Muscles tightened to painful rigidity as the blood then kissed my veins. It was like something on the verge of catching fire, but it lit up my senses, pulling me back inch by inch from the brink—
The chalice disappeared, and a ragged groan of pain punched out of me as my throat worked to swallow more, but there was nothing else. That was it.
But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
Isbeth had drifted even closer, the feel of her stare like rusted nails against my flesh. “The color is already returning to his skin. This will do. For now.”
I looked for her, only to realize my eyes had closed. Forcing them to open, I lifted them to her.
She smiled, and it was a tear to the chest because it was a small curve of the lips. An almost bashful, innocent smile, the same as I’d seen on Poppy.
The ache in my stomach exploded once again, more intense than before. What little blood trickled through my veins only took away the numbness. That was all. And it was no reprieve.
She knew that. She knew exactly what that small taste of blood would do.
My hand burned. My legs. The numerous cuts stung as if I’d been swarmed by hornets. And the hunger…it ramped up until it swelled.
I launched off the floor, pulling at the chains as the growl vibrating from my chest rumbled into a howl. I started to come apart at the seams, shattering into pieces that were no longer grounded in any sense of self.
Hunger.
That was all I was.
Hunger.
Chapter 21
Poppy
Unable to sleep the following night, I sat on the boulder outside of the tent, feet dangling above the ground as I watched the limbs of the blood trees sway in the distance. Nightbirds called from the smattering of oak trees we’d hidden our little cluster of tents and wagon under. Just inside the tent, Kieran dozed in his mortal form. I had been relieved to see that when I looked in on him a little bit ago. He didn’t need to lose sleep simply because my mind wouldn’t shut down.
I was restless.
Hungry again.
And thirsty.
My gaze crept across the landscape. The Blood Forest was oddly beautiful, especially at dawn and dusk, when the skies gave way to paler shades of blues and pinks. It was vast. I didn’t think many people realized just how large it was, encompassing the distance between Masadonia and the outskirts of Carsodonia. Basically, it was the length of the Niel Valley, and Malec was entombed somewhere in there.
Hopefully.
The forest was beginning to thin out, though. Through the trees, I caught tiny glimpses of the horizon. And beyond that, the capital.
Where Casteel waited.
Forty days had passed since I’d last seen him in person. Felt so much longer than that, each day a week. At least I should be grateful that my monthly menstruation had ended while in Oak Ambler and I wasn’t dealing with that out here in the woods.
This would be our last night camping outside the Blood Forest. Tomorrow, we would reach the Western Pass. Then, we were roughly a two-day ride to where the Elysium Peaks began in the Willow Plains. According to Kieran, it would only take about a day—maybe two—to travel through the Peaks and reach the other portion of the mines that connected to the Rise. My heart lurched with a dart of anticipation.
But from here, if we kept traveling southwest, we’d reach the Niel Valley in a day and then the rise of Carsodonia in a day and a half. From here, we were no more than two days from being in the same city as Casteel. Not four.
We couldn’t keep going straight, though. There would be no way to get past the gates. We had a better chance if we took the extra days.
Then, we would be in Carsodonia, and—
A sudden chill erupted along the nape of my neck, sending a rush of goosebumps across my skin. It wasn’t just the cold air. More like the heavy press of awareness. The Primal essence throbbed in my chest.
I slid forward, lowering my feet to the ground. Scanning the Blood Forest for any hint of the mist, I reached for my wolven dagger and slid it free. I stepped forward, my footfalls silent as I searched and searched. There was no mist, no shrill shrieks of the Craven shattering the silence, but that feeling was still there, pressing down on the back of my neck.
Wait.
It was completely silent. The trees that had been swaying moments before had stilled. I looked up at the elms. No nightbirds sang. Everything was still. But that sensation, that heavy awareness, prevailed. A kiss of coldness brushed the nape of my neck. I reached behind me, folding my hand over my skin. It felt as if a hundred eyes were upon me.
Turning slowly, I scanned the thick shadows between the trees and beyond, still seeing nothing. Another shiver erupted over my flesh as I went to Winter’s side where his head had risen from its droop. His ears were perked, nostrils flaring as if he, too, sensed something.