I took a deep breath, rising. Kieran followed as we made our way across the short distance to the tent we’d shared. I thought everything over. Knowing that Casteel believed he was being kept under Carsodonia and not in the mines or some other place was information we hadn’t had before. As was the knowledge that Isbeth was a demis—a false god that could be killed like any other god.
I stopped before reaching the tent. Kieran had been on watch duty, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to sleep. I turned to him. “I can take over from here.”
He nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the star-strewn sky. “How was he?” he asked, having not gotten a chance to ask that before. “How did Casteel look?”
“He looked good. Perfect,” I whispered, chest squeezing. I hadn’t seen those new cuts on his skin like I had the first time. In this dream, he didn’t appear thinner. There was no scruff on his cheeks. He looked exactly as I remembered when I last saw him in person, thirty-nine days ago. But I knew it was a fa?ade. That part hadn’t been real at all, and I wasn’t sure if he’d been able to present himself differently this time because he was aware that we were soul walking. “He told me he was okay,” I said.
Kieran smiled, but I didn’t taste relief from him. Because he knew, just like I did, that Casteel couldn’t be okay.
I touched the ring, closing my eyes.
“Hell,” Kieran muttered. “Look.”
Opening my eyes, I followed his gaze to the empty land between the Blood Forest and us, where thick trails of mist gathered and swirled across the ground.
“Craven.” Our luck had changed. I reached for my dagger.
“For fuck’s sake,” Reaver shouted, tossing the tarp aside as he rose…completely naked. He jumped from the wagon, landing in a crouch. “I got this.”
“What does he think he’s going to do buck-ass na—？” Kieran bit off as sparks of light erupted all over Reaver, and he shifted into his draken form. “Well, okay, he’s going to do that.”
A shrill wail of a Craven pierced the silence, and then a funnel of silvery-white fire lit up the night, cutting through the darkness and the gathering Craven.
Casteel
Icy water splashed over my head, sending a painful shockwave through me as I jackknifed off my side. Eyes flying open, I dragged in air, even as my lungs locked from the cold drenching my skin.
“He’s awake now,” came the dry voice.
“Took long enough,” a softer, throatier voice replied. I tensed, recognizing that voice. The annoyance.
The Blood Queen.
Feeling the sharpened bone behind my back, I blinked away the cascading water and waited…and waited for my vision to make sense of the shapes in front of me. To pull them into focus.
Callum knelt beside me, a bucket by his knee. His features were still blurry, but I could see the disgust in the curl of his lip. “He’s not looking too well, Your Majesty.”
My attention shifted to who waited behind him. The Blood Queen stood tall and straight, the thin material of her midnight gown clinging to her narrow hips. I had to blink again because I was almost positive upon first glance that she wore no top. I was wrong. Sort of. The bodice of the gown was cleaved in two, the thicker panels of material held together by sheer lace only covering the fullest parts of her breasts. Disgust filled my gut.
“He stinks,” Isbeth replied.
“Fuck off,” I muttered, righting myself enough and slipping my right hand to my hip, close to the bone.
“I would love to do just that.” Her head tilted, and the hair piled on top glinted a deep auburn in the firelight. Almost like Poppy’s. Almost. “However, it’s become highly apparent that you’ve refused to bathe or eat.”
Eat? When had food been brought in? I saw a plate then, several feet from me. There was a hunk of cheese and some stale bread on it. I had no idea when that had arrived.
From the cloud of my thoughts, what Poppy had told me in the dream broke free. I loosened my jaw, wincing. The son of a bitch ached. My whole face did. Teeth. Fangs. They throbbed as my gaze focused on the Queen. My time with Poppy in the cavern was the only time the need had vanished—the only time I felt like myself.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said, latching onto a moment of clarity. “About what I saw in Oak Ambler.”
Isbeth raised a brow.
I forced a painful, dry swallow. “A large gray cat kept in a cage.”
Her nostrils flared on a sharp inhale, and she took a step forward. “When did you see that?”