Alastir nodded as he eyed me. “When did your parents learn of your abilities?” Or when did you first know of them?”
“I don’t know the exact age, but it was before we left the capital. I don’t know if the Ascended knew what I could do at that time.”
“And you have a brother?” Alastir asked, and Casteel’s head swiveled toward him. “Was he your full-blooded brother?”
“I believe so,” I said, realizing that someone must’ve told him about Ian or that he’d learned of him when he first heard of me. “But if he’s like me—half-Atlantian—then why would they have allowed him to become an Ascended?”
Alastir glanced back at Casteel. “You sure he is?”
“As sure as I can be without having seen the Ascension myself.”
A thoughtful look crossed Alastir’s face. “It’s unlikely they would’ve turned him if he was of Atlantian descent, but…stranger things have happened.” He looked over at me and then turned to Casteel. “Has she displayed any more of the empath traits?”
Casteel shook his head, and I assumed that Alastir referred to how the empath warriors could somehow use what they sensed against people.
“But why would they be afraid?” I asked. “They saw me help the first person.”
“The people, even those who have lived in Solis, can be wary of things they haven’t seen before and don’t understand,” Casteel explained, and it struck me then that maybe their reaction was why he hadn’t wanted me to help in the first place.
“Some in Atlantia, our oldest who survived the war, would remember the empaths.” Alastir touched the back of a chair, silent for a moment. “And that could be a problem. I’m sure you’ve seen that damn tree out there. The gods have sent a warning.”
“Come now, Alastir, when did you become such a fatalist?” Irritation flashed across Casteel’s features. “The omen is not necessarily a warning. Change can be good just as much as it can be bad. And either way, it has nothing to do with her.”
Damn straight, that omen had nothing to do with me. The mere idea that it did was ridiculous. I crossed my arms. “Why would the oldest of the Atlantians remembering the warriors be a problem?”
“You don’t have anything to do with that omen. A great change coming doesn’t necessarily mean something bad.” Casteel’s stance widened. “And the empath warriors’ abilities were sometimes feared, mainly because very little could be hidden from them. And out of all the bloodlines, they were the closest to the deities.”
Alastir arched a brow. “And because they could siphon the energy behind the emotions,” he elaborated. “They could feed on others in that way. They were often called Soul Eaters.”
“Soul Eaters?” I stiffened. “But I can’t do that. I don’t get anything from the people I help. I mean, I don’t get energy or anything, and I can’t amplify fear.”
“I know that. We know that,” Casteel reassured.
“But they don’t know that.” The wolven pulled his hand from the chair as he gave me a faint smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Casteel is right. We just need to make sure they understand that you are not capable of what your ancestors could do. And once they get to know you, I believe they will no longer think of the small percentage of your ancestors that incited fear.”
“Really?” Doubt filled me.
Alastir nodded. “Truly. This is not something you need to concern yourself with.”
I really hoped that was the case since there was already enough to worry over.
He refocused on Casteel. “And don’t be so sure that the omen has nothing to do with her—with both of you. You two are to be married. Will that not usher in great change?”
Casteel’s brows rose as his expression turned thoughtful. “Well, you do have a point there,” he said, and my eyes narrowed. “Are you heading out soon?” When Alastir nodded, he took my hand in his, surprising me with how easily he did. The act seemed almost second-nature to him, but each time he held my hand, it was like a revelation to me. “Safe travels. We will see you in Spessa’s End.”
“Safe travels to you both.” Alastir placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for coming to the people’s aid, even if some didn’t understand or appreciate.”
I nodded, uncomfortable with the gratitude.
We parted ways with Alastir, walking across the banquet hall. “Is he leaving for Spessa’s End already?”
“While you were resting, I spoke with Emil. After what happened, we thought it was better if we traveled east in smaller groups to avoid drawing attention.”
“Makes sense,” I murmured. “You really think that the omen has to do with our marriage?”
“Could be,” he said, but we were nowhere private enough for me to point out that the marriage wasn’t real. Not in a way where it would usher in any great change.
Unless our plan worked. That would bring about great change.
My thoughts shifted to what else had happened in the room, hopefully dissipating the still-oily feeling on my skin. “The mother in there said the same thing as the woman in the Red Pearl. That I was a second daughter but not like I thought.” Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Alastir at the door. The poor man still looked like a breeze might knock him over. “I didn’t get it then, but now I think she meant I was second-generation.”
“What woman in the Red Pearl?”
“The one who sent me up to the room that you were in. Obviously.”
His brows snapped together as he looked down at me. “I have no idea what woman you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I replied, tone dry. “The one you had send me to your room. I think she was a Seer—a changeling.”
“I didn’t have any woman send you to that room, especially not a changeling,” he said. “I knew who you were the moment I pulled that hood back, but I had no one send you to my room.”
I stared up at him. “Are you serious?”
“Why would I lie about something like that? I already told you that I knew who you were that night.”
“Then how…?” I trailed off as Casteel hung a sharp left, pushing open a door and pulling me inside a room that smelled of soil and herbs. The door clicked shut behind us. I looked around, spying cans of vegetables, bushels of potatoes, and satchels of dried herbs. “Did you just pull me into a pantry?”
“I did.” Casteel’s chin dipped as he stepped into me. Dark hair toppled forward onto his forehead.
I stepped back, bumping into a shelf. Jars rattled. He was so tall, I had to crane my neck all the way back to meet his gaze. “Why?”
“I wanted a moment alone.” He placed his hands on the cupboard above my head. “With you.”
Senses hyperaware, I watched him lean in as a confusing tremor of anticipation coiled its way down my spine. “And you needed this moment alone in a pantry?”
He turned his head slightly, lining up his mouth with mine. “I just needed.”
Tiny shivers hit every part of me. I opened my mouth to tell him that whatever he needed didn’t involve him and me in a pantry, but nothing came out. No protests. No warnings. I simply stared up at him, waiting and…wanting.
“I know how hard that had to be for you.” His lashes swept down as his breath danced over my lips. “Going in there with your abilities, opening yourself up to their pain.”
My fingers curled around the edge of a shelf. “It was nothing.”
“That’s a lie, Princess.” His mouth was closer, just a breath from mine. “You did it even though you felt their fear and distrust. It was everything.”
I felt my lips part. “And that’s what you needed to tell me in the pantry?”
He shook his head, causing my breath to hitch when his lips glanced off the corner of mine. “I wasn’t done.”
“Sorry,” I murmured. “Please, continue.”
“Thank you for your permission,” he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “There are many times when I’m in utter awe of you.”
I stilled. Every part of me.
“I shouldn’t be surprised by what you’re capable of,” he went on. “What you’re willing to do. But I am. I’m always in awe of you.”
A tugging sensation in my chest stole a little of my breath. “Is that what you needed when you pulled me into the pantry?”
“I’m still not done, Princess.”
My pulse thrummed. “No?”
“No.” His forehead dropped to mine. “There is one more thing I need. Something that I’ve needed for days. Weeks. Months. Maybe forever.” The bridge of his nose brushed mine. “But I know you won’t allow it. Not like this.”
The pounding in my chest moved lower. “What…what have you needed for so long?”
“You.”
I shuddered.
“So, maybe, just for a few minutes, when no one is looking—when there’s no one but us—we can pretend.”
Leaning into the cupboard, I felt dizzy, as if I weren’t getting enough air into my lungs. “Pretend?”
“We pretend that there’s no yesterday. No tomorrow. It’s just us, right now, and I can be Hawke,” he said in the heated space between us. I shook once more. He touched my cheek, sending a bolt of awareness through me. His fingers drifted over my chin, my lower lip. “You can just be Poppy, and we can simply share a kiss.”
“A kiss?”
He nodded. “Just pretend.” His lips now a whisper against my cheek. “Just a kiss.”
I shouldn’t.
There had to be a hundred reasons why. It blurred the lines of who we were. I’d told him it would never happen again. He was using me. I was using him. Kissing wasn’t wise. Even with all that I didn’t know, I knew enough to realize that it never stopped with a touch of the lips, even when it did. There was always more. Wanting. Needing.