The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

“There’s literally not one thing about her that I don’t find odd.”

Well, I had to agree with that.

Willing my thoughts to slow and focus, I placed my hands on the warm ledge of the window and looked out. Faint pink streaked the sky. My gaze immediately landed on the shadowstone spires of the Temple of Nyktos and then the shimmering diamond dome of the Temple of Perses. They sat across from one another, in different neighborhoods, one looking to the Stroud Sea and the other in the shadows of the Cliffs of Sorrow.

If Casteel was underground and in a tunnel system like the one in Oak Ambler, he could be under either of them.

So could my father.

I was where I wanted to be, but it wasn’t how I’d wanted to get here. I focused on the distant Golden Bridge, which separated the Garden District from the less fortunate areas of Carsodonia. My heart finally slowed. My thoughts calming as the eather settled in my chest. “This isn’t entirely bad.”

“It’s not,” Kieran agreed, joining me at the window. “We’re here.”

“It’s not like we’ll have free roam of the castle or the city,” I reasoned. “We will be watched closely, and there’s no telling what the Blood Queen has planned. She won’t leave everyone in their rooms fed and clothed for long.”

“No, that’s not her style.” Kieran’s gaze followed mine.

Seagulls dipped and swayed over the Rise, where it began to curve and look out over Lower Town and then the sea, where the setting sun glistened off the blue waters. The soft glow settled over the rooftop gardens and pitched roofs, and even farther out, where the homes were stacked one upon another and there was barely room to breathe, warm light bathed the city. Carsodonia was beautiful, especially at dusk and dawn, just like the Blood Forest. Further proof that something so stunning on the surface could also be ugly underneath.

“Where do you think our armies are now?” I asked.

“The armies should be at New Haven or even Whitebridge by now,” he told me. “They’d be three to four days out.” His head tilted as he eyed me. “If we don’t return to Three Rivers when we told Valyn, they’ll come looking.”

I nodded.

“How far were you able to communicate with Delano through the notam?”

“Pretty far. He was able to contact me from the Wastelands once, but I don’t think I could reach him this far out.”

“I don’t think so either.” He looked at the window. “But Carsodonia can’t be much bigger than the distance between the Wastelands and Pompay, is it?” Kieran turned to me. “What if he was able to get close to the Rise?”

I stared at the massive wall that loomed in the distance. “I could reach him.”

Sometime later, I stood, blank eyes staring at me from shiny, porcelain faces neatly lined up along the shelves on one side of the wardrobe.

“Please close that door,” Kieran said from behind me.

“Scared of dolls?”

“More like I’m scared of those dolls stealing my soul.”

A wry grin tugged at my lips as I closed the door. I’d been snooping, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. I still had my wolven dagger on me, but they’d stripped Kieran’s and Reaver’s weapons. I’d offered Kieran the blade, but he’d refused. Neither of them was defenseless, but it would’ve made me feel better if he had taken the dagger.

“Did you actually play with them as a child?” Kieran stared at the closed wardrobe as if he expected a doll to crack open the door and stick its head out.

“I did.” Turning to him, I leaned against the wardrobe.

“That explains a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “She…Isbeth used to give me one every year on the first day of summer until they sent me to Masadonia. I used to think they were beautiful.”

Kieran’s lip curled. “They are terrifying.”

“Yeah, but their faces were smooth and flawless.” I touched the scar running along my now-warm cheek. “Mine obviously wasn’t, so I pretended I looked like them.”

His features softened. “Poppy…”

“I know.” My entire face felt like it was on fire. “It was silly.”

“I wasn’t going to say it was silly—”

A loud bang sounded on the gilded doors a second before they swung open.

It was her.

The Handmaiden.

Millicent sauntered into the chambers, her long-sleeved black tunic was without any adornment and ended at the knees, just above tightly laced boots. The winged mask was painted onto her face once more, this time in black. The contrast to her pale eyes was startling.

“Good evening.” Millicent clapped her hands together as three Handmaidens entered behind her. They were dressed similarly, but they wore loose cowls that covered their heads and their mouths, leaving only their painted masks visible. Two of them had those nearly colorless blue eyes. One had brown. Something struck me then. It was possible that not all Handmaidens were Revenants, but it was clear that not all had those pale blue eyes. My mother…she’d had brown eyes.