The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash 4)

I closed my eyes. In the silence of the chamber, my heart finally slowed. My stomach settled, and my grip eased from the vanity. With steady hands, I braided my still-damp hair.

I couldn’t be afraid of her. I couldn’t be afraid of anything. Not now.

For the first time, the scars on my arms and face were visible for all to see as we descended onto the main floor of Wayfair Castle.

It was a surreal feeling.

Millicent had taken me to see Reaver, and she didn’t put up much of an argument when he followed us back into the hall. The draken was quiet, his head bowed and face obscured by his sheet of blond hair, but I knew he missed nothing as we crossed the atrium that had once seemed so much larger and so beautiful.

As a child, I used to find the vines carved into the marble columns and overlaid in gold to be appealing. I would trace the delicate etchings as far as I could, but the designs traveled all the way to the arched ceilings. Ian and I used to sneak into the atrium in the middle of the day and call out to each other, listening to our voices echo against the tinted glass above.

Now, I found it all to be…excessive. Gaudy. As if all the gold trim and artwork were trying to cover up the bloodstains no one could see.

But the fact that it felt smaller now could have something to do with the number of people who escorted us. Besides Millicent and the four Handmaidens, six Royal Knights flanked us, and what I could only assume was the additional arrival of Revenants based on their scent and what I’d come to learn was an eerily silent way of walking. The vamprys wore similar neck and face clothes, leaving only their eyes visible below their helmets. I wasn’t worried about them. If they tried something, I could take them out. The Revenants would be an issue, but we had Reaver.

We entered the Hall of Gods, where statues of the gods lined each side of the corridor. I knew exactly where we were headed. The Great Hall.

Vases of lilacs were intermingled with night-blooming roses, a favorite flower of mine, and sat between the massive statues. None of the gods’ faces had been captured in any detail in the statues. They were just smooth stone, turned upward to the pitched ceilings. This was another place where Ian and I would play, racing in and out of the statues one moment and then sitting at the feet of them the next as Ian made up grand adventures for the gods to take part in.

My chest tightened as I looked ahead to the smaller, domed atrium, where only two statues stood, both chiseled from rubies.

The King and Queen of Solis.

“Tacky,” Kieran muttered upon seeing them.

Millicent stopped in front of us, and to our right, I saw two Royal Guards stationed outside a set of red-painted doors. The guards opened them, and sound rushed out from the side entrance of the Great Hall—murmurs and laughter, cries, and shouts of blessing.

Millicent looked over her shoulder, placing her finger to her rosy-colored lips before entering the Great Hall. The Handmaidens didn’t follow. They stepped to the sides, leaving a path for us as Millicent walked out onto the alcove I remembered circling the entire Great Hall.

Pressing my palm against the pouch, I joined her. I didn’t take in the crowd below or the Ascended that filled the other sections of the alcove. My attention went straight to the raised dais—its width and length the size of most homes. The thrones were newer versions, still diamond-and-ruby-encrusted, but their backs no longer bore the Royal Crest. They were now shaped to resemble a crescent moon. And both were empty.

But not for long.

Behind the thrones, Handmaidens parted crimson banners, and the Great Hall fell silent. Not a single word was uttered. Chairmen in gold robes appeared, their hold on the wooden rails firm as they walked out, carrying a caged litter, one that reminded me of a gilded birdcage. My brows lifted as I took in the red silk wrapped around each bar, and the gauzy layers of curtains on the sedan chair, obscuring who sat inside.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Kieran muttered as the chairmen lowered the litter to the floor.

I couldn’t respond as the Handmaidens pulled the curtains aside, and the Blood Queen stepped out from the gilded litter. Cheers erupted, and thunderous applause echoed off the banner-covered walls and the glass-domed ceiling.

Every part of my being focused on her as she crossed the dais, garbed in white—a white gown that covered all but her hands and face. The crown’s diamond spires atop each ruby hoop connected by polished onyx dazzled and taunted. Her dark hair shone auburn in the glow of the numerous sconces lining the dozens of columns holding the alcove floors and framing the dais. Even from where I stood, I saw that her eyes were heavily outlined in black, and her lips were a glossy, berry hue.