A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash 2)

“Seems alive to me,” I replied.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Kieran said tiredly.

“It interacts with you,” I told them.

“It’s your imagination.” The wolven rolled, and I felt his knee brush my leg.

“It’s not my imagination.”

“The magic can play tricks on you,” Casteel said, taking my hand and drawing it back under the blanket. “Make you think you’re seeing things you aren’t.”

I frowned.

“You should sleep,” he said. “The morning will come too soon.”

Not soon enough for me.

In the quiet, my thoughts wandered. I thought of Renfern and how I wished I’d done something more, something different to change what’d happened to him and Elijah and all the others. I wondered if Phillips and Luddie, the guard and Huntsmen who’d traveled from Masadonia with us, had known the truth about the Ascended or if they had been a casualty of a quiet war. Just like Rylan and…and Vikter. My heart ached as I watched the mist slowly move above me. I missed Tawny, and I prayed that she hadn’t gone through the Ascension. Then my mind veered to how the wolven had surrounded us. Could that have been me? Had I projected something, and they simply answered?

I looked over at Kieran again. His eyes were closed. Did he really think it was me, calling to them?

I hated moments like this, when sleep evaded me and all that existed was things better not dwelled upon. I forced my thoughts away, and something occurred to me. “Are there any gods asleep under the Blood Forest?”

“What?” Casteel murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

I realized I’d woken him, though I didn’t feel even remotely bad about that. I repeated my question.

“That is possibly the most random thing that’s ever come out of your mouth,” Kieran grumbled. “And I’ve heard you say some pretty random stuff.”

“There are no gods under the Blood Forest—as far as I know,” Casteel answered, his eyes closed. “What made you think of that?”

“The trees here remind me of the Blood Forest. Though gold instead of red.”

“Hmm,” Casteel murmured. “Makes sense.”

“Maybe to you,” Kieran grumbled.

“Do you know where Penellaphe sleeps?” I asked about the goddess I’d been named after.

Kieran sighed. “Not here, I can tell you that.”

A small smile played across Casteel’s lips. “I believed she slumbers under the Great Atheneum in Carsodonia.”

“Really?” When Casteel nodded, I decided I didn’t like the idea of the goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty sleeping there, at the heart of the Ascended. “What about Theon?”

“The god of Accord and War and his twin Lailah rest beneath the Pillars of Atlantia,” Casteel answered.

I opened my mouth—

“Please, don’t,” Kieran interrupted.

“Don’t what?”

“Ask where every single god or goddess sleeps, because that will lead to more questions. I just know it will,” he said, and I rolled my eyes. “You should be asleep like them, Your Highness.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.

“Then go to sleep,” Kieran ordered.

“I can’t just fall asleep,” I muttered. “I’m not like you two.”

“I can always read to you,” Casteel offered. “I still have a certain diary with me. There is a chapter I’m sure you’ll be interested in. Miss Willa has the same sleeping arrangement—”

“No. Nope.” I screwed my eyes closed. “Not necessary.”

“Are you sure?” Casteel seemed to have wiggled closer. His entire leg pressed against mine.

“Yes.”

He laughed softly, but I didn’t dare say a word. I wouldn’t put it past him to retrieve that damn diary and somehow be able to read those words with his extra-special Atlantian eyes. So, I lay there. I didn’t know how much time passed before I fell asleep, but I knew I must’ve, because I suddenly became aware of how incredibly warm I felt. Every part of me had somehow escaped the cold of the mountain. Every part of me…

Slowly, I realized exactly why I was so toasty. I’d turned to Casteel in my sleep. He was on his back, and I’d all but climbed halfway on top of him. My head lay in the crook of his shoulder and chest. One of my legs was tossed over his, and the entire front of my body was fused to his side. One of his hands was curled around my shoulder.

But that wasn’t the only explanation for why I was so warm. Heat pressed against my back. A heavy arm lay over my waist and a leg was tucked between mine.

If I had turned to Casteel in my sleep, Kieran had also turned, as if Casteel were a magnet that drew both of us.

My heart thudded as I lay there, unsure what to do. Should I wake them? Shrug Kieran off? I had a feeling that would wake them, and the last thing I wanted was for Kieran to discover the…the three of us cuddled together.

Both of them were incredibly warm, and there wasn’t anything sinful about this. Well, the way I was half sprawled across Casteel didn’t feel exactly innocent, but Kieran had most likely done what anyone would. He’d sought warmth in his sleep, and I couldn’t exactly fault him for that.

What also didn’t feel entirely innocent was where my hand rested. It was shamefully low on Casteel’s stomach. I knew this because I could feel the imprint of the buttons against my palm. If I moved my fingers more than an inch lower, I doubted he would remain asleep. The knowledge of that filled my head with all kinds of things I really shouldn’t be thinking about at the moment, like what we’d done in the carriage…in the bedchamber, the cavern.

I mentally throat punched myself as I moved my hand away from that really fascinating part of Casteel, trying not to focus on the tautness of his lower stomach or the way his skin seemed to burn through his clothing—

Casteel’s arm curled, tightening around my shoulder, drawing me closer. My breath snagged as his movement triggered Kieran. He shifted behind me, and my pulse felt like a trapped bird. A sleek, muscled thigh slid between mine, pressing in. I had no idea if it was Casteel’s or Kieran’s.

A hundred different thoughts and emotions exploded through me, so many, so fast, I couldn’t make sense of them.

But neither of them woke, so I lay there, and my mind wandered again, not to places that would make this sleeping arrangement even more awkward or to sad ones.

I pretended.

Not like before with Casteel. I pretended that my brother was still a mortal, as was Tawny. That Casteel’s brother was free, and that the Ascended weren’t a reality. I pretended that tomorrow I would be arriving in a kingdom that welcomed me, to a King and Queen who would greet me with open arms. I pretended that Casteel and I were at the start of a life together, one that would be long and happy instead of one that felt like it could end at any minute. I pretended that we both aged, and that I was always reckless enough, brave enough to just let myself feel, to experience, to live without the past shadowing every choice I made, or the future looming over every decision.

That we always existed in the now and…lived.

Eventually, the warmth that both of them radiated, the steady, deep rise and fall of their chests, lulled me back to sleep. Sometime later, I drifted on the fringes of sleep once more, brought there by a whisper. A calling. A name.

“Poppy…”

Chapter 43

My entire being seized in recognition of that voice—one I couldn’t pull from the depths of my imagination no matter how hard I tried.

But it was him—that was my father’s voice calling my name.

My eyes opened to misty darkness and…and golden lamplight, and I realized I wasn’t awake.

I was there once more, thrust back into the night that ended in blood-soaked screams.

“Poppy-flower, I know you’re down there. Come out,” he called. “I need you to come to me, Poppy-flower.”

Chest twisting, I followed the sound of his voice, my lips moving but the voice coming out of me sounding so much younger. “Papa? I was looking for you.”

“You found me, like you always do.” The shadows pulsed and thickened in front of me, taking shape. He was tall—the tallest person I knew. “You shouldn’t be down here, my baby girl.”

I stared up at him, wishing I could see his face clearly. “I wanted to go with you, Papa. I’m not scared.” But I was. I was trembling, and my tummy hurt.

“You’re such a brave one, but you shouldn’t be down here.” He knelt, and eyes that matched mine took up my whole world. “Where is your brother?”

“With that woman who had cookies, but I want to be with you and—”

“You can’t go with me.” Cold hands landed on my shoulders, and his face seemed to piece together. Square jaw covered with several days’ worth of hair. Momma called it a beard and often complained about it, but I saw her rubbing her fingers over it when she thought Ian and I weren’t looking. Straight nose. Dark brows. Eyes like pine. “You need to stay here and keep your mother and brother safe.”

“This is her?” another voice asked from the darkness. A stranger’s voice that wasn’t completely unfamiliar.

“This is my daughter,” Papa answered as he looked over his shoulder before smiling at me, but the smile was all wrong. Too tight. “She doesn’t know.”

“Understood,” the voice came again, still familiar.

I didn’t understand what he meant. All I knew was that he was going to leave, and I didn’t want that.

“What a pretty little flower.” The cold hands touched my cheeks. “What a pretty poppy.” Papa leaned in, pressing his lips to the crown of my head. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”

My breath choked. “I love you more than all the fish in the seas.”

“That’s my girl.” Shouts from outside drew him away from me. “Cora?” he called for Momma. Only he ever called her that.