When I opened my eyes again, confusion swept over me. I recognized the exposed rafters of the ceiling and the dark spice and pine scent that lingered on the blanket tucked around me, but I had no recollection of how I got back here. My gaze shifted to the gray light creeping through the small window. The last thing I remembered was Casteel carrying me out of the carriage. There were disjointed images, things that didn’t make sense no matter how hard I tried.
“Poppy?”
Heart kicking suddenly against my ribs, I turned my head toward the sound of his voice.
Casteel was near the fireplace, rising from a chair. He was dressed as he had been when I saw him last, all in black. Only the swords were missing. He prowled slowly toward the bed, his face clear of the spots of blood. “How are you feeling?”
I had to tug down the cobwebs choking my thoughts to answer that question. “I…I feel okay.” And I did. I felt like I’d spent an entire night in restful sleep.
He stopped by the edge of the bed, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t sound like that’s a good thing.”
“I don’t understand. I should—” My next breath caught in my throat as I pulled my arms out from under the blanket. The loose sleeves of the nightgown slipped down to reveal…skin that was more reddish pink than normal in two spots, but not an angry shade, not torn. Slowly, I lifted my fingers to my mouth and then to my jaw. The skin wasn’t swollen there either. There was only a faint ache when I swallowed. I lowered my hands to the soft blanket as the spiced citrus and snow taste blossomed in the back of my mouth.
“Poppy?”
I swallowed again. “How did I get into this nightgown?”
There was a heartbeat of silence, and when I looked back at Casteel, both of his brows were raised. He seemed utterly caught off guard.
“Did you…did you do it?”
He blinked and then shook his head. “No. Magda did. We thought you’d be far more comfortable.”
That meant Magda was alive.
“Is that all you have to ask?” he said.
My gaze fell back to the faint puncture wounds on my arm. “You gave me your blood.”
“I did.”
“Was I that badly injured?”
“You were bruised and bleeding, and that is bad enough,” he stated, and I looked to him once more. “There was also a worrisome lump on the back of your head. Kieran didn’t believe it was all that serious, but I…I will not take any chances.” His jaw flexed. “And we cannot risk lingering here to allow time for you to heal. Others will be coming for you.”
Others.
“They were following us,” I said, clearing my throat. “Lord Chaney told me that they’d discovered that—”
“I know,” he said, and a hint of a grin appeared. “I had a small conversation with the vampry, and I can be very persuasive when it comes to obtaining information.”
Fragments of what Lord Chaney had said slowly pieced together. “He…he saw the bite mark on my throat, and he knew that I’d learned the truth.” My brows knitted. “He said he couldn’t understand how the Duke or Duchess had never fed from me—how they resisted knowing what I was. He said my blood is potent.”
His jaw clenched. “To a vampry, Atlantian blood would taste like a fine wine. A full-blooded Atlantian would be like—”
“Aged whiskey?”
He cracked a small grin. “Very aged, and very smooth.”
I shook my head. “Well, I guess the Teermans resisted because they knew the Queen and King would be mad. Plus, it would expose the truth about them.” I toyed with the edge of the blanket. “Chaney was wounded.”
“Elijah got a good swipe in before the coward ran off.”
I wished I’d seen that, but something else Chaney had said slowly fought its way to the surface. “I told him…I told him that I knew why they needed me alive. He insinuated that I wasn’t correct.”
Casteel smirked. “Of course, he would. I doubt the Queen or King would want you to know the truth or to believe it. They want you willing, to not fight them—for them to be able to lie to you until they have you where they want. If he hadn’t been wounded, he probably would’ve told you that everything was a lie. He would’ve worked to gain your trust.”
“But the lure of my blood was too much?”
Casteel nodded.
My stomach twisted with nausea. “When I saw Lord Chaney, he always seemed…kind,” I said. “And more mortal than the Duke or Mazeen.”