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

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  I was still trembling when I felt him lift his head. Blinking my eyes open in a daze, I lowered my chin and what little air had entered my lungs left me.

  His eyes were pitch-black now, no amber to be seen, but they weren’t empty and cold like the Ascended’s. They were endless and heated, but equally disconcerting to look into. His glistening lips parted—

  A terrace door swung open, and a gust of wind swept through the room and over the bed as Kieran stormed inside, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  He drew up short, brows inching up on his forehead. I had no idea what he could see or how much Casteel’s body shielded since the curtains had been pulled back. “I heard you scream,” Kieran said in way of explanation. “Obviously, I misread the situation.”

  There was no time to feel the burn of mortification. Casteel’s head swung in Kieran’s direction. A violent snarl of warning doused the languid heat in my body. That was a far different sound than what I’d heard from him, even when he first woke. This promised blood-soaked death.

  “Shit,” Kieran muttered, his pale blue gaze widening on the Atlantian. “Cas, my brother, I warned you this would happen.”

  I had no idea what Kieran had warned Casteel about, but I could see his muscles tensing, preparing, and my gift…oh gods, my gift was still open, still connected to him. What I felt from him then truly scared me. The acidic sting of anger mingled with a charred taste I was unfamiliar with, but whatever it was, it was bad enough that I feared for Kieran’s life.

  And I wasn’t exactly sure when I started to care if the wolven lived or died, but his death would be…it would be yet another unnecessary one. I didn’t want that.

  “Casteel,” I tried, hoping that would garner his attention, and not of the murderous variety.

  He didn’t seem to hear me, his chin dropping even lower as his fingers slid from my hips. Snarling, he bared his fangs.

  “I hope you’re listening, Poppy,” Kieran said, voice low and unbelievably calm as he let go of the hilt of his sword. “When he lunges for me, I need you to run. Go to the area near the stables. It will have double doors. Find Naill or Delano. Get ready.”

  Get ready? He expected me to run? Besides the fact that I rarely ran for help, I doubted that I would even make it to the door.

  “Casteel,” I tried again, and when I felt the power coiling in him, I did the only thing I could think of. Using my gift, I reached out and placed my hand on his arm. I thought of every wonderful feeling I’d ever felt. Walking on the beach with my mother holding one hand and my father holding the other with Ian dancing in front of us, kicking up sand. I sent that through the connection, through the contact of my flesh to his, using the same technique I did to temporarily give a reprieve from pain. I didn’t know why I said what I did next, other than I needed to. “It’s okay, Hawke.”

  His entire body jerked as if an invisible hand had grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled. Chest rising and falling in rapid, short pants, his back bowed as his hands landed on either side of my hips. He didn’t move. Not for several long moments, but slowly, through my abilities, I no longer had the charred taste in my mouth, and I felt something under the hunger—a cyclone of shame and sadness.

  Slowly, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. I let out a ragged breath. They were amber, the only black his pupils. His gaze met mine, and a long moment stretched out between us. Swallowing thickly, I dropped my hand as he looked down.

  “Honeydew,” Casteel whispered. He grabbed the halves of my robe, tugging it over my hips and my thighs. His hands lingered there, a faint tremor coursing through them as he lifted his gaze to mine once more. “I’m sorry.”

  And then he rose from the bed and walked out of the terrace doors, past Kieran, without saying another word.

  Chapter 23

  Sunlight streamed in through the terrace doors, and for several moments, all I could do was sit there and stare at the open door. I couldn’t believe what’d happened, from the moment I woke up, all tangled up with him, until he left the bedchamber. What had happened to him left me confused. And my actions, what I’d done and allowed, left me stunned and in a daze.

  Casteel had lost his mind.

  I’d lost my mind.

  Kieran closed the door, cutting off the rush of sweet-scented air and snapping me from my thoughts. My gaze cut to where he stood in front of the fireplace. The flames had calmed, no longer stirred by the wind. “Did he hurt you?”

  “What?” My voice was hoarse as I blinked.

  “Did he hurt you, Penellaphe?” Kieran repeated, his voice softening.

  “No. He…” I looked at my bare legs. He hadn’t hurt me. He could’ve, and I wasn’t even sure if he hadn’t wanted to, but he’d done the furthest thing from hurting me. Reaching for the blanket, I tugged it to my waist.

  A muscle flexed in Kieran’s jaw. “He didn’t force himself on you?”

  “Gods, no.” I shoved the hair back from my face and caught sight of the knife. It remained where I’d dropped it on the bed. Casteel hadn’t forced anything, and the truth was, I could’ve stopped what’d happened at any point if I wanted to. I could’ve wounded him enough to attempt an escape. But I hadn’t because I…I’d wanted what’d happened. I’d woken up wanting that. And I didn’t know if Casteel had sensed my desire through whatever had its claws in him, but regardless, I had wanted that.

  Him.

  I searched for remorse or shame, anything that would show that I regretted what’d taken place, but there was nothing. Like before, there was just vast confusion and irritation with myself because I knew better—knew that things like this just aided in me falling more and more for him. Not too long ago, I had told him that nothing like that would ever happen again, and I’d proven that I couldn’t trust myself to make good life choices—not once or twice but three times. The pantry. The nightmare. And now, this. How could I want him so badly that I didn’t care about what he did or who he was? Or what he might do to me?

  “What happened?” Kieran asked.

  It took a couple of moments for me to gather my thoughts. “He woke up, and it was like he didn’t recognize me. He was snarling, and his eyes were pitch-black.” I left out quite a bit there as I looked at Kieran, but I was sure he already knew a great deal of what’d happened. “His eyes reminded me of an Ascended. Is he…will he be okay?”

  Kieran’s face was impressively blank, considering what had just happened. “He should be once he cools down.”

  “Cools down? I think he needs more than that.” I glanced at the door. “He was about to attack you.”

  “In that moment, he saw me as a challenge.” He paused. “A threat.”

  “To who? Him?”

  “You.”

  My heart turned over heavily. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  Kieran folded his arms over his broad chest. “Under the right or, I suppose extreme circumstances, those of his kind can become quite possessive.”

  “With what? Their meals?”

  “Did he bite you?”

  “Other than the first time?” I resisted the urge to touch the nearly faded mark on my throat. “No.”

  Something akin to disappointment flickered over his face, and without thinking, I opened my gift and reached out to him. There would be time later to feel guilt over prying when it didn’t seem exactly necessary. What I felt wasn’t what I imagined disappointment to feel like. This was thick and cloying, reminding me of too-heavy cream. Concern. He felt concern. I pulled my senses back.

  “What was wrong with him?” I asked, even though I already suspected I knew.

  He watched me for a moment. “He’ll be fine. Although, I suggest you take this time to prepare yourself before he returns.”

  Frustration surged, and I narrowed my eyes. “Thanks for the suggestion, but you didn’t answer my question. You said that you warned him. About what?”

  Kieran said nothing.

  Never able to remain seated when anger started pumping through my bl
ood, I grabbed the dagger and shoved off the blanket, standing.

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “You plan to use that?”

  “Why does everyone think I’m going to stab them when I pick up anything that’s not blunt?”

  “Well,” Kieran replied blandly, “you do have a habit of doing exactly that.”

  I started to argue but quickly realized that, unfortunately, he had a point. “Only when it’s deserved.” I placed the dagger on the small wooden table. “And it’s not my fault that some of you deserve to be stabbed. Repeatedly.”

  He inclined his head as if he agreed with the point I’d made. “You shouldn’t worry about him—”

  “And you should answer my question.” I faced him. “Something was obviously wrong with him. He wasn’t in control, and I felt his hunger. He was starving.”

  “So you used your abilities?” A faint smile appeared. “Glad you took my advice.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know that Atlantians need to feed off other Atlantians. He told me that they don’t need the blood of mortals, but of their own kind. That they need to feed. But he never said why. I may not be a scholar on all things Atlantian, but I’m guessing the black eyes and him being ready to bite your head off are a couple of the reasons Atlantians need to feed?”

  “The black eyes, yes. But the wanting to bite my head off probably had more to do with whatever morning activities you two were indulging in.”

  My face flamed hotly, and it took everything in me to ignore that. “He needs to feed—” I thought about earlier, after the Dead Bones Clan attack. “That’s why he was staring at my arm in the woods! When you asked if he was okay. He was hungry then. That’s why he was…all growly and wanted to bite your head off.”

  “Part of the reason. Yes.” Kieran looked away, dragging his teeth over his lip. A long moment passed. “He needs to feed. I could tell he was getting to the edge, but he’s not about to tip over it. He’s not that close.”

  Unease blossomed. “How can he not be close? He didn’t recognize you or me.”

  His gaze slid back to mine. “If he was closer to the edge, he would’ve ripped my head off, and you would be Ascending as we speak, forbidden or not. Or, you’d be dead. If he was too close to the edge, one drop of your blood would’ve sent him over. You most likely would’ve died, and when he realized what he’d done, he would’ve…I don’t even want to think about what he would’ve done.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, unsure which of those two options was worse. Well, Kieran getting his head torn off sounded way more painful and…messy than what could’ve happened to me.

  If Casteel had been too close to the edge, if he’d fed and then ended up turning me, I would become…an Ascended. Unable to control my bloodlust. Unable to walk in the sun. Virtually immortal. But what kind of life was that?

  Though what kind of life would I even have with Casteel? By the time I was old and gray, he would look as he did now. Young. Vital. He would—

  Wait. Why was I even thinking about a future—our future—when there really wasn’t one? Maybe I truly had lost my mind.

  I felt like I needed to sit down. “If this was him not close to the edge, then I don’t think I want to see him on it.”

  “No, you do not.” Kieran tipped his head back against the wall. “Did he wake up normally, or was he startled awake?”

  Thinking of what I’d been doing and fantasizing about before he’d woken up, I was glad that Kieran wasn’t looking at me. “I think I woke him up. I moved, and that’s when he sort of launched himself at me.”

  “That makes sense,” he murmured, eyes closing. “I don’t like talking about him—about this kind of stuff. If he knew I was, he probably would rip my head off. I’d deserve it because there are things only he should be allowed to repeat. But I think you need to know this even though I’m not sure you deserve to be privy to the knowledge.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be deserving?” I asked. It wasn’t like I was the one running around and kidnapping people. Casteel was.

  “Because this is something only close friends and loved ones should be privy to, and you are neither.”

  Well, he had a point there. But I already knew what Kieran didn’t think would be right to share. “He told me before that he had nightmares, and that sometimes when he woke, he didn’t know where he was.”

  In any other situation, I would’ve laughed upon seeing Kieran so surprised. But none of this was funny. “He told you?”

  I nodded. “I had a nightmare—I have bad ones—and after one of them woke him, he told me about his.”

  Kieran’s expression smoothed out. “Yes. He has nightmares. You know what was done to him when he was held by the Ascended. Sometimes, he finds himself back there, caged and used, his blood nor his body his.”

  This time, I sat down before even realizing it, though I wasn’t surprised to find myself there. The heaviness of his words had put me there, and the reminder of the agony and horror of what Casteel had faced kept me there.

  “When he has those nightmares he told you about, and if he’s startled awake, sometimes his mind gets stuck in that madness,” Kieran went on. And if anyone knew how nightmares could feel so very real, it was me. “And if he hasn’t fed, he can slip a little into the animal they turned him into.”

  A monster.

  Shuddering, I closed my eyes. What had he said when I’d called him a monster? I wasn’t born that way. I was made this way. But he wasn’t that. My heart ached as fiercely as it had when Casteel had told me about his captivity.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I opened my eyes to find Kieran watching me. “He’s not an animal,” I said, and I wasn’t sure why I’d said it, but I needed to. “I don’t know what he is, but he’s not that. He’s not a monster.”

  “No, he’s not.” His head tilted to the side. “I think you would’ve liked him if you had met him before all of this.”

  Uncomfortable with how much I would’ve preferred that, I folded one arm over my waist.

  A sad, wry smile formed on Kieran’s face, almost as if he knew what I was thinking. “I imagine a lot would be different.”

  I nodded slowly, pulling myself out of the well of sorrow that was a cavern in my chest. “Why hasn’t he fed? There were Atlantians at the keep, right? There are Atlantians here.”

  Kieran nodded. “There are many he could’ve fed from but he hasn’t.”

  “Why? Why would he let it get to this point?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a damn good question, isn’t it?”

  My damn good question didn’t have an answer, and it plagued me as I washed up and dressed in the baggy pants and the deep green tunic that had been in the bundle Quentyn had given me. Other unanswered questions bothered me, as well. Why wouldn’t Casteel have fed? Were the nightmares also partly responsible for the cutting sadness that clung to him? If this was him not too close to the edge, then what was he like when he was at the edge? What would’ve happened if he hadn’t…well, fed from me differently?

  And why in the world had I allowed him, when he was obviously not in his right mind, to do what he’d done? And why had he done that? Did bloodlust elicit such actions? Or was it because he’d sensed my arousal? My cheeks burned, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that question.

  Either way, I had been wrong when I said that I didn’t have a death wish. Because what if he had been teetering on that edge and he’d used that mouth for something else?

  My stomach dipped as I ran a brush through my tangled hair. In the soft lamplight, the strands reminded me more of a ruby-hued wine than a blazing fire, like it often did in the sun. I angled my head to the side. The bite marks were no longer visible, but I left my hair down anyway and then stepped back into the bedchamber.

  Kieran stood by the terrace doors, staring out them. I wasn’t exactly surprised to see that he was still here. “Are you on babysitting duty? I agreed to the marriage,” I said as I picked up the thigh sheath. The word marri
age still sounded strange on my tongue. “I’m not going to run.”

  He turned to me. “I was waiting to see if you’d like to get some breakfast.”

  “Oh.” I slid the wolven dagger into the holder and then straightened the hem of the tunic. The top was more form-fitting than I was used to, but it was clean. I glanced at the door. “Should we...should we wait for Casteel?”

  He turned to me. “That won’t be necessary. He’ll find us when he’s ready.”

  I nibbled on my lower lip. It didn’t feel right to go off when he was…well, going through whatever he was. And it also felt weird to be so concerned about him.

  “Are you hungry right now?” Kieran asked, dragging my attention back to him. “Or would you like to see the Bay?”

  “The Bay,” I chose, knowing my stomach was still too tied up in knots to eat anything yet.

  “Good.” Kieran turned and opened the door.

  Warmer air than I expected greeted us as we walked outside and across the yard. Within a few moments, I shoved the sleeves of my sweater up. “I didn’t expect it to be this nice here—weather-wise.”

  “Next to Carsodonia, we’re at the most southern part of Solis. It’ll get cooler at night, especially as the season turns, but the days will remain pleasant.”

  “Just like the capital.” I tipped my head back, letting the sun wash over my face as I heard the sound of distant voices and laughter coming from what I assumed was beyond the fortress. “Were you at the capital with Casteel?”

  “For a time, yes. I wasn’t exactly a fan,” he said, and I glanced over at him with a raised brow. He shrugged a shoulder. “Too many Ascended. Too many people crowded together.”