My gaze snagged on how the muscles of his arm curled as he lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips.
Well, I could almost see him as such.
“Wait,” I said, confused. “How does it get out from under the bed if it has fins for legs and tails for arms?”
His lips twitched. “I believe my mother once said it wiggled and slid, like a snake.”
“That’s extremely disturbing.” My nose wrinkled as I glanced at the decanter of whiskey, wondering if I should have another glass. “I also don’t understand the tails for arms part.”
“No one does.” He looked away, dipping his chin as he dragged his fangs over his lower lip. My gaze—my entire being—seemed to be snagged on that act. A subtle shiver danced over my skin, and again.
“The point I’m trying to make is that even though I have ordered that no one is to harm you, you may still be in danger,” he explained. “For some, the idea of revenge is far greater than the fear of certain death.”
It took me a bit to pull my thoughts away from this lamaea creature and the glimpse of his fangs before I could focus on the point of this conversation. “And you believe that marrying me will remove me from danger?”
“Making sure that people know you are part Atlantian and will become my wife should make you off-limits. Especially to those who still have some fear of death and actual common sense.” He took a drink. “You will no longer be the Maiden in their eyes. You will be my fiancée. In their minds, you will become their Princess.”
I mulled over what he was saying, and I didn’t know if it was weariness tugging at me or the liquor dulling my emotions, but I was able to process what he was telling me without throwing my glass at him.
Which I was sure he appreciated.
And probably why he offered the drink in the first place.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“If I should have another glass of whiskey.”
“You can have whatever you want.”
Whatever I wanted? I looked at him, and the wealth of want rising inside of me told me that another glass of whiskey wouldn’t be wise.
Leaning over, I placed the empty tumbler on the table. “You’re marrying me to…protect me. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes, and no.”
While there was warmth in my stomach, my chest felt ice-cold. “What does that mean?”
“It means that marriage will provide you with safety, and it will also provide me with what I want and what my kingdom needs.”
“How will marrying me secure your brother’s release or give your kingdom what it needs?”
He took another drink. “What do you think those who rule over Solis value more? The ability to create more vamprys or to remain living?”
I jerked my head back at the question. “I would hope the latter.”
“I would hope so, too,” he agreed, and a moment passed. “My father believes that Malik is either dead or beyond saving.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “He does?” When Casteel nodded, I didn’t know what to say. “That…that is terribly sad.”
The line of his jaw tightened. “It’s the reality of the situation, and I cannot blame him for it, but I don’t believe that Malik is lost. I refuse to believe it,” he stated adamantly, and I hoped for his sake that he was right. “Many Atlantians want retribution. Not just for what the Ascended have done to their Prince, but for the countless lives they have taken, and the land and future they stole from us. My father is quickly becoming one of those who wants retribution. And the thing is, Poppy, we can take our revenge. Atlantia rose from blood and ash. We are no longer a fallen kingdom. Not by any sense of the word. We haven’t been for a very long time. We are a kingdom of fire.”
The tiny hairs all over my body rose.
“We may have retreated after the war, but we did so for the sake of our people and the lives of the mortals caught between us, but that did not mean we suffered. That we have become less than the kingdom we once were. In the time since the war, we’ve rebuilt our numbers, and we’ve stretched far and wide from Atlantia, entrenching ourselves in every city within Solis, opening the eyes of those who are ready to see the truth.”
My heart rate picked up as I watched him lift the glass to his lips once more. “Many have spent the last four hundred years preparing to take back the kingdoms,” Casteel said, and I might’ve stopped breathing then. “They want to make war with Solis, and if they succeed in convincing my father, countless people will die. Atlantians. Wolven. Mortals. The land will once again be soaked with blood. But this time, there will be no retreat. If my father is convinced to make war, Atlantia will not fall. We will not stop until all the Ascended, and those who support them, are nothing but ash.”