A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire: A Blood and Ash Novel

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Are you telling me that the key is for us to fight and make up?” I asked, because there was no way anyone could look at us, see the way we behaved toward each other, and think we were madly in love. They probably thought we were insane.

  “What I’m telling you is that there is no one way anyone behaves in a relationship. There isn’t a textbook of things to do or how to behave with the exception of the stabbing. I take back my fun in dysfunctional statement.”

  “Thank the gods.”

  “I just want to make sure you understand that, so when you’re free and if you decide to leave—”

  “If? You mean when I leave?”

  “Yes. My apologies,” he demurred. “When you leave and go out into the world and find yourself a mate who has never lied—”

  “Or kidnapped me?”

  “Or kidnapped you, there should be no stabbing or punching. Only kisses and promises upheld until dying breaths and beyond,” he said. “That is what you deserve from who you choose to love.”

  I didn’t know what to make of that—of him speaking of me…me loving someone else—loving someone for real. Acid pooled in my stomach.

  “The thing is, you won’t mess up if you get mad. You won’t do the wrong thing. Each couple is different. Some spend their time whispering sweet words in each other’s ears. Some spend the time baiting one another. Both enjoying being the tiger in the cat and mouse chase. That is us,” he said. “Or who we appear to others. This won’t be hard. Not with the passion between us, and before you try to lie and say there is none, just know that it would provoke me into proving I’m right.”

  The last thing I needed was for him to prove that he was right. There was passion between us, whether it was right or wrong, and I supposed it would be far harder to do this if we couldn’t physically bear one another’s touch.

  And what he said made too much sense. Not the nonsense about us both being the cat in the cat and mouse chase, which made no sense whatsoever. However, the part about there being no textbook to follow, no guidelines did make sense. So much so, it felt like something I should’ve known.

  “You probably think I’m foolish for not knowing—”

  “I don’t think you’re foolish. I never have—well, I take that back. I thought you were pretty foolish when you tried to escape,” he said, and my eyes rolled. “You’ve never been in a relationship, and you really haven’t been around many normal ones, so I understand why you wouldn’t be sure how to act. And it’s not like this is a normal situation.”

  Feeling a little better, I relaxed some. “And you’ve been in a relationship. I mean, you said you’ve been in love before.”

  “I have.”

  I watched the snow slip from branches as we passed, thinking of Alastir’s daughter. Shea. That was such a beautiful name, and maybe since Casteel had shared things with me before, he would be willing to talk about her. “What…what happened?”

  His fingers stilled and he was quiet for so long that I didn’t think he’d answer, which made me all the more curious. But then he spoke. “She’s gone.”

  Even though I already knew that, I felt a piercing ache in my heart, and I opened myself to him without giving it much thought. The moment I connected with him, I was hit by a wave of anguish so potent that it almost shielded the thread of anger underneath. I’d been right. Casteel’s pain and sadness wasn’t just for his brother. It was also for this faceless woman.

  I thought about what Casteel had told me the night of the Rite, before the attack. He’d taken me to the willow in the gardens, and he’d told me about a place he used to go with his brother and his best friend. A cavern they had turned into their own private world. He’d said that he’d lost his brother and then his best friend a few years later. Could that best friend have been Shea, this woman he loved?

  But his pain…

  Before I even knew what I was doing, I’d let go of the saddle and started to remove my glove—

  “Don’t,” he warned softly, and my hands froze. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need you to take away my pain, nor do I want that.”

  Still connected to him, I couldn’t imagine how that was possible. The agony that waited beneath the smirks and the teasing glances—under all his masks—was nearly unbearable. It threatened to drag me to the frozen ground. Being trampled by Setti was almost preferable to what festered from the wounds that couldn’t be seen. “Why wouldn’t you want that?”

  “Because the pain is a reminder and a warning. One I plan to never forget.”

  I severed the connection as nausea threatened to creep up my throat. “Did she…did she die because of the Ascended?”

  “Everything that has rotted in my life has been tied to the Ascended,” he said, his hand returning to my hip.

  “I’m tied to the Ascended,” I said before I could stop myself, before I could ignore the strange stinging.

  Casteel didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything. Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, and it felt as if there was a band tightening around my chest.

  Staring straight ahead, I spent the next however many hours wondering how he could stand to even be near me—be close to someone tied to the Ascended as I was. They took his brother. They took the person he loved. They took his freedom. What else could they take from him?

  His life?

  A chill swept over my skin as I sat straight, my hands clutching the saddle. The idea of Casteel dying, of him no longer being there with those frustrating smirks and teasing glances, his quick-witted replies, and those damn, infuriating dimples? I couldn’t even consider it. He was too vivid, too bright to think of him no longer being there.

  But he would be gone one day. When this was all over and we parted ways, he would be gone from my life. That was what I wanted—what I planned.

  Then why did I suddenly feel like crying?

  We camped out near the road, several hours after the sun had set. It was cold, but not nearly as cold as it had been in the Blood Forest. Casteel hadn’t spoken much beyond offering me food or asking if I needed a break, but as I lay there in the middle of the starless night, he returned to my side, stretching out behind me. I woke in his arms.

  The next three days were just like that.

  Casteel barely spoke. Whatever he felt, and I didn’t open myself up to him to truly know, was a shadow colder than the nights. So many times, I wanted to ask—I wanted to tell him that I knew about Shea. That I was sorry he’d lost her. I wanted to ask questions about her—about them. I wanted him to do what Alastir had said he hadn’t. I wanted him to talk, because I knew his silence fed his anguish. I said nothing, though, telling myself it wasn’t my place. That the less I knew, the better.

  But he came to my side in the night, and he was there when a nightmare found me, waking me before I could give sound to the screams building inside me. He held me in silence, his hand stroking my back until I fell back to sleep.

  The nightmares…they were different. Patchy, as if I were popping in and out of them instead of following the events of the night as before. They didn’t make any sense to me, either. Not the wounds on my mother, not the screams or the choking smoke. Not that creepy voice whispering about bleeding poppies. It was like the nightmares weren’t real anymore.

  That was what I was thinking about as we saddled the horses and traveled the road to Spessa’s End on the fourth day. I had no idea how much time had passed when I saw something in the trees to my left. I couldn’t make out what it was, and just when I thought I was seeing things, I saw it again, several trees down the road.

  It hung from a limb stripped of pine needles and bare of snow. A rope shaped into some kind of symbol—a circle. I twisted in my seat, but I couldn’t find where it had been in the mass of trees. The arm around my waist tightened, the first reaction from Casteel in days. I could feel the tension in his arm as I scanned the woods.

  The shape tugged at the recesses of my memory. It looked like something I’d seen before. To the rig
ht, I saw it again—a brown rope hanging from another bare limb, fashioned almost like a noose, but with a stick or something crossing through the center.

  I’d seen something similar in the Blood Forest. Except it had been created out of rocks and had reminded me of the Royal Crest. But now that I could see this one more clearly, I realized it was only like the Crest.

  It wasn’t a straight line like an arrow, situated at a slant, but one that was slanted in the opposite direction. And that…that wasn’t a stick bound to the rope. It was too ashen in color, the ends knobby.

  Oh, gods.

  It was a bone.

  Setti slowed, and Casteel’s arm slid away from me.

  Slowly, I lifted my gaze, and trepidation took hold. There were dozens of them hanging amongst the trees, all different, at dizzying heights.

  “Casteel?” I said quietly. “Do you see what’s in the trees?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw the same shapes in the Blood Forest.”

  “Cas,” Kieran’s voice was low, barely audible.

  “I know,” he answered, and I heard a quiet snap of a clasp. When his arm came back around me, he held the strange bow in my lap. As close as it was, I could see that the nocked arrow was thicker than normal, and although I’d seen the kind of damage the bolt could do, it was still somehow unfathomable.

  I stared at the bow and the bloodstone arrow. “Is it Craven?” I asked, having seen the rocks right before they arrived. I looked down, seeing no mist.

  “I don’t think Craven have started to decorate trees with craft projects, Princess,” he said, and my heart gave a stupid little leap. It was the first time he’d called me that in days. He shifted the handle of the bow into my hand. “The lovely decorations are courtesy of the Dead Bones Clan.”

  “The what?” I turned my head toward his.

  “They used to live all across Solis, especially where the Blood Forest is now, but they’ve since relocated to these woods and hills over the past several decades.”

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “There are a lot of things the Ascended don’t share with the people of Solis. Like the fact that there are people who live and survive outside the protection of the Rise.”

  “How?” I demanded. Many of the villages outfitted with smaller Rises were often overrun by Craven.

  “They survive by any means necessary. For this clan, one of those means is by slaughtering anyone they view as a threat. Supposedly, they eat who they kill and will often use the flesh for masks and the bones—well, you already saw what they like to do with the bones. You know what they say—waste not, want not.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I…”

  “Yeah, Princess, there really aren’t any words. We try to avoid them when we pass through here. Normally, we don’t have any problems. But in case we do.” He folded a hand over mine. “Feel this metal piece? It’s the trigger. You aim this bow just like you would a normal one, but instead of pulling the string back, you press on this, and it fires the arrow.”

  I had so many questions, but I curled my fingers around the wooden handle, getting a feel for its weight. Instinct told me that the important thing was to focus on his instructions. “Okay.”

  “The arrow is nocked the same, except it’s held in place. All you need to do is aim and pull the trigger. Bloodstone bolts will also kill mortals,” he instructed. “You know what to do if we have any problems with these people. Stay alive.”

  I started to respond, but Kieran shouted. No more than a second later, Casteel jerked me back against him. The handle of the bow pressed into my stomach as something whizzed mere inches from my face. My head jerked to the right as a branch on the other side of the road snapped in two, taken down by—

  “In the trees!” Naill shouted. “To the left!”

  Casteel wheeled Setti, guiding the powerful horse around so that I was facing to the right. He shifted in the saddle, his body pressing mine down as flat as I could go—

  There was another shot, and then Casteel was gone from Setti’s back, driven to the ground.

  Chapter 21

  “Casteel!” I shouted, my heart slamming against my ribs. Twisting in the saddle, I gripped the bow as I looked down.

  Rolling out of the path of Setti’s hooves, Casteel rose to his knees. My stomach dropped at the sight of the arrows jutting out of his back. One was lodged in his left shoulder. Another was near the center of his back, just to the right. Blood already darkened his black cloak.

  “Solis bastards!” someone shouted from the trees. “You’re going to die today!”

  Another arrow blew past my face, missing me by inches. Panic exploded in my chest as Setti pranced in a tight circle, startled. He’s okay, I told myself as I gripped the saddle horn with my other hand. He was Atlantian. Two arrows couldn’t take him down. He’s okay. I’d stabbed him in the actual heart, and he’d been fine. He’s okay—

  Setti reared. My grip on the pommel slipped. I had no idea how to control a horse, and if I let go to grab the reins, I would fall. I was no way near as fast as Casteel. My wild gaze darted over the heavy tree line as Naill shouted a curse, taking an arrow to the leg. Setti slammed down on his front hooves, rattling me to my very bones. I lost my grip and slipped. The sky turned sideways—

  An arm snagged me from behind. The scent of rich spice and citrus in fresh snow enveloped me. Casteel yanked me down as Delano suddenly appeared on Setti’s other side. Catching Setti’s reins, he rose to a crouch on the saddle and leapt onto the horse’s back, keeping his mount’s reins in his other hand. Sliding into the seat, he dug his heels in, urging Setti and his horse into the woods to the right.

  A blur of fawn-colored fur shot past us, into the woods. Kieran. Several heartbeats later, I heard a yelp and a high-pitched scream as Casteel all but carried me into the trees to the right.

  “Fucking wolven!” a man hooted, his enthusiastic response quite at odds with what came out of his mouth next. “This just became our lucky day, boys! The gods are good!”

  Casteel spun suddenly, shielding my body with his. He jerked and growled out a sharp curse, and I knew he’d taken another arrow.

  “This is getting extremely annoying,” he snarled, thrusting me behind a tree. He tossed the quiver of arrows I hadn’t seen him grab toward me. “Don’t get shot. That will be even more annoying.”

  “How about you try not getting shot again.” An arrow now protruded from Casteel’s lower back, and he was still standing there. In the back of my mind, I knew why. He was Atlantian. But all I could think as I saw the three arrows pierced through him was…what if he weren’t?

  He’d be dead, and I…

  “But I make wearing arrows look good, don’t I?” Casteel twisted sharply, his hand snapping out. He caught the next arrow intended for him.

  I stared at him.

  “I don’t know why any of you think this is your lucky day,” he yelled back as he turned around. He shattered the arrow in his fist. “It’s really not. Not when my cloak has been ruined. And I really liked it. It was warm, and now it has godsdamn holes in it. How will that keep me warm?”

  Something about him being more upset about his ruined cloak than he was about having multiple holes in his body had a strange, calming effect on me. My hands stopped trembling as I focused on the pines across the road. I knew how to fire a bow. I was very good at it. Vikter had claimed that I was one of the best archers he’d seen. I had the steady hands for it, the watchful eye, and the quick reflexes. That was why Casteel had handed the bow over to me. He knew I could use it.

  And I had the steady hands now.

  A sound began, a great wave of rattling that reminded me of those wooden toys with beads inside that infants often enjoyed. It seemed to come from all directions, like the rasping of dry bones. The hairs on my neck stood on end.

  Rapidly scanning the other side of the road for any movement that wasn’t fawn-colored, I lifted the bow as Naill joined Casteel. My finger curled aro
und the trigger as I kept searching—

  A muddied brown shape briefly appeared between the pines, and I didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. I leveled the bow just as my target lifted his weapon, taking aim at Naill. I pressed on the trigger.

  The bolt released with a whoosh, flying across the road. I already knew I’d hit my target when I reached for another heavier, thicker arrow.

  Movement caught my eyes. I looked just in time to see Casteel launch into the air. He jumped higher than he stood, which was well over six feet. My lips parted as he landed on a limb, shaking free pine needles and snow dust. All I could see was his arm punch into the shadows of the limb. A second later, he yanked a mortal out, tossing him to the ground—

  Delano shot out from the forest. In his wolven form, he was nothing more than a streak of white fur. He caught the mortal before he hit the ground, whipping his large head and shaking the man like a dog did its favorite toy. I heard a cracking sound, and then Delano dropped the broken mortal. Blood streaked Delano’s fur as he lunged, catching another clansman around the throat that Casteel had thrown from the tree from…dear gods…from higher up.

  Dragging my eyes from what I was unlikely to ever forget, I nocked another bolt, firing at another mortal that popped out from between two trees. Loading the bow, I twisted at the waist, leaned out—

  “Damn bloodsuckers! Boys, be fast!” that first voice came again, somewhere from the trees. “We ain’t dealing with just wolven! Aim for the head!”

  Okay, the fact that this Dead Bones Clan knew about the wolven and the Atlantians was interesting. And I—

  Fiery pain lanced across my skin as an arrow shot by me, grazing my arm. I sucked in a sharp breath as I darted back behind the elm, shaking my wrist as if that would somehow lessen the burn.

  It didn’t help all that much.

  Screams of pain pierced through the distant snarls. Gritting my teeth, I looked over my shoulder, no longer seeing Casteel or Delano. Naill was gone too. I stayed still until I saw a shifting of shadows and a flash of movement to my left. I zeroed in on it.