The Craven didn’t die like that. Their bodies remained whole. That hadn’t happened to the Duke, but he’d been killed with a cane fashioned from a tree from the Blood Forest. And that hadn’t happened when I killed Lord Mazeen, but the blade was made of steel. Not bloodstone.

My gaze fell to my wolven dagger. That…that was what bloodstone did to an Ascended?

For a few very precious seconds, I was frozen where I stood, my gaze sweeping across the yard, over the clash of swords and bodies, over the blood splattering the snow.

The knights…they weren’t just fighting the Descenters. They were attacking them. Many still had their swords in their scabbards. Their weapons were their fangs and their strength. They overpowered the mortals among the people of the keep almost immediately, faces twisted in snarls, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. They flew at them, jumping on some, driving them down to the ground like…like a Craven would. My knees felt strangely weak as I stood there.

Bloodlust.

Maybe they didn’t screech like the Craven or appear decayed and half dead, but what I was seeing was clearly bloodlust.

Any lingering doubt I had about everything Casteel had claimed nearly vanished when I saw the chamber. But now, there was none. This was what the Ascended truly looked like, and I had never seen anything more terrifying.

Naill appeared. From where, I wasn’t sure. He grabbed a knight by the nape of the neck, tearing him free from a man. He shoved a short sword through the knight’s back, but it appeared to be too late for the man. He fell to the ground, his throat a mangled mess.

Delano suddenly rushed past me, jarring me from my stupor. With one powerful lunge, he took down a knight that had grabbed hold of a woman, his face buried in her neck—his teeth in her throat. The woman staggered a few feet, pressing her hand to the wound.

Blinking, I turned and saw Casteel shove a sword into a knight’s chest and then spin, leaving the sword there. He grabbed the back of another knight’s head, yanking it back. The Ascended’s head dropped, and Casteel…

Air leaked out of my parted lips.

He tore through the knight’s neck, ripping it open. Tossing the man aside, he spat out the blood as he grabbed the sword from the other’s chest, pulling it free a second before the knight turned to ash.

I scanned the yard, no longer seeing Lord Chaney, but I did see a knight backing up—the one who held the child. He used the boy as a shield, keeping the sword under the young one’s chin.

The wolven dagger practically vibrated in my hand, and I was finally moving. Instinct crowded out the horror, and it was like being on the Rise or recently when I’d faced the Craven. A sense of focus and calm settled over me as I darted into the yard, running for the carriage. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kieran leap upon a knight that had Elijah’s back pinned against the stone wall of the keep. He grabbed the knight in his powerful wolven jaws, flinging him to the ground. Magda appeared, thrusting one of the bloodstone swords down.

I slowed as I moved along the back of the carriage, stopping at the edge. Peering around it, I saw the knight dragging the now-struggling boy toward the stables, a thick arm around his neck. In the moonlight, the child’s wide, panicked eyes met mine a moment before the knight turned away.

“Keep fighting,” the knight growled. “That really gets the blood pumping.”

The child was no longer a shield.

He was food.

Fury pumped my blood as I slipped out from behind the carriage, crossing the distance between us as I flipped the heavy-handled dagger so I held it by its blade—just like Vikter had taught me.

The knight turned suddenly, dragging the boy around as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. He lifted the sword as his gaze, reddish black in the moonlight, flickered over me—over my face. The scars. His eyes widened in recognition. He knew who I was. His arm loosened, dropping a fraction as he lowered the sword.

I saw my chance.

I took it.

The dagger flew from my fingers, spinning through the air. The blade struck true, slicing through the knight’s eye and embedding itself deep in his brain. His hand spasmed open, releasing the sword. It fell to the ground as tiny cracks in his flesh appeared, racing across his skin. They were thin but deep, and when he broke apart, it was almost as if he caved into himself.

“Damn,” the little boy said, eyes wide. He turned, bending to pick up the dagger from the armor. He handed it to me. “You got him! You got him right in the eye! How did you do that? Will you show me?”

Relieved to see that the child wasn’t remotely traumatized, my lips twitched. “Maybe—”

“A two for one special?” a voice sounded from behind us. “Perfect.”

“Run and hide,” I told the boy, shoving him away. Hoping he listened, I squared off with a knight. Blood and gore covered his mouth in thick clumps. I was beginning to think the vow of silence didn’t apply when they weren’t hiding what they were.

Either he hadn’t been given a description of what I looked like, which didn’t seem likely, or he was too lost to bloodlust. That sounded more probable. He bared his fangs, hissing as he bent. I saw now that their teeth were like those of the Craven. There weren’t only two fangs, but four. Two on the top, and two on the bottom. Short and easily hidden, but no less deadly.

The knight charged me with all the grace of a barrat. Knowing that the armor would be hard for me to pierce, even with a bloodstone dagger, I braced myself. The moment his fingers grazed my arm, I stepped to the side as I swung the dagger down on the center of his chest with all my strength. My blow met resistance, but the knight’s own body weight and momentum worked to my advantage. The blade pierced the armor and then the chest.

The knight’s shout of pain and shock ended abruptly. Jerking the dagger free, I danced back as the fissures in his skin appeared. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him when he broke apart. The thought of the ash, of the pieces of him, getting on me, in my hair or mouth—or oh, gods, in my eyes—made me want to vomit.

“Maiden?”

The hair along my neck rose at the sound of Lord Chaney’s voice. I turned around, my heart lodged in my throat. The fangs were hidden, his placid expression not set to one of awe. Blood seeped from a wound on his chest. It looked like someone had almost gotten him with a sword or dagger, but he’d been too fast. What had caused the lurch in my chest was what he held against him.

It was the boy.

The child either hadn’t listened to me or wasn’t fast enough. Lord Chaney had one hand curled under the child’s throat. Thin rivulets of blood ran from where the Ascended’s nails dug into the boy’s skin.

“They told me you were scarred,” the Lord said. His eyes were like the blackest fire as they flicked to the dagger. “I assumed they meant it was just a scratch or two, just a minor flaw. But it is you.”

“It is me.” I rapidly ran through the possible scenarios as the boy trembled. Almost all of them ended with the child’s death, and I couldn’t have that on my soul. Too many people had already died or were seriously wounded. Names would be carved in the chamber’s walls, all because the Ascended had come for me. I only saw one way for the boy to survive. “You’re here to save me.” The words tasted of ash on my tongue. “Thank the gods.”

Lord Chaney watched me closely. “Are you sure you’re in need of saving? You killed two knights.”

“One of them was trying to hurt the boy, and the other knight…he scared me,” I forced out. “I thought they were going to hurt me. I didn’t know there were Ascended among the Royal Knights.”

A humorless half-smile appeared. “There’s no need to be afraid now, Maiden,” he said. “You’re safe. Lay down the bloodstone.”

The hairs were still at attention. The dagger was my only weapon against an Ascended. Without it, the paltry meat knife would be little to no help. Just like it would’ve if I had managed to escape the night prior. Casteel had been painfully right about how badly that would’ve gone, though now wasn’t the time for self-recriminations. “You’re hurting the boy.”

The Lord’s brows rose as the sound of fighting continued in the yard. “Am I?”

I nodded. “He’s bleeding.”

He didn’t take his eyes off me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to throw the dagger as I had before. The element of surprise was gone. “He’s a Descenter, Maiden.”

“He’s just a child—”

“A child of those who sought to kidnap you. His safety should be the least of your worries. Why you stand before me unveiled, not only holding a bloodstone dagger but also with the knowledge of how to use it is far more concerning.”

I almost laughed. Leave it to an Ascended to believe that my unveiled face and my ability to fight was more concerning than the fate of a child. “But he’s just a little boy, and I believe he’s a second son,” I quickly lied. “He is destined to Ascend, and the gods will be very displeased if something were to happen to him, wouldn’t they?”

“Ah, yes. I wouldn’t want to displease the gods.” His fingers eased, and the boy wheezed raggedly. The Lord placed his hands on the boy’s tiny shoulders. “Lay down the dagger. You don’t need it now. Then I shall let him go. I will take you far from here, back to your Queen. She is very worried about you, Maiden.”

With the dagger, I had a chance. Lord Chaney was fast, and smarter than the knight. He wouldn’t come at me like a wild boar. I’d have to be clever. But without my bloodstone weapon? I stood no chance. The Lord wouldn’t kill me. The Ascended needed me. The child, however? He would kill him with little thought. My gaze dipped to the boy. He’d been at the stables, shouting, “From blood and ash” when the others called for me to be sent back to the Queen in pieces. But he was just a child.

Exhaling slowly, I opened my hand. The dagger slipped from my fingers. It hit the ground with a soft thunk that sounded like a door being closed. “I’m ready to go home.” I steadied my voice. “To my Queen. Please?”