The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

The pinkish rays of dawn streaked across the sky as I whirled, grunting and kicking out, pushing a guard back. He fell into Vonetta’s path. Stalking toward the barred doors, I brought the sword down, clanging off another as Emil came up behind him, dragging his blade across the man’s throat. Hot blood sprayed the air. Kieran jabbed out with a dagger up under the chin of another guard, clearing the path before me.

There was so much death here. Bodies scattered about the bare courtyard as blood pooled on the dull ivory steps and splattered the exterior walls of the manor. Summoning the Primal essence as I lifted a hand, bright silvery light funneled down my arm and sparked from my fingers. The eather arced across the space, slamming into the doors. Wood splintered and gave way, exploding into fine shards.

The receiving hall, adorned with crimson banners and bearing the Blood Crown’s crest instead of the white-and-gold that hung in Masadonia, was empty.

“Underground,” Kieran said, stalking to our right. Blood dotted his cheeks. “They would’ve gone underground.”

“And you know how to get there?” I caught up to him, reaching out with my senses to ensure that he wasn’t hurt.

“Cauldra appears like New Haven.” He dragged his hand over his face, wiping away the blood that wasn’t his. “They’ll have chambers underground, near the cells.”

It was almost impossible not to think of the cells under New Haven that I’d spent time in. But Kieran was right as he found the entrance along the hall on the right.

He kicked in the door, revealing a narrow, torch-lit stairwell. He sent me a wild grin that caused my breath to catch because it reminded me of…of him. “What did I say?”

My brows pinched as Delano and Vonetta streaked past us, joined by a blackish-gray wolven I recognized as Sage. They entered the stairwell before us. “Why do they do that?”

“Because you’re the Queen.” Kieran entered.

“You keep telling her that.” Emil fell into step behind me. “And you keep reminding her…”

I rolled my eyes as we hurried down the musty-scented stairs that stroked a memory that refused to wiggle free. “I may be the Queen, but I’m also a god, and therefore harder to kill than any of you. I should go first,” I told him. To be honest, none of us had any idea what would kill me, but we did know that I was basically immortal.

I felt a skip in my chest. I would outlive everyone in this manor, some who had become people I cared about. Those I called friends. I would outlive Tawny—who would eventually wake from the injury the shadowstone blade had caused. I couldn’t allow myself to believe anything else, even though I knew, deep down, that it couldn’t be good for someone to sleep that long.

I would outlive Kieran and…and even him.

Gods, why was I even thinking about that right now? Don’t borrow tomorrow’s problems. That was what he’d said once.

I really needed to learn how to follow that advice.

“Harder to kill doesn’t mean impossible to kill,” Kieran shot over his shoulder.

“Says the one not in armor,” I snapped back.

He let out a rough laugh, but the sound was lost in the sudden, shrill shriek that caused tiny bumps to spread across my skin.

“Craven,” I whispered as we rounded the curve in the stairwell, and Kieran stepped into a faintly lit hall. He stopped directly in front of me, and I bounced off him.

Kieran stared.

So did I.

“Good gods,” Emil murmured.

The cells were full of Craven. They pressed against the bars, arms outstretched, and lips peeled back, revealing their four jagged fangs. Some were fresh, their skin only now taking on the ghastly shade of death. Others were older, those with sunken cheeks, torn lips, and sagging skin.

“Why in the hell would they have Craven in here?” Emil asked over the pained, hungry howling.

“They probably let them out from time to time to terrorize the people,” I said numbly. “The Ascended would blame the Atlantians. Saying they turned the Craven. But they’d also blame the people, claiming they angered the gods somehow and this was their punishment. That the gods let the Atlantians do this. Then the Ascended would say they spoke to the gods on their behalf, assuaging their anger.”

“People believed that?” Emil eased past several of the bloodstained hands.

“It’s all they’ve ever been allowed to believe,” I told him, looking away from the Craven.

The sounds of pawing and scratching led us past the cells—beyond what we’d have to deal with later—and down another hall, through crates of wine and ale. We found the wolven just as they tore through the double wooden doors at the end.

A vampry came flying out of the chamber, a stream of sable hair and fangs bared—

Delano took her down, latching onto the vampry’s throat as he dug into her chest with his front paws, tearing through clothing and skin.