesting I take it easy and rest yesterday probably had a lot to do with that.

After Rylan’s funeral, I’d spent the day in my chambers, reading one of the books Tawny had brought to me. It was a tale of two lovers, star-crossed yet fated. The title had fallen in the Things Penellaphe is Forbidden to Read pile, which was pretty much everything that didn’t involve some sort of educational material or the teachings of the gods. I’d finished the novel last evening, and I wondered if Tawny could bring me another. It was doubtful. Preparation for the upcoming Rite was consuming much of her spare time. Whenever Tawny couldn’t bring a book for me to read, I would simply sneak into the Atheneum and help myself. Plus, with the attempted kidnapping and what had happened to Malessa, I didn’t want her out there roaming around.

Which meant I also shouldn’t be roaming around unguarded, but the Atheneum wasn’t too far. Just a few blocks beyond the castle and easily accessible through the Grove. Disguised, no one would know that I was the Maiden, but it still felt too risky and dumb to do something like that so quickly after the attack.

“It hurt a little last night, but not since I woke up.” I paused. “The man had a weak punch.”

Vikter snorted as he approached me, sliding his short sword into its scabbard. “Did you sleep well?”

I considered lying. “Do I look like I haven’t slept?”

He stopped in front of me. “You rarely ever sleep well. I imagine what happened with Rylan has exacerbated your already poor sleeping patterns.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?” I teased. “You’re such a good father.”

His expression turned bland. “Stop deflecting, Poppy.”

“Why? I’m so good at it.”

“But you’re actually not.”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “It took a while to fall asleep, but I haven’t had a nightmare in a while.”

Vikter’s gaze searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was lying—and the man probably could. I wasn’t lying…exactly. I hadn’t had a night terror since I went to the Red Pearl, and I wasn’t sure why that was.

Perhaps falling asleep thinking about what had happened in the Red Pearl had somehow switched the gears of my brain away from past trauma. If so, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 “Who do you think will replace Rylan?” I changed the subject before he could continue down that road of questioning.

“I’m not sure, but I assume it will be decided fairly soon.”

My mind immediately went to Hawke, even though he couldn’t possibly be in the running, not when there were so many others from the Rise who’d been here longer. But the question sort of toppled out of me anyway. “Do you think it would be the one who came from the capital recently? The guard who stood by my side at the funeral?”

Who assured me that I wouldn’t be hurt again?

“You’re talking about Hawke?” Vikter asked, securing his other sword.

“Oh, is that his name?”

He lifted his gaze to mine. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” I frowned. “What am I supposedly lying about?”

“You didn’t know his name?”

Praying that my flushing cheeks didn’t give me away, I folded my arms over my chest. “Why would I?”

“Every woman in this city knows his name.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

His lips twitched as if he were fighting a smile. “He’s a very handsome young man, or so I’ve been told, and there’s nothing wrong with you taking notice of him.” He glanced away. “As long as that is all you do.”

My cheeks did flush hotly then because I had done far more than simply take notice of Hawke. “When exactly would I have had a chance to do anything other than take notice, which is, might I remind you, strictly forbidden?”

Vikter laughed once more, and my frown increased. “When has something being forbidden ever stopped you?”

“That is different,” I said, wondering if the gods would strike me down for so blatantly lying. “And when would I even have a chance to do something like that?”

“I’m actually glad you brought that up. Your little adventures will need to come to an end.”

My stomach jumped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He ignored that. “I haven’t said much in the past about you and Tawny sneaking off, but after what happened in the garden, that has to end.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” His smile was slow and smug. “I’m watching even when you think I’m not.”

“Well, that is…creepy.” I didn’t even want to know if he knew that I’d been to the Red Pearl.

“Creepy or not, just remember what I said the next time you think of sneaking out in the middle of the night.” Before I could respond, he said, “And regarding Hawke, I would say that his age would make him becoming your personal guard doubtful.”

“But?” My heart started thumping, and I was barely aware of Vikter taking the glass from me.

“But he is exceptionally skilled, more so than many of the Royal Guards now. I wasn’t stroking his ego yesterday when I said that. He came here, held in high regard by the capital, and he appears to be close to Commander Jansen.” He finished off my glass of water. “I wouldn’t be all that surprised if he was promoted over others.”

Now my heart was slamming itself against my ribs. “But…but to become my personal guard? Surely, someone who is more familiar with the city would be a better fit.”

“Actually, someone new and less likely to be complacent would be the best,” he said. “He would see things differently than many of us who’ve been here for years or longer. See weaknesses and threats we may overlook out of monotony. And he showed yesterday that he has no problem stepping up while everyone else stood by.”

All of that made sense, but…but he couldn’t become my personal Royal Guard. If he did, I’d have to speak to him eventually, and if I did that, he’d recognize me at some point.

And then what?

If he was close to the Commander and determined to rise through the ranks, he would be sure to report me. After all, the highest-ranking guards who had a chance of living to see a well-funded retirement, were the Royal Guards who protected the Duke and Duchess of Masadonia.

During the day, when the sun was high, the Great Hall, where the weekly City Councils and grand celebrations were held, was one of the most beautiful rooms in the entire castle.

Windows taller than most of the homes in the city were spaced every twenty feet or so, allowing the warm, bright sun to drench the polished white limestone walls and floors. The windows offered views of the gardens to the left and the Temples atop the Undying Hills.

Heavy white tapestries hung the length of the windows and in between them. The golden Royal Crest embossed the center of each banner. Creamy white pillars adorned with flecks of gold and silver were spaced throughout the long, wide chamber. White and purple jasmine flowers climbed out of silver urns, perfuming the air with their sweet, earthy scent.

The hand-painted ceiling was the true masterpiece of the Great Hall. Above, all the gods could be seen watching over us. Ione and Rhahar. The flaming redheaded Aios, the Goddess of Love, Fertility, and Beauty. Saion, the dark-skinned God of the Sky and the Soil—he was Earth, Wind, and Water. Beside him was Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his twin Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance. The dark-haired Goddess of the Hunt, Bele, armed with her bow. There was Perus, the pale, white-haired God of the Rite and Prosperity. Beside him was Rhain, the God of the Common Man and Endings. And then there was my namesake, Penellaphe, the Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty—which I found highly ironic. All their faces were captured in striking, vivid detail—all but Nyktos, the King of all the gods, who had made the first Blessing. His face and form were nothing but brilliant silvery moonlight.

But as I stood on the raised dais to the left of the seated Duchess, there was no sunlight pouring in through the windows, only the dark night. Several sconces and oil lamps placed to provide as much light as possible cast a golden glow throughout the Hall.

The gods did not walk in the sun.

So, neither did the Ascended.

How had Ian adapted to that? If it was a sunny day, he could be found outside, scribbling in one of his journals, recording whatever stories his mind had drummed up. Did he now write in the moonlight? I would know sooner rather than later if I was summoned back to the capital.

Anxiety bloomed, and I pushed that thought aside before the unease could spread. I scanned the throng of people who had filled up the Great Hall, pretending that I wasn’t searching for one face in particular, and failing miserably.

I knew Hawke was here. He always was, but I hadn’t seen him yet.

Full of nervous energy, I unclasped and then wrung my hands as someone—a banker—continued to heap praise upon the Teermans.

“You all right?” Vikter bent his head, keeping his voice low enough so only I would hear him.

I turned just the slightest to the left and nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve been fidgeting like you have spiders in your gown since the beginning of this,” he answered.

Spiders in my gown?

If I had spiders in my gown, I wouldn’t be fidgeting. I’d be screaming and stripping down to nothing. I wouldn’t care at all who witnessed it.

I wasn’t sure exactly what had me so incredibly restless. Well, there were myriad things, considering everything that had happened recently, but it felt like…more than that.

It had started after I’d left Vikter, a brief headache I attributed to the punch and possibly overdoing it during training. Not that I would admit that, but after lunch, it had faded, only to be replaced by a wealth of nervous energy. It reminded me of the blend of coffee beans Ian had shipped from the capital. Tawny and I had only drunk half a cup, and neither of us could sit still for the entire day afterward.

Making a more conscious effort to remain still, my gaze shifted to the left, to the gardens, where I’d found such peace before. My chest ached. I hadn’t gone to the gardens last night or at any time today. The area hadn’t been forbidden to me, but I knew if I stepped foot outside, I would be surrounded by guards.

I couldn’t even imagine how the upcoming Rite would go.

But I didn’t think I could ever go back to the gardens, no matter how much I loved them and the roses therein. Even now, just looking at the shadowy outline of the garden through the windows brought forth an image of Rylan’s blank stare.

Drawing in a shallow breath, I pulled my attention from the garden to the front of the Hall. Members of the Court, those who had Ascended, stood the closest, flanking the dais. Behind them were the Ladies and Lords in Wait. Royal Guards stood among them, their shoulders bearing white mantles with the Royal Crest. Merchants and businessmen, villagers and laborers crowded the hall, all there to petition the Court for one thing or another, air their grievances, or curry favor with His or Her Grace.

Plenty of the faces that stared up at us were wide-eyed and slack-jawed with awe. For some, this was the first time they’d seen the brown-haired beauty, Duchess Teerman, or the coolly handsome Duke, whose hair was so blond it was almost white. For many, this was the first time they’d been as close as they were to an Ascended.

They looked like they were in the presence of the gods themselves, and in a way, I guessed they were. The Ascended were descendants of the gods, by blood, if not by birth.

And then there was…me.

Nearly none of the commoners who stood in the Great Hall had ever seen the Maiden before. For that alone, I was subjected to many curious, quick glances. I imagined that word of Malessa’s death and my attempted abduction had also traveled widely by now, and I was sure that had aided in the curiosity and the buzz of anxious energy that seemed to permeate the Hall.

Except for Tawny. She looked half-asleep as she stood there, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek when she smothered a yawn. We’d been here for nearly two hours already, and I wondered if the Teermans’ asses ached as much as my feet were beginning to.

Probably not.

Both looked mighty comfortable. The Duchess was dressed in yellow silk, and even I could admit that the Duke cut a rather dashing figure in his black trousers and tailcoat.

He always reminded me of the pale snake I’d once stumbled upon near the beach as a little girl. Beautiful to look upon, but its bite dangerous and often deadly.

Swallowing a sigh as the banker began to speak of their great leadership, I started to look toward the Temples—

I saw him.

Hawke.

A strange, funny little hitch took up residence in my chest at the sight of him. He stood between two pillars, arms folded across his broad chest. Like yesterday, there was no teasing half-grin on his face, and his features would’ve been considered severe if it weren’t for the unruly strands of midnight-hued hair tumbling over his forehead, softening his expression.

A tingling sense of awareness swept down my spine, spreading tiny bumps all over my skin. Hawke’s gaze was lifted to the dais, to where I stood, and even from across the hall and from behind the veil, I swore our gazes connected. Air whooshed from my lungs, and the entire Hall seemed to fade away, going silent as we stared at one another.

My heart thumped heavily as my hands spasmed open and then closed. He was staring at me, but so were a lot of others. Even the Ascended often stared.

I was a curiosity, a sideshow put on display once a week to serve as a reminder that the gods could actively intervene in births and in lives.

But my legs still felt strange, and my pulse fluttered as if I’d spent the last hour practicing different combat techniques with Vikter.

Magnus, a steward to the Duke, announced the next to speak, drawing my attention. “Mr. and Mrs. Tulis have requested a word, Your Graces.”

Dressed in simple but clean clothing, the fair-headed couple stepped out from a grouping of those waiting toward the back. The husband had his arm around his shorter wife’s shoulders, keeping her tucked close to his side. Hair pulled back from her bloodless face, the woman wore no jewels but held a small swaddled bundle in her arms. The bundle stirred as they approached the dais, little arms and legs stretching the pale blue blanket. Their gazes were fixed to the floor, heads bowed slightly. They didn’t look up, not until the Duchess gave them permission to do so.

“You may speak,” she said, her voice hauntingly feminine and endlessly soft. She sounded like someone who’d never raised their voice or hand in anger. Neither were untrue, and for what had to be the hundredth time, I wondered exactly what she and the Duke had in common. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even seen them touch one another—not as if that was necessary for the Ascended to marry.

Unlike others, Mr. and Mrs. Tulis clearly shared a wealth of feelings for one another. It was the way Mr. Tulis held his wife close, and in the way she lifted her gaze, first to him and then to the Duchess.

“Thank you.” The wife’s nervous gaze darted to the male Royal. “Your Grace.”

Duke Teerman tilted his head in acknowledgement. “It is our pleasure,” he told her. “What can we do for you and your family?”

“We are here to present our son,” she explained, turning so the bundle faced the dais. The little face was creased and ruddy as he blinked large eyes.

The Duchess leaned forward, hands remaining clasped in her lap. “He is darling. What is his name?”

“Tobias,” the father answered. “He takes after my wife, as cute as a button, if I dare say so myself, Your Grace.”

My lips curled into a grin.

“That he is.” The Duchess nodded. “I do hope all is well with you and the babe?”

“It is. I’m perfectly healthy, just like him, and he’s been a joy, a true blessing.” Mrs. Tulis straightened, holding the baby close to her breast. “We love him very much.”

“Is he your first son?” the Duke asked.

Mr. Tulis’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “No, Your Grace, he isn’t. He’s our third son.”

The Duchess clapped her hands together. “Then Tobias is a true blessing, one who will receive the honor of serving the gods.”

“That’s why we’re here, Your Grace.” The man slipped his arm from around his wife. “Our first son—our dear Jamie—he…he passed no more than three months ago.” Mr. Tulis cleared his throat. “It was a sickness of the blood, the Healers told us. It came on real quick, you see. One day, he was fine, chasing around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And then the following morning, he didn’t wake up. He lingered for a few days, but he left us.”

“I’m incredibly sorry to hear that.” Sorrow filled the Duchess’s voice as she settled back in her seat. “And what of the second son?”

“We lost him to the same sickness that took Jamie.” The mother began to tremble. “No more than a year into his life.”

They’d lost two sons? My heart was already aching for them. Even with the loss I’d experienced in my life, I couldn’t even begin to understand the kind of anguish a parent must suffer when they lose a child, let alone two. If I felt it, I knew I would want to do something about it, and I couldn’t. Not here. I locked down my gift.

“That is truly a tragedy. I hope you find solace in the knowledge that your dear Jamie is with the gods, along with your second born.”

“We do. It’s what’s gotten us through his loss.” Mrs. Tulis gently rocked the baby. “We come today to hope, to ask….” She trailed off, seeming unable to finish.

It was her husband who took over for her. “We came here today to ask that our son not be considered for the Rite when he comes of age.”

A rolling gasp echoed through the chamber, coming from all sides at once.

Mr. Tulis’s shoulders stiffened, but he forged ahead. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you and the gods. He is our third son, but we lost our first two, and my wife, as much as she desires more babes, the Healers said she shouldn’t have more. He is our only remaining child. He will be our last.”

“But he is still your third son,” the Duke responded, and my chest hollowed. “Whether your first thrived or not doesn’t change that your second son and now your third are fated to serve the gods.”

“But we have no other child, Your Grace.” Mrs. Tulis’s lower lip trembled as her chest rose and fell rapidly. “If I were to get pregnant, I could die. We—”

“I understand that.” The tone of the Duke’s voice didn’t change. “And you do understand that while we’ve been given great power and authority by the gods, the issue of the Rite is not something we can change.”

“But you can speak with the gods.” Mr. Tulis moved to step closer but drew up short when several Royal Guards shifted forward.

A low murmur rose from the audience. I glanced to where Hawke stood. He was watching what I believed to be the Tulises’ third tragedy play out before us, his jaw as hard as the limestone around us. Did he have a second or third brother or sister who’d been given over to the Rite? One who may go on to serve the Court and receive the Blessing from the gods, and another he would never be able to see again?

“You can speak with the gods on our behalf. Couldn’t you?” Mr. Tulis asked, his voice rough like sand. “We are good people.”

“Please.” Tears rolled down the mother’s face, and my fingers itched to reach out and touch her, to ease her pain even if for a little while. “We beg of you to at least try. We know the gods are merciful. We have prayed to Aios and Nyktos every morning and every night for this gift. All we ask is that—”

“What you ask cannot be granted. Tobias is your third son, and this is the natural order of things,” the Duchess stated. A piercing sob left the woman. “I know it’s hard, and it hurts now, but your son is a gift to the gods, not a gift from them. That is why we would never ask that of them.”

Why not? What harm could there be in asking? Surely, there were enough in service to the gods that one boy would not upset the natural order of things.

And besides, some exceptions had been made in the past. My brother was proof of that.

Many in the audience appeared rooted in shock as if they could not believe the audacity of what was being asked. There were others, though, whose faces were soaked in sympathy and marked with anger. Their stares were fixed on the dais—on Duke and Duchess Teerman—and on me.

“Please. I beg of you. I beg.” The father dropped to his knees, his hands folded as if in prayer.

I gasped, my chest squeezing. I wasn’t sure how it happened or why, but my control over my gift snapped, and my senses opened. I sucked in a sharp breath as grief poured into me in icy waves. The potency shook my knees, and I could barely breathe around it.

A moment later, I felt Vikter’s hand on my back, and I knew he was prepared to grab me in case I went to them. It took everything in me to stand there and do nothing.

Tearing my gaze away from Mr. Tulis, I forced out deep, even breaths. My wide eyes roamed the crowd as I pictured a wall in my mind, one as great as the Rise, so tall and thick that no one’s pain could breach it. That had always worked in the past, and it worked now. The claws of sorrow loosened their grip, but—

My gaze snagged on a blond man. He stood several rows back, his chin bowed, and much of his face obscured by the curtain of hair that fell forward. I felt…something burning through the wall I’d built, but it didn’t quite feel like anguish. It felt hot, like physical pain, but this was…it was bitter-tasting in the back of my throat as if I’d swallowed acid. He had to be in pain, but…

Unnerved, I closed my eyes and rebuilt the wall until all I felt was the pounding of my heart. After a few seconds, I was able to take a deeper, stronger breath, and finally, the strange sensation disappeared. I opened my eyes as the father pleaded.

“Please. We love our son,” he cried. “We want to raise him to be a good man, to—”

“He will be raised in the Temples of Rhahar and Ione, where he will be cared for while in service to the gods as it has been done since the first Blessing.” The Duke’s voice brooked no argument, and the woman’s sobs deepened. “Through us, the gods protect each and every one of you from the horrors outside the Rise. From what comes in the mist. And all we must do is provide them with service. Are you willing to anger the gods to keep a child at home, to grow old or possibly sicken and die?”

Mr. Tulis shook his head, his face draining of all color. “No, Your Grace, we would not want to risk that, but he’s our son—

“That is what you ask, though.” The Duke cut him off. “In one month from his birth, you will give him to the High Priests, and you will be honored to do so.”

Unable to look at the tear-stricken faces any longer, I closed my eyes once more and wished I could somehow drown out the sounds of their heartbreak. However, even if I could, I wouldn’t forget them. And, truthfully, I needed to hear their pain. I needed to bear witness to it and remember. Serving the gods in the Temples was an honor, but this was still a loss.

“Cease the tears,” the Duchess implored. “You know that this is right and what the gods have requested.”

But this didn’t feel right. What harm would come in asking for one child to remain at home with his parents? To grow, to live, and to become a useful member of society? Neither the Duke nor the Duchess would bend to grant such a simple favor. How could anyone mortal be unmoved by the mother’s pleas, her cries, and her husband’s desolate hopelessness?

But I already knew the answer to that.

The Ascended were no longer mortal.