Duchess Teerman’s eyes widened only a fraction in surprise. I met her stare, holding the dagger there until the cracks formed in her skin, until the light went out of her eyes and her body caved in around the blade of the wolven bone and bloodstone dagger.
And just like an Ascended, I felt nothing but a sudden iciness as I watched Duchess Teerman turn to ash.
I turned.
Casteel stood outside the door, the lines and angles of his features sharp in the moonlight. “You beat me to her.”
“I did.”
A long moment passed. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No.” I swallowed thickly. “She said nothing.”
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Are you?”
He said nothing as the sounds of battle grew fainter, and I tentatively opened my senses. His emotions ran the gambit, a swirling storm that was hard for even me to make sense of.
“No one comes near this carriage,” he said, speaking to whoever was beyond the opening. He hoisted himself up into the conveyance. The ceiling was just high enough for him to stand. “I’m very conflicted right now.”
“You are?”
He nodded as the door swung closed behind him. “I’m furious with you for threatening your own life. For even thinking that was a suitable option.”
“What else could I do?” I demanded, lowering the dagger. “They were—”
“I’m not done yet, Princess.”
My brows flew up. “Do I look like I care if you’re done?”
A shadow of a smile appeared in the dim glow. “I’m livid that you would do something like that.”
“Well, I’m annoyed that you don’t seem to realize that, at that moment, we were out of options,” I snapped.
“Still not done,” he said.
“Guess what? I don’t care.”
His eyes deepened to a heated honey. “I’m furious, and yet, at the same time, I’m in awe. Because I know you would’ve done it. You would’ve killed yourself to save the lives of those who still stood. You would’ve done it to save me.”
Backing up as he came forward, I stepped on the cloak and whatever else the Duchess had been wearing. “You don’t sound like you’re in awe.”
“That’s because I don’t want to be awed by something so incredibly reckless.” His chin dipped, and his voice deepened. “And that’s because I need you.”
A sudden hot flush chased away the coldness stirring inside me.
“I need to feel your lips on mine.” He planted his hands on the carriage wall, caging me in. “I need to feel your breath in my lungs. I need to feel your life inside me. I just need you. It’s an ache. This need. Can I have you? All of you?”
I didn’t know who moved first. If it was him or me or both of us. It didn’t matter. We came together, the kiss just as wild as the one under the catapult, and it said everything that words couldn’t communicate at the moment. We kissed as if we hadn’t expected to have the luxury to do it again. And for far too many minutes, I knew we both believed that.
We’d been on the cusp of either being separated or killed, and that kiss…and what came next in that shadowy carriage was proof of how rattled we both were by the knowledge that we could’ve lost each other just as we’d truly found one another.
And it was more than that which allowed me not to care where we were, what I’d done in here and what was happening outside these thin walls, when he slipped the dagger from my hand, sheathing it on my thigh. Or when he turned and lifted me, placing me on my knees on the cushioned bench as he tugged the leggings and undergarments to my knees. What allowed me not to care was what the Duchess had said before I killed her, the utter coldness and emptiness I’d felt as I watched her die, and the haunting intuition that there had been some truth to her words.
Casteel placed my hands on the wall as he scraped the sharp edge of a fang along the side of my throat, sending a bolt of wanton heat and dampness through me.
“This is so inappropriate,” I panted.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He nipped at my skin again, and my entire body arched. “Brace yourself.”
I did, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what happened. He struck as fast as a viper, sinking his fangs deep into my throat at the same moment he thrust into me. The twisting shock of pain and pleasure stole my breath and fixed my wide eyes on the ceiling—on the circle with an arrow piercing the center embossed in black and crimson. Infinity. Power.
The Ascended Royal Crest.
And then…then I became that fire again, the flame.
There was nothing but an excess of pleasure and ecstasy, intensified by the deep, rumbling sounds he made, the hand that slipped between my thighs, and those wickedly skilled fingers.
A new madness engulfed us, one not too different from what I’d felt when I stepped out into the courtyard. And maybe all the death we saw and inflicted also drove us to this moment, to the hungry way his mouth moved at my neck and the nearly greedy way my hips pushed back against his. The feel of each other was a reminder that we were alive. That we’d survived. That there would be time for all those things I’d thought of as we were pinned to the ground under the catapult. That even as uncertain as our future was, there was one. And when the storm inside of us crested and took us both over the edge, I knew it was also the intensity of what we felt for one another, what we had both been fighting, that drove us.
That drove Casteel to abandon his people to save me.
That drove me to hold a dagger to my own throat, ready to slice deep to save him.
The intensity of the emotion, how all-consuming it suddenly felt, didn’t make sense. My head fell back against his chest, and he kissed the corner of my mouth, the longer scar, and then the shorter one, I didn’t care.
“You already have me,” I whispered.
Chapter 41
The field I’d seen the Guardians training in was littered with cots occupied by the injured and the dead. Most were mortal. Twenty Descenters or those of Atlantian descent that had settled in Spessa’s End had perished. At least fifty of Atlantian descent who’d arrived with the army had died, and double that occupied the cots. A dozen or so wolven were injured beyond their capabilities to heal themselves. The elemental Atlantians that had made up the vast majority of the army had healed themselves. None of the Guardians had fallen, and only a few were among the injured.
The Atlantian army had been successful, though, even with the casualties. They’d seized control by the time Casteel and I stepped out of the carriage to find Kieran and several Atlantian warriors standing guard.
I couldn’t even muster an ounce of embarrassment at the knowledge that some realized what had happened inside the carriage.
Only one soldier in the entirety of the Solis army had been left alive. Casteel and a few others had left hours ago, escorting a young boy barely beyond the cusp of manhood to the scorched land of Pompay, charged with the task of relaying a warning.
And a message.
Atlantia had reclaimed Spessa’s End, and any who came for the town would meet the same fate as those before them. The message was also an opportunity. Casteel had initiated a part of his original plan. The Battle of Spessa’s End didn’t have to be the first of many to come. The Prince and Princess of Atlantia were willing to meet with the King and Queen of Solis to discuss the kingdoms’ futures.
I didn’t envy the boy who was tasked with delivering the message.
And I didn’t envy any of the family and friends of those who had lost loved ones. Each time I saw someone I knew standing, I’d been overcome with relief.
“Thank you,” a raspy voice drew my attention. An older wolven had taken a nasty blow to the arm, nearly severing it. He was the last one to be checked. I’d healed him. Like I’d healed all of those who’d allowed me to try.
Some had refused my touch, like those in New Haven had. My chest squeezed painfully as Elijah’s image took form in my mind.
I cleared my throat. “You’re welcome.” Back and arms aching, I started to rise. “I don’t know if your arm is completely healed, so you should have a Healer look at it as soon as possible.”
The wolven caught my left arm before I could move. His eyes widened slightly at the contact, and I wondered if he’d felt the strange, electric-like current that others had when he touched me. He slowly turned my hand over. “It’s true, then?” he asked, looking at the golden swirl across my palm. “You’ve married our Prince?”
I nodded as my heart skipped. This middle-aged wolven, with his head of ropey black-and-silver dreads had been the first to ask.
“Others are saying you fought beside him the entire battle.”
“I started on the Rise, but I did go down.”
“And yet, you’re here. You’ve been here this whole time, healing others,” he said, his pale eyes sharp. “With your touch.”
“How could I not when I can help?” And I had helped. Talia the Healer I’d caught a brief glimpse of, had her hands full with those who refused my aid. So, after the battle, I had taken the time to wash the blood from my face and hands, even though it was still caked to my clothing and dried under my fingernails.
He nodded as he let go of my wrist and laid his head back on the cot. “Kieran said you were of the empath bloodline.”