A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Casteel walked out of the cavern as naked as the day he was born, and if he didn’t stop to put on those pants, Kieran was about to get one hell of an eyeful.

  “Okay, then,” I whispered and then laughed, the sound echoing in the chamber.

  My head fell back as I stared at the slivers of sunlight, searching for remorse or shame. Like before, I only found uncertainty. Not for what we’d shared, but for what it meant. We hadn’t been pretending.

  What we’d shared had been real. No games. No pretenses. No half-truths.

  I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. It felt swollen from his kisses. I lifted my fingers to my mouth, shivering as I thought of how he’d claimed it just as thoroughly as he’d done with the rest of my body.

  I turned at the sound of Casteel’s footsteps. Thank all the gods, he was halfway clothed. The flap of buttons was undone, though, and I had no idea how the pants stayed on his hips. He carried a white bundle in his hands, which he laid carefully on the floor of the cave.

  “Kieran figured we were headed here. He brought some fresh clothes for both of us and a towel.”

  I couldn’t even fathom how Kieran had been that intuitive, and I probably didn’t want to know.

  He extended a hand, offering a thick, white towel. “It goes without saying that I prefer the naked, wet version of you. But it’s time to dry off and be presentable.”

  I shook my head as I moved forward, slowing when the bubbling water started to drop below my chest. Why was I hesitating? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen my breasts, the scars, and everything else. He was waiting, watching me, and hadn’t I done the same earlier? Watched him undress unabashedly? Shoring up courage, I continued on, and the strangest thing happened. Each step became easier, even as the water dropped to my ribcage and then to my navel. Even as Casteel’s gaze followed the water level. His lips parted slightly, and I was confident that Nyktos himself could arrive, and Casteel wouldn’t look away from me. I realized there was power in that, in being a source of distraction for him. The edges of his fangs dragged over his lower lip as the water fizzed around my inner thighs and then lower. Pretending or not, he enjoyed what he saw as I climbed the earthen steps.

  “I’ll help.” He spread the towel wide. “I know you don’t need it, but I want to.”

  I said nothing as I stood in front of him, bare as he’d been. He stepped in behind me, rubbing the towel over my wet hair.

  “This should be dried first,” he explained, and I was fully aware that he was staring down at me as he squeezed the excess water from my hair. I knew he saw the tips of my breasts pucker and could see the flush I felt tinting my skin.

  “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold,” he said, voice rough. “That’s what I hear about wet hair.”

  “Uh-huh.” My jaw worked as a smile tugged at my lips.

  “I’m just being thorough.” He slid the towel down my arms, all the way to the tips of my fingers and then across my back. “You’ll thank me later.”

  “For being thorough?”

  “Among other things.” He dragged the cloth over my stomach and then up, catching the water between my breasts. His hands lingered there before he turned me to him.

  He knelt before me, sending my stomach tumbling as he drew the towel up my left leg, then my right, and finally between them. I sucked in a sharp breath, swaying slightly.

  “Just being thorough,” he reminded me, his eyes hooded. “I wouldn’t want you unnecessarily wet, Princess.”

  I had a feeling he meant something else.

  The towel smoothed over my backside. “I think you’re all dry now.” His gaze slowly made its way to mine. “Mostly.”

  Yes.

  Mostly.

  Grinning, he leaned his head down and kissed the faded, jagged scar on my inner thigh. The act startled me out of the pleasant haze. I watched him rise, a thousand different thoughts racing through my head as he wrapped the towel around me.

  I grabbed hold of the edges. “Casteel—”

  “I know.” He placed a finger over my lips. “What we’ve done here stays here.”

  I blinked, stung at once by words I wasn’t sure I even understood. I wasn’t going to say that. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to say.

  He turned, picking up the white shirt, which was such a contrast against his tan skin. A lock of dark hair toppled over his forehead, softening his features as he bent his head, buttoning his pants. There was a curl low in my stomach. How could he make such an ordinary act as dressing appear so sensual?

  I honestly didn’t need to stand there and watch him dress. Dropping the towel, I quickly put on my clothes.

  “Here.” Casteel fixed my sleeves again.

  I didn’t know exactly what it was about that moment that made me think of the consequences of what we’d just done. The fact that it hadn’t even crossed my mind until now showed that I needed to make better life choices.

  “You said that you took prevention for pregnancy,” I said, recalling that he’d taken an herb that rendered both males and females temporarily infertile. “Are you still covered?”

  “Yes. I’m careful, Poppy,” he said without hesitation, gathering up our clothing and my boots. “I wouldn’t risk a child.”

  Between us.

  He hadn’t said that, but it hung in the air nonetheless. And there was another odd, irrational bite. One which made no sense because of the idea of having a child with anyone was more terrifying than finding an actual creature with fins for legs and tails for arms under my bed.

  There was something obviously wrong with me because it still hurt.

  Because what was real to him wasn’t the same for me.

  Word of what I’d done to Beckett had spread. I knew this because everyone stared as I lifted a spoonful of thick herbal soup.

  Well, not everyone.

  Two Atlantians had commandeered Casteel’s attention. So had Kieran. I had no idea where Delano and Naill had disappeared to, and it could literally be anywhere since we were in one of the larger buildings in the town center. But the rest were either sneaking peeks in my direction or outright staring.

  The mortals and Atlantians who sat at the table before us. The wolven interspersed throughout the rest of the tables. They all stared. Not that I could blame them. I had glowed silver, and I had healed someone with my touch. I’d be staring at someone who I’d heard or seen do that, too. But it was what was behind those stares that unnerved me. The air fairly vibrated with emotion, and like before, I hadn’t needed to concentrate, to open myself to feel the near hostility of most around me.

  Swallowing the rich, flavorful soup, I lifted my gaze to the banners that hung on either side of the door. They rippled softly in the breeze coming through the open windows, which caught the blades of several fans, keeping the packed room cool.

  A soft touch to my arm drew my attention to my right, where Alastir sat. “Would you like to take your dinner in your private quarters?” he asked quietly. “If so, I can escort you back to the fort.”

  I lowered my spoon as I glanced to where Casteel sat at the head of the table. He was listening to an Atlantian as he rooted around on a plate of cheeses, inspecting each one as if he were looking for the perfect one or flaws. I refocused on Alastir. “Do I look that uncomfortable?”

  A tight, worried smile appeared. “You’ve barely touched your food.”

  It was hard to eat while people stared. My gaze flickered over the crowded room. Part of me wanted to excuse myself and return to my bedchamber, but this was only one of many dinners or events where I would be the object of interest. Plus, hiding in my quarters may be the easier option, but it would also be more cowardly. And besides, no one was projecting their emotions. There wasn’t a screamer among them, so I could ignore them. Mostly.

  “I’m fine,” I decided.

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know it must be hard to be around so many who aren’t welcoming of you and know how they feel. I would not think ill of you if
you don’t want to expose yourself to that. And just know that anyone who has spent even a few minutes in your presence does not feel that way. The rest will come to know you, I’m sure. But until then, I apologize for their behavior.”

  He squeezed my arm gently. “Did you know that this was once a very busy trading post?”

  I swallowed the knot his words formed in my chest.

  “When Atlantia ruled over the entire kingdom, this was the first and last major city before you crossed the Skotos Mountains. There used to be…thousands that once passed through here,” he said, sighing as his gaze coasted over the bare walls. “It was such a shame to see what became of this place, but Casteel and these people are slowly restoring it and bringing new life.”

  Quentyn strode out from an area where the food had been prepared, carrying a large pitcher. Another trailed behind him, shorter and younger with a slight limp. It took me a moment to recognize the boy with the black hair and tan skin. I’d only seen him in his wolven form and very briefly as a mortal, but his skin had been pale and clammy then.

  Beckett.

  I watched him refill the glasses at the end of the table and make his way toward us. As he refilled his great-uncle’s glass, he finally looked at me.

  “We already met,” he whispered. “Kind of.”

  “Beckett,” I said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Almost perfect.” He poured water into my glass as he glanced back at Alastir before dipping his chin. “Thank you. I can’t say that enough.”

  “You already have.”

  A wide, toothy grin broke out across his face but quickly faded, and I felt a sharp spike of…of fear before he moved on to the other side of the table.

  Was he now afraid of me?

  I sat back as the knot in my chest expanded. I couldn’t understand why. I’d healed him—how I’d done that, I had no idea—but Beckett had to know that I wasn’t someone to fear.

  “Penellaphe? Are you all right?”

  A ragged breath left me as I looked at Alastir. “Yeah. Yes.” I smiled as I turned my attention back to him. “They seem very helpful. Beckett and Quentyn.”

  “Respecting your elders is drilled into the young from a very early age. You will often find the youngest helping to serve food and drink at many dinner tables throughout Atlantia,” Casteel explained, having overheard me.

  Alastir snorted. “Except for you. You always had your nose in a book at the dinner table.”

  Surprise distracted me from Beckett’s response. “What were you reading?”

  “Usually history books or my studies,” he answered, one side of his lips tipping up. “I was an utterly boring child most of the time.”

  My eyes connected with Kieran’s briefly, reminding me of what he’d shared about Casteel being the serious one.

  “Well, your brother made up for that,” Alastir said, shaking his head. “You didn’t want Malik serving you anything at dinner.”

  My gaze flew back to Casteel, and I watched his smile grow. I didn’t know what I expected, but it was so rare that anyone spoke of his brother.

  “Malik would often…experiment with the drinks and food,” Casteel said when he caught my gaze. “And you did not want to be on the receiving end of those experiments.”

  “I’m half afraid to ask,” I said.

  “But you will,” Kieran murmured.

  I ignored the wolven.

  So did Casteel. “He would add lemon and pepper to juice, salt to dishes meant to be sweet, and generally ruin whatever it was that you were excited to eat.”

  “That’s terrible,” I said, laughing.

  He leaned over, lashes lowering as he said. “And yet, you laugh.”

  “Yes.”

  Casteel lifted his gaze, and the heat in it sent a shiver dancing over my skin. “Probably because it sounds like something you’d do.”

  “Possibly.”

  He chuckled as he straightened, turning back to the other table as he returned to picking through the cheese.

  “How many—?” I stopped as Casteel’s hand brushed mine. He placed a hunk of cheese on my plate, one that had been thinly sliced. I glanced over at him. He was now listening to another mortal from the table behind ours. “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  I picked up the cheese, smiling slightly before eating a piece of it. A sudden burst of laughter drew my attention. Kieran had risen, moved to sit with a few men at the end of the table. The laugh had come from where Beckett and Quentyn sat with Emil and some other men who’d traveled with Alastir. Wondering what had made Emil laugh so loudly, I tugged my attention away.

  My gaze collided with that of two mortals. They were older. Males. One of them spoke in the other’s ear. The second man with neatly trimmed blond hair curled his lip. His disgust soured the cheese.

  I took a drink, washing away the taste. That wasn’t the first unfriendly stare or mannerism I’d received, all done when Casteel was distracted—like now, since he’d risen to speak with a woman who was all bones and wrinkled skin. My grip tightened on the glass. Each time I caught one of their looks or stares, I wanted to ask if they needed assistance with something. I wanted to hold their stares until they grew as uncomfortable as I felt, but I said nothing. I did nothing. Just like when the Priestess scolded me, or the Duke lectured me.

  “Don’t pay them any mind,” Alastir murmured quietly.

  I placed my glass on the table.

  “They just don’t know you,” he repeated. His smile was as false as the one I often wore as the Maiden. “Their distrust or even dislike of you is something you must get used to as their Princess and soon-to-be Queen.”

  Queen.

  My entire body seized. That wasn’t going to happen, I reminded myself. Even if the impossible happened and Casteel and I—well, I couldn’t even finish that thought. Casteel didn’t want to become King.

  “If you don’t wish to step back and remove yourself from this situation, then you can’t let it show that their feelings are getting to you. You can’t let Casteel know, lest we have another Landell situation on our hands,” he continued. “I don’t know for sure what he feels for you, but one thing is evident. He will act upon any perceived insult to your honor. There is power there, Penellaphe. You are the neck that turns the head of the kingdom.”

  I stared at him.

  “I’m sorry. You probably don’t understand any of that. You weren’t prepared for this. That’s not your fault,” he said, and yet, it sort of felt like it was. “None of this is. His engagement to you is utterly unexpected.”

  “I’m sure their dislike of me has more to do with who I was and not that I’m marrying their Prince.” I thought about that. “Or it’s an equal combination of the two.”

  “That, and they have all heard that he originally planned to use you for ransom. They don’t understand how love has blossomed from that. Neither do I, even after his claims of love.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” I muttered as Casteel moved toward the entryway just as the door opened. A tall man walked in, black ink swirling over the swarthy skin of both arms, all the way up to his shoulders. His hair was shaggy, a silvery hue that had nothing to do with his age. There were only faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled upon seeing Casteel.

  “I’m sure they have,” Alastir said, lowering his voice as Casteel clasped hands with the silvery-haired man. Was that Jasper? He was too far away for me to see his eyes. “But I’ve known him his entire life. More importantly, I’ve seen him in love, Penellaphe.”

  By an act of sheer will, I kept my face blank as I looked at Alastir. I couldn’t…I couldn’t believe he’d said that. But all I felt from him was concern.

  “They were expecting someone else as their Princess,” he went on. “It’s not just you.”

  “Someone who was not the Maiden?” I surmised.

  “Well, of course. But as you know, he was expected to marry upon his return—” He snapped his mouth shut as his brow
s lowered. “He didn’t tell you?”

  A strange thumping started in my body. “Didn’t tell me what?” Alastir started to look away, but I grabbed his arm. “Didn’t tell me what?” I demanded.

  “Good gods, that idiotic boy.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and I felt the flare of annoyance in him. “One of these days, I will learn to keep my mouth shut.”

  I sure hoped not, since it was clear there was a lot I’d never hear if it weren’t for him.

  “Why do I have a feeling I’m the idiotic boy you speak of?” Casteel asked as he returned to his seat. The smile on his face faded as he took in Alastir’s and my expressions. “What have you two been whispering about?”

  “I don’t think now is the time—” Alastir started.

  “I think now is the perfect time,” I cut in, well aware that those around us were starting to pay attention.

  “As do I.” Casteel eyed Alastir. “Speak.”

  That one command demanded a response. Alastir shook his head, jaw tight as he said, “You didn’t tell her that you were already promised to another.”

  Chapter 32

  The sudden roaring in my ears made me think I hadn’t heard Alastir correctly. Or maybe it was because my heart pounded so hard that I’d misheard.

  But I hadn’t, had I? Because, suddenly, I remembered everything Alastir had said the morning I met him. He’d spoken of obligations upon Casteel’s return. Marriage was definitely an obligation.

  A sharp slice of pain tore through my chest. It felt like a crack, and it sounded like thunder in my ears. How no one else heard it was beyond me.

  Slowly, as if I were caught in the stage between waking and sleep, I turned to Casteel. He was speaking, but I couldn’t hear him, and I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.

  What I’d just learned.

  Promised to another when I met him in the Red Pearl and he’d been my first kiss, when I knew him as Hawke and had grown to trust him, desire him, and care for him. Promised to another when he’d taken me under the willow and told me that he didn’t care what I was, but rather who I was. When he showed me the kind of pleasure we could find with each other, first in the Blood Forest and then again in New Haven. Promised to another when I learned the truth of who he was and when we took from each other in the woods outside of the keep, when I fed him, and he thanked me afterward.