The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood And Ash Series Book 3)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Jasper snorted. “Not surprised to hear that.”

  One side of Casteel’s lips tipped up as he took a drink. “I’m hoping this book you kept for some reason tells us exactly how the Gyrms were here, in our realm, and why they were after Poppy.”

  Our realm? Why did that sound familiar to me?

  “He kept all of his old schoolbooks,” Jasper explained. “Well, his mother did. They’re in one of the rooms in the back.”

  I had yet to meet Kirha and really hoped I got to soon. I wanted to thank her for the clothing. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine.” Jasper smiled, and the rough lines of his face softened. “Slept through the whole damn thing.”

  My brows rose. “Really?”

  He nodded. “She’s always been a heavy sleeper, but with the babe on the way, she could sleep through the gods waking.”

  “Here it is,” Kieran announced, lowering the book to his knees as he looked over at Casteel. “Did you see them without the mask?”

  “That I did,” he drawled. “At first, I thought my vision had gone out on me, and then I heard my father say something like, ‘What the fuck?’ and I knew it wasn’t just me.”

  I got momentarily distracted by picturing the tall and ominous figure that was his father saying that. Kieran tapped on the page, and I looked down, my stomach hollowing as I saw an ink sketch of one of the creatures we’d seen outside. It was extremely realistic—the head, the thin slits for eyes, and then nothing but smooth skin. Then again, there wasn’t much for this artist to capture beyond a male body’s general, well-muscled shape.

  “How do they breathe?” I asked again because that seemed like a fairly important question.

  Casteel’s lips twitched as Kieran’s eyes closed. “If it was a Gyrm?” Jasper spoke, rising from the chair to look down at the drawing. “They don’t need to breathe because they are not alive.”

  Confusion drew my brows together. “How is that possible? How can something walk around and interact with people and not be alive?”

  “One could ask the same question about the Craven,” Casteel said. “They react to those around them. They have mouths, and their bodies go through the motions of breathing. They hunger.” He lowered his glass to his knee. “But do you think they live? Truly?”

  I didn’t need to think about that. “No,” I said, looking back at the sketch. “Not once they turn. They’re no longer alive. Nothing remains that makes them mortal, at least.”

  And that was sad because all of them had been mortal at one time—people who had lives and were someone’s daughter or son, friend or lover—before the Ascended ripped everything away from them.

  My hands curled into the soft material of the robe. The number of lives the Ascended had destroyed was utterly incalculable. They could’ve done that to Ian and to Tawny, devastating everything that made them who they were.

  The Ascended had to be stopped.

  “The difference here is that the Gyrms were never alive in the first place,” Kieran explained, running a finger along sentences that looked like nothing more than scribbles on an ivory page to me. “They were created from the soil of the gods and from the eather—from magic—and used to do the bidding of the one who summoned them. Created them. They have no thoughts, no will beyond why they were summoned.”

  I blinked once and then twice. “They were created from dirt and magic? Seriously?”

  Jasper nodded as he started pacing. “I know it sounds like something made up to scare children—”

  “Like the lamaea?” I asked.

  He stopped and looked at me, glass halfway to his mouth as Casteel coughed out a quiet laugh. His pale eyes shot to the Prince. “I don’t even need to ask which one of you told her about that. Out of the things you could’ve shared with her, you chose that?”

  “It was a passing comment in a wider, much more important conversation that she has somehow latched on to and never forgotten.” Casteel took a drink. “Not my fault.”

  “How could I ever forget about a creature that has fins for legs and tails for arms?” I wondered out loud.

  “The lamaea were never real. It was just a thing really twisted parents made up.” Kieran shot his father a pointed look. “But the Gyrms were, and they were usually summoned to serve as soldiers or guards—protectors of sacred places. It says here that they can be killed with any puncture wound. Apparently, it shatters the magic holding them together, so one doesn’t have to aim for the heart or the head.”

  “Good to know,” I murmured.

  Kieran continued scanning the page. “Once they’ve served their purpose, whatever holds the soil and magic used to conjure them—usually a vase or cloth of some sort—is destroyed by fire. Once nothing but ash remains, they disappear.”

  “They’re just conjured into existence to do whatever someone needs, and then…poof, they’re gone?” My nose wrinkled. “That seems wrong and sad. And, yes, I get that they’re technically not alive. It still doesn’t feel right.”

  “It’s not,” Casteel agreed, a muscle working in his jaw. “It’s why that kind of magic is forbidden by Atlantians and mortals alike in this realm.”

  There was that word again. It tugged at the memories of my time in the crypts with Jansen. “When you say ‘realm,’ what are you talking about?”

  “The Lands of the Gods, that realm,” Casteel answered as his hand wandered to my upper back and slid under my braid. “It’s called Iliseeum.”

  “Iliseeum?” My breath caught as what Jansen had said finally came back to me. “Jansen mentioned a place called Iliseeum—and a place called the Shadowlands. I thought he was making stuff up.” I glanced around the room. “Both are real?”

  “They are.” Casteel reached over, straightening the collar on the robe. “Iliseeum is the Lands of the Gods. The Shadowlands are where the Abyss is located and how the Vale is accessed.”

  “He also…he also said that Nyktos was known as…the Asher? He said he was called the One who is Blessed, the Bringer of Death, and the Guardian of Souls,” I said, frowning. “And he said that Nyktos ruled over the Land of the Dead and that he was the Primal God of Common Men and Endings.”

  “Technically, Nyktos is those things,” Jasper answered. “As the God of Life and Death, he rules both the Shadowlands and the realms of the living, but he is not the God of Common Men. And I never heard of him being referred to as the Asher or the One who is Blessed.” He looked over at me, brimming with curiosity. “Although, weren’t you called that? Blessed?”

  I nodded.

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “I think Jansen told some truths and then made things up to sound more knowledgeable and important, just like the Unseen were often known to do.”

  My brow rose. Jansen did have an inflated sense of self-worth. “But how have I never heard of Iliseeum until now?”

  “I bet there’s a lot you haven’t heard of.” Jasper took a drink. “Did you know that Nyktos has a Consort?”

  “He does?” I stared at the older wolven.

  Kieran looked at me. “How do you think he had offspring?”

  “First off, he could have multiple special people in his life,” I pointed out. “But most importantly, he’s the God of Life. Couldn’t he just create his children?”

  “He probably could.” Casteel tugged lightly on my braid. “But he didn’t create his children like that. He and his Consort did it the old-fashioned way.”

  “What is her name?” I asked. “And why is this the first time I’m even hearing about her?”

  “No one knows her name,” he answered. “She has only ever been known as the Consort.”

  “Well, that sounds…sexist,” I muttered.

  “Can’t disagree with that,” Casteel replied. “And to answer your other question, no one knows why the Ascended decided to erase some of these bigger details from their history.”

  “Maybe they didn’t know,” Jasper pointed out. “Only the oldest of the Ascended, those first turned, w
ould’ve known the real history of our lands and peoples. And most, if not all of them, were killed before the war.” Queen Eloana had ordered that—the execution of all vamprys once they became too numerous and too blood-hungry to control. “It was the later ones, those turned by the Atlantians and who traveled farther east that fought back so strongly.”

  “Godly magic can be found here, right? Like the eather in the bones of the deities,” I said, and a hot pulse of anger radiated from Casteel.

  “Not just in the bones of a deity, but also in the blood of a god.” Jasper stopped pacing, coming to stand near the terrace doors of the living area. He took a deep drink, finishing off the whiskey. “Of course, it’s easier to visit a crypt and remove the bones of the deities than to attempt to get one’s hands on the blood of a god.”

  I shuddered at the thought of how disruptive that act would be to the dead. It wasn’t something I had really considered while in the crypts.

  Casteel’s fingers continued moving along the back of my neck, working out the knots in the tight muscles there. “What I don’t understand, though, is how anyone would get soil from Iliseeum. How would they know where it was located and how to get there?” Casteel stated. “Especially when only those with godly blood can travel between the realms.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” Jasper said.

  Casteel’s and Kieran’s heads jerked in his direction. “Come again?” his son said.

  “Iliseeum doesn’t exist in a realm that only the gods can enter,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table by the doors. “And a few do know where Iliseeum is.” He looked at the Prince. “What do you think exists beyond the Mountains of Nyktos?”

  Casteel’s hand stilled on my neck. “There’s nothing but mountains and land unsuitable for building or supporting life.”

  “For thousands of years, that was repeated over and over until it simply became something known and never questioned. But it was a lie to sway those who were too curious,” Jasper responded. “Iliseeum lies beyond the Mountains of Nyktos.”

  Chapter 21

  Casteel’s hand slipped from my neck as shock rippled through him. For a moment, I thought he might drop his glass of whiskey. “Are you for real?”

  Kieran closed the thick book. “He can’t be.”

  “It’s true,” Jasper confirmed.

  The room was thick with tangy confusion. “How is it possible that no one figured that out?” I asked. “That no one attempted to cross the mountain or take to the sea in a ship?”

  “More than just words have hidden Iliseeum’s location.” Jasper tilted forward, resting his arms on his bent knees. “Iliseeum is well-protected by land and sea.”

  “The eather—like the mist in the Skotos Mountains?” I guessed.

  Jasper nodded. “As both my son and Cas know, the sea is too rough to travel on once any ship nears Iliseeum’s coast.”

  “It’s not just rough waters.” Casteel’s hand returned to the base of my neck. His fingers moved in a slow, steady slide as he said, “Sea stacks around the coast can tear a ship apart in minutes if one gets close enough to even see through the mist that obscures the coastline. Just like the mist from the Skotos protects the shores of Atlantia from both the Stroud Sea and Seas of Saion.”

  “We tried once—Casteel and I—when we were younger. We tried to take a ship as close to the coast as we could, to see if any part of the land was habitable,” Kieran said. “We damn near drowned in the process.”

  “That’s because you’re both idiots,” Jasper replied, and I blinked.

  Casteel took a healthy drink of his whiskey. “Can’t really argue with that.”

  “Wait.” I frowned. “The Stroud Sea reaches the coasts of Atlantia? I thought the Skotos mountain range extended into the water and—”

  “Traveled to the ends of the realm?” Casteel finished for me. “No. That’s why the mist is so thick. It makes it appear as if the mountains are hidden behind it, but that’s only so no one attempts to travel through it.”

  I gave a little shake of my head and refocused. “What about traveling through the mountains?”

  “The Mountains of Nyktos are impossible to cross by Atlantian or mortal. The mist there? That kind of magic is deadly.” Jasper’s wintry gaze flicked between his son and the Prince before returning to me. “You would possibly be the only one who could cross the mountains.”

  Casteel glanced down at me, and his lips twisted in a faint smile. “You are just special.”

  I ignored that. “So, it causes hallucinations like the mist in the Skotos?”

  “No.” Jasper laughed, shaking his head. “The magic in these mountains suffocates anyone who it doesn’t recognize as a god.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Oh. Okay. That’s a lot.” I twisted the sash of the robe around my hand. “But I’m a descendant of a god. I’m not a god. Those two things are vastly different.”

  Jasper raised his brows. “I don’t think we know exactly what you are, and that is a hill I am willing to crash and burn on.”

  I closed my mouth because he was right.

  “Then how did anyone cross over to Iliseeum to obtain the soil?” Kieran veered us back on track.

  “A few know how to bypass the mountains.” Jasper leaned back, resting an ankle on a knee.

  We all waited for him to continue.

  And waited.

  I stared at him. “You going to tell us how?”

  Jasper eyed each of us for a long moment before settling on Casteel. “Your father and your mother have killed to keep Iliseeum’s location hidden.” His voice was as quiet and cold as falling snow. “So have I.”

  Casteel’s head cocked slightly to the side as his hand stilled along the back of my neck. “And I’m inclined to kill to discover the truth.”

  A chill swept down my back as Jasper grinned at the Prince, either unbothered by the threat or not aware of what that too-flat tone signaled. Bloody things usually followed his usage of that tone. “I don’t think there needs to be any sort of killing,” I ventured.

  “That’s rich coming from you,” Kieran commented.

  My head snapped in his direction. “I’m trying to deescalate the situation.”

  Kieran snorted.

  “What’s rich is that you’ve all killed to keep the Lands of the Gods secret,” Casteel said. “And yet, the Unseen obviously discovered how to travel to Iliseeum. That is, unless there is a bucket of Iliseeum soil I’m unaware of.”

  “I don’t believe there’s a bucket of soil lying around,” Jasper advised, eyes glimmering as amusement filtered from him to me. “Most wouldn’t even have the knowledge of how to use such magic—only the oldest of our kind. And I imagine the Unseen would have known when they were more prevalent. I’m guessing they must’ve kept records of such things.”

  “Other than you and my parents, I assume Alastir knew?” Casteel drew his hand down my spine. Jasper nodded. “Who else has that knowledge?”

  “Very few who are still alive.” Jasper drew a finger over the stubble covering his chin. “I believe Hisa knows. As does Dominik—another of the commanders.”

  “I remember him. He’s one of the oldest elementals,” Casteel told me, lifting his glass as his gaze flicked back to Jasper. “Is he in Saion’s Cove?”

  “He’s in Evaemon, as far as I know. Or just outside of the capital,” he explained. “I imagine Wilhelmina knows—” Casteel choked on his drink as my mouth dropped open. Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “You okay over there?”

  “Wait,” Casteel coughed again, eyes watering. “Wait a godsdamn second. Wilhelmina? Who is Wilhelmina?”

  Jasper frowned, clearly confused. “You never met Willa?”

  Oh, my gods. There was no way.

  “What is her last name?” Casteel asked.

  Please don’t say Colyns. Please don’t say Colyns, I repeated over and over as Kieran’s father stared at Casteel as if he’d lost his mind. “I think it’s Colyns.”

  My jaw was
now in my lap. Godsdamnit, Casteel’s theory had been right. Miss Willa was an Atlantian. I couldn’t believe it—wait. Did that mean she was here, in Atlantia?

  Oh, wow, if so, I had…so many questions for her.

  “Last I heard, she was in Evaemon, or nearby in Aegea,” Jasper answered.

  Casteel slowly turned to me, his lips curving into a smile wide enough that his dimples had already appeared. “I can’t say I’ve met her personally, but Poppy might—”

  “I have never met her!” I all but shouted as I twisted toward him, punching his thigh.

  “Ouch.” Leaning away from me, he rubbed his leg as he laughed.

  “What is going on with you two?” Jasper asked.

  “Apparently, there’s a Willa who wrote a sex diary of some sort,” Kieran said with a sigh. “It’s Poppy’s favorite book or something.”

  I turned to the wolven as Casteel made a choking sound again. “It is not my favorite book.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of if it is,” he said with an indifferent shrug, but I tasted his sugary amusement.

  “A sex book?” Jasper repeated. I was going to wither up and die right here.

  Kieran nodded. “Cas was just saying he thought Willa might be an Atlantian because of a—”

  “Okay,” I cut in before Kieran or Casteel could go into that further. “None of that is really important right now.”

  “Oh, I disagree.” Casteel stretched over, placing his drink on a small table by the settee. “Is Willa an elemental? Something else? And you had no idea that Miss Willa Colyns is a popular biographer of a certain aspect of her life in Solis?”

  Gods, I hated all of them right now. I hated myself even more for wanting to know the answers.

  “She’s of the changeling bloodline, I believe,” Jasper answered, his forehead creasing. “Though sometimes I wonder about that. But no, I didn’t know that. Explains a lot, though, now that I think about it.”

  Kieran’s lip curled, but Casteel looked even more interested in what that meant. I held up my hand and said, “Why would she know about Iliseeum?”

  “Because Willa is old,” Jasper said. “She is the oldest changeling that I know of. She is one of Atlantia’s Elders.”