The War of Two Queens (Blood And Ash Series Book 4)
The War of Two Queens: Chapter 45

Our skin was slow to cool as we lay on the grassy riverbank, our bodies bathed in moonlight. We were still tangled up in one another, legs and arms entwined, and I was drawn to Casteel like always. My cheek rested on his chest, and Kieran’s lay on his shoulder.

I knew in my heart and in my chest, where the eather hummed softly, that the Joining had worked. That was what all those silvery, glittering cords were, connecting us together from now until the end.

None of us spoke as the birds trilled softly to one another, high above us in the wisteria trees. It wasn’t an awkward silence but rather a comfortable, content one as Casteel’s heart thumped steadily beneath my cheek, and Kieran’s against my upper back.

And as I lay there surrounded by their warmth, with each breath carrying their earthy and lush scents, I searched for any hint of shame—or regret for being the one who’d led the three of us to that line and then danced right over it, allowing for the Joining to become something infinitely more. In those calm, quiet moments where I began to realize that our hearts beat in tandem, and our breaths matched in pace, there was no shame. Nor was there a taste of regret or confusion from either of them. All I tasted were soft and airy things.

Peace.

I felt their peace.

I felt mine.

And I didn’t know if I should feel conflicted about what we’d shared—actually, I did. It struck me then that there wasn’t anything I was supposed to feel. It didn’t matter what I would’ve thought or felt a year ago. All that counted was what I felt now. What we felt. And that was something good. Right. Peaceful.

Beautiful.

Casteel moved slightly, turning his head toward mine. A smile tugged at my lips as I felt his mouth brush the crown of my head. His one hand was threaded with mine, resting just below his chest. A silly little part of me even wished we could stay here on the bank of the river, beneath the wisterias, remaining in this slice of the realm that we had somehow carved out for ourselves that now belonged to us.

But we couldn’t. The world waited just a few feet away, and all the things I wouldn’t allow myself to think about earlier awaited.

Kieran moved, easing his arm out from under Casteel and me, and then I remembered. I twisted at the waist. “The mark on your arm?”

Pausing, Kieran lifted his left arm. “It’s gone,” he whispered, turning his arm over as bubbly, sugary wonder gathered in the back of my throat.

Relief was a tentative feeling washing through me as I stared at his unmarred skin. “Do you think that means the Joining usurped the curse?”

“I don’t know,” Casteel said, his voice thick. “I don’t think we’ll know unless Isbeth attempts to renege on the deal and refuses to lift it.”

“Which means we still need to bring her Malec.” My gaze lifted to Kieran’s.

He nodded. “I know you don’t want to wait and see,” he said, and he was correct. “But I think it means we have to continue as planned.”

“Just to be sure.” I bit down on my lower lip as I laid my head back on Casteel’s chest. I knew the Joining had worked. We’d all seen the silver cords. The mark was gone on Kieran’s skin, but no one knew if a Joining could counteract the power of a Primal curse. “Do either of you feel different?”

Casteel cleared his throat. “I did feel…tingly.”

My brows knitted. “I’m not sure if that’s a serious answer or you just being indecent.”

“When am I not being indecent?” Casteel asked with a chuckle.

“That’s a good point,” Kieran said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “But I think this is a rare time when he was only being slightly indecent. Because I know what he’s talking about. I felt…tingly, too. All over.”

“When the cords were wrapped around us,” Casteel added, turning his head toward mine. “I felt it inside me. Warm.” He paused. “Tingly.”

I grinned. “And how about now?”

“Normal,” Kieran answered.

Casteel’s thumb swept over the top of my hand. “Indecent.”

“So, no different?” I surmised.

“Nope.”

Kieran’s hand slipped from my shoulder as he sat up farther, stopping to drop a kiss where his hand had been before rising. The sweetness of the act tugged at my heart. I lifted my cheek just enough to see him walking toward the river. “What’s he doing?”

Casteel’s arm lifted, curling around my shoulders, replacing the lack of heat I felt due to Kieran’s absence. “I think he’s going for a swim.”

My eyes widened as Kieran did just that. Walked straight out into the rushing water and dove under, resurfacing a few seconds later. “That water has to be so cold.”

“It’s not that bad.” Kieran looked over his shoulder at us as glistening water coursed down his neck and spine. “You two should try it.”

I shook my head.

“Thanks, but I really don’t need all my fun bits freezing off,” Casteel replied as he trailed little circles over my shoulder and upper arm.

“Cowards,” Kieran taunted as he waded out farther.

Casteel chuckled. “Poppy will get upset if her favorite part of me becomes damaged.”

I rolled my eyes as Kieran laughed. “You’re ridiculous,” I muttered.

“But you love me.” Casteel rolled, shifting me onto my back as half his body came down over mine. “And especially all my ridiculousness.”

I placed my hand on the center of his chest. “I do.”

The dimple on his right cheek appeared as he caught a lock of my hair and tucked it back from my face. “How are you feeling? And I’m not asking if you’re tingly inside.”

“I feel…normal.” I reached up, curling my fingers into the soft strands of his hair.

“Could use a little more detail, my Queen. What does normal mean for you?”

“It means I feel okay. Not regretful.” I trailed my fingers across his face to the small indent in his right cheek. “I don’t feel ashamed. I’m relieved we did the Joining. I pray that it worked, and I…I enjoyed all of it.”

Casteel’s eyes searched mine intently. “I’m so fucking glad to hear that.”

“Did you think I’d regret it?”

“I didn’t think you would—or at least I hoped not,” he told me, his voice quiet as he traced the line of my jaw. “Thinking about something, and then doing it, and then feeling it afterward are three very different things.”

He was right. “And you?”

“How do I feel about it all?” Lowering his head, he kissed the bridge of my nose. “You’re asking when you already know?”

I mushed my lips together.

Casteel chuckled. “I feel honored, meyaah Liessa. Humbled.” His lips brushed the corner of mine. “Awed. Relieved. Chosen. Yes, I feel chosen. Loved.” He nipped at my lower lip, sending a bolt of heat through me. “Intrigued.” Lifting his head, I saw that the other dimple had taken form. “But back to that tingly part.” He drew his hand down my arm, grazing the curve of my breast with the tips of his fingers. “Are you feeling that?”

“I’m always feeling that when it comes to you.”

“Knew it,” he murmured, kissing me once more. This one was longer, deeper, and languid. “I’m thinking about tempting fate with freezing my interesting bits and joining Kieran. Come with?”

I shook my head. “I think I’ll stay right here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” When he hesitated, I gave him a little shove. “Go.”

Dipping his head, I opened for him and got lost enough in his parting kiss that taking a dip in the frigid waters didn’t sound like a bad idea. Casteel rose, stopping to pick up one of the discarded cloaks. He knelt, motioning for me to sit up. As I did, he draped it over my shoulders, pulling the halves closed around me.

“By the way,” he said, tucking his fingers under my chin, “you’re beautiful when you’re like this, wrapped in nothing more than a cloak. As beautiful as you are when you’re draped in fine silks and dressed in breeches and a tunic. And tonight, when you moved between us? When you opened yourself to us?” he said, and my breath caught, “and your essence spilled out from you, surrounding us? Entering us? Entering me? I felt worthy of such a beautiful gift as you.”

Tears filled my eyes as he kissed me softly. I couldn’t speak as he straightened, and I watched him walk into the river, joining Kieran. Blinking back the dampness, I curled my fingers around the edges of the cloak and brought it to my chin. I watched Casteel and Kieran, standing waist-deep in the water, and hoped both knew just how worthy they were.

How lucky I was.

And as I pulled the cloak tighter, desperately ignoring the hollowness slowly returning like an unwanted visitor, I prayed to gods that slept that I was worthy of them.

I woke at dawn the following day, wrapped tightly in Casteel’s arms. It wasn’t long before he eased me onto my back and we came together slowly, kissing and exploring as if we had all the time in the world.

We didn’t.

A clock was counting down, ticking away minutes and seconds, but as the cool, gray rays of dawn seeped into the chamber, we cherished each of those heartbeats deeply.

“When will you speak to your father?” I asked as I sat on the bed, eyes closed as Casteel dragged the brush through my hair.

“Soon,” he answered.

I arched a brow. “We leave for the Bone Temple in a few hours, so I hope soon is actually soon.”

“It will be.” He gently worked the brush through a tangle. “How in the world did your hair get so knotted from walking a handful of feet?”

I snorted. “That is a question I have asked a thousand times.”

His laugh was soft and sweet, and I smiled, loving the sound as much as I loved him. He was quiet as he managed to untangle the hair and then moved on to another section. “My father is not going to be happy with what we have decided.”

No, he would not be.

After returning from the banks of the River of Rhain, we’d spent the better part of yesterday morning in bed, sleeping…and definitely not sleeping. Then we finally managed to do the responsible thing and meet with the generals to discuss our plans in more detail. Casteel and I had decided on some things that had needed to be shared.

None of us knew what Isbeth truly planned or what she was capable of as a demis, and since I was days or possibly weeks away from completing the Culling, I was—as much as it ate away at Casteel to acknowledge—not infallible. I could be gravely wounded…or worse. Which also meant that Casteel and Kieran…

The mere thought of that made me want to hurl, but it was a reality. And because of that, it also meant leadership needed to be in place. Thankfully, there already was.

Vonetta was the Crown Regent.

In the event that neither Casteel nor I could rule, Vonetta would ascend the throne. She needed to be healthy and whole for that to occur. So, Casteel and I had…asserted our authority and ordered Vonetta to remain at Padonia with a decent force of about fifty thousand soldiers. Of course, she had not been at all pleased to hear that, but when the reality of what it meant hit her, she had appeared as if she’d needed to sit down.

It wasn’t the shock of realizing that she would rule Atlantia that had her taking several short breaths. It was the realization of what would have to occur to cause that.

And Casteel would, as Kieran had put it when we’d spoken to him about what we’d decided, pull rank again when it came to his father.

“Finished.” Casteel laid the heavy length of hair over my shoulder as he bent, kissing the nape of my neck.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He climbed off the bed with a level of grace I would never master, probably not even as a Primal.

My gaze roamed the defined lines of his chest and stomach as he pulled on the black tunic that would be worn under armor, relieved to see that he had filled out even more. In a day or so, I imagined he would be back to his normal weight. What my blood could do for him was really a miracle.

He returned to where I sat to put on his boots. “I’m going to talk to him now.”

“Do you want me with you?” I asked.

Casteel shook his head. “Probably best if you’re not.” He glanced at me as he tightened the buckles on his boots. “He’ll probably want to bring up the shit he and my mother should’ve said ages ago. Then I’ll look at you and think about how differently things could’ve gone for us if we had known the truth, and then I’ll want to punch him.”

“Don’t punch your father, Casteel.”

A faint grin appeared as he moved on to his other boot. “Is that an order, my Queen?”

“It really shouldn’t have to be one.”

“But?”

“Yes.”

He leaned over, stealing a quick kiss. “Kieran will be with me. He won’t let me punch him.”

Thinking of how Kieran had let Casteel repeatedly punch his brother, I wasn’t so sure about that.

“Meet you in the receiving hall?” Casteel touched my cheek. I nodded, and this kiss…it was long enough to leave me wishing we had more time.

After Casteel had left, I braided my hair and rose, putting on similar attire as he had dressed in. The leggings were almost as thick as breeches, and I tucked the black shirt into them, opting for a vest brocaded in gold to wear over it. Strapping the wolven-bone dagger to my thigh, I smiled as I thought about how ill-fitting Isbeth would believe the clothing to be for a Queen. I didn’t don any armor or remove the crowns from their box. That would come later. Leaving the chamber, I made a quick stop in the kitchens, grabbing a muffin, and then roamed outside, giving Casteel ample time to speak to his father.

I caught sight of Thad perched on the Rise that overlooked the stables, his wings tucked close to his narrow, brownish-black body. I followed his watchful stare, my heart skipping.

Finishing off the muffin, I crossed the overgrown courtyard and entered the stables. Only a few horses remained inside, as most were with the soldiers, being outfitted with armor. I stopped to give Setti a sugar cube and shower him with affection before walking to the back of the structure. Straw crunched under my feet as I reached out, holding the pole as I turned the corner.

Malec’s wooden casket remained in the wagon, ready to be led out the closed stable doors behind it. Several lengths of dull, whitish-gray bones lay across the top, and I realized that several bone spurs had embedded themselves in the wood.

Folding an arm over my waist, I suppressed a shiver. The casket. Malec’s presence. It had an impact that was hard not to notice, chilling the air. Tiny goosebumps rose all over my skin. I inched closer, holding my breath like a silly child as I reached out, pressing my palm against the casket.

The wood was warm.

I pulled my hand back, pressing it against my chest where the eather hummed, and the cold place inside me ached.

Would the wood that entombed me be cold?

I sucked in a sharp breath, unsettled by my dark thoughts. Malec’s fate wasn’t mine—

Unsheathing the dagger at the soft crunch of straw, I whipped around.

Malik stood in the hall outside the stall, his eyes wide behind a lock of sandy brown hair that had fallen in front of them. “Jumpy?”

“I’d rather call it careful,” I said, lowering the dagger but not putting it away. No one else was with him. “You’re out here alone?”

“Not supposed to be.” A half-grin appeared, one so similar to Casteel’s it was a little bizarre. “But I’m really good at being where I’m not supposed to be.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sure Naill will realize soon enough that I’m not in my cell—er, I mean my chambers,” he amended.

I watched him draw closer. “Why are you out here?”

“Saw you heading this way from the window.” He stopped at the back of the wagon and did the same as I did, placing his hand on the casket. He showed no reaction to the temperature, which made me wonder.

“Does the wood feel warm to you?”

He shook his head. “Does it to you?”

I started to answer but shrugged. “I hope you aren’t out here trying to do something to him in an attempt to stop us.”

Malik laughed roughly. “Can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

“You’d risk Kieran like that?” I demanded, my stomach toppling because I hated—absolutely hated—the whole wait-and-see thing surrounding whether or not the Joining had usurped the curse, or if Isbeth would lift it.

“All manner of things have crossed my mind,” he answered. “But I prefer to not be burned alive by a draken.”

“That shouldn’t be the only thing that stops you.”

“No, it shouldn’t be. And it wouldn’t have been before,” he said, and I knew he meant before the Blood Queen captured him. “But I’m not the same person I was then,” he said, and the faint tang of sadness gathered in my throat.

“You’re a person who would sacrifice those who care about you now?”

His lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Who would you have sacrificed to free Casteel?”

“I sacrificed none,” I told him.

Malik looked at me. “You didn’t?”

I stiffened. “I will free my father.”

A long moment passed. “But you and I both know that if you had to choose, there would be no choice.” His gaze flicked to the casket. “To be honest, I’m relieved to hear that. Casteel deserves someone who will burn the realm for him.”

“And you don’t?”

He let out a dry laugh. “Is that a serious question?”

I studied his coolly handsome features. “You subjected yourself to decades of the gods only know what for Millicent. Would she not do the same for you?”

Malik laughed again, and this time, it was real. “No. She’s more likely to set me afire than a realm.”

My brows flew open. “You said you were heartmates—”

“We are.” He angled his body toward me. “But she doesn’t know that.”

Confusion rose, and then I remembered him saying that he’d done unimaginable things that she would never know about. “How doesn’t she know?”

“She just doesn’t.”

“Then how do you know?”

His head inclined. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Has anyone ever told you that asking questions is a sign of intelligence?”

“I haven’t needed to be told that,” I said. “Because I already know.”

Malik smiled then. “I just know.”

Sensing that I wouldn’t get much more out of him about that subject, I moved on to things I was more curious about. “Do you think Millicent will be there with Isbeth when we meet with her?”

His shoulders tightened. “Gods, I hope not. But she probably will be. Isbeth will likely demand her presence.”

I nibbled on my lower lip as I stared at the bone chains. “Why hasn’t Millicent tried to stop her?”

“What makes you think she hasn’t?” Malik countered. “You’ve seen what Isbeth can do. Millie is strong, she’s fierce, but she is not a demis.”

He had a point, but… “Then why didn’t she try to kill me? She believes I’m the Harbinger, right? She had an opportunity, as did you—especially when I was younger.”

“Millie has never tried to convince herself that she could kill a child or her sister.” Malik’s stare bore through me. “She is not evil just because she’s Isbeth’s daughter.”

But they apparently thought I was. “And what about you? You were evil enough to think you could do it.”

“I was desperate enough.” Malik paused. “And broken enough that I latched onto any purpose.”

I remembered what Casteel had said to him. “Your bonded wolven? Preela? How did that break you?”

“Jalara killed her in front of me,” he answered so flatly that I almost thought the swirl of grief was mine. “It wasn’t quick or honorable what he and the others did to her.” He faced me. “And you don’t have to ask what that was. You carry a part of her with you. You hold it in your hand even now.”

Slowly, I looked down at the bloodstone dagger I held—the wolven-bone grip that never warmed to my touch. “No.”

Malik said nothing.

My gaze flew to his. “How would you even know?”

“I saw each one made of her bones. I will never forget what they look like.”

A tremor ran through my hand.

“And it was gifted to Coralena, who in turn, gave it to Leopold,” he continued, a muscle ticking under his temple. “How you came into possession of it afterward, I am curious to know.”

“Vikter gave it to me,” I whispered. “He was a viktor, too.”

Malik smiled tightly. “Well, it sounds like fate to me, doesn’t it?”