Home > Books > A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash #2)(252)

A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash #2)(252)

Author:Jennifer L. Armentrout

And that fear fed their hatred. That was the most dangerous of all. “I am not that either,” I said, watching the woman’s hand—their hands. A man held something, too. “I cannot feed off emotional energy or heighten fear. I didn’t even know what I was until—”

“Close your mouth, whore,” the Atlantian spat.

I blinked, shocked into silence by the slur.

“You speak out of both sides of your mouth,” he continued. “Your lies may have worked on the others, but they will not work on us.”

“You will not find what you seek here,” a woman said, and I immediately thought of the voice I’d heard last night. “You will not destroy Atlantia from within. You may have warped the Prince’s mind, but you will not succeed with us.”

“I haven’t done anything to him.” My fingers curled under the hem of my sweater.

“Other than attempt to kill him?” another challenged as the clouds formed above us.

Well, that was hard to defend, and also something none of them should’ve known.

“Or led an army of Ascended to the walls of Spessa’s End?” another claimed, and that was also hard to defend. “People died, didn’t they?”

People had.

“The Ascended disguised you as a Maiden. Sending you right into the heart of Atlantia,” the Atlantian man said, the one who had spoken first. “We will not let you destroy Atlantia. We will not allow you to destroy us all, whore of the Ascended.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I fought my anger and was losing. I was too damn…hurt, and I refused to stand here and listen to them accuse me of working with the Ascended. I had killed countless people to defend Spessa’s End. I had been prepared to end my own life to protect that town. “I speak nothing but the truth when I say I am sorry for all that you may have suffered at the hands of the Ascended. I can even understand your distrust and dislike of me, but if one of you calls me a whore one more time, you will regret it.”

“Because of the Prince?” The Atlantian sneered. “Do you think we’re not willing to die to protect our kingdom from even him? The Prince is already lost to us, just as Malik was.”

“Your Prince is not lost to you.” My fingers brushed the sheath of the dagger as the sun hid behind a dark cloud. “And it’s not my husband you have to worry about. It’s me.”

Focused on the Atlantian, I’d forgotten about the woman—about what she held. I didn’t even see her lift her arm. It was such a stupid misstep on my part. Vikter would be so disappointed.

Pain exploded, stunning me. I gasped, clutching my throbbing shoulder as I looked down.

A rock.

She’d thrown a rock.

I almost laughed, only because she could’ve thrown something worse. Like the dagger strapped to her chest. Anything more dangerous than a rock.

“That hurt,” I bit out as the clouds darkened, becoming fat and heavy. The scent of rain filled the air, and in the distance, the warning of thunder rumbled. “But seriously? A rock?”

“You think we fear you?” the Atlantian male said, withdrawing his dagger. “You’re not a threat when you can’t touch us. We know how Soul Eaters feed. We know how you sense emotion. You must come into contact with flesh.”

That was not how that worked. “There appears to be a lot of things you have no understanding of.” I unsheathed the dagger. To hell with making the situation worse. “I am not your enemy, but you’re quickly becoming mine.”

“But you’re not anything but a scarred whore for the Ascended,” the woman replied calmly as thunder clapped, closer now.

Before I could even question how I could be both the Maiden and a whore, a new pain erupted along the side of my head, so sudden and shocking that I dropped the dagger as I staggered back. I quickly realized that the stoning was only meant to incapacitate me so they could get closer. Another rock hit me in the stomach, then my leg, my arms—

A streak of lightning lit the sky over the sea. Thunder boomed, echoing through the columns of the Temple as sudden agony lanced my brow when a rock connected with my forehead and the scarred skin there, so sharp and startling that it sent me to my knees. My hold on my senses loosened and then shattered. It was like a crevice cracked wide open in me as wet warmth trickled down my temple.

Ascended trash. Soul Eater. Whore. Words fell in time with their rocks, but it was what I felt from them that landed heavier blows.

“Enough,” I whispered.