The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

“Gods,” Kieran half sighed, half laughed.

Casteel’s lips curved into a smile against mine. “It’s not like you aren’t thinking it.”

My eyes went wide as Kieran sounded as if he choked on his breath. What I suddenly felt from him while Casteel chuckled wasn’t embarrassment. It was sharp and heavy, too fleeting for me to latch onto. My eyes narrowed on Kieran as Casteel took my hand. “Are you shielding your emotions?”

“I would never do such a thing,” Kieran replied, his expression one of pure innocence.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered as Casteel led us around the wagon and toward the Temple.

The moment we began our climb of the steep steps, followed by Delano and the other wolven, whatever Kieran was or wasn’t feeling slipped to the background. What was about to happen was bigger than me—than Casteel and me. Even bigger than Kieran. The future of the kingdoms rested on what happened tonight. There was no way to mentally prepare for this. Not when I’d been in the veil not so long ago and only known as the Maiden. My heart beat as fast as it had when we rode up to the Rise of Oak Ambler and a fine tremor ran through me.

As we neared the top of the steps, and just about when my legs felt as if they would turn to liquid, Casteel halted. He turned to me and squeezed my hand. “Remember what we told you in Evaemon?”

I shook my head, my thoughts racing far too much to even begin to recall what he could possibly be referencing.

His eyes caught mine, the gold glimmering in the starlight. “You have faced Craven and vamprys, men wearing masks of mortal flesh. Stared down Atlantians who’ve wanted to harm you, seized cities, and freed me,” he said, touching my cheek. “You’re more than a Queen. More than a goddess on the verge of becoming a Primal. You’re Penellaphe Da’Neer, and you’re fearless.”

My breath snagged in my chest.

Kieran touched the other side of my cheek, turning my gaze to his. He smiled. “And you run from no one and nothing.”

Emotion clogged my throat, and as it had in Evaemon, their words were as powerful as the eather thrumming in my chest.

They were right.

I was brave.

Strong.

And I wasn’t afraid.

Nodding, I faced forward as Delano brushed my legs, and several of the wolven prowled past us. I lifted my chin and straightened my shoulders, my heart steady as we crested the top of the steps.

Delano stayed at my side as the wolven spread out, their bodies sleek under the moonlight as they wove between the pale stone statues of the kneeling gods lining the pathway to her.

Draped in a tight-fitting, crimson half-coat and gown, the Blood Queen stood before an altar once used to display the bodies of the deceased Priests and Priestesses. The ruby and diamond crown upon her head glittered like the stars blanketing the sky, as did the ruby piercing her nose, and the wide, jeweled belt at her waist, visible beneath the halves of her coat. Her lips were as red as her clothing, and as she stood there, she was equally as beautiful as she was horrifying.

My mother.

My enemy.

She wasn’t alone. Callum stood to her right, as golden as the sun itself. Dozens of Royal Guards and knights flanked her, and a line of Handmaidens stood behind the altar, but it was one who caught my eye.

Millicent was dressed as the other Handmaidens in a sleeveless crimson tunic fitted to her hips. Slits on either side revealed pants of the same color with daggers sheathed to both thighs. The painted markings were back, swirling up and down her arms, and the deep, reddish-black mask painted upon her face obscured what Casteel had seen. Our shared features. The sides of her hair were braided like mine and swept back to fall down her back, the color a flat, dull black.

One look at her, and I knew she wasn’t shielding her emotions. Millicent’s unease was strong and tart, mixing with the heaviness of her concern as her attention drifted over the three of us and beyond, to where I suspected she looked for Malik. I had no idea what was going on between them—how or why she disliked him like Malik claimed and yet obviously worried about him. I didn’t know where her true loyalties lay, but neither of those things mattered.

Only our mother did.

“You brought an army with you, and you’re dressed for battle,” the Blood Queen spoke. “Should I be concerned?”

My gaze locked with hers, and I didn’t allow myself to search for any sort of feeling toward her. “You should always be concerned.”

Isbeth smiled tightly as she stepped forward, her hands clasped at her waist. “I hope you didn’t come all this way just to be clever. Where is Malec?”