He was quiet now, his features smoothing out. “Because knowing that Hawke is a part of my name, a part of me, matters to you.”

“Can you read minds?” I asked, thinking I’d probably asked that before but I felt like I needed to ask again. Mind reading couldn’t be too farfetched considering he could force his will upon others, and especially since what he said was true. It did matter to me. Why? I had no idea, because what did it change? At the end of the day…nothing.

A faint grin appeared. “No, I cannot, which is a disappointment when it comes to you. I would love to know what you’re thinking—what you’re really feeling.”

Thank the gods he didn’t know, because what I was feeling was messier than when I attempted to knit.

“I am Hawke,” he said after a moment. “And I am Casteel. I’m not two separate people, no matter how badly you want to believe that.”

I tensed, my grip tightening around the handle of the knife. I hated how well he knew me. “I know that.”

“Do you really?”

A rush of frustration scorched my skin because I did often think of him as two different people, but mainly that there were simply different masks he wore, and there’d been one for Hawke.

But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t.

“I know you are the same,” I said. “You are the one who lied to me from the beginning, and you’re the one who is holding me captive now. It doesn’t matter what name you used while doing it.”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “Yet you haven’t called me Hawke since you learned who I was.”

The frustration quickly flamed into anger. “And why does that matter, Hawke?”

A smile crept across his lips then, one that showed the barest hint of fangs. “Because I miss hearing you say it.”

I stared at him for what felt like a small eternity. “You’re ridiculous, Casteel.”

He laughed, and the sound was warm and deep and real. I felt his amusement through the connection, a sprinkling of sugar on my tongue. That almost angered me enough to do something very reckless with the knife yet again. Somehow, I managed to resist the impulse that proved just how violent I could be.

His humor faded. “I haven’t lied to you since you learned who I was.”

“How am I to believe that?” I demanded. “And even if you haven’t, that doesn’t erase those lies.”

“You’re correct. I don’t expect you to believe, nor do I expect you to ever forget those lies,” he said. Again, through the connection I had left open, I felt sadness with the fading taste of humor. “But I have nothing to gain from lies now. I have what I want. You.”

“You do not have me.”

One side of his lips curled up. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. Ask me something, Princess. Ask me anything, and I will tell you the truth.”

A hundred different questions arose. There was so much I could ask him. Two things dominated.

Did you ever care for me?

Was any of it real?

I wouldn’t ask those questions again. “And I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“Whether or not you do is up to you.”

It wasn’t just a question of me choosing to believe him, but I didn’t point that out. There was another question that rose to the forefront, something I’d been thinking about earlier.

“Did you kill the first Maiden?” I asked.

“What?” Surprise filled his tone, and I also felt it through the cord—cool like a splash of ice water.

I told him what the Duchess had claimed about the first Maiden’s abilities. “She said that the Maiden had been unworthy, even though she was still to be given to the gods. But her decisions and choices led her to the Dark One. To you.” Just like me. “The Duchess basically said that the Dark One killed her.”

“I don’t know why the Duchess would tell you that. The only Maiden I have met is you,” he answered, and I could feel the hot, acidic burn of anger radiating from him. “I don’t even know if there truly was another Maiden.”

I… I had not considered the possibility that there had been no other Maiden. That could explain why there was nothing written about her, not even a name. But for her to not exist at all?

“I have a lot of blood on my hands, Poppy. Sometimes, so much that I don’t think they’ll ever be clean. So much that I don’t know if I ever want them to be.”

My gaze shot to his.

“And I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me—about the Dark One. Some of it is true. I kill the Ascended every chance I get, in Carsodonia and in every city I’ve visited. And, yes, I do find unique ways to end their lives. I am drenched in their blood.”

Skin chilled, I was unable to look away. “You were responsible for Goldcrest Manor—Lord Everton?”

“Lord Everton was not alive when I left the city of Three Rivers. Nor were any of the mortals who aided him when it came to his penchant for feeding on young boys—a predilection that went beyond that. And as I’m sure you’ve realized, some mortals know the truth, and they helped to cover what happened in the Temples and what they did when there was no Rite.”

I’d figured that the Ascended had help. They had to. The Priests and Priestesses in the Temples had to know. The Mistresses of the keeps and those who served the Ascended closely.

“And I’m sure you heard the rumor that my affair with Lady Everton was what allowed me to enter the manor?” he said. I had heard that. “I will admit that I’ve used every weapon I have. After all, the Ascended taught me that.”

I flinched.

“She was known for her affairs. Servants helped to sneak her lovers inside the manor. Many never left, but I made sure she saw me. Eventually, she invited me to her bed, and that was how I gained entry. But I did not lay a finger on her in that way. Never.” There was a low rumble in his tone. “And if she hadn’t run as the flames began, she wouldn’t have escaped either.”

I didn’t doubt that for one second.

Tipping forward, he held my stare. “It’s not just the Ascended that stain my hands. There are innocents. Mortals and descendants of Atlantians alike, caught between what I want and me. Your guard, Rylan, was one of those.”

My throat tightened.

“As were the ones who traveled here with us, and countless others. Each by arrow, poison, or fall. Anything that stood between you and me.” He didn’t look away, not for one second. “And Vikter? Those Ladies at the Rite? I didn’t kill them, but you were right. Those who support me acted on their own, but they did so enflamed by my words, urged by my lead. So, their blood is on my hands, too. I should’ve taken ownership of that from the first moment.”

A shudder worked its way through me, one of pain and sorrow. “Does any of it stain your soul?” I whispered.

“Much of it does.” He sat back. “But this Maiden is not a part of that. If she did live, and she was like you—part Atlantian, and shared your gifts or something similar—she wasn’t given to the gods. She was most likely used in the same way they plan to use you.”

The breath that left me was ragged. “If…if they’ve had your brother, why would they have needed her?”

He eyed me from his chair. “Atlantians need Atlantian blood to survive. One who is only half-Atlantian can provide the necessary sustenance. That was how I was kept alive.

I swallowed thickly, hurting for him despite everything. Hurting for her, a woman I didn’t even know, wasn’t even sure existed. “She could’ve been held captive to…to feed him? To keep him alive?”

“Without Atlantian blood, we don’t die,” he said.

I frowned. “How could you not survive but still live?”

“Because what we become is not something I would compare to being alive,” he answered. Before I could question that, he spoke. “If there was a first Maiden, she was either keeping my brother alive, or she was used in the same manner as he is. Possibly both. But either way, I imagine that she has long since perished. What you should be asking is why they need you. Why would they make you the Maiden, keep you closeted away, under their protection and under their ever-watchful gaze? Why did they wait until now for your Ascension?” He spat out the last word. “Earlier, after the Craven, you were right about why they forced you to stay quiet about being bitten and told you never to use your abilities. Someone could’ve discovered what you were, and that would have brought their entire house of bones down on them. So, why did they wait so long and take that risk? Please tell me that you’ve asked yourself these questions.”

My skin chilled. “I have. They…they want to use me to make more vamprys. But why? They have—”

“And why do you think they waited this long?” he repeated. “Why did this supposed first Maiden conveniently disappear around the same time her abilities began to grow? There is no Ascension for you. The gods require no service. They waited so you could be useful to them.” He sat forward. “There’s a reason the Ascended wait until a certain age to Ascend. Do you know what happens when an Atlantian reaches the age of nineteen?”

I did. I’d read about it in The History of The War of Two Kings and the Kingdom of Solis. The answer had been in that damn book I’d been forced to read a hundred times. Probably the only part that was true. “An Atlantian reaches a state of maturity. You call it…the Culling, when they go through physical changes.”

“And when certain other abilities begin to manifest or strengthen for some,” he added, his eyes bright in the dimly lit room. “For me, it was compulsion. As a child, I could be somewhat persuasive, but once I went through the Culling, I could force my will onto another if I wished.”

A hollowness spread in my stomach. “Then why haven’t you just made me go along with whatever it is you wish for me to do?”

His brows furrowed together. “Because I may be a monster, but I’m not that kind of monster, Poppy.”