And a small part of me wanted to let it out.
Fingers several shades deeper than mine closed over my hand, stilling the tremor. The touch, something that had once been so forbidden, jolted me from the dark path, as did the faint charge of energy that passed between us. Slowly, my left hand was turned so the shimmery golden swirl of the marriage imprint was visible.
Proof that he and I were still together, even if separated.
Proof that he still lived.
My gaze rose, colliding with the striking winter-blue eyes of a wolven.
Concern was evident in the sharp angles of Kieran’s handsome face and the tension bracketing his mouth. He looked tired, and he had to be. He hadn’t been sleeping well because I had hardly been sleeping.
The fork trembled again—no, it wasn’t just the fork or my arm that shook. The dishes vibrated, as did the table. Down the hall, the hanging white-and-gold Atlantian banners that had replaced the ones belonging to the Blood Crown shuddered.
Kieran’s gaze flicked past the empty chairs in the Cauldra banquet hall, to where the light-haired Atlantian, General Aylard, stood guard at the pillared opening.
I sensed the same thing now as I had when he first introduced himself. Distrust brimmed beneath his impassive features, tasting of vinegar. It wasn’t a surprising emotion. Many of the older Atlantians were cautious of me, either because I had been raised by their enemies, the Ascended, or because I was many things they hadn’t expected.
A scarred Maiden.
A hostage.
An unwanted Princess who’d become their Queen.
A god.
I couldn’t exactly hold their wariness against any of them, especially when I made the entire manor tremble.
“You’re starting to glow,” Kieran warned in a whisper that I could barely hear, sliding his hand away.
I looked down at my palm. A faint silver sheen emanated from my skin.
Well, that explained why the general now stared.
Lowering the fork to the plate, I steadied my breathing. I forced my mind past the suffocating burst of pain that always accompanied thoughts of him as I slipped my hand under the table to the small pouch secured to my hip and reached for the glass of mulled wine with the other. I washed away the sour taste with spice as Aylard turned slowly, his gloved grip remaining on his sheathed sword. The white mantle draped over his shoulders settled, drawing my gaze to the gold-embossed Atlantian Crest. The same crest now lining the walls of Cauldra—a sun and its rays, a sword and arrow at the center, crossed diagonally so both lengths were equal. Briefly closing my eyes, I finished off the wine.
“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Kieran asked after a few moments.
I placed the empty glass on the table as I glanced at the open window. Broken pieces of a foundation jutted up from bushy yellow wildflowers. Massene was not well kept. “I ate.”
“You need to eat more.” He rested his elbows on the table.
My eyes narrowed on him. “And you don’t need to be concerned about what I’m eating.”
“I wouldn’t have to be if you didn’t leave bacon untouched on your plate—something I never thought I’d see.”
I lifted my brows. “It sounds like you’re suggesting I ate too much bacon before.”
“Nice try at deflecting. But, ultimately, a failure,” Kieran replied. “I’m doing what you and Cas asked of me. I’m advising you.”
His name.
The breath I took stung. His name hurt. I didn’t like to think it, let alone say it. “I’m confident that my daily food intake was not what either of us was thinking when we asked you to be our advisor.”
“Neither was I. But here we are.” Kieran leaned in so only a handful of inches separated us. “You’re barely eating. You’re barely sleeping. And what just occurred? The glowing? The making the entire building shake? You seemed completely unaware of it, and it’s happening more often, Poppy.”
There wasn’t an ounce of censure in his tone, only concern, but I still squirmed because it was true. The essence of the gods was coming to the surface when I wasn’t using it to take away pain or heal. It happened when I felt something too strongly—when the sorrow and rage made my skin feel too tight, pushing at the fragile seams that held me together.
I needed to keep it together. I needed control. I couldn’t lose it. Not when the Kingdoms of Atlantia and Solis were counting on me. Not when he needed me. “I’ll try harder to control it,” I promised.
“This isn’t about you controlling your abilities.” Kieran’s brows knitted. “It’s about letting yourself not be okay. You’re strong, Poppy. We—”
“I know.” I stopped him as memories of nearly the same words whispered through me, spoken from other lips that had blazed a heated path along every inch of my skin.
You don’t have to always be strong with me.
I snapped forward, picking up a slice of bacon. I shoved half of it into my mouth, nearly choking myself. “Happy?” I asked, a piece plopping to the plate.
Kieran stared. “Not exactly.”
“Sounds like that’s your problem.” I chewed, barely tasting the crispy meat.
A huff that sounded like a laugh drew my attention to the large, purplish-black draken resting near the pillared entryway of the banquet hall. Smooth, black horns started in the middle of the flattened bridge of his nose and ran up over the center of his diamond-shaped head. The first couple of horns were small so as not to obstruct his vision, but as they traveled up his head, they lengthened into sharpened points that jutted out from thick frills.
Every time I looked at Reaver, it was a shock. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing such a magnificent, frightful, and beautiful being.
Twenty-three draken had awakened. The youngest, three in total, remained at Spessa’s End to stand guard there, as decided by the draken. Out of the twenty that traveled with the armies, none were as large as Reaver. Instead, they were about the size of Setti, their scales not nearly as thick as Reaver’s and more susceptible to the sharp edge of an arrow. But they would still make quick work of any army.
The draken watched us, and I wondered what he was thinking and feeling. Whenever I attempted to get a read on him or any of the others while around them, I felt nothing. It wasn’t like the cold hollowness of an Ascended. Either Reaver and the other draken were shielding their emotions from me, or I simply couldn’t read them.
“Would you like some?” I offered to Reaver, lifting the plate. I hadn’t seen him eat, which drummed up a wee bit of concern over exactly what he was eating when he took flight, disappearing from view.
I really hoped it wasn’t people…or cute animals.
But I had no way of knowing. Only Aurelia, one of only two female draken who had awakened, had been in her mortal form long enough for me to learn the names of about half of the two-dozen draken who had left Iliseeum. She’d said that my will was theirs before we left Atlantia and parted ways.
The whole, my-will-was-theirs thing hadn’t exactly been helpful, but I’d learned that it was somewhat like the Primal notam. Reaver seemed to inherently know what I wanted. Like when we left to take Massene, and he’d already hunkered down to sleep for the night. I guessed it was more like the Primal essence in terms of how it responded to what I willed.