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

“What in the hell?” Malik exclaimed, his tart confusion echoing mine, but our confusion wasn’t the only emotion I felt. A fainter trace came from…

Callum stared at the Blood Queen, his grip on Clariza still firm but his brows rising under the winged mask.

“What does he have to do with anything?” Casteel demanded.

“Everything,” she replied, toying with the diamond ring. “Bring him to me, and he will give me what I want.”

“You think he will help you destroy the realms? Punish Nyktos?” Casteel’s brows lifted. “You know how long he’s been entombed. He won’t even be able to hold a conversation with you, let alone help you destroy anything.”

Isbeth’s gaze sharpened. “But he will.”

“Your Majesty,” Callum began. “This is not—”

“Silence,” Isbeth ordered, her stare fixed on me.

The Revenant stiffened, his eyes narrowing. He was clearly unaware of whatever Isbeth planned or wanted.

And I was, well, utterly thunderstruck. This was how she believed I would aid her in destroying Atlantia and possibly the realms? By freeing Malec? Casteel was right. Malec wouldn’t be in any state of mind to take part in whatever she thought she could accomplish. “Just to make sure I understand this correctly, you think I will leave, find Malec, and then return with him so that you can then use him to destroy my kingdom? The realms?”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

I glanced at Reaver, who had gone completely still and quiet as he watched the Blood Queen. “Why wouldn’t you just ask that I tell you where he is?” I questioned.

“Because I wouldn’t believe you.”

“And yet you believe I will do as you request once I leave here?”

Her stare met mine. “As I said, I would’ve offered you his freedom in exchange. I still do.”

“Do I look like I’m in chains?” Casteel snarled.

“They may not be around your neck, but those chains are still there. Except, now, they’re around everyone’s neck—just in different forms. Revenants surround this pitiful example of a home. The entire district is full of them. Too many for your interesting traveling companion to handle without harming those innocent people you all worry so much about. Should’ve known you’d bring a draken with you.” She sent a quick, displeased look in Callum’s direction. He’d handed off Clariza to another but remained half shielded by her. “Be that as it may, you have to know that your charming—albeit destructive—escapades have come to an end. And while you may believe the worst of me, I am a most generous Queen.”

I almost choked.

“Find Malec and bring him to me, and I will let you leave. I will allow Casteel to go, too.” She watched me closely, waiting. “Your answer should’ve been immediate, Penellaphe. I know you will do anything for him.”

I would do anything for Casteel, but Malec was a god—one who had been entombed for hundreds of years. He was the son of the Primal of Death and his Consort. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what releasing him would mean or do.

I quickly glanced at Reaver again. His expression was unreadable. What in the world would Nyktos and his Consort do if Malec were freed? Then again, as far as I knew, they hadn’t intervened upon his entombment.

But this was it? How she sought to use me? This was what I was born to do? Then why had she waited until now to ask this of me? She could’ve made the request the first moment she’d spoken to me here. She could’ve sent her offer with her gift.

Something about this didn’t make sense. Hell, a lot of things, actually. Starting with why she believed that Malec would be able to give her what she wanted, and ending with what she thought would happen afterward. “If I agree, then what? You and Malec destroy Atlantia, remake the realms, and call it a day? And if I refuse?”

Her eyes hardened. “If you refuse, I will make sure you regret it until the last breath you take.”

The Primal essence roared to life, pressing against my skin. I knew immediately that she was referencing Casteel. “And what do you think will happen to you if you do that?”

“I know what you will do,” she said, smiling. “But I also know you won’t let it get to that point. You will, in the end, come to your senses and do as I bid. And I know this because whether or not you admit it, we are alike. You care for him more than you care for any kingdom.”

“Shut up,” snarled Casteel, stepping forward.

Several of the Revenants moved in closer as Isbeth said, “But it’s true. She’s the same as I. Where we differ is that I have the courage to admit that.” Her gaze shifted back to me. “So, what will it be?”

My thoughts raced forward, beyond this moment. I was confident that I could kill the Queen. She was powerful, but I wouldn’t hold back on her. At the very least, I would seriously injure her.

But if what she’d said was true, and Revenants did surround us? Reaver would only be able to take down so many. People would get hurt. Those I cared dearly about might be among them.

And that cold part in me…

The part that tasted of death…

It wasn’t like my mother.

It was worse.

I glanced at Casteel. His gaze met mine, and he gave me a curt nod. I hated even entertaining the idea of complying with Isbeth, but she had to know there was no way that Malec could assist her in seeking revenge. I didn’t think he had anything to do with her plans. Her offer stemmed from the desperation of being reunited with her heartmate, no matter what condition he may be in, and that he was her weakness.

One we could exploit. Starting with agreeing to her demands with no intention of fulfilling them.

“I will bring you Malec,” I decided.

There was no rejoicing. Isbeth was quiet for a long moment. “You asked me how I could trust you to return. I had your King once to ensure your cooperation. Now, what do I have to do to ensure that you will not seek to betray me?”

“I guess you will just have to wait and see,” I retorted.

Isbeth gave a close-lipped laugh as her eyes shifted to Callum. That was the only warning. The Revenant hesitated for only a moment, but he was quick, unsheathing a slender black dagger as he snapped forward. Shadowstone. Reaver turned to him as Casteel swung his sword.

But Revenants were incredibly fast.

Callum dragged the shadowstone down Kieran’s arm as he whispered something—words in a language I couldn’t understand but that the essence in my chest pulsed in response to. A shadowy, reddish-black smoke hovered over the shallow cut, much as it had swirled around the chamber in Massene when controlled by Vessa.

“What the fuck?” Kieran exploded as Malik grabbed him from behind, yanking him back. The shadow rippled over Kieran’s entire body, throwing Malik back as Casteel drove the blade through Callum’s chest.

A thin streak of blood appeared on Kieran’s arm as he tried to shake off the shadow. I grabbed his arm as the shadowy smoke sank into his skin, disappearing. “What did you do?” I cried out as panic erupted, my head whipping toward Isbeth. All I saw was Tawny’s prone body, unmoving after being struck by shadowstone.

Callum stumbled back, pulling himself free of the blade. “Gods.” Blood frothed from his mouth as he fell onto the table. “That stung like a—” the Revenant said as he slid to the floor, dead for now.

Heart thumping, I closed my hand over Kieran’s wound, conjuring healing warmth.

“No need to panic,” Isbeth said softly. “He will be fine. The shadowstone will have little effect on a wolven. It’s the curse Callum passed on that you should be concerned with.”

“What?” Casteel’s eyes were a storm of golden, swirling flecks.

“One with a time limit. One only I can lift,” Isbeth answered. “Return with Malec, or your precious wolven dies.”

Kieran’s lips parted, and my rage swelled once more.

Casteel lunged at her, but Malik twisted, catching him as Kieran snapped forward—

“Let it go.” Reaver threw out an arm, blocking Kieran. He stared down at the wolven. “Let it go.”

Kieran growled, throwing off Reaver’s arm. But he backed away, breathing heavily. The cut remained on his arm. With as shallow as it was, only the briefest touch should’ve healed it.

Isbeth remained unmoved, bored even. I hated her. Gods, I hated her.

“I need time,” I managed. “Therefore, Kieran needs time.”

Her eyes lit with that faint glow. “You have a week.”

“I need longer than that. The kingdom is vast. Three weeks.”

“Two. Your wolven will be fine for that length of time. No more.”

“Fine,” I clipped out, sensing Kieran’s worry. Two weeks sounded like a lot of time, but not when we had no idea where to begin in the Blood Forest. If we could narrow down Malec’s location… “I need something else. Something that belonged to Malec.”

Her brow pinched. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” I asked.

“Depends. Will I get it back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? With it, I should be able to reach his tomb quicker.”

Isbeth’s gaze narrowed on Callum, already returning to life. Her lips pursed as she glanced down at the diamond ring she wore. “I have this. It belonged to him. He gave it to me.”

“I knew it was Atlantian gold,” Casteel murmured.

“It should work,” I said. Just as my blood should also work, at least according to Lord Sven.

She started to remove the ring, hesitated, and then pulled it off as Callum rose slowly. “It’s all I have of him.” Her gaze lifted, eyes shining with unshed tears. “That’s it.”

I said nothing.

I felt nothing as I lifted my hand, palm up. “I need it if you want me to find Malec.”

Pressing her lips together, she reached over and dropped the ring into my hand. I took it, slipping it into the pouch with the toy horse. A shudder went through her, and for a heartbeat, I tasted her bitter grief.

I didn’t care.

“We shall meet at the Bone Temple, beyond the Rise, two weeks from now,” Isbeth said, dragging her gaze from the pouch I’d placed the ring in. “You remember it.”

“Of course.” The ancient Temple was located between the most northern point of Carsodonia and Pensdurth, built before the walls around both cities had gone up. It was where the remains of the Priests and Priestesses were supposedly entombed.

“Then it’s a deal.” Isbeth took a step back and stopped. “I will allow Casteel, the draken, and the wolven to leave. But not Malik.”

“As I already said,”—Casteel’s eyes glowed a bright gold—“he does not belong to you any longer. He leaves with us.”

“It’s okay.” Malik brushed past Kieran. “Go and find Malec.”

“No.” Casteel whipped around, and I knew in an instant that Malik wanted to return to Isbeth. Not for her, but for Millicent. And the eager, cruel light in Isbeth’s eyes told me that Malik would pay greatly for his actions, likely with his life. Malik had to know that.

“You cannot have him,” I told Isbeth. “You want Malec? You will let all of us go, including Malik—” I stopped myself before I said her name. My sister. Before I asked for her. She wasn’t among the Revenants here. If I said her name, I would be putting her in danger.

“Let me pass,” Malik growled, his panic rising and settling heavily on my chest.

“Not going to happen,” Casteel warned.

“I wasn’t asking.”

Casteel pushed him back. “I know.”

I grabbed Malik’s arm. “You’re no good to anyone dead.”

He pulled his arm free, beyond reason, and I thought of Casteel while we’d been in Oak Ambler. How he’d handed himself over to Isbeth. Willingly. For me. No one could stop him. No one would stop Malik, either, and Casteel realized that. His gaze flicked to Kieran.

The wolven struck, slamming the hilt of his sword into the back of Malik’s head. The resounding crack sickened me. I turned to Kieran.

“What?” With Casteel’s aid, he caught Malik’s dead weight. “He’ll be fine.”

“Huh,” Callum murmured, wiping blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was unexpected.”

“Agreed,” Isbeth drawled, brows arched.

“Him or Malec,” I said. “That’s your choice.”

Her eyes narrowed once more, and then she sighed. “Whatever. Take him. I’ve grown tired of him anyway. You’re free to leave through the Rise like a civilized group of people. I trust that you will not make a scene on your way out.” She turned, lifting her hood. Once more, she stopped. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said. There was just a flick of her eyes.

That was all.

Clariza and Blaz went stiff in their captors’ grasps, eyes so wide that nearly the entire whites were visible. Blood drained rapidly from their faces. Tiny fissures appeared across their cheeks, their throats, and in any visible skin. I stumbled back into Casteel as their skin shrank and collapsed as they fell—as they shriveled into themselves, becoming nothing more than dried-out husks.

A guard nudged them with his boot, and they—pieces of them—shattered.

“Don’t even bother trying to restore life to them,” Callum said. “No one comes back from that.”

Shock seized me as I stared at the strips of dried, decayed skin drifting to the wood. My hands trembled as I lifted my gaze.

“You know what they say,” Isbeth remarked, tugging the cowl of the crimson hood close to her throat. “The only good Descenter is a dead one.”

The roar in my ears returned, hitting my chest, and the essence rose to the surface in a heartbeat. There was no stopping it. I didn’t even try as that familiar taste gathered in my throat, shadowy and full of fire.

Death.

Ancient power throbbed in my bones, filled my muscles, and coursed through my veins, seeping into my skin. I screamed, giving death sound.

Silvery light laced with thick, churning shadows spilled from me. Someone shouted as I stepped forward, the floor cracking, the wood splitting under my steps. The temperature of the room dropped until ragged breaths formed misty clouds. Cold rage left me in a burst of energy—a shockwave of essence hitting the air. The table and chairs turned to dust as the rage slammed into the walls. They stretched under the weight. Plaster and stone groaned. The roof shuddered, and then the walls shattered as the dark, oily sensation spread inside of me. Old. Cold. A harbinger.

Some of the stone turned to ash in the sunlight. Large chunks flew through the air, mowing down the Revenants who had been outside, crashing into and through nearby buildings as the shadow and light spread out around me, forming thick, crackling tendrils. My skin flashed cold and then heated with a series of sharp tingles. There had been mortal guards among the Revenants. The churning mass of moonlight and midnight found them, stopping them as they rushed toward me, and I left nothing of them behind.

I was done with this.

Salty wind whipped in, along with shrill sounds. Screams that carried a bitter taste. Fear. The wind and the screams lifted my hair as I called on the essence. Clouds darkened overhead and over the sea, rolling in and thickening, a dark snarl joining the growl. The floorboards splintered as I stalked forward, toward the Revenants guarding her. She stood in the center of them, her face hidden, but I felt her smile. Her pleasure. Excitement. It bubbled in my throat, mixing with the death and terror as mortals spilled into the streets, scrambling from their nearby homes as the walls began cracking and shuddering. Roofs peeled off and whipped into the air as a bolt of lightning slammed into the cliffs.

“Do it. Let all that rage out,” a voice called, coaxed. It sounded like the one that had whispered in the darkness so many years ago. “Do it, Harbinger.”

I wanted to.

My will began to grow beyond me, calling on—

An arm closed around my waist, piercing the churning and snapping mass around me. The contact startled me. A hand curled under my chin, pulling me back. “Stop,” a different voice urged, one that warmed the cold spots inside me and cooled the heat of my skin. Casteel. So brave. So loyal. He pulled me back against his chest, unafraid of the power lapping at his skin, sparking off it. But he had no reason to be afraid. I wouldn’t hurt him.

“You need to stop,” he said.

“No,” I argued, the word soft and full of shadow and fire. Another roof peeled off, flying out to sea. “I am done with this.” I started to pull away.

Casteel held on. “Not like this. This is what she wants. The Revenants aren’t attacking, Poppy,” he said, his voice low and in my ear. “Look, Poppy. Look around you.” He turned my head, and I saw the…

I saw the thick tendrils of eather spitting embers, and the ruined homes beyond the one we were in. The dark clouds, and the mortals on their knees, hands over their heads as they hid under trees and pressed themselves against the sides of trembling walls. I saw them in the streets of Stonehill, shielding children as limbs of trees snapped and fell to the ground. They were terrified, huddled and crying and praying.

But I wouldn’t hurt them.

“You are not her,” Casteel said, squeezing me. “That’s what she wants, but you are not her.”

I saw Kieran then, the tendons in his neck stark as if he were fighting the need to shift…

As if he fought the realization that he would have to do what I’d asked of him in Oak Ambler.

My entire body shuddered. I closed my eyes. I wasn’t… I wasn’t her. I wasn’t death. I didn’t want this. Scaring mortals. Hurting them. I wasn’t her. I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I wasn’t. Panicked, I shut down my senses and pulled the Primal essence back. The shadow-tinged eather retracted and recoiled, returning to me. The weight of unspent power settled in my chest and on my shoulders as I opened my eyes.

Dark clouds scattered and sunlight returned, glistening off the unfired shadowstone arrows held by the still-standing Revenants and pointed at us—at me. The mortals had risen but had all gone quiet and still, their fear scratching against my shields.

And then I heard their whispers.

My gaze shot to where the doorway to the kitchen had once been, to where the remains of Clariza and Blaz lay. Another tremor rocked me as I lifted my stare. I didn’t see Isbeth at all in the crush of Revenants, but I saw Callum.

He stood only a few feet away, his golden shirt stained with blood, and his blond hair windblown. He smiled.

I jerked, pulling against Casteel’s hold.

“Later,” he whispered, smoothing his palm over my cheek. “Later, we will stand in what is left of his bones. That, I promise you.”

Callum’s head tilted—the only indication that he’d possibly heard Casteel. His smile grew, and I knew that none of them had been sure I would react in such a way, but they had hoped I would. Because those whispers…

I’d done what I had demanded the Atlantian generals not do upon seizing the cities. I’d destroyed homes. I’d possibly even hurt innocent mortals. And in my rage, I’d become what Isbeth had painted me as.

The Harbinger.