Then she must be a Descenter, a mortal of Solis. I used to wonder what sort of hardships someone had to face in their life to lead them to support the Dark One and the fallen kingdom. But that was before I knew the truth. Now, I wondered what hardship had awoken her to the truth.
“Are the people here planning to leave for Atlantia?” I asked.
“You put two and two together, I see.”
“I’m smart like that.”
He raised a brow.
“So, I’m right? Why are they leaving here?”
“Why would anyone want to remain under the control of the Ascended?”
Well, that sounded like a good enough reason. “But why now?”
“Sooner rather than later, the Ascended will realize that their Maiden is missing, and they will come looking for you. They will come here,” Kieran said. “And there are far too many supporters in New Haven.”
My gaze lifted to the now-empty hearth as I thought of all the filled homes along the street we’d come in on. “How many people live here?”
“Several hundred.”
“Is there room for them in Atlantia?”
His gaze slid to mine, and I could tell he was working out that I knew about their land problem. “We will make room.”
I had a feeling it wasn’t that simple. I wanted to know what would happen if they weren’t able to move them in time. I stopped before I could. It wasn’t my problem. Their problems weren’t mine.
Kieran had finally, after about ten years, finishing cutting up his food. “May I have that? If you’re done, that is? I’m not sure, but the last piece is a little thicker than the rest of the pieces.”
Slowly, he looked over at me. “Would you like me to cut your food for you?”
“Would you like me to knock you off this bench?”
He chuckled deeply. “Cas is right. You are incredibly violent.”
“No, I’m not.” I pointed my fork at him. “I’m just not a child. I don’t need someone else cutting my meat.”
“Uh-huh.” He handed the knife over, and I took it before he could change his mind.
I didn’t take nearly the same amount of time to slice the tender meat, but I didn’t hand the knife back over either. I kept it in my left hand as I speared the food with my fork. “Where is everyone?”
“Living their best lives, I suppose,” he replied rather wistfully.
I shot him a dark look, but I was undaunted. “Anyway,” I drew out the word, getting back to what we had been talking about before we ran into Alastir. “What do you call the ones who have mortal blood in them? The half-Atlantians? Like what would you call me?”
“Atlantian.”
“Really?” I replied, picking up one of the rolls. “That makes things confusing.”
“Not to me.”
Rolling my eyes, I bit into the bread and almost moaned. It was so buttery, and there was a hint of sweetness I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was amazing.
“The amount of blood someone has does not define an Atlantian,” Kieran elaborated. “Those who are elemental are no more important than those who aren’t.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that if those who were elemental were more powerful, lived longer, and were created by the children of the gods. “Do the changelings have longer lifespans? I’m guessing the wolven do.”
“We do.” He sighed, picking up his cup. “And they do.”
“How long do they normally live?” I picked up a cloth, wiping my fingers, and then I reached down, unsheathing my ruined knife.
“Longer than you can comprehend.” He stared straight ahead, chewing slowly.
“I can comprehend a long time. The Ascended live forever. The Atlantians—well, the ones who are of the elemental line, practically do, too.” I placed the ruined knife on the table and slipped the other one under and into its sheath.
“Nothing lives forever. Anything can be killed if you try hard enough.”
Overly proud of myself, I stabbed another piece of meat. “I suppose.”
“But no matter how hard you try with that knife you just swiped,” he said, and my eyes widened, “you will not be able to kill Cas with it.”
My head swung in his direction. “I’m not planning to kill him with it.”
“I would hope not.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “It would probably only further endear you to him.”
I gave a small shake of my head. “I’m going to ignore that incredibly disturbing possibility.”
“Ignoring something doesn’t make it less true, Penellaphe.”
“Why do you call me Penellaphe?”
“Why do you have so many questions?”
My eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you answer the question?”
Kieran leaned over, dipping his chin. “Nicknames are often reserved for friends. I don’t believe you consider us friends.”
What he said made so much sense that I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. When I did, I doubted he would be happy to learn that it was another question. “Like how Atlantians only share their middle names with friends?”
“With close friends, yes.” He studied me a moment. “I’m guessing Casteel told you his.”
“Yes.”
“Did that change anything for you?”
I didn’t answer because I still didn’t understand why it mattered to me. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Kieran didn’t push it, and we finished what was left of our lunch in silence. I kept glancing toward the open doorway. Not that I was looking for Casteel, but I…I was looking for anyone. The few people who had been at the back of the room had all but disappeared.
I imagined Kieran was grateful for the reprieve, but sadly for him, it was short-lived. “You know what I don’t understand?”
“Yet another question,” he said, heaving an absurdly loud sigh.
I pretended not to hear his comment. “Alastir brought up a good point about my parents. I must be a second-generation, right? Since neither of my parents were full-blooded, like born in Atlantia as far as I know,” I told him. “But Queen Ileana knew what I was…” I trailed off, frowning.
I truly had no idea if the Ascended knew what I was before or after the Craven attack. Surviving the Craven’s bite and not turning would’ve been a dead giveaway to Queen Ileana.
“What?” Kieran prodded.
“I…I honestly can’t remember being referred to as the Maiden or the Chosen before my parents left. But I was so young, and there are so few memories.” And what I remembered of the night of the Craven attack, I couldn’t exactly trust as real. “I don’t know how they learned what I was. If it were my abilities before the attack or if it was after that.”
“And you don’t remember what made your parents leave the capital?”
“I remember them saying that they wanted a quieter life, but what…what if they knew what would happen to me? To their children?”
“And they were escaping the Ascended?” Kieran took a drink. “That’s a possibility.”
I glanced back at the doors. “Alastir helped to relocate Atlantians who were stranded in Solis?”
“He did, but if your parents were first-generation, unaware of what they were, I doubt they would’ve known how to even contact someone like Alastir. “
“How would they have contacted him?” I turned back around.
“They would’ve had to know someone who knew someone who knew someone, and through the whole chain of people, they’d have had to trust each and every one completely.”
Considering how Descenters were treated, I couldn’t imagine anyone having that kind of trust. But still, what if they had been seeking someone like Alastir? What if they’d left without even knowing that there were others out there that could help them? Would that have changed the outcome at all? Probably.
“Alastir did bring up another good point,” Kieran commented.
“How either of my parents didn’t end up being used to create more vampry.”
“Unless…”
I knew where he was heading with that. “Anyway, back to my original question.”
“Yay,” he muttered.
“If my parents were first-generation, then I would be second.”
His gaze flickered over my face, passing over the scars without even so much as a slight widening of the eyes. “Assuming that they are both your parents, yes. I would almost think your abilities would make you first-generation, but it’s possible that you’re second.”
“And all Atlantians have golden eyes, in some shape or form,” I said. “As I’m sure you can tell, I don’t have golden eyes.”
“No, you don’t. But I never said all Atlantians have golden eyes. I said most do,” Kieran said, toying with the fork. “Changelings don’t, and they have no unique eye color. Neither did a few of the other bloodlines we believed had died off,” he added, the fork stilling between his fingers. “Maybe we were wrong to assume that some of the older lines have ceased to exist. Perhaps you’re proof of that.”
Chapter 9
“You think I might be a descendent of one of the other bloodlines? Or…or a changeling?” A thousand thoughts entered my head all at once. “I can’t change my form. I mean, I haven’t tried. Should I?” My nose wrinkled. “Probably not. Knowing my luck, my other form would be a barrat.” I shuddered. Barrats were rats the size of a small bear.
Kieran stared at me, his lips twitching. “You have a selective memory. I said most can shift forms, but not all. And it would be extremely doubtful that even a first-generation descendent of the changeling bloodline could do that.”
“Sorry, I got hung up on the whole shifting forms part. What can the others do? The ones who don’t shift?”