His eyes met mine. “I think he’s right. Your marriage will bring change to both kingdoms, one way or another.”
One way or another. Whether we succeeded and prevented a war or failed. I shivered. Neither of us spoke after that. Not until I rose what felt like a small eternity later. “There’s something I want to do.”
Kieran eyed me and then stood. “Lead the way.”
He followed me outside the library and through the hall. Those we passed on the way to the common area gave us a wide berth, and I could feel their stares—some brief, others longer. I didn’t need to open my senses to know that some gazes were those of distrust. Word of what I’d done earlier must’ve made its rounds.
I kept my head high as those in groups whispered to one another. If Kieran heard them, he showed no reaction as we walked outside, under a sky shaded in violet and the deeper blue of the encroaching night. Not wanting to see the blood tree, I didn’t look toward the stables. The wind had died, and the only sound was the snow crunching under my boots.
The walk through the woods and to the chamber of names underground was silent. Kieran said nothing as I picked up the chisel and hammer and began searching for an empty space, finding it after several minutes. Halfway down the wall, to the left of the entrance, new names had been carved, the etchings still carrying a layer of stone dust.
The last name was Renfern Octis.
Chest aching, I traced his name and then the dates below it. He’d only been eleven.
Eleven.
I placed the chisel against stone and hammered a name and then two more, the last after I thought I was finished. I knew no birthdates, but I added the last date.
Mrs. Tulis.
Her son, Tobias.
And then I carved Mr. Tulis’s name into the wall. His death may not have come at the hands of the Ascended, but it was they who’d driven him to his death.
Chapter 19
How could—？
Momma!
Jerking upright with a scream lodged in my throat, I reached out blindly, my hand smacking on the nightstand until my fingers closed around the handle of the wolven dagger.
“Poppy,” came Casteel’s sleep-roughened voice from beside me, startling me. When had he come back? It had to have been after I’d fallen asleep. “Is it a nightmare?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded as I closed my eyes. Immediately, I saw my mother’s horrified face and the pain in her gaze. There was so much blood—running down the front of her gown, pouring from the wounds in her chest. Not bites. Not—
Chest squeezing too tight, air wheezed from my lungs. My eyes flew open, but I could swear I heard the screams. Not shrieks. But screams, and the scent…the scent of burning wood.
The bed shifted as Casteel sat up. Gently, he pried my fingers from the dagger. “I’m just putting this down. It’s still within reach in case you want to stab me.”
I watched him lean over me, placing it on my other side. “I don’t want to stab you,” I croaked out.
“That would be a first,” he teased, and I hiccupped a shaky laugh. “Try to remember you said that later when I’m sure I’ll give you a reason to stab me.”
I shook my head, lifting shaking hands to my face. “I’m sorry.” I dragged my hair back. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I know we have to leave early.”
Delano had returned after the awkward dinner in the banquet hall, where people either stared or whispered until Casteel’s cool gaze silenced them. The roads were clear enough that Casteel felt it was safe to leave New Haven.
“What did I tell you before?” Casteel asked. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”
That was easier said than done.
“Do you think you can go back to sleep?”
“Yeah.” I lay back down, curled on my side. The flames in the fireplace rippled softly, and the longer I stared at them, the more images from the nightmare started to piece themselves together. The mist…it had been as thick as smoke. It had almost smelled like burnt wood and something pungent. Wasn’t that what Ian and I had thought it was at first? Was that why I’d left to find my father? I tried to picture his face, to see his eyes, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. All I could see was red. So much red—on the walls and pooled on the floor, bodies shredded open. But no Craven. There had been no Craven feeding on those bodies. Why? Why was there so much blood—？
A surge of restless energy poured back through me, drumming up the residual fear and panic. I couldn’t lay here. I couldn’t close my eyes.