“Yeah.” Head tipped back, I stared at the ceiling as I ran my thumb in slow circles across Poppy’s shoulder. “The night of the Rite…”
“Things got out of hand,” Kieran finished.
Out of hand? It was both a success and a disaster.
“What happened that night wasn’t what you planned,” Kieran stated. “You didn’t order the Descenters to attack the Rite—to attack mortals. They were just supposed to set a few dozen or so fires and take out some Ascended and their enablers. That was all.”
“I know.” My jaw worked. “But I’m still responsible. They found their own power and strength to fight back.
That’s what I wanted, and they did it in my name. I have to own that. We all do.”
Kieran went silent, but I knew he understood.
I drew my teeth over my lower lip. “I had to kill some of them. Men who risked everything for me—for Atlantia and freedom. It made me sick.”
“It made us all sick,” Kieran said quietly. He, too, had to end some Descenters’ lives.
“But it had to be done.” The circles I drew on Poppy’s skin calmed me. “My father would say that just because one starts out on the right side of history doesn’t mean they remain there,” I said, knowing the same could be said about me at any point. But what happened that night had been different. I thought of the two Ladies in Wait who had fluttered about the atrium like hummingbirds. Dafina and Loren. They hadn’t deserved to die. Many of the Lords and Ladies in Wait had no idea what the Ascended truly were, but the beaten-down, broken people of Masadonia couldn’t tell the difference between those who didn’t know better and those who enabled their oppressors.
“My father would also say that the deaths of innocents are an unfortunate consequence of the fight against tyranny,”
I said. “And he would be genuine. Not dismissive or dispassionate like someone who’s never lifted a sword in battle. He knows the cost of each life lost. It was why he pulled the Atlantian forces back at the end of the last war.” I squinted. “But what I know?
What I’ve learned? The line between right and wrong is a thin one that is often crossed without intention or knowledge. Most of us live with one foot planted on each side.
“That night?” My thumb stilled as I took in how Poppy’s lips were parted and the still lashes fanning her cheeks. “Few found themselves on the right side.” I pressed a kiss to her brow.
“Gods know, I didn’t.”
NOT WHAT I PLANNED
“From blood and ash!” The muffled shout came from behind the silver mask carved to resemble a wolven. The man charged, his thin steel blade raised high. “We will—”
Cursing, I shoved the sword deep into the man’s chest, ending his life before he hit the floor. I tore my sword free and spun, scanning the horror the Great Hall had become.
Bodies lay scattered about, a sea of crimson fabric and bright, fresh red among the crushed roses and fallen wolven masks. Limbs had been hacked off. Skulls crushed. Chests impaled with arrows. Faces disfigured. People whimpered. Cried out. The Great Hall looked like a battlefield. I turned, spotting a blonde on the floor. Glass jutted from her eye. I knew her. Dafina.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I looked at the dais, to where I’d left the Duke. Nothing but ash and a black smear against stone remained of him now.
I had to find Poppy.
She wasn’t in here, nor were Tawny or Vikter, but I knew she wouldn’t be safe even if she had made it to her chambers. The moment this shit started, she would’ve been in the thick of things. The only benefit was that no one would know who she was, which was good. Because if the Descenters got their hands on her?
Her blood would be spilled.
Spinning around, I left the Hall. Heart pounding, I dragged the back of my hand over my cheek, wiping away the blood splatter.
Fury built with each step, every mortal I passed that lay dead or dying, some attendees and others Descenters. It was never supposed to get this far. None of this should have happened.
I entered the foyer. There were bodies there, too. Someone whimpered. My head cut to the side. A Descenter was crouched in the corner, holding a small blade too large for his hand. A kid. He was just a fucking kid. I didn’t recruit children.
Seething, I turned at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
Lieutenant Smyth strode into the circular chamber, his sword out and dripping blood. Of course, that motherfucker was still alive.
“Do you know where the Maiden is?” I demanded.
He sent me a look as he headed straight for the kid. “She’s secure with the Duchess. No thanks to you, it seems.” He sneered, turning his attention to the boy. I started to leave. “Get up.”
The kid didn’t move.
“Get up and face the sword, you little shit.” Spittle flew from Smyth’s mouth.
A whimper came from behind the mask. He dropped the knife. I glanced at the main hall, my grip tightening on my sword. I didn’t have time for this shit. I needed to get to Poppy.
“Too late for that.” Smyth bent, grabbing a bony arm. He hauled the kid to his feet and shoved him against the wall.
Fuck.
“Rhain awaits.” Smyth drew back his sword. “You piece of—”
Snapping forward, I thrust my sword into Smyth’s back.
Smyth jerked free, stumbling to the side, his sword slipping from his hand as he looked down at the jagged tear in the chest of his tunic. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth as he lifted his head.
“Fuck, that felt good,” I said.
“Bastard,” Smyth rasped, falling back against the wall.
“Yeah, well, you’re fucking annoying.” I watched him slide to the floor, the light going out of his eyes. “And now you’re dead. Whatever.”
The kid stood frozen.
“You need to get the hell out of here.” I approached him, grabbing the side of the mask. I broke the strap, baring his face. A jolt of surprise went through me. It wasn’t a boy. It was a girl. The one I’d seen outside the meatpacking warehouse the day Kieran had made a new friend out of Lord Devries. Fucking gods. I leaned down, catching her wide and terrified eyes. I tossed the mask aside. It landed at the base of the statue of Penellaphe and shattered. The child flinched. “Go now.”
The little thing stared at me for a moment longer and then spun, taking off as fast as her twig-thin legs and bare feet could carry her.
“Gods,” I spat. I would need to have a really long chat with Mac.
I left the foyer, picking up speed as I hit the hall. Every few feet or so, there were fallen guards and Descenters. I neared the end of the corridor, the sound of a sword clanging off another echoing. Silence followed.
Then I heard Poppy scream. “No!”
The hairs rose all over my body as I took off, moving faster than a mortal eye could track. I saw that one door of a greeting room was open. A wounded Descenter stood at the threshold. Beyond him, I saw Vikter’s familiar weathered face, but it wasn’t right. I could tell that even as I raced forward, vaulting over a settee. The sun-warmed skin was leached of all color.
Several other guards flooded in, but I crossed the space as the bloodied Descenter jerked a sword back, tearing it free of—