But I couldn’t.
I needed to stay calm. This was a trap, but they knew who I was, and that meant they also had to know that I was Casteel’s wife. They couldn’t seriously think to harm me. I needed to deescalate the situation somehow. The mortals wouldn’t be a problem. The Atlantians standing before them could become one, however.
Still, I lowered my right hand to where my sweater hid the wolven dagger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this area was forbidden, and I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I am not an Ascended, and I never chose to be the Maiden. I fought against them at—”
“You’re something worse,” a woman interrupted, and I realized she held something in her closed fist. “We know what you really are. We know how you managed to gain the Prince’s trust, empath. Soul Eater.”
A prickly wave of dread skated over my skin. None of these people had been in Spessa’s End or at New Haven. Had Alastir told someone? I doubted that Kieran would have during his brief return. At the moment, none of that mattered. What did was that what Alastir had said was right. So was Casteel, even though he hadn’t wanted to say it. And I already suspected as much. Because of who I was and who I wasn’t, they wouldn’t accept me, and they feared me.
And that fear fed their hatred. That was the most dangerous of all. “I am not that either,” I said, watching the woman’s hand—their hands. A man held something, too. “I cannot feed off emotional energy or heighten fear. I didn’t even know what I was until—”
“Close your mouth, whore,” the Atlantian spat.
I blinked, shocked into silence by the slur.
“You speak out of both sides of your mouth,” he continued. “Your lies may have worked on the others, but they will not work on us.”
“You will not find what you seek here,” a woman said, and I immediately thought of the voice I’d heard last night. “You will not destroy Atlantia from within. You may have warped the Prince’s mind, but you will not succeed with us.”
“I haven’t done anything to him.” My fingers curled under the hem of my sweater.
“Other than attempt to kill him?” another challenged as the clouds formed above us.
Well, that was hard to defend, and also something none of them should’ve known.
“Or led an army of Ascended to the walls of Spessa’s End?” another claimed, and that was also hard to defend. “People died, didn’t they?”
People had.
“The Ascended disguised you as a Maiden. Sending you right into the heart of Atlantia,” the Atlantian man said, the one who had spoken first. “We will not let you destroy Atlantia. We will not allow you to destroy us all, whore of the Ascended.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I fought my anger and was losing. I was too damn…hurt, and I refused to stand here and listen to them accuse me of working with the Ascended. I had killed countless people to defend Spessa’s End. I had been prepared to end my own life to protect that town. “I speak nothing but the truth when I say I am sorry for all that you may have suffered at the hands of the Ascended. I can even understand your distrust and dislike of me, but if one of you calls me a whore one more time, you will regret it.”
“Because of the Prince?” The Atlantian sneered. “Do you think we’re not willing to die to protect our kingdom from even him? The Prince is already lost to us, just as Malik was.”
“Your Prince is not lost to you.” My fingers brushed the sheath of the dagger as the sun hid behind a dark cloud. “And it’s not my husband you have to worry about. It’s me.”
Focused on the Atlantian, I’d forgotten about the woman—about what she held. I didn’t even see her lift her arm. It was such a stupid misstep on my part. Vikter would be so disappointed.
Pain exploded, stunning me. I gasped, clutching my throbbing shoulder as I looked down.
A rock.
She’d thrown a rock.
I almost laughed, only because she could’ve thrown something worse. Like the dagger strapped to her chest. Anything more dangerous than a rock.
“That hurt,” I bit out as the clouds darkened, becoming fat and heavy. The scent of rain filled the air, and in the distance, the warning of thunder rumbled. “But seriously? A rock?”
“You think we fear you?” the Atlantian male said, withdrawing his dagger. “You’re not a threat when you can’t touch us. We know how Soul Eaters feed. We know how you sense emotion. You must come into contact with flesh.”
That was not how that worked. “There appears to be a lot of things you have no understanding of.” I unsheathed the dagger. To hell with making the situation worse. “I am not your enemy, but you’re quickly becoming mine.”
“But you’re not anything but a scarred whore for the Ascended,” the woman replied calmly as thunder clapped, closer now.
Before I could even question how I could be both the Maiden and a whore, a new pain erupted along the side of my head, so sudden and shocking that I dropped the dagger as I staggered back. I quickly realized that the stoning was only meant to incapacitate me so they could get closer. Another rock hit me in the stomach, then my leg, my arms—
A streak of lightning lit the sky over the sea. Thunder boomed, echoing through the columns of the Temple as sudden agony lanced my brow when a rock connected with my forehead and the scarred skin there, so sharp and startling that it sent me to my knees. My hold on my senses loosened and then shattered. It was like a crevice cracked wide open in me as wet warmth trickled down my temple.
Ascended trash. Soul Eater. Whore. Words fell in time with their rocks, but it was what I felt from them that landed heavier blows.
“Enough,” I whispered.
Their anger and hatred beat at me as I looked down, seeing my blood falling against the stone. I couldn’t breathe. Their raw emotions were an endless rolling tide, and underneath it was a hum, a whirring from the very core of me. My skin vibrated. Just like it had when the soldiers surrounded Casteel and I before the wolven had arrived.
Something red splashed on the ground, tainting the pearly stone. More blood. Another drop joined it, seeping into the cracks. The marble trembled under my feet as roots appeared in the stone, thin as fragile veins, they crept out from the crack. I blinked a sting from my eyes, and the roots disappeared. Another splash of crimson fell and another, this one farther from where I stood.
It was blood.
But it wasn’t mine.
It fell from above.
The skies bled.
Chapter 45
Dizzy, I lifted my head to see blood falling like rain from the crimson-hued cloud that stretched over the Temple and the cove.
It spattered the pristine white of the Temple floor, dampening my clothing and turning the white clothing of those who stood before me pink. It seemed to stun them as they cast their gazes to the sky.
“Tears of an angry god,” someone whispered.
My gaze shifted to the blur of unfamiliar faces.
“It is an omen,” the Atlantian who had unsheathed his dagger announced. “They’re showing us that they know what must be done and what we will face.”
“Enough,” I said again.
“For Atlantia,” a woman said. She was closer. A mortal with Atlantian blood and crimson streaking her face. An Atlantian stood beside her, his lips peeled back to expose his fangs and the hatred in his snarl reminded me of a Craven. Of an Ascended.
“From blood and ash.” The Atlantian raised the dagger. “We will rise again, my brothers and sisters.”
The hum in my blood grew, the buzz in my skin intensified, stronger than what I’d felt before, and that ancient sense of knowledge rose deep from my pain. The cords I could see so clearly rippled out from me, connecting me to each and every one of them. It gathered all their burning hatred and scorching loathing, their acidic bitterness and thirst for vengeance after years, decades, centuries of pain inflicted upon them. And I took it.
I took it all inside me, letting it pour into every vein, every cell until it choked me, until I tasted the blood, until I drowned in it. Until I tasted death, and it was sweet.
“Enough!” I screamed as the connection to them—to all of them—crackled with energy. The cords that had always been invisible, lit up in silver, becoming visible to not only my eyes but theirs.
“Your eyes,” the Atlantian with the dagger gasped, staggering back.
Moonlight glow spilled out of me, seeping over the stone and rippling into the charged air as I stood. Thunder rolled endlessly, shaking the Temple and the nearby trees.
“Dear gods,” the Atlantian whispered, his dagger slipping from his fingers to fall soundlessly to the tile. “Forgive us.”
Too late.
The cords connecting me to all of them contracted as I threw out my arms. All the hate, the loathing, the bitterness and vengeance intensified, tripled, and then erupted from me, traveling through each of those cords, finding their way back home.
Lightning streaked overhead like a thousand screams as the group’s rancid emotions choked them.
Hair blew back from faces. Clothing pulled taut against bodies. Feet slid over stone, and they went down, one after another after another as if they were nothing more than fragile saplings caught in a windstorm.
I watched as their vileness continued feeding back to them.
I watched as they clutched at their heads, writhing and spasming, screaming and shrieking until the bones in their throats caved in under their contempt.
And then…nothing.
Silence in and outside of me. I was empty again—no hatred, no anger, no pain. Empty and cold.
I sucked in air, staggering as the silver cords connected to them sparked and fizzled out. The rain eased and then stopped, forming pinkish puddles across the floor.
Those on the stone didn’t move, they didn’t thrash and squirm. Red. There was so much red around them that ran in rivulets to the puddles, deepening the pinkish hue. They lay still, their bodies twisted and contorted as if they had been thrown about by the gods themselves. Eyes wide and mouths hanging open, hands clenched tightly around rocks or their crushed throats.