A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire(18)

Bile crept up my throat, but I said nothing as I stayed in his arms.

“It takes a long time for that effect to occur, and they knew it. They didn’t brand me before they knew the mark would remain.” His chest rose against me. “When the ones they brought in to feed me were close to dying, no longer able to serve their purpose, they killed them right in front of me. Sometimes slowly, putting the same nicks and cuts into their skin until they died. Other times, they snapped their necks. But there were times that I was so hungry that I…” He swallowed. “It was me that tore into their throats and killed them. And they’d leave their bodies in there with me to rot. For days. Weeks. Nothing for me to stare at but the person I’d killed. Nothing to think about but what kind of life they’d lived before that moment, and what kind of future I’d stolen from them. Sometimes, the bodies would pile up, left in there long after the stench had passed.”

Oh, my gods.

My eyes were open but unseeing as I listened to him. Was this also a part of the grief he carried with him? If so, I could understand why. All the terrible things he’d done or caused didn’t matter in that moment. I couldn’t imagine the suffering he must’ve endured. No one deserved that. Even those whose actions warranted death didn’t deserve to be tortured, used, and abused.

And to be haunted by nightmares decades later? Centuries later? I didn’t think I could deal with a hundred years of reliving the night the Craven attacked.

There was an emptiness to his voice as he continued. “And they did things to me—things that caused reactions I couldn’t control. Females. Males. They made me—” He stopped, and I could feel his head shake. “I learned what true fear was.”

A shuddering breath left me. “I…I’m sorry. I wish—”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t you, and I don’t want that from you.” His fingers curled around my hair. “I don’t want pity.”

“I don’t pity you,” I told him. “And I know I’m not responsible for what happened to you—and neither are you, even if your actions led to your capture. I still feel horrible for what was done to you.”

“I don’t want you to feel that. I just want you to know that I had nightmares, Poppy. For years after being freed, I woke in the middle of the night, thinking I was still in that cage, shackled by my wrists and ankles. Sometimes, things I did after being freed follow me into sleep.”

His hand slid to my cheek, guiding my head back so my eyes met his. “So, I know all about how the past doesn’t remain where it should. How it likes to pay visits when you’re at your weakest. There is never a need to apologize, nor should you ever feel shame.”

My heart twisted even as some of the discomfort lessened. “How…how did you survive what you did?”

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer,” he said after a moment, looking away. “I promised myself that when I escaped, I would eventually watch the life seep from the soulless eyes of Queen Ileana and King Jalara.” He dropped his hand. “That’s how I survived.”

I swallowed at the utter coldness of his tone. “Revenge, then.” When he nodded, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel about what he’d said. Was I supposed to think poorly of him? I still didn’t know how to reconcile what he’d told me about the Queen and what I knew, what I’d seen.

“How did you survive, Poppy?” His gaze swept back to mine, lashes lowered halfway. “How have you not let the night of the Craven attack make you afraid of everything? Because you are fearless, whether it be facing a swarm of Craven, staring into the eyes of a wolven, or when you push back at me, even knowing what I am.”

His question caught me off guard, as did the knowledge that he saw me as fearless. “I…it’s not that I’m without fear. I do fear things.”

Interest sparked in his golden eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

There was no way I’d admit to him that I feared myself more than I could ever fear a Craven, wolven, or even him. “I survived because I refused to ever be helpless again. That kept me from caving to the fear. That’s what helped me push through the pain of training with Vikter—the aches and bruises.” I thought of the brand on Casteel’s thigh, the pain he must have endured for something like that to scar when he healed so easily. “I can understand how the need for revenge helped you survive.”

His head tilted as his lashes lifted, revealing his bright, intense gaze. “Is that how you’re surviving right now? Picturing all the ways you will kill me?”

No. I wasn’t thinking that at all. Maybe I should be, but I wasn’t.

Slipping out of his embrace, I scooted over to my side of the bed. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

A half-grin appeared, revealing the dimple in his right cheek. Too soon, it faded. “Do you remember anything from the nightmare?”

“I’m really trying not to think about it,” I admitted, tugging the heavy blanket up to my chest.

He reclined back on an elbow, and my gaze dipped from his eyes to the lean length of his stomach. “You were speaking in your sleep.”

“What?” That jerked my traitorous eyes back to his.

Casteel nodded. “You were saying something that reminded me of a…disturbing nursery rhyme, to be honest. Something about a pretty flower.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the nightmare came back in a rush of startling clarity. “What a pretty poppy. Pick it and watch it bleed,” I murmured. “Not so pretty any longer.”

“Yes. That.” An eyebrow rose. “And it’s as disturbing as it was the first time around.”

“I can’t believe I was saying that.”

“Neither could I when I heard it,” he commented. “Has someone said that to you before?”

“I…” My brows furrowed as I shook my head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, the nightmares I have of that night aren’t exactly how things happened, but I don’t remember ever hearing that before.” I curled my fingers around the collar of the nightgown. “And I…I try not to think about it when I wake up. I could’ve heard it before and forgotten. Sometimes, it’s—”

“Disorientating,” he finished for me.

I nodded, sifting through what I remembered. Nausea rose as I did. I could almost smell the blood, feel my mother’s wet hand against— “Someone spoke to my mother. In my nightmare. There was a voice right before the Craven reached us.” My eyes widened. “I think it was the one who said the thing about the flower, and my mother responded. But I…”

Frustration ate at me as I tried to make sense of the garbled word I’d thought she said. It could’ve been more than one word. I could almost see her lips moving, but it could also be a false memory. “I don’t… I can’t remember.”

“Maybe it will come to you later.”

“Maybe.” I sighed. “But I don’t even know if what I heard was real.”

“It might not be. Sometimes, things in the past seem to overlap one another in dreams. My capture often gets mixed up with Malik’s.” He eased onto his back, his eyes on the exposed beams of the ceiling. “The night of the Craven attack isn’t the only ordeal you’ve been through.”

My fingers slipped from the neckline of my gown. I knew at once that he was referring to the Duke. Heat crept up my throat, and I hated the shame that caused it—the humiliation of what he did to me that I’d been unable to stop. And as I’d just learned, if anyone knew how that felt, it was Casteel. He’d had it far worse than me, though. “How did you find out about the Duke? I never told you.”

“About his lessons?” Tension bracketed his mouth. “Duke Teerman was feared but not respected among his Royal Guards. It took only the smallest of compulsions for one of them to share what they knew.”

My mouth dried at the knowledge that he’d used compulsion, but it wasn’t that he’d done it that caused the reaction. It was the reminder of what he could do. That kind of ability was frightening—and awe-inspiring. And not using it whenever he could was also impressive. I doubted that I’d have that kind of strength of character.

I frowned.

Was I actually complimenting his character? The man who had lied, kidnapped me, and held me captive?

I obviously needed more rest.

“The thing you repeated in your sleep?” he said, jarring me from my thoughts. “It sounded like something the Duke might’ve said to you. It’s perverse enough for that bastard.”

Casteel was right. It was perverse enough for Duke Teerman. The voice had sounded familiar. Could he be right? Was it the two…ordeals overlapping? There were times I didn’t quite remember everything from the time spent in his private offices, when the pain of the canings had left me in a semi-lucid state.

“How often did he do it?” Casteel asked quietly. “Engage in his lessons?”

I clamped my mouth shut.

Casteel turned his head toward me. “I know what he did. I know that he wasn’t always alone. And I know that, sometimes, it only lasted a half an hour. Other times, the guard lost track of the time.” His features were sharp and stark. “And I know that he preferred to use the cane against bare flesh.”