“And what was that?”
“I’ve already told you why, once before.” He inclined his head when I glanced up at him. “He created the first vampry.”
“King Malec? He was a deity?”
Casteel nodded.
Good gods, that meant that Casteel’s mother had been married to a deity? “Had he been alive since the beginning? Or was he a descendent of the line?”
“He was the child of two ancient deities.”
I gave a shake of my head, feeling as if my brain would implode. That didn’t stop me from asking more questions. “What kind of talents did these warriors have?”
The dimple deepened as he said, “Some were able to use the earth in battle—summon the wind or rain. They were of the primordial line. Others could call upon the souls of those who were slain by the one they fought. The one listed near the top?” His pinky brushed mine, sending a shock of energy I hadn’t felt when one had passed to Kieran. “Pryo? They could summon fire for their blades. Underneath that is one of the cimmerian line?”
His pinky slid over mine as I stared at the word written in ink too faded for my eyes. I nodded.
“They could call upon the night, blocking out the sun and leaving their foe blind to their movements.”
“All of that…all of that sounds too fantastical,” I admitted as his finger traced the line of mine, sending a wave of awareness through me.
“It would, but so are wolven to a lot of mortals.” He had a point there. “And I imagine so are empaths.”
“Empaths?”
“A warrior bloodline that died off shortly after the war, but these were even more unique, Poppy. The ones everyone dreaded to face in battle.” His fingers slid over mine, and I looked up at him. “They were favored by the deities, as they were the only ones who could do what the empaths could—read the emotions of others and then turn that into a weapon, amplifying pain or fear. Sending an army running before a sword was even lifted.”
My breath caught.
“This is the bloodline I believe you’re descended from, Poppy. Or at least what I’ve been thinking.” His hand returned to the desk. “Empath warriors. It’s the only one that makes sense. A few could’ve been lost in Solis, unable to return to Atlantia at the end of the war and therefore presumed dead. One of them at some point could’ve met a mortal, years and years later, or the child of two of them did, creating either the first generation that gave birth to you or—”
“Or one of my parents was…was an empath warrior.” Stunned, I was unable to move. “Did they have a certain eye color? Because I don’t have gold or hazel eyes.”
“No. Yours are the color of an Atlantian spring—of dew-kissed leaves.”
I blinked.
Casteel looked away, clearing his throat. “Anyway, the warrior bloodlines had no specific distinguishing traits.”
Then my mother or father could’ve been one, or the child of them. “Is it possible that Queen Ileana or King Jalara were so close to them and had not known?”
“It is possible. But they would have known what the Ascended were if they were an empath warrior.” Bracing his weight on his hand, Casteel dipped his head so we were almost at eye level. “So, I think they were first-generation. And like you, didn’t understand why they couldn’t sense emotions from the Ascended.”
“But I can’t use it as a weapon or anything like that.”
“The abilities change once mortal blood is introduced.” His gaze flickered over my face.”
“How did they die?” I asked, and then immediately realized the answer. “They couldn’t use their abilities against the Ascended, could they?”
“Either because they couldn’t sense emotion or didn’t know how to. They were still exceptional fighters. It would explain your almost natural talent with weapons.” His voice softened. “Bolder and braver than any of the other lines.”
My gaze fell to the faded ink. Empath warriors. Could it be that I was descended from a bloodline so powerful they could take out an army before a battle even began? One favored by the children of the gods? Could it be that I was a part of this bloodline? It sounded right. It felt like a final puzzle piece being found. It felt right. The corners of my lips tipped up, and I smiled.
“Beautiful,” Casteel whispered.
Startled, my eyes flew to his. The moment our gazes connected, I couldn’t look away. His head was so close to mine, his mouth even closer—close enough that if I tilted my head and leaned in an inch or two, our lips would touch. My heart started pounding. Did I want that? Did I not want that? I didn’t move to put space between us. My eyes began to drift closed—