The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

And that stood true now.

Kieran must’ve sensed my acceptance because his next words were: We just need a distraction.

A distraction. A big one that would give us time to make our way through Wayfair and to the Temples.

My eyes opened, and I focused on the black stone of the Rise, looming in the distance. I have an idea.

My patience was stretched to its limits as I sat on the thickly cushioned chair in the alcove of the main floor of the Great Hall. A dozen knights and Handmaidens lined the wall behind me.

The sun had just begun to set for the evening when the Blood Queen summoned my presence. And yet, here I sat as she mingled.

I scanned the packed floor, the faces of so many mortals blurring together as they chatted and vied for a few moments of her time. She moved among them, flanked by Millicent and another Handmaiden. Like a vibrant bird, ruby crown shining, she smiled graciously as the mortals bowed. She didn’t wear white tonight. She, like Millicent, was draped in crimson.

I wasn’t quite sure how the gown remained on her body. Or if the upper half was made of some sort of body paint. It was that tight and sleeveless, defying gravity. What neckline it had plunged to her navel, revealing far more than I ever wanted to see, considering—whether or not I wanted to admit it—she was my mother. The lower part of the gown was looser, but I didn’t dare look too long at the gossamer fabric. I didn’t need that trauma in my life.

“You look as if you’re enjoying yourself.”

At the sound of Malik’s voice, I stiffened even more. “I’m having the time of my life.”

There was a brief, rough chuckle as he brushed past my chair, sitting on one of the empty two that were on either side of me. “I’m sure you are.”

I said nothing for a few moments. “I have no idea why she summoned me to the Great Hall.”

“She wanted you to see how loved she is,” Malik replied. “In case the display in the Great Hall wasn’t sufficient.”

Glancing over at him, I watched him lift a glass of red liquid to his lips. I couldn’t be sure it was wine. He had spoken softly, but the knights and Handmaidens were close enough to have heard him. No one else was around. What I’d felt from him the day before preyed on my mind as I returned my attention to the floor. “Of course, they love her. They’re the elite of Carsodonia. The wealthiest. As long as their lives are easy, they will love whoever sits on that throne.”

“They’re not the only ones. You saw that for yourself.”

I had. “Only she gives Blessings with Atlantian blood.” I looked at him again. He shrugged. “Something that cannot have any long-lasting effects.”

He took another drink.

“And she has them afraid—”

“Of you,” he spoke. “The Harbinger.”

I forced a slow, even breath. “What she told the people yesterday was a lie. Those in Oak Ambler and the other cities haven’t been abused. You, no matter what you think now, have to know that the Atlantians—your father—would never have done what she claimed.”

Malik once more had no response.

“The people here will eventually learn the truth,” I continued into the silence. “And I don’t believe that every mortal in Carsodonia believes her to be a benevolent Queen. Nor do they support the Rite.”

Malik lowered his glass. “You’d be right not to believe that.”

I watched him closely, opening my senses to him as he stared out over the floor. The cracks were still in those shields. “I saw Casteel yesterday.”

His face showed nothing, but I caught the sudden taste of sourness. Shame.

“He wasn’t in good shape.” I lowered my voice as I clasped the arms of the chair. “He was nearly lost to bloodlust. He’d been injured and—”

“I know.” His jaw was hard, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I cleaned him up the best I could after the Queen sent you such a lovely gift.”

Malik had been to see him.

Casteel hadn’t shared that, but there really hadn’t been many opportunities for him to relay information. Someone had wrapped his hand. That had to mean something. That, and the raw agony I felt from Malik. What it meant exactly, I wasn’t sure.

I leaned toward him, and the shoulders under the white shirt tensed. “You know how to find him, then,” I whispered. “Tell me—”

“Careful, Queen of Flesh and Fire,” Malik murmured with a brittle twist of his lips. “That is a very dangerous road you’re embarking upon.”

“I know.”

His gaze slid to mine. “You don’t know much if you think I will answer that question.”

I tamped down the rising tide of anger. “I felt your pain. Tasted it.”

A muscle began ticking in his jaw. “That was, by the way, very rude of you,” he said after a moment. “And it hurt.”