The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

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.