A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

I didn’t have much of a plan, and very limited knowledge of the surrounding areas, but I knew that traveling east would take me closer to the Skotos Mountains. Supposedly, Atlantia lay—and thrived—beyond the cloud-capped peaks and the fog-drenched valleys. If I headed through the town, I could follow the road back to Masadonia, but that would take me straight through the Blood Forest. If I went southwest, through the woods, I would eventually reach…what was the town? My nose wrinkled as I tried to recall one of the maps I’d seen in the city’s Atheneum. It had been old, the ink faded, but there had been a bridge drawn—

Whitebridge.

The town of Whitebridge was to the south, but I had no idea how far it would be on foot. Cursing my inexperience with horses, I sprang forward, opening the door. Walkway still clear, I slipped outside, closing the door behind me. I could lock it from the outside, but the time it would take to do that wasn’t worth the seconds it would take for someone to unlock the door.

I hurried to the stairwell, sticking close to the wall. Stopping at the door, I listened for signs of life. When I heard nothing, I entered and raced down the steps, a surreal sense of deja vu hitting me as I reached the landing. I turned to the door that led outside, just like I had after stabbing Casteel.

I really hoped this had a different outcome as I pulled up the hood of the cloak, then reached for the door, opening it slowly.

A fine layer of snow crunched under my boot as I stepped out into the yard, the sound minuscule but sounding like a crack of thunder to my ears. Drawing in a deep breath, I reminded myself of all the times I’d snuck out onto the Rise without being seen, or moved throughout the castle and the city, never once being caught—until Casteel.

I wasn’t going to think about that right now. I would think about how much I excelled at sneaking off, right under the noses of many.

I could do this.

My breath puffed out in small, misty clouds as I looked to the right, toward the stables. Could the wolven dagger really be in there?

Could I really be stupid enough to check?

Yes?

The dagger meant…well, it meant everything to me. But Ian was more important—my freedom was more important. Going to the stables was too much of a risk. There’d be stable hands there, Descenters and possibly even Atlantians or wolven.

I wasn’t that stupid.

“Dammit,” I muttered and then pushed away from the wall. I ran for the shadows, the edges of my cloak streaming out behind me as I avoided the lit torches and their buttery glow.

I didn’t even realize I’d made it to the forest until the silvery moonlight became fragmented, leaving just enough light for me to not be taken out by a tree. I didn’t slow. I ran faster than I ever had, keeping the pace to put as much distance between me and the keep as possible. When my boot snagged on an exposed root, bringing me down hard, my knees cracking off the frozen ground, I climbed back to my feet and ran some more, pushing past the pain and the cold, the damp air stinging my cheeks. I ran until the dull ache in my side turned into a stitch that forced me to slow. By then, I had no idea how far I’d traveled, but the trees were less crowded, and the snow-covered ground was untouched.

Panting as I rubbed at my side, I forged forward. There couldn’t be more than a day’s ride between New Haven and Whitebridge. So, on foot? A day and a half, maybe two if I rested. Once I got there, I could find the next group who was traveling toward the capital. I could get lucky. Maybe there wouldn’t be a long wait. But if not? I would have to make do, though the real concern was if Whitebridge was as controlled by Descenters as New Haven was. If so, would they know who I was? I didn’t think so. Very few people knew I was scarred. But if Casteel got word out, just like the Ascended would once we didn’t show at our next outpost, I would be recognized. As far as I knew, we hadn’t planned to stop at Whitebridge, but whatever plans had been shared with the Duchess hadn’t been real. But could I use my identity? If I could prove to any of the mortals or possibly the Ascended that I was the Maiden, then I was sure I could secure travel to the capital, and then I could escape once we were inside. That would be a risk, but nothing about this was safe. Only the gods knew what lived in these woods. Knowing my luck, probably a cantankerous family of very large, very hungry bears. I’d never seen a bear before, though, so that would be kind of an amazing sight to behold right before it chewed off my face. But at least I doubted—

The snapping of a branch stopped me as I climbed over a fallen tree. Looking down, I saw nothing but smooth snow and scattered pine needles. I held my breath, skin prickling as I strained to hear any other sounds. A cracking noise came again, this time closer, sending a rippling wave of wariness through me.

Spinning around, I scanned the trees and their low-hanging branches, weighed down by the snow and ice. Was that the cause of that sound? Branches breaking? I turned in a full circle, slower this time, my eyes watering from the cold air. My head jerked to the right. I squinted at the thicker, deeper shadows where the moonlight didn’t quite penetrate. Reaching into the folds of my cloak, I pulled the meat knife out. I really hoped it wasn’t a bear. I didn’t want to have to kill the ursine. I almost laughed because I doubted the knife would do much against a bear. My muscles tensed as the shadow peeled away, slinking out from the gloom. I jerked back a step at the size of it, nearly as tall as a man, it’s tawny fur dusted with snow.

My heart sank all the way to the tips of my freezing toes as the wolven prowled forward, its muscles bunching and rolling under the heavy fawn-colored fur.

Kieran.

“Dammit,” I growled, tasting fury in the back of my throat.

His ears flattened as he climbed halfway onto the fallen tree, the claws of his front paws ripping into the wood. He dropped his chin, those pale blue eyes alert as we stared at each other. He was waiting, probably for me to run, but I knew that wouldn’t end well for me. The sense of hopelessness, of how unfair this was almost brought me to my knees.

But I stood my ground.

I would not give up.

The handle of the knife dug into my gloved palm as my heart slammed against my ribs. “I’m not going back to the keep,” I told Kieran. “You will have to force me, and I will not make it easy for you. I will fight you.”

“If you’re looking for a fight…” came a voice that sent a shiver down my spine and then over my skin. My head jerked in the direction of the sound. “You’ll fight me, Princess.”

Chapter 4

Casteel, garbed in black, cut a striking figure silhouetted against the snow as he stalked forward.

He came to stand beside Kieran, and I saw that he was armed with his two short swords, the handles a deep chrome, and the blades a ruby-hued bloodstone.

The knife I held had never felt more pathetic than it did in that moment.

“I suppose I will need to add lock picking to the ever-growing list of attributes,” Casteel drawled. “But what a very un-Maiden-like talent to have. Then again, I shouldn’t be that surprised. You have many un-Maiden-like talents, don’t you?”

I said nothing as my heart threw itself around my chest.

“Did you really think you’d escape me?” Casteel asked softly.

Anger was sharper than any blade, far more welcomed than the hopelessness. “I almost did.”

“Almost means nothing, Princess. You should know that.”

I did. “I’m not walking back to that keep.”

“Would you prefer that I carry you?” he offered.

“I would prefer never to see your face again.”

“Now, all three of us know that’s a lie.” Beside him, Kieran made a chuffing sound, and I considered chucking the knife at the wolven’s face. “I’ll make you a deal.”

I stayed alert as he stepped over the fallen tree I had as if it were nothing more than a branch. “I’m not interested in any deals. I’m interested in my freedom.”

“But you haven’t heard what I have to offer.” Reaching across his chest, he unstrapped one of the swords. “Fight me. You win, you can have your freedom.” He tossed the sword so it landed in front of me.

Giving the weapon a quick glance, I laughed, the sound gritty against my skin. “As if he’ll let me cause you any harm.” I jerked my head to Kieran.

Casteel tilted his head as the wolven’s ears perked. “Go back to the keep, Kieran. I want to make sure Poppy feels this is fair.”

“Fair?” I seethed as Kieran hesitated for a moment and then pushed off the fallen tree. Twisting with all the grace of an animal, he loped off. “You’re an Atlantian. How will fighting you be fair?”

“So you’re afraid to lose, then? Or afraid to fight me?”

“Never,” I swore.

He smirked as his eyes flared a heated ocher. “Then fight me. Remember what I said earlier? I want you to battle me. I look forward to it. I enjoy it. None of that was a lie. Engage me.”

Of course, I remembered what he’d said, but there was no way I could beat him. I knew that. He knew that. However, there was no way I would stroll back to my cage either. Not when I’d spent my whole life in one.

Keeping my eyes on him, I slid the knife back into its sheath and unhooked the cloak, letting it fall to the ground. I immediately missed the warmth, but the garment would be too much of a hazard. I removed the satchel, as well, dropping it by the outer garment.

One of Casteel’s eyebrows rose. “Is that all you were planning to escape with? Just some clothes? No other supplies? No food or water?”

“I couldn’t risk being caught shopping from the pantry, now could I?” Watching him, I bent and picked up the short sword, holding it with two hands. It was nowhere near as heavy as a broadsword, but even as lightweight as it was, I didn’t have the upper body strength of those who trained for years with them. Vikter had quickly erased the notion that I’d be able to wield either with one hand for any extended period.

“More like this was a poorly thought-out plan, one borne of panic.”     PrevNextTip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between pages.

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