The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

And then everything was a blur of black and pain and something earthy and charred. Of fingers digging into my jaw and forcing my mouth open. Someone shoved a chalice in my face, under my nose, and a brief, iron-rich scent hit me before landing on my tongue, filling my mouth, and pouring down my throat.

I choked, gagging on the warm thickness, even as every cell in my body opened up, becoming raw and screaming in need.

“I must confess something, my dear son-in-law.” Isbeth’s voice was a lash of flames. “You know what I never wanted to be? A Primal. I never wanted that weakness.”

She was closer. Probably close enough for me to get to her again, but the blood hit my gut, and my entire body spasmed.

“A god can be killed just like an Atlantian. Destroy the heart and the mind. But a Primal? You have to weaken them first. And do you know how you weaken a Primal? It’s rather cruel. Love. Love can be weaponized, weakening a Primal and becoming the blade that ends their existence.” A soft laugh echoed around me. Through me. “I wonder how much you even know about Primals. I must admit, I knew very little myself. If it weren’t for my Malec, I never would’ve learned the truth. I never would’ve known that a Primal could be born to the mortal realm.”

A Primal born to the mortal realm?

“When the gods you know now Ascended to rule over Iliseeum and the mortal realm, forcing most of the Primals into their glorious eternities, it created a ripple effect that caught the eyes and ears of the Fates. They made sure that a spark was left—a chance for rebirth of the greatest powers. An ember of Primal life that could only ignite in the female lineage of the Primal of Life.”

My head jerked up, and I saw Isbeth in sudden, sharp clarity. What she was saying, suggesting… She hadn’t given birth to a god. She’d birthed a—

Muscles tightened to painful rigidity as the blood then kissed my veins. It was like something on the verge of catching fire, but it lit up my senses, pulling me back inch by inch from the brink—

The chalice disappeared, and a ragged groan of pain punched out of me as my throat worked to swallow more, but there was nothing else. That was it.

But it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

Isbeth had drifted even closer, the feel of her stare like rusted nails against my flesh. “The color is already returning to his skin. This will do. For now.”

I looked for her, only to realize my eyes had closed. Forcing them to open, I lifted them to her.

She smiled, and it was a tear to the chest because it was a small curve of the lips. An almost bashful, innocent smile, the same as I’d seen on Poppy.

The ache in my stomach exploded once again, more intense than before. What little blood trickled through my veins only took away the numbness. That was all. And it was no reprieve.

She knew that. She knew exactly what that small taste of blood would do.

My hand burned. My legs. The numerous cuts stung as if I’d been swarmed by hornets. And the hunger…it ramped up until it swelled.

I launched off the floor, pulling at the chains as the growl vibrating from my chest rumbled into a howl. I started to come apart at the seams, shattering into pieces that were no longer grounded in any sense of self.

Hunger.

That was all I was.

Hunger.

Chapter 21

Poppy

Unable to sleep the following night, I sat on the boulder outside of the tent, feet dangling above the ground as I watched the limbs of the blood trees sway in the distance. Nightbirds called from the smattering of oak trees we’d hidden our little cluster of tents and wagon under. Just inside the tent, Kieran dozed in his mortal form. I had been relieved to see that when I looked in on him a little bit ago. He didn’t need to lose sleep simply because my mind wouldn’t shut down.

I was restless.

Hungry again.

And thirsty.

My gaze crept across the landscape. The Blood Forest was oddly beautiful, especially at dawn and dusk, when the skies gave way to paler shades of blues and pinks. It was vast. I didn’t think many people realized just how large it was, encompassing the distance between Masadonia and the outskirts of Carsodonia. Basically, it was the length of the Niel Valley, and Malec was entombed somewhere in there.

Hopefully.

The forest was beginning to thin out, though. Through the trees, I caught tiny glimpses of the horizon. And beyond that, the capital.

Where Casteel waited.

Forty days had passed since I’d last seen him in person. Felt so much longer than that, each day a week. At least I should be grateful that my monthly menstruation had ended while in Oak Ambler and I wasn’t dealing with that out here in the woods.