A Soul of Ash and Blood: A Blood and Ash Novel (Blood And Ash Series Book 5)

“Skotos,” Priestess Analia interrupted Penellaphe. “It’s pronounced like Skotis.”

My eyes narrowed on the Priestess’s back. That was not how Skotos was pronounced.

“You know how it’s pronounced, Maiden,” the Priestess continued in that sharp tone that had been grating on my nerves since we’d entered the chamber. Every word the woman spoke was delivered with a hornet’s sting. “Do so correctly.”

Penellaphe took a breath and began again, reading from a tome that was far too large to be filled with only lies.

And, apparently, mispronunciations.

Then again, who really knew what was in the book or what the purpose of reading from it was when the Priestess continually interrupted Penellaphe every five fucking seconds? I wanted to snatch the book from her hands and whack the woman upside the head with it. Better yet, I would pay good coin to see Penellaphe pick up the hard stool she sat upon and throw it at the Priestess. I smirked. That may be extreme, but damn if I wouldn’t find satisfaction in watching it go down.

I would also find satisfaction in tossing the Priestess’s ass out the window.

Needless to say, I was in a bad mood.

And there was a whole slew of reasons for that, namely lack of sleep. Which hadn’t been any easier to come by in my quarters than in the dorm. Part of it was due to what was surely happening to Lev, and the baseless accusations the Teermans’ least motivational speech of the decade had already inspired, at least according to Jansen. Five people, none who had a damn thing to do with the Descenters, had been reported to the Commander. Then, when I’d managed to find sleep, nightmares found me, but instead of ones where I was caged, they were about my brother.

“‘Which sat at the foot of the Skotis Mountains—’”

“It’s actually pronounced Skotos,” I interrupted, unwilling to let this go.

Her veiled head shot toward me as the red-dressed Priestess stiffened where she sat across from Penellaphe. She turned to give me a once-over. Her brown hair was pulled back so sharply from her hawkish features it was a wonder the strands of hair hadn’t snapped.

Priestess Analia’s dark brown stare turned dismissive. “And how would you know?”

“My family originates from the farmlands not too far from Pompay, before the area was destroyed and became the Wastelands we know today,” I said, which technically wasn’t a lie. My family originated from that general vicinity. “My family and others from that area have always pronounced the mountain range as the Maiden first said. The language and accent of those from the Far East can be difficult…for some to master. The Maiden, however, appears to not fall into that group.”

Penellaphe sucked her lower lip between her teeth and dipped her chin as if she sought to hide a smile.

The Priestess did not have a similar reaction. Her bony shoulders beneath the crimson gown went stiff. “I did not realize I asked for your thoughts.”

“My apologies.” I bowed my head. Just a few more days, I reminded myself. That’s all.

Priestess Analia nodded. “Apology—”

“I just didn’t want the Maiden to sound uneducated,” I continued, enjoying the flush of anger creeping into the Priestess’s cheeks, “if any discussion were to arise about the Skotos Mountains, but I will remain quiet from here on out.” I looked at Penellaphe. Her mouth formed a perfect oval now. “Please, continue, Maiden. You have such a lovely reading voice that even I find myself enthralled with the history of Solis.”

Her grip slowly loosened around the tome. “‘Which sat at the foot of the Skotos Mountains, the gods had finally chosen a side.’”

That was bullshit.

“‘Nyktos, the King of the gods, and his son Theon, the God of War, appeared before Jalara and his army,’” Penellaphe continued with yet another lie. Theon was not Nyktos’s son. “‘Having grown distrustful of the Atlantian people and their unnatural thirst for blood and power, they sought to aid in ending the cruelty and oppression that had reaped these lands under the rule of Atlantia. Jalara Solis and his army were brave, but Nyktos, in his wisdom, saw that they could not defeat the Atlantians, who had risen to godlike strength through the bloodletting of innocents—’”

“They killed hundreds of thousands over the time of their reign,” the Priestess elaborated yet again, this time sounding damn near orgasmic. “Bloodletting is a gentle description of what they actually did. They bit people.”

I would like to bite her right about now.

“Drank their blood and became drunk with power—with strength and near immortality,” she continued. “And those they didn’t kill became the pestilence we now know as the Craven. That is who our beloved King and Queen bravely took a stance against and were prepared to die to overthrow.”

Penellaphe nodded.

“Continue,” the Priestess ordered.

“‘Unwilling to see the failure of Jalara of the Vodina Isles, Nyktos gave the gods’ first Blessing, sharing with Jalara and his army the blood of the gods,’” Penellaphe read, giving a faint shudder. “‘Emboldened with the strength and power, Jalara of the Vodina Isles and his army were able to defeat the Atlantians during the Battle of Broken Bones, therefore ending the reign of the corrupt and wretched kingdom.’”

Was this really what they were teaching people in Solis? My gods, it was all a load of crap. There was no Blessing given by the gods. They were already asleep. Nor did the counterfeit King defeat the Atlantian armies. Atlantia had retreated for the sake of the people—to end the war destroying the lives and futures of Atlantians and mortals alike.

Penellaphe started to turn a page, and, man, I couldn’t wait to hear what was next.

“Why?” Priestess Analia demanded.

She looked over at her. “Why, what?”

“Why did you just shudder when you read the part about the Blessing?”

 “I…” She trailed off, her fingers tightening around the edges of the book once more.

“You seemed disturbed,” the Priestess said. “What is it about the Blessing that would affect you so?”

“I’m not disturbed. The Blessing is an honor—”

“But you shuddered,” the Priestess pressed. “Unless you find the act of the Blessing pleasurable, am I not to assume that it disturbs you?”

What in the fuck kind of question was that? I didn’t like the Priestess’s tone nor the way she pitched forward toward Penellaphe.

The lower half of Penellaphe’s face turned red. “It’s just that…the Blessing seems to be similar to how the Atlantians became so powerful. They drank the blood of the innocent, and the Ascended drink the blood of the gods—”

“How dare you compare the Ascension to what the Atlantians have done?” Priestess Analia grasped Penellaphe’s chin. My hand slid off the hilt of my sword. “It is not the same thing. Perhaps you’ve grown fond of the cane, and you purposely strive to disappoint not only me but also the Duke.”

The cane?

“I didn’t say that it was,” Penellaphe said as I stepped forward. She didn’t appear to be in pain, but this woman should not be touching her. “Just that it reminded me of—”

“The fact that you think of those two things in the same thought greatly concerns me, Maiden. The Atlantians took what was not given. During the Ascension, the blood is offered freely by the gods.” The Priestess lashed out, delivering another verbal sting. “That is not something that I should have to explain to the future of the kingdom, to the legacy of the Ascended.”

“The future of the entire kingdom rests on me being given to the gods upon my nineteenth birthday?” Penellaphe asked. “What would happen if I didn’t Ascend?” she demanded, and I halted, needing to hear the answer to this. “How would that stop the others from Ascending? Would the gods refuse to give their blood so freely—”

Priestess Analia swung her free hand back. I shot forward, grasping the Priestess’s wrist. I was done with this. “Remove your fingers from the Maiden’s chin. Now.”

The Priestess’s wide eyes met mine. “How dare you touch me?”

Hell. I wanted to do more. Crack those bones beneath my fingers for even having the gall to touch Penellaphe. “How dare you lay a single finger on the Maiden? Perhaps I was not clear enough for you. Remove your hand from the Maiden, or I will act upon your attempt to harm her,” I warned, and a huge part of me hoped she lacked common sense. “And I can assure you, me touching you will be the least of your concerns.”

A moment passed.

Then another. And, gods, I hoped she didn’t. I really did.

I started to smile.

Unfortunately, the Priestess had a smidgen of common sense. She removed her hand from Penellaphe’s chin. I had to force myself to let go of her wrist. I didn’t want to. I wanted to make sure she couldn’t use those hands to harm Penellaphe or anyone ever again.

The Priestess’s rage was evident as she turned back to Penellaphe. I stayed close, right behind her. I didn’t trust the woman at all. She’d raised a hand to Penellaphe far too casually, too easily for it to have been the first time. It was also clear to me that no one—no guard, and not even Penellaphe—had stopped her in the past.

I couldn’t fathom how Penellaphe, who could wipe the floor with this woman’s face, sat and took it. My anger built as I stared at the top of the Priestess’s head.

“The mere fact that you would even speak such a thing shows that you have no respect for the honor bestowed upon you,” Priestess Analia said to Penellaphe. “But when you go to the gods, you’ll be treated with as much respect as you have shown today.”

“What does that mean?” Penellaphe asked.

“This session is over.” The Priestess rose. “I have too much to do with the Rite only two days away. I have no time to spend with someone as unworthy as you.”

My eyes narrowed as my nostrils flared. This woman wouldn’t know worthiness if it fell into her lap.

“I’m ready to return to my chambers,” Penellaphe announced before I could tell the Priestess what I thought of her idea of worthiness. She nodded at the woman. “Good day.”

Forcing myself to follow Penellaphe from the chamber, I added the woman to my list of those who may find themselves answering for their lies sooner rather than later.

Penellaphe didn’t speak until we were halfway across the banquet hall. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Disbelief thundered through me. “I should’ve allowed her to hit you? In what world would that have been acceptable?”

“In a world where you end up punished for something that wouldn’t even have hurt.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “I don’t care if she hits like a baby mouse, this world is fucked-up if anyone finds that acceptable.”

Penellaphe halted and looked up at me through that damn veil. “Is it worth losing your position over and being ostracized for?”

She was worried about my position? Disbelief crashed into the simmering anger. “If you even have to ask that question, then you don’t know me at all.”

“I hardly know you at all,” she whispered.

Dammit, she was right. She didn’t know me. Fuck. I didn’t even know myself half the time, but I did know this. “Well, now you know that I will never stand by and watch someone hit you or any person for no reason other than they feel they can.”

Penellaphe appeared as if she were about to say something but changed her mind. She turned and began walking. I joined her, trying to cool my rage.

“It’s not like I’m okay with how she treats me,” she said quietly after several moments. “It took everything in me not to throw the book at her.”

Admittedly, I was relieved to hear that. The idea of her just sitting there and taking it… “I wish you had.”

“If I had, she would’ve reported me. She’ll probably report you.”

“To the Duke? Let her.” I shrugged. “I can’t imagine that he’s okay with her striking the Maiden.”

She snorted. “You don’t know the Duke.”

The way she said that… “What do you mean?”

“He would probably applaud her,” Penellaphe remarked. “They share a lack of control when it comes to their tempers.”

It came together then, though part of me had already figured it out. I just didn’t want to consider it. “He’s hit you,” I bit out, aware of the servants’ nervous glances in our direction as they passed. “Is that what she meant when she said that you’d grown fond of the cane?” I grasped her arm, my mind flashing to those canes in his private office and how she’d been absent for days after meeting with him. And the smell of arnica…? Fucking gods, I was going to kill the bastard. “Has he used a cane on you?”

She jerked a bit and then pulled her arm free. “I didn’t say that.”

“What were you saying?”

“J-just that the Duke is more likely to punish you than he is the Priestess. I have no idea what she meant by the cane,” she quickly added. “She sometimes says things that make no sense.”

She wasn’t speaking the truth right now, but I knew. Fuck, I knew. The Priestess had hit her before. The Duke had caned her. She was accustomed to these punishments—punishments she didn’t want me to know about.

I went cold inside.

Not hollow or empty.

Icy rage filled me, and only by sheer effort did I stop myself from finding the Duke right then and ending his miserable, pathetic existence. I briefly closed my eyes. “I must’ve misread what you said then.”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I just don’t want you to get into trouble.”

She was worried about me? Again? “And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” Penellaphe began walking again. “The Duke will just…give me a lecture, make it a lesson, but you would face—”

“I’ll face nothing,” I promised. And neither would she. I forced the tension out of my neck. “Is she always like that?”

Penellaphe sighed. “Yes.”

“The Priestess seems like a…” I couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say. “A bitch. I don’t say that often, but I say it now. Proudly.”

A half-smothered laugh came from her. “She…she is something, and she’s always disappointed in my…commitment to being the Maiden.”

“Exactly how are you supposed to prove you are?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Better yet, what are you supposed to be committed to?”

Her veiled head turned to me sharply, and then she nodded. “I’m not quite sure. It’s not like I’m trying to run away or escape my Ascension.”

I glanced over at her as we entered a short, narrow hall full of windows. What an odd thing for her to say. “Would you?”

“Funny question,” she murmured.

“It was a serious one.”

Penellaphe didn’t answer, and my heart started thumping a bit erratically. Had she considered doing that? Running away from her Ascension? If so…

I watched her go to a window overlooking the courtyard. She was so quiet and still, appearing as if she were a spirit garbed in the white of the Maiden. Then she looked up at me.

“I can’t believe you’d ask that,” she finally said.

I moved so I stood behind her, keeping my voice low. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t do that,” she admitted, but there was no passion in her voice. Only hollowness. “I wouldn’t.”

My heart was still pounding. “It seems to me that this honor that has been bestowed upon you comes with very few benefits. You’re not allowed to show your face or travel anywhere outside the castle grounds. You didn’t even seem all that surprised when the Priestess moved to strike you. That leads me to believe it’s something fairly common. You are not allowed to speak to most, and you are not to be spoken to. You’re caged in your room most of the day, your freedom restricted. All the rights others have, are privileges for you, rewards that seem impossible for you to earn.”

She opened her mouth but only looked away. I couldn’t blame her for that.

“So, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did try to escape this honor,” I told her.

“Would you stop me if I did?” she asked.

Hell, no. I’d hold the door for her. I stiffened. What was I thinking? My heart raced now. “Would Vikter?”

“I know Vikter cares about me. He’s like…he’s like I imagine my father would have been if he were still alive,” she said. “And I’m like Vikter’s daughter, who never got to take a breath. But he would stop me.”

He would.

And so should I if she were to do that in the next two days. I needed her—

“So, would you?” she asked again.

I didn’t know how to answer that, so I went with the truth. “I think I would be too curious to find out exactly how you planned to escape to stop you.”

She laughed faintly. “You know, I actually believe that.”

Shoving the conversation aside, I focused on what was important in this moment as I stared at the vibrant colors of the garden. “Will she report you to the Duke?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Will she?” I insisted.

“Probably not,” she answered. I didn’t believe her. “She’s too busy with the Rite. Everyone is.” She exhaled long and slow. “I’ve never been to a Rite.”

“And you’ve never snuck into one?”

She lowered her chin. “I’m offended that you’d even suggest such a thing.”

I chuckled, the noise sounding strange to my ears. “How bizarre that I could think that you, who has a history of misbehaving, would do such a thing.”

She gave me a small grin.

Not a smile.

I didn’t think she really smiled.

“You haven’t missed much, to be honest. There’s a lot of talking, a bunch of tears, and too much drinking,” I told her, thinking of the Rites I’d seen in my time in Solis. “It’s after the Rite where things can get…interesting. You know how it is.”

“I don’t know,” she said.

One side of my lips kicked up. I had a feeling she knew exactly what happened after the Rite. “But you know how easy it is to be yourself when you wear a mask,” I reminded her. “How anything you want becomes achievable when you can pretend that no one knows who you are.”

“You shouldn’t bring that up.” Her voice was breathy.

I cocked my head. “No one is close enough to overhear.”

“That doesn’t matter. You…we shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Ever?”

I waited for her to say yes, but she didn’t as she turned her attention back to the courtyard.

I knew Penellaphe had no issue speaking her mind to me. If she never wanted me to bring it up, she would’ve made that clear. The thing was…that wasn’t what she wanted.

I didn’t think she wanted a lot of what occurred around her—what happened to her.

My heart was doing that pounding thing again, and that prickle at the nape of my neck decided to join in. “Would you like to go back to your room?”

She shook her head, causing the golden chains to chime softly. “Not particularly.”

“Would you like to go out there instead?” I pointed outside.

“You think it would be safe?”

“Between you and me, I would think so.”

A faint grin appeared again. “I used to love the courtyard. It was the one place where, I don’t know, my mind was quiet, and I could just be. I didn’t think or worry…about anything. I found it so very peaceful.”

“But not anymore?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

A kernel of something akin to guilt seeded itself in my gut. I was the cause of her loss of peace. Something I was only just beginning to realize she had very little of. And that didn’t sit well with me.

It never would have.

“It’s strange how no one speaks of Rylan or Malessa,” she continued. “It’s almost as if they never existed.”

“Sometimes remembering those who died means facing your own mortality.”

“Do you think the Ascended are uncomfortable with the idea of death?”

“Even them,” I told her. “They may be godlike, but they can be killed. They can die.”

Penellaphe fell quiet as a handful of Ladies in Wait appeared in the otherwise vacant hall. They looked out at the gardens while speaking about the Rite. I kept glancing at her, wishing she would ask to go out into the courtyard.

“Are you excited about attending the Rite?” I asked when she didn’t say anything.

“I am curious,” she shared. The Rite was only two days away.

Two days. Instead of thinking of what that really meant, I found myself thinking about her. All wore red to the Rites, and I imagined it would be the same for the Maiden. “I’m curious to see you. You’ll be unveiled,” I assumed since all wore masks to the Rite.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “But I will be masked.”

“I prefer that version of you.”

“The masked version of me?”

“Honest?” I leaned my head down, keeping my voice low. “I prefer the version of you that wears no mask or veil.”

A faint tremor coursed through her as her lips parted on a soft exhale—lips I clearly recalled were incredibly soft. Heat pumped through my veins. I inched back before I caved to the urge and did something that would be entirely unwise.

She cleared her throat, but when she spoke, there was still a tantalizing breathiness to her words. “I remember you said your father was a farmer. Do you have any siblings? Any Lords in Wait in the family? A sister? Or…?” She took a shallow breath. “There’s only Ian for me—I mean, I only have one brother. I’m excited to see him again. I miss him.”

Ian.

The brother who’d Ascended.

The one who was in the capital, where mine was being held.

I cooled. “I had a brother.”

I looked away. Sometimes, it felt like that. Had. In the past tense. Other times, it felt like I would be too late. That he would be lost to me before I could free him, and his death and all his pain…

It was my fault.

Anguish built in my chest, and no matter how many breaths I took, the pain settled there with the weight of a hundred boulders. Malik should never have—

The feeling of her hand settling over mine shocked me. I started to look at her, but she squeezed my fingers, and…gods, that simple gesture of comfort meant a lot. The pressure in my chest eased, the anguish retreating.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

I took a breath to speak, but it was looser and deeper than any I had taken in weeks—maybe months or even years. I blinked, barely aware of the fact that she was no longer touching me.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

My brows knitted as I pressed my hand to my chest. Was I? I felt okay. Good, even. Lighter.

Like I had tasted peace.