“My gods,” I whispered as I looked around.
“I’m hoping that’s an exclamation of approval,” Casteel stated as we neared the crest of a small hill.
“It is. These homes… And the gardens? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Food supply is far easier to manage when each household harvests as much as they can,” he said, drawing Molly closer to him when the mare appeared to take note of a vivid, yellow butterfly. “All the gardens were planted by farmers who have experience with crops. Those who agreed to settle in Spessa’s End were required to apprentice with farmers to learn how to keep them healthy and spot disease. With the temperatures rarely dropping below freezing at night, we’re able to grow some of the crops longer than places farther north.”
In Solis, food had to be paid for or grown, but very few had the land to grow anything, which meant that many spent the bulk of their income to acquire food. If there was no money, there simply was nothing to eat.
As soon as we reached the top of the hill, the scent of grilled meat replaced the sweetly scented breeze. It was then that I realized I hadn’t truly seen anything yet. The town center lay in the valley between the homes. There were other buildings—larger than the houses, numerous columned pavilions adorned with bright canopies or curtains, housing various markets. There were businesses—butchers, seamstresses, blacksmiths, and bakers, and in the very center and raised higher than any of the other buildings was the ruins of what had once been a great coliseum. Or so it appeared. Only half of the structure remained.
“Concerts and games were once played there,” Casteel said, having followed my gaze. “I remember sitting in those seats, watching plays.”
Thinking of all the souls that had once filled the massive coliseum twisted my heart. “Will it be repaired?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted as we traveled down the sloping hill. “I never wanted to tear it down. It’s become a monument in a way, a reminder of what once stood here. Perhaps one day we will repair it.”
There were more people in the town center, drifting between the pavilions and stalls. Pretending that he was just Hawke and I was Poppy ended as the people either rushed forward to greet Casteel or lingered back until others passed on.
There were wolven and Atlantians among the Descenters, and out of the blur of faces, I realized that all of them seemed genuinely happy to see Casteel. Most called him by name and not by his title, which was something not tolerated in Solis. All Royals were addressed as Lord or Lady, and to not do so was seen as greatly disrespectful, and worse yet, potentially a sign of being a Descenter.
I watched Casteel as he grinned or laughed at something someone said, asked about a family member or friend, seemingly as fascinated with them as I had been with the Guardians. I smiled when he introduced me to those who approached. My fiancée. My fiancée. My fiancée. I listened as he spoke to many, addressing them by name, and he was attentive and welcoming as we traveled along. If this wasn’t another mask—if this was who he was with his people—he was a Prince that anyone would be honored to rule beside.
Something nameless and unknown inside of me softened and then opened up even as my senses thrummed under my skin, stretching and throbbing in response to the cyclone of conflicting emotions spilling out of the crowd and into the air around me.
I noticed that, more often than not, the people’s reaction to me was far more subdued. Smiles went from warm and genuine to cold and tight. Welcoming glances became ones of curiosity or turned blank. Some gazes lingered on the scars for the briefest of moments while others openly stared. There were quickly averted gazes, and mumbled greetings.
Even as I struggled to keep my senses in check—even though I knew that many of the people of Atlantia didn’t welcome me—I started pretending again.
But this time he was Casteel, and I was Poppy, and he truly was my Prince.
Chapter 28
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Casteel said as we rode past the town center, beyond the crowds of people.
The tightness in my chest eased with the crowd’s dispersal, but balls of nervous energy formed in my stomach. Would this person be friendly? Would they stare?
“You okay?” he asked as he guided the horses to a stop outside of one of the homes where vines with tiny pink flowers climbed the terrace’s latticework.
I nodded as my gaze shifted up the road, drawn by the clang of a hammer. Homes were being built. Men were on the roofs, their skin damp with sweat, and women ran tools over the exterior walls, smoothing out the clay.
A young wolven loped out from the inside of the house, dancing around the women’s legs, tail wagging. Remembering what was said the night before about not many young being here, I figured it was Beckett. A grin tugged at my lips as he nudged a spade with his nose, rolling it toward one of the women.
Casteel dismounted as the door to the house opened wider. Kieran strode out, his brows rising upon seeing me astride my own horse.
Before I could even feel embarrassment over what had happened this morning, he opened his mouth. “Dear gods, you have her on her own horse? Soon, she’ll be running one of us over instead of stabbing us.”
My eyes narrowed. “This is who you wanted me to meet?” I asked. “Not sure if you realize this or not, but I’m well aware of who he is.”
Casteel laughed as he came to my side. “It’s not him I want you to meet.” He held Molly steady. “You want to dismount on your own?”
I nodded, rising and drawing one leg up and over the saddle. I lowered myself to the ground, nowhere near as gracefully, but I did it.
Kieran applauded. “Good job.”
“Shut up.”
The wolven laughed as one of the workers called out Casteel’s name.
Casteel looked over, squinting. He touched my lower back. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded as I turned to Molly, scratching her behind the ear as I watched Casteel jog toward the house.
“By the way,” Kieran approached me, “I hope you’re not embarrassed about this morning.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” I whispered.
“You’re not?” He sounded doubtful.” “You won’t look at me.”
“I was just looking at you a few moments ago.”
“Only because you wanted to do violent and terrible things to me.”
I smiled because that was true.
“You look like you want to do that now.”
Brows raised, I looked at him. “Happy? I’m looking at you now.”
A half-grin appeared. “Yes, but your face is as red as a tomato.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“And you still look like you want to murder me.”
I sighed.
He adjusted Molly’s halter as he said, “You know what you felt during the feeding and what surely came afterward is only natural.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need you to tell me this.”
“Then maybe you would like some advice?”
“Not really.”
“I’m going to give it to you anyway.”
“Of course, you are.”
“If you wish for future feedings—and I’m sure you realize there will be future ones—to be less intimate, you could offer him your wrist.”
I spun toward Kieran. “Well, that information is so very helpful now.”
Kieran laughed, not even bothering to move out of the way when I punched his arm.
“Ouch,” he murmured. “That was actually hard.”
“Do I even want to know why you just hit Kieran?” Casteel asked as he rejoined us.
Kieran’s eyes lit as he opened his mouth—
“No,” I jumped in, shooting Kieran a look that promised death if he spoke as Casteel came to stand beside me. “You do not.”
Grinning, Kieran backed up. “When has she ever needed a reason to be violent?”
“Good point.” Casteel glanced down at me, one side of his lips quirking. The damn dimple winked into existence. “I guess I should be grateful that she didn’t stab you.”
“There’s always later,” I muttered.
A throaty, feminine laugh snapped my head around. “You’re right, Kieran. I like her.”
Standing barefoot in the terrace’s doorway was a stunning woman dressed in black leggings and a bright yellow, sleeveless tunic that fit the curve of her hips and chest. Golden cuffs encircled her wrists and upper arms. Her jet-black hair, braided in narrow, tight rows, nearly reached her waist. The pale, wintry blue eyes were a striking contrast to skin as beautiful as the rich black of the night-blooming roses. There was some vague familiarity about the slant of her cheeks and the shape of her brow, but I knew I’d never met the female wolven before.
“Because she insinuated that I could be stabbed later?” Kieran muttered. “Shocker.”
Oh, gods, I really needed to stop talking about stabbing people.
The woman laughed. “Of course.” She stepped out of the doorway, her gaze flicking to Casteel. “Why are you standing there so quiet?”
“I am not interrupting you.” Casteel held up his hands. “The last time I did, you knocked me on my ass.”
I blinked.
“That is not why I knocked you on your ass,” she replied. “I don’t exactly remember why I did it, but I’m sure it was because you did something to deserve it.”