I finally dragged my awed gaze from them. “Do they have…unique abilities courtesy of their bloodline?”

“Only the females born within that bloodline. They are like elementals in terms of strength and mortality, and they do need blood.”

“Are any other warrior bloodlines still alive?” I asked as we entered the other side of the woods.

Casteel shook his head. “They are the only ones left.” He paused. “Besides you.”

Besides me.

It was strange to hear that, knowing I was descended from a line of warriors. “I may not be the only one,” I said, and Casteel focused ahead. “I know it’s unlikely that Ian is my full-blooded brother, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there that no one knows about, including the Ascended.”

“That’s true, but I think it would be highly doubtful that any of them have gone undetected by this point.” His gaze followed a sparrow as it flew across the path. “Makes me think of the first Maiden—if she did exist—and how many more were potentially discovered that we will never know about. And it also makes me think about the time I was held by the Ascended. They always used mortals with Atlantian blood to feed me.”

I resisted the urge to reach out to him with my senses, already knowing what I would find.

“Some were young, just past maturity. Some were older, their hair gray and bodies already breaking down with age,” he said after a few moments. “I tried to keep count of how many had been brought into my cage, but I…I wasn’t able to. Even so, between Malik and me, I don’t know how there could be any more out there.”

Ian had been the last to Ascend, and it had only been him. Before that, it had been several years since the last Ascension. Dread surged through me. Ascensions had been carried out annually for several years, but then they’d all but stopped when I was a child. The implications of that brought forth the concern I’d had before. What if Malik was no longer alive?

Kieran and Casteel both believed that Malik lived, but there was no evidence of that. And I wanted to know if Casteel had truly considered that. I bit down on my lip.

“You look like you want to say something,” he observed.

I did, but how could I ask what I wanted? I didn’t think I should, so I said what I also believed I needed to say. “You did what you needed to do to survive. I hope you truly believe that.”

Casteel didn’t answer, and when I looked over at him and saw the vast emptiness in his expression, my heart ached. Because I knew.

I knew he didn’t.

And all I wanted in that moment was to bring warmth back to him. “I still want to stab you.”

His head shot in my direction.

“Just not as frequently,” I amended.

One side of his lips curled up, and then he laughed. The sound was rough and a little hoarse, but it was real. “I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

I looked forward, smiling. “That is such a weird statement.”

“What can I say? I have a thing for women with violent tendencies.”

“That doesn’t sound any better,” I said, even though I wondered if Shea had been that way. Prone to stabbing him when she was angry? I wasn’t so sure about that, considering what he’d said I deserved when this was all over. A relationship with no stabbing or punching. Or kidnapping.

I shoved those thoughts aside before they could weigh me down. We were pretending, and that meant there was no future, even if we couldn’t escape the past.

Luckily, a distraction arose a few moments later. Riding out of the wooded area, I finally saw what Casteel had built.

My grip loosened on the saddle as I took in a piece of Atlantia hidden away in Solis.

Stygian Bay glistened like the darkest hour of night to our right. Ahead of us was a town the size of New Haven. Yet again, I was struck speechless as we rode along the dirt road. I only half-noticed those who acknowledged our arrival, who either bowed or called out.

One-story homes made of sandstone and clay dotted the gently rolling landscape. There had to be around a hundred of them, and each one was spaced out to accommodate private, curtained terraces, and small gardens. As we drew closer to the homes, I could see that the gardens were full of ripe tomatoes and tall stalks of corn, cabbage, and other vegetables planted in neat rows. The only homes in Solis that had any land beyond a patch barely large enough to grow a tree were the ones in places like Radiant Row.

“My gods,” I whispered as I looked around.

“I’m hoping that’s an exclamation of approval,” Casteel stated as we neared the crest of a small hill.

“It is. These homes… And the gardens? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Food supply is far easier to manage when each household harvests as much as they can,” he said, drawing Molly closer to him when the mare appeared to take note of a vivid, yellow butterfly. “All the gardens were planted by farmers who have experience with crops. Those who agreed to settle in Spessa’s End were required to apprentice with farmers to learn how to keep them healthy and spot disease. With the temperatures rarely dropping below freezing at night, we’re able to grow some of the crops longer than places farther north.”

In Solis, food had to be paid for or grown, but very few had the land to grow anything, which meant that many spent the bulk of their income to acquire food. If there was no money, there simply was nothing to eat.

As soon as we reached the top of the hill, the scent of grilled meat replaced the sweetly scented breeze. It was then that I realized I hadn’t truly seen anything yet. The town center lay in the valley between the homes. There were other buildings—larger than the houses, numerous columned pavilions adorned with bright canopies or curtains, housing various markets. There were businesses—butchers, seamstresses, blacksmiths, and bakers, and in the very center and raised higher than any of the other buildings was the ruins of what had once been a great coliseum. Or so it appeared. Only half of the structure remained.

“Concerts and games were once played there,” Casteel said, having followed my gaze. “I remember sitting in those seats, watching plays.”

Thinking of all the souls that had once filled the massive coliseum twisted my heart. “Will it be repaired?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted as we traveled down the sloping hill. “I never wanted to tear it down. It’s become a monument in a way, a reminder of what once stood here. Perhaps one day we will repair it.”

There were more people in the town center, drifting between the pavilions and stalls. Pretending that he was just Hawke and I was Poppy ended as the people either rushed forward to greet Casteel or lingered back until others passed on.

There were wolven and Atlantians among the Descenters, and out of the blur of faces, I realized that all of them seemed genuinely happy to see Casteel. Most called him by name and not by his title, which was something not tolerated in Solis. All Royals were addressed as Lord or Lady, and to not do so was seen as greatly disrespectful, and worse yet, potentially a sign of being a Descenter.

I watched Casteel as he grinned or laughed at something someone said, asked about a family member or friend, seemingly as fascinated with them as I had been with the Guardians. I smiled when he introduced me to those who approached. My fiancée. My fiancée. My fiancée. I listened as he spoke to many, addressing them by name, and he was attentive and welcoming as we traveled along. If this wasn’t another mask—if this was who he was with his people—he was a Prince that anyone would be honored to rule beside.

Something nameless and unknown inside of me softened and then opened up even as my senses thrummed under my skin, stretching and throbbing in response to the cyclone of conflicting emotions spilling out of the crowd and into the air around me.

I noticed that, more often than not, the people’s reaction to me was far more subdued. Smiles went from warm and genuine to cold and tight. Welcoming glances became ones of curiosity or turned blank. Some gazes lingered on the scars for the briefest of moments while others openly stared. There were quickly averted gazes, and mumbled greetings.

Even as I struggled to keep my senses in check—even though I knew that many of the people of Atlantia didn’t welcome me—I started pretending again.

But this time he was Casteel, and I was Poppy, and he truly was my Prince.

Chapter 28

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Casteel said as we rode past the town center, beyond the crowds of people.

The tightness in my chest eased with the crowd’s dispersal, but balls of nervous energy formed in my stomach. Would this person be friendly? Would they stare?

“You okay?” he asked as he guided the horses to a stop outside of one of the homes where vines with tiny pink flowers climbed the terrace’s latticework.

I nodded as my gaze shifted up the road, drawn by the clang of a hammer. Homes were being built. Men were on the roofs, their skin damp with sweat, and women ran tools over the exterior walls, smoothing out the clay.

A young wolven loped out from the inside of the house, dancing around the women’s legs, tail wagging. Remembering what was said the night before about not many young being here, I figured it was Beckett. A grin tugged at my lips as he nudged a spade with his nose, rolling it toward one of the women.

Casteel dismounted as the door to the house opened wider. Kieran strode out, his brows rising upon seeing me astride my own horse.

Before I could even feel embarrassment over what had happened this morning, he opened his mouth. “Dear gods, you have her on her own horse? Soon, she’ll be running one of us over instead of stabbing us.”

My eyes narrowed. “This is who you wanted me to meet?” I asked. “Not sure if you realize this or not, but I’m well aware of who he is.”

Casteel laughed as he came to my side. “It’s not him I want you to meet.” He held Molly steady. “You want to dismount on your own?”

I nodded, rising and drawing one leg up and over the saddle. I lowered myself to the ground, nowhere near as gracefully, but I did it.