A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire(20)

“So, you weren’t screaming?”

“No. Not out loud.” I crossed my arms.

His already light skin seemed paler. “I thought… I thought I heard you calling my name.” The crease between his brows deepened. “Screaming for help.” Letting go of his sword, he ran a hand through his nearly white-blond hair. “It must’ve been the wind.”

“Or your guilty conscience.”

“Probably the wind.”

I started toward him.

There it was, a flash of a grin. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Interrupt what? I’m stuck in this room. What could—?” I shrieked as the door closed and locked. “Now I am yelling!”

“It’s the wind,” he yelled back through the door.

I stomped my foot once and then twice instead of giving in to the urge to really scream.

Throwing myself onto the bed, I pictured all the different places I could stab Delano, but then I felt a little bad about that. It wasn’t his fault. It was Casteel’s. So, I pictured putting as many holes in him as I could until I started to doze. I didn’t fight it. Being unconscious was far better than rage-pacing. I had no idea how long I slept, whether it was minutes or hours, but when I opened my bleary eyes, a patchwork quilt had been draped over my legs, and I saw that I wasn’t alone. Across from the bed sat Kieran, in the same chair as the night before, practically in the same position—one booted foot resting on a bent knee.

“Good afternoon,” he said as I blinked slowly, looking between him and the quilt. “The quilt wasn’t me. That was Cas.”

He’d been in here? While I slept? That son of a—

“Though I’m glad you finally woke up. I was going to give you another five minutes before I risked life and limb to wake you. Unlike Cas, watching you sleep is not something I find all that entertaining.”

Casteel watched me sleep? Wait. How long had Kieran been sitting there? “What are you doing in here?” I rasped.

“Other than wondering exactly what choices I made in my life that led me to this exact moment?” Kieran asked.

My eyes narrowed. “Yes. Other than that.”

“Since I figured Delano would like a break and wondered if you might be hungry. I’m hoping that you are because I would like to eat, too.”

My stomach immediately decided that yes, it would like some food, and grumbled loudly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Feeling my cheeks flush, I shoved the blanket off and stood. “Am I actually allowed to leave this room?”

“Of course.”

My brows lifted. “You say that as if I’m asking a stupid question. I’ve been locked in here all day!”

“If you could be trusted not to run, then perhaps you wouldn’t be locked in here.”

“Maybe if you weren’t holding me captive, I wouldn’t have to try and escape!”

“Good point.”

I blinked.

“But it is what it is.” Kieran arched a brow. “Do you wish to leave the room and eat, or would you rather sit here and stew? Your choice.”

My choice? I almost laughed. “I need to use the bathing chamber first.”

“Take your time. I’ll just sit here and stare at…nothing now.”

Rolling my eyes, I started to turn, and then my stupid mouth opened. “Where is His Highness?”

“Highness? Man, I bet Cas loves being referred to as that.” Kieran chuckled. “You miss him already?”

“Oh, yes. That’s exactly why I’m asking.”

He grinned. “He’s been speaking with Alastir and several of the others in town. If he wasn’t the Prince of Atlantia, with all his princely duties, I’m sure he’d be here…” His pale eyes glimmered. “Watching you sleep.”

“Thank the gods that he has something to pass his time with then,” I muttered.

Ignoring that, I hurried into the bathing chamber. I took care of my needs and then grabbed the brush from the small vanity. My hair was a mess from sleeping on it, and there was a good chance that I tore half of it out while trying to get the knots out. Once I finished, I placed the brush back and then looked in the small mirror, tilting my head to the side.

I wasn’t looking at the scars, though I thought they seemed less noticeable somehow—could be the lighting. Rather it was my eyes that I stared at. They were green, passed down from my father to Ian and me. My mother’s were brown, and I thought of how the Atlantians had golden or hazel-colored eyes. Had my mother’s been a plain shade of brown? Or had they been a golden brown? Was I just assuming that all Atlantians had some shade of gold in their eyes?

Turning my head to the side, I saw that the bite mark was now just a pale purple bruise. It looked like one of the love bites I’d read about in Miss Willa Colyns’ diary. I flushed as I quickly braided my hair. Once completed, I tossed the plait over my shoulder, hoping the thick tail would stay in place, concealing the mark.

My gaze lowered to my hands. I have a lot of blood on my hands. As angry as I was at Casteel, his words still haunted me, as did what he’d shared about the time he’d spent as a captive. He didn’t deserve that.

Part of me still couldn’t believe that he’d taken ownership for Vikter and the others, and I couldn’t help but wonder if their deaths were part of what stained his soul.

I also wondered if what he hadn’t been able to control when he was held also darkened his soul.

If so, that sat even heavier on my heart, and I wasn’t sure what to do with any of that. Horrific things had been done to him. He’d done terrible things. Neither canceled out the other.

Kieran was at least standing when I exited the bathing chamber. He faced the banked fire, and I wondered if that was as far as he’d moved.

“Do you ever get bored?” I asked.

“With what?” he replied, sounding as disinterested as possible.

“With standing around and waiting for me? It seems like you are tasked with doing so quite often.”

“It’s actually an honor to guard what the Prince values so highly,” he replied. “And since I’m never quite sure what you’re going to do from one second to the next, it’s not even remotely boring. That is, except when you’re sleeping.”

I made a closed mouth sound of annoyance as my heart immediately went to war with my brain over why I was considered something the Prince valued. My heart, which gave a happy little flop, was obviously stupid.

I went to the fireplace and picked up the thigh sheath. Relieved to find the supple leather dry, I asked, “Have you seen my dagger?”

“The one fashioned from wolven bone?”

I cringed. “Yes, that one.”

“I have not.”

Feeling a bit contrite and insensitive, I turned to him. “About the…the handle. I have no idea how that came into creation or when. It was given to me as a gift—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “Unless you are the one who carved it from the bones of a wolven, you don’t need to apologize. I imagine it was created shortly after the War of Two Kings. Many of my kind fell during the battles, and not all the bodies could be retrieved.”

I wanted to apologize again, especially when I thought about how families hadn’t had the chance to honor their loved ones with whatever burial practices they observed. I resisted the urge to comment as I slipped the bent meat knife into the sheath, half expecting Kieran to say something, but all he did was smile faintly when I glanced at him.

“Ready?” he asked. When I nodded, he peeled away from the wall. “Lead the way.”

I did just that, and it gave me great satisfaction to do so. Opening the door, I stepped outside and headed down the walkway. Why did it never feel nearly as cold when it snowed?

A better question resurfaced as I opened the door to the stairwell. “Are all Atlantians’ eyes a golden shade?”

“That’s an incredibly random question,” he said, catching the door before it swung shut in his face. “But, yes, most Atlantians have some shade of gold in their eyes. Only those of the elemental bloodline have pure golden eyes.”

I almost missed a step. “Elemental bloodline?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Not all Atlantians are the same,” he remarked. “Did your history books leave that out?”

“Yes,” I grumbled, facing forward. The texts mentioned the wolven as being a part of Atlantia, but nothing had ever suggested there were different…bloodlines. “What is the elemental bloodline?”

“Those whose blood is purely Atlantian and can be traced back to the earliest known Atlantians,” he answered. “Not descendants by blood but by creation.”

“They were created by other…Atlantians?”

“Yes, by the deities, the children of the gods.”

“Really?” I said doubtfully. “Deities?”

“Really.”

My brows knitted as we reached the landing. I wasn’t sure if I believed that, but what did I know? I looked back at him. “Are any of them still in Atlantia?”

“If there were, Cas would not be our Prince.” A muscle flexed in Kieran’s jaw. “The last of their line was gone by the end of the war.”

“What does that mean? That Casteel wouldn’t be the Prince?”