Chapter 22

We rode on in silence, passing the endless mounds of stones and the ruins of homes and businesses. We stopped just outside the city on the coast of the Bay.

I found little sleep that night, seeing the stone graveyard every time I closed my eyes. Surprisingly, when I did rest, there were no nightmares. When we left at dawn the following morning, I knew the haunting ruins of the city would stay with me for the rest of my life. And as we traveled along Stygian Bay, I feared what awaited us in Spessa’s End.

With the sun beginning its steady climb, glittering off the midnight Bay, the cloaks and gloves became unnecessary. However, with each burnt-out building or dilapidated farm we passed, I was chilled all over again.

When Casteel caught me staring at some toppled marble columns among the reddish reeds, he asked, “You didn’t expect this, did you?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t know it was like this. Actually, I didn’t know much about Pompay or Spessa’s End, but I never thought this was the case. I believed the towns still existed. So did Vikter. He talked about wanting to visit the Bay.”

“So few travel this far out that there is little risk of the people of Solis ever discovering what was done to the towns or the people.”

“And there’s little risk of them discovering what has been rebuilt,” Delano added.

Eventually, the day gave way to night, and cooler air was ushered back in. The empty fields were replaced by a heavily wooded area that bordered the fields we rode near. I was beginning to wonder if Spessa’s End even existed or where we’d be staying when we reached the other side of the black Bay when I heard the soft, lilting call of a songbird.

Casteel shifted behind me, lifting his head. He mimicked the cry with one of his own. I started to turn to him in surprise when the call was returned. It wasn’t songbirds. They were signals. The moment I realized that, I finally saw the signs of a city.

Moonlight bathed the sandstone walls of the Rise in silver. Nowhere near as tall as the ones surrounding the larger cities in Solis, the structure still stretched at least a dozen feet into the air, and I could make out numerous square-shaped parapets spaced several feet apart.

Ahead, heavy iron doors shuddered and then groaned, inching open. Torches jutted out from the deep and wide walls of the Rise, casting light around the perimeter. The courtyard was mostly left to the shadows, but farther along, light flickered like a staggered sea of low-hanging stars.

“Was this not destroyed? Or was it rebuilt?” I asked as we rode through the Rise.

“The Rise suffered some damage but remained mostly intact. We’ve been able to repair those sections. See the lights? That’s Stygian Fortress. It belonged to the caretakers of the Bay and was reinforced during the War of Two Kings,” Casteel explained. “The fortress was largely unscathed, even after the war. I suppose the Ascended were afraid to incur the wrath of Rhain by destroying the dwelling, so they left it standing.”

“And the caretakers?” I was half afraid to ask.

“They are buried beyond, in stone graves with the rest of the original people of Spessa’s End,” he answered.

Sick—I truly felt sick. Two entire towns destroyed. And for what? All because the Ascended feared the truth and didn’t want to rule so far east? This was a kind of evil, senseless and inconceivable, and I knew that Spessa’s End and Pompay probably weren’t the only ones. New Haven would most likely face the same fate, and the only small blessing was that Elijah was moving the people out before they too ended up with only a pile of stones as a marker of the lives they led.

“But we’ve reclaimed Spessa’s End, built back as much as we were able to,” Casteel said. “And the Ascended have no idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.” Casteel’s thumb made a sweep along my hip. “I’ve found a temporary answer to our land issues.”

Before I could question further, a form took shape on the road, halting any answers to my questions. Setti slowed as I tensed, my hand slipping to the dagger on my thigh out of instinct.

Casteel’s hand folded over mine. “He’s a friendly.”

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“Don’t be,” he said in a low voice. “I’d rather you be prepared than be too trusting.”

A torch flamed to life, casting a reddish glow over the face of a young man. He wasn’t alone. A wolven stood beside him, a smaller one with fur the color of the Bay. Without warning, the wolven bounded toward us, jumping and prancing about like a…an excited puppy that recognized visitors.

“Someone is happy to see you,” Kieran remarked.

Casteel chuckled as he tightened Setti’s reins. “Careful, Beckett. You don’t want to get too close to the horse.”

The young wolven danced back as his tail wagged frantically before he wiggled his way toward Delano.

“Your Highness,” the young man who held the torch said with a voice pitched with awe. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head, and I was half afraid he’d lose his grip on the torch.

“There’s no need for that,” Casteel said, drawing us closer to the young man. He shifted behind me. “Is that you, Quentyn?”

The man’s head bobbed. “Yes, Your Highness—I mean, my Prince. It is I.”

“Gods, you’ve grown at least a foot or two since I last saw you.” The smile was evident in Casteel’s tone, and I almost turned to see it. “Did Alastir drag you out here?”

“I wanted to go with him,” Quentyn answered. “So did Beckett.”

“Maybe you can tell him to rise.” Kieran rode past the young boy. “The longer he continues to kneel, the larger your ego will grow.”

“Don’t know if that’s possible,” Naill said under his breath.

I raised a brow.

Casteel laughed. “You can rise, Quentyn. And call me Casteel, like everyone else.”

Quentyn rose so fast that I had no idea how he didn’t light his head on fire in the process. Admiration filled the boyish face. It was too dark for me to make out his eyes as he glanced curiously in my direction. “We’ve been waiting for you, hopeful that you’d make it here tonight.”

“Where’s Alastir?” Casteel asked as the wolven trotted between Delano and us.

“He’s retired for the evening.”

Casteel snorted. “More like he passed out. He was talking about some whiskey he’d gotten his hands on when I last saw him.”

“I…uh, do believe that the whiskey may have aided in his inability to stay awake,” Quentyn answered sheepishly.

I grinned, unable to help myself.

“But we made sure fires were lit in the rooms since it does get chilly here at night,” Quentyn continued, glancing up at me curiously.

“Allow me to introduce my fiancée.” Casteel took note of his questioning looks. “This is Penellaphe.”

Fiancée.

My grip on the saddle loosened, and I wondered if the dizziness was just my imagination. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to hearing him say that.

“Alastir said you were bringing a lady with you—your fiancée.” The torch bobbed along with him. “I mean, congratulations! To you both. You hear that, Beckett? This is our Prince’s fiancée.”

Beckett, the wolven, bounced happily across the road, disappearing into the brush.

“Penellaphe, this is Quentyn Da’Lahr. The overly excited pup is Beckett Davenwill, a great-nephew of Alastir.”

Act like yourself. That was what Casteel had advised earlier. What would I normally do? Sitting here and staring at the young man as if I had no brain between my ears was not how I’d behave. I would smile and say hello. I could do that.

Fixing what I hoped was a normal smile on my face, I gave Quentyn a small wave. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s an honor to meet you!” Quentyn offered a jaunty wave with the torch in return.

The enthusiasm in his voice and greeting softened my smile, and it no longer felt like it was plastered there.

I felt rather proud of myself as we passed a copse of trees, and the fort came into view. Torches and lanterns warmed the sand-colored stone of the ancient fortress, which rose higher than the Rise. Massive columns supported walkways that connected the roof of the stronghold to the Rise.

Arriving at the stables, Casteel demounted with ease and then settled his hands on my hips, lifting me from the saddle. My pulse thrummed as my body slid against his, our heavy cloaks proving to be no real barrier. The hands at my hips tightened. I looked up, his gaze catching mine. For a moment, neither of us moved as we stared at each other. There was an intent in the shape of his lips, one my body seemed to inherently recognize and respond to. I suddenly felt entirely too tight and yet too loose at the same time. His head tilted, sending my blood pumping. Anticipation was swift and sweet, and I knew I should pull away. We didn’t have to be this convincing, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I was snared like a rabbit.

“The rooms are right over here,” Quentyn announced, breaking the spell. Casteel turned, grabbing our bags as Quentyn headed toward our left. I patted Setti goodnight and then followed Quentyn.

“None of the rooms on the upper levels are all that useable, but the ones on the ground level are pretty nice.” He stopped suddenly. “Oh—one second. Be right back.”

Blood still thrumming, I watched Quentyn dart through an open doorway, into a lit room. “He…um, he seems young.”

“He just went through the Culling,” Casteel explained, and I thought his voice sounded thicker, richer.

“I’m surprised to see him out here,” Kieran said, having reappeared. “And that one”—he nodded behind us—“especially.”

I looked to find Delano leading the horses toward the stables. The small wolven trotted beside him, ears perked as Delano spoke to him, tail wagging frantically.