There was a catch in my chest as I looked away from him.
“Besides, compulsions are temporary, only useful for immediate gains,” he said. When I looked at him again, his expression had smoothed out. “And interestingly, just like you can’t pick up on emotions from the Ascended, compulsions do not work on them either.”
I cleared my throat. “Do you know why?”
“Some believe it’s because they have no soul.”
I thought of Ian and then shut those thoughts down. “So you think my abilities are changing because I’m going through the Culling?”
“A version of it, yes. Your blood wouldn’t have been useful to them until you at least hit nineteen, even if your abilities took the next two years to morph.”
As I processed what he was telling me, my brain went in one direction. “Will I develop…fangs?”
He lifted his brows. “Doubtful. Half-Atlantians don’t need blood, so they don’t need fangs.”
“What about…immortality?”
“Would you not want that?”
I thought of the Ascended, of how long they lived, and I wasn’t sure their lack of humanity was due to what they did to survive or because they lived to see everyone around them die several generations over.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Will I?”
He shook his head. “Only full-blooded Atlantians have what mortals would think of as immortality.”
I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or not. “Can I even Ascend then? Be made into a vampry?” I asked, thinking of Ian. If he were part Atlantian like me…
“I honestly don’t know, Poppy. It is forbidden for any Atlantian to Ascend anyone with a drop of mortal blood in them. Even the half-Atlantians that live in Atlantia are not Ascended. They live and die just like mortals,” he explained, and that was something I didn’t know about those who lived in Atlantia. That not all Atlantians were like him. “I would imagine a half-Atlantian going through an Ascension would be the same as a mortal. They would become a vampry.”
Meaning, they would be ruled by bloodlust, just not as consumed by it as a Craven. Pressure settled in my chest. “When a person is turned—made vampry—what happens to them?”
He was quiet for several moments before he said, “They are fed upon by other vamprys, brought to the brink of death by blood loss, and then fed blood from an Atlantian. Sometimes, the change is immediate. Other times, they can appear dead for hours. But they wake up and…they are hungry. As uncontrollable as a Craven, it often takes several Ascended to subdue them.” His jaw worked as his gaze shifted to the fire. “Even after being fed, they’re consumed by hunger. I’ve heard that it can take weeks, sometimes months for a newly made vampry to control his or her thirst.”
A sinking sensation threatened to pull me through the floor. There had been a space of time after Ian’s Ascension that I hadn’t heard from him. It was when he’d married, and it had been months.
“And I know that for those who could not abide by what was now needed of them, they ensured that they would not harm another,” he added quietly.
“How?” I asked, instinct telling me that the answer wasn’t going to be an easy one.
“They choose to walk when the sun is at its highest. It doesn’t take long, but it is not quick by any means. Nor is it painless.”
Oh, gods.
Now that…that sounded like something Ian would do. But he was alive. He’d been sending letters. He had to be alive.
I swallowed. “Those you saw turned? Did all of them seem aware of what was happening?”
His gaze shifted back to me. “I know where you’re going with this, and I don’t think the answer will change things in the way you wish.”
“Will you just answer the question?”
His lips thinned. “The Ascended held a ceremony for it. Mortals were brought in dressed in robes and wearing masks. Meaningless words were chanted, and candles were lit. Some seemed to know what would occur. Most appeared intoxicated. I had no idea if they knew exactly what was happening.” His chest rose with a deep breath. “Some seemed drugged. I doubt they even knew if they were awake.”
I stared at him, stuck in this terrible place between relief and horror. Suddenly, I understood why he hadn’t wanted to answer the question. If Ian had been drugged to the point where he hadn’t been aware—if others hadn’t been aware of what was happening—that was far worse.
Casteel watched me silently. “There is no reason for an Ascended to turn a half-Atlantian. Doing so would taint the blood—the part they need to either turn other Ascended or to keep an Atlantian alive. That is why they made sure you were healthy and safe, why your precious Queen cared so tenderly for you,” he said. My entire body went as taut as a bowstring. “Your blood meant nothing to them before now, and it would mean even less to them if you went through the Ascension.”
So, Ian and I likely had different parents, either one or both. Because he had to have been turned. He’d been writing me letters, and Casteel claimed that Ian had only been seen at night. Unless—
Unless Casteel’s contacts had seen someone else, and it hadn’t been Ian sending those letters at all.
The pressure inside me increased, shifting to my stomach as I swallowed thickly. I couldn’t even consider any of that right now while I was so far from Ian. The questions and the doubts would crush me.
And I already felt crushed.
I knew what they’d planned for me before, but to fully understand why they’d waited, why they did everything they had done, it sickened me to the point where I feared I might actually become physically ill.
“They were only keeping me alive until they…” I choked on my words as the weight of them threatened to crush me.
Casteel said nothing as he sat there, though that was probably for the best at the moment. I felt like a powder keg that had been lit. Inside me, disbelief and anger sparked. I’d been kept sheltered and virtually caged, cared for like some prized cattle until my blood had aged. Until it was useful—either to make more vamprys or to keep another alive to continue making more.
“I’m not a bottle of wine,” I whispered.
“No,” he said quietly. “You are not a bottle of wine, Poppy.”
My head jerked up. “And you didn’t know this when you came for me? You swear? You swear right here and now that you didn’t know I was part Atlantian. That this is why they made me the Maiden. That I was being kept alive and sheltered from everything until I was…useful?”
His gaze met mine. “I swear to you, Poppy. I had no idea that you were Atlantian until I tasted your blood. I didn’t even expect that was what you were when I learned of your gift. Maybe I should have.” A shadow crossed his features, gone so quickly I wasn’t even sure I had seen it. “But no Atlantian has been capable of such a thing for, well, for hundreds of years. I didn’t know.”
My senses were still open, and it took several moments to filter through what I felt to even make sense of his emotions. There was still the acidic taste of anger, the tart flavor that I associated with uncertainty, and the sadness that always lingered within him.
My gift wasn’t a lie detector by any means, but I didn’t think he was lying. Pulling my gift back was the hardest part because that didn’t feel natural. What did was going to him and taking away the sadness, giving some temporary peace. My skin tingled with the desire to do just that, and it wasn’t necessarily because it was him. The gift demanded to be used, to heal. I wrestled it back, exhaling raggedly as I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Now that you fully understand why they’ve done what they have to you and what they plan,” Casteel said, his voice hardening in a way I rarely heard when he spoke with me. “Why in the hell would you run back to them, Poppy? Marriage to me or not.”
I stared at Casteel, the meat knife loose in my hands. “I told you earlier, I wasn’t running back to them.”
“Then where were you running to? With no supplies, might I add.”
“You don’t need to add that. I’m well aware of what I left here with.”
“If you weren’t going back to the Ascended, where did you think to go? You were heading toward Whitebridge—to the south.” His eyes were like shards of amber. “You weren’t going back to Masadonia. I figure you were going to the capital. Why? Even knowing what you did then, why would you do that?”
“Why?” Anger flashed through me, hot and bright like the flames. “Are you seriously asking that question again?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked.
I was stunned into silence, but only for a moment. “Why would I stay here and let you turn me over to them? To the people you told me wanted to use me—to the people who abused and tortured you? Who are doing that to your brother? How does that make you any better? Safer? You’re doing the same thing they did to me!” The back of my throat burned as a knot of ugly, painful emotion lodged there. “You’re keeping me safe, well-fed, and caged until you can use me!”
A muscle flexed in his jaw.
“And then you announce that you’re going to marry me.” I shook my head, trembling. “What in the world would make you even say such an offensive thing?”
“Offensive? Come now, Poppy, I know deep down that you must be excited. Not everyone gets to become an actual Princess.”
“I am not remotely—” I snapped my mouth shut, realizing he was actually teasing me. Was this all some grand joke to him?
“It’s considered a great honor in Atlantia to be welcomed into the bosom of the noble, ruling family,” he went on. “I think my mother is going to like you.”
I shot to my feet. “We are not getting married!” Slamming the knife down, it scored deep into the wood of the table by the bed, the handle vibrating from the impact.