A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire(44)

Chaney leaned toward me, and I tensed. His fingers stilled. “Tell me something, Maiden. Did you welcome the bite of an Atlantian? Perhaps even enjoy the forbidden blood kiss? Or did he force it upon you? Hold you down and take your blood against your will?”

That damn bite.

My fingernails dug into my palms. “It…it was not welcomed.”

A hint of red churned in the black abyss of his eyes. Just like a Craven. Gods. “Is that so?” he asked.

I nodded.

“The Dark One bit you, and yet, you sit before me, not as a Craven. That must’ve come as a shock.”

Gods, I’d forgotten that. How could I have forgotten that the Ascended had taught us that an Atlantian’s bite was poisonous? “Yes, but I am the Chosen—”

“And you saw us tonight, out in the yard. You saw what we are,” he interrupted. “Yet you do not seem surprised. You showed more shock and concern regarding that woman’s death.” He lifted a hand, placing it on the bench beside my knee. “You say you’re relieved that I found you?”

“I am.”

He laughed softly. “I don’t believe you.”

All of my senses went on alert as I spared a brief glance at his hand. The veins stood out starkly. He was not well. Not at all.

Chaney tsked softly under his breath. “The King and Queen are going to be so displeased.”

I didn’t dare take my eyes off him. “Displeased by what? You ordering a knight to strike me?”

“They may be unhappy to learn that, yes, but I do believe they’ll be more disturbed to learn you’ve been compromised.” The red burned brighter in his eyes. “And most likely in more ways than one.”

The implication in his tone ignited my temper, and for a moment, I remembered that I wore no veil. “You should be more concerned about yourself.” I met his stare. “You’re not looking well, Lord Chaney. Perhaps the wound is more serious than you realize.”

“That bastard Atlantian almost got my heart,” he said, features turning hollow. “But I’ll survive.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I bit out.

“I’m sure you are.” The carriage hit a rock, jostling me, but Chaney didn’t seem to notice. “There was a reason I was charged with finding you. Do you know why that is?”

“Your patience and generosity?”

His chuckle was like nails dragging along my nerve endings. “I didn’t know the Maiden was so feisty.”

I arched a brow.

“I was chosen because I know what you truly are.”

I forced my hands to unclench.

“I know what is really in your blood, and I dare say I know more than even you do.”

“Is that so?”

His lips parted, and I wanted to recoil from the sight of his fangs—a reaction that was nothing like when I saw Casteel’s. “You cannot even begin to comprehend why you were Chosen, but that’s neither here nor there. You’ll learn soon enough.”

“And what is it that I will learn?”

His eyes, a kaleidoscope of red and black, fixed on me—on my neck. “That you will usher in a whole new era of Ascended.”

Disgust rippled through me. “Do you think I don’t already know that?”

“I don’t think you can even possibly begin to understand what that means. But be that as it may, you were right. I am a bit more wounded than I let on. If it hadn’t been bloodstone, it would be healing by now. I’ve said to the Queen and King, time and time again, that all the bloodstone needs to be destroyed. But without it, she worries that the Craven would then overwhelm the people.”

“Can’t have your food source being destroyed now, can you?” I said before I could stop myself.

“The Dark One has obviously been whispering in your ear.” His tongue ran along his bottom lip. “He’s obviously been doing more than that.”

“It doesn’t matter what he’s been doing.” I smiled just as coldly as he. “What does matter is that I know why I’m the Queen’s favorite. I know what you all plan to do with me. I know you won’t touch me. I’m needed alive so that I can either keep the Atlantian you have held in captivity fed or be used to make more Ascended.”

His head tilted. “You’re right about one thing. We do need you alive. That’s about it.”

Before I could even process what he said, that I was only right about one thing, he rose and moved toward me.

And I reacted.

Leaning back, I planted my booted foot in his chest and kicked him back to his bench.

His eyes widened as he laughed. “Dear Maiden, that was unnecessary. I just need a sip. The King and Queen never need to know. It will be our secret. One you would be wise to keep—”

I kicked out again, catching him in the chest once more.

He hissed in pain. “That wasn’t very nice,” he snarled as I shifted, reaching for the knife. “That actually hurt.”

“That was the point.” I unsheathed the blade, holding it steady. “If you know as much as you think you do about me, then you’ll realize I know how to use this. It may not kill you, but I can make you wish it would.”

His burning black eyes widened as he held up his hands. “Now. Now.” His tone was placating. Patronizing. “There’s no need for threats of violence.”

“There’s not?” Keeping an eye on him, I scooted across the bench, toward the door.

He tracked my movements. “Did you forget about the speed in which we’re traveling? The knights?”

“I’d rather take my chances of being trampled to death. At least I’ll go to the grave knowing you’ll probably be right behind me once the King and Queen learn that I’m dead because of you.” I reached for the door—

Chaney struck.

I expected him to go for the knife. I reared back. The moment his hand reached around my ankle, I realized I had made a fatal miscalculation. He yanked hard, pulling me off the bench. My back cracked off the edge of the seat, sending a jolt to my already aching head as I went down hard in the cramped space.

He pulled me toward him, over the rough, dirty, wet floor, laughing the whole while. “There’s no point in fighting—”

Gripping his knee, I sat up, swinging the knife with all my might into his chest—into the angry, seeping wound.

Chaney howled, lashing out. His fist caught my jaw, snapping my head back. Bright bursts of light crowded the sides of my vision as he fell back in his seat, clutching at his chest. I struggled to my feet. The carriage jerked, pitched me back and then forward. Grabbing his shoulder for balance, I climbed onto him. He twisted under me, moving onto his back and then rolled, throwing me to the side. I crashed into the back of the bench, hitting the cushions and then fell to the floor. Air punched out of my lungs in a painful rush. I started to sit up, but Chaney dropped on top of me.

“I don’t know how the Teermans managed to be around you, knowing what you truly are. Not without stealing just a taste. You may only be half-Atlantian, but your blood is potent.” His weight and the stench of his cologne was unbearable, suffocating as he gripped my left arm, yanking it to his mouth. “I just need a little bit. Then the damn throbbing in my chest will stop—”

“No!” I shouted, struggling wildly beneath him. All my years of training disappeared in a flood of panic. I kicked the bottom of the bench with the leg that wasn’t pinned. I kicked him, the floor, the seat—

But it was no use.

The vampry’s teeth shredded my skin, sinking into the flesh of my lower arm.





Chapter 16





My arm was on fire.

The flames blazed through my body, so intense and all-consuming, I feared it would stop my heart.

I was scared that it already had because I was burning alive, screaming as I pressed against the floor, trying to escape the pain, get away from what was happening, but it invaded every part of me. I could feel it—him drawing my blood into him, breaking off pieces of me with each swallow. It was nothing like when Casteel had bitten me. The pain did not ease. It didn’t go away. It ratcheted up with each passing heartbeat.

He moaned, biting harder, digging his bottom teeth into my skin. Just like a Craven. Just like before. Like that night when I was too small and too young to fight back, too helpless.

The carriage screeched to a grinding halt, knocking Chaney loose. A moment of reprieve came where the burning ebbed enough for my brain to work again. My breath wheezed as my fingers spasmed around the handle of the knife. The knife. I still held it. I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t helpless any longer. Move, Poppy. Move.

Chaney latched on to my arm once more, and the pain was a hot coal against my skin, shoving me past the shock of pain before it could drag me under again.

I swung the knife down, driving it into his back, over and over until he finally felt it, finally reacted with a bellow of rage as he tore his mouth free. He lurched backward and to the side, reaching for the knife. Clutching his shoulder, I held on, jabbing the knife into the wound, into his chest, his face—anywhere I could reach, and he went wild—as wild as me. A new wave of pain exploded along my arm, my cheek, and bright, dazzling lights once more danced across my vision. I screamed as something seemed to rip open inside me. My senses stretched out, attaching to the Ascended. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing but my pain, my rage. It pulsed and throbbed inside me, through me, down the cord, and through the entire carriage, becoming a tangible, third entity as I sliced the knife through his cheek. Chaney jerked back, yelping. Blood sprayed and spurted, running from his eyes and ears. I didn’t stop. Not even when a crash sounded from the roof of the carriage. Not even when I thought I heard shouting from outside. I stabbed as many holes into the Lord as I could, until he sprang so many leaks, my hands were slick with his blood, my blood, and I kept thrusting the knife into him, over and over—