I was actually…relaxed. The shadows beneath Poppy’s eyes were gone. Her skin almost felt normal. That fragile hope had grown, but it wasn’t the only reason I felt at ease.
Poppy would wake soon.
I couldn’t answer how I was certain of that, other than the knowledge, the sense, coming to me through the bond. Soon, those beautiful eyes would open, and she would know herself. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe anything else.
“So, I wasn’t at all surprised that you made a run for it. Picking a lock? Did I tell you how impressed I was? Not just with that but your utter fearlessness. Don’t get me wrong. I was also furious you’d make a run for it in the cold and with just—what was it? A supper knife?”
I could vividly recall how fiercely she’d fought me—and her desire that night and the days and weeks that followed. She hadn’t been the only one, though. I’d been in a state of denial.
I smothered a yawn as I tightened my arm around her waist. I searched my memories, looking for the moment I’d stopped pretending.
Had it been in the pantry when I stole a few kisses? Or before that, when Lord Chaney took her? I’d descended into a black rage when I saw her with those bite marks. But I hadn’t stopped pretending. Not even after that morning when I woke in bloodlust and feasted between her thighs instead of on her blood. Had it occurred when we arrived in Spessa’s End, and I saw her wonderment upon seeing the Atlantian outpost? Or had it been when I took her to the cavern?
“It wasn’t any of those moments,” I whispered. “I never pretended when it came to my want of you. From the first time in the Red Pearl to this moment, what I felt was real. It was always real because I…I’d fallen in love with you long before I realized it. I was on the edge before we even left Masadonia, and I began falling when we arrived in New Haven. By the time we made it to Spessa’s End, I knew I was in love with you.”
I swallowed, letting my eyes drift shut. In truth, the process of falling in love with Poppy had started in Masadonia. It had just taken me that time to realize I could be worthy of such an emotion after betraying her—after all I’d done. That I could allow myself to love and be loved without hesitation or conditions.
I turned my cheek, pressing a kiss to her temple, then told her about our time in Spessa’s End and how I’d felt when we talked—when we were finally honest with each other. I shared with her how it’d felt when we exchanged vows and struggled to put those emotions to words because none known did them any justice. And then I told her how stunned I’d been when we fought the Ascended in Spessa’s End and what she’d been willing to do to ensure my safety.
“There are similarities between your actions when we were surrounded and what…what Shea did. She, too, had been willing to do anything. But…” I cleared my throat. “I’ll tell you about that when you wake. What really happened.”
Kieran was right.
Poppy would understand.
It was just something I still had to come to terms with.
Kissing the spot beside her ear once more, I began telling her more. Those moments in the carriage after the battle in Spessa’s End, and then the trip to the Skotos. My eyes stayed closed through it all, and the pauses between what I said grew longer and longer until I drifted off to sleep.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, but what felt like icy fingertips against the nape of my neck stirred me—a primordial warning that went deeper than the elemental instinct. It woke me at once.
There was a stale, sweet scent, and then a brief glimpse of a figure in black. Then a flash of something milky white, like polished bone, arced down.
I threw up my arm, blocking the swing before what turned out to be a really fucking sharp edge plummeted into my chest. My forearm connected with another as I jackknifed up, thrusting the assailant back.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I got a good look at the dark-haired fucker as I shot to my bare feet. I immediately knew at once what he was.
A Revenant.
And since they’d been all over the castle before thanks to the Blood Queen, they obviously didn’t need to be invited in.
The mask obscuring half his face gave what he was away. It was shaped like wings that reached to the shaggy hairline and swept down to his jaw on either side—deep gold, not red or black.
The pale-as-fuck, silver-blue eyes were a clue, too.
This had to be one of the ones Malik had said were still out there and would be a problem.
“You picked the wrong fucking chamber,” I warned, baring fangs.
“But I didn’t.” The Rev smirked. “You should’ve closed those windows.”
“Is that so?” I watched as the Rev edged to the side.
He nodded. “And perhaps been a little less arrogant in your belief that you were safe. That you won a war that hasn’t—”
“Even begun yet. I know.” Muscles coiled as my chin dipped, sending locks of hair across my forehead. “Can we skip this cliché-as-hell conversation and just get to the point where I make you wish you could die?”
The Rev’s laugh was low and as dry as bones. “How about we skip the conversation and get to the point where you die?”
I smiled. “And how are you going to do that? By talking me to death? Or with your little white knife?”
“White knife?” Another sandpaper laugh grated my skin. “This is a bone of the Ancients, you fucking idiot false Primal.”
The Rev came at me before I could even question why the fuck he’d called me that. I braced myself, my smile growing. “I always wanted to know how a Rev regrew a head. Guess I’m going to find out because I’m going to rip yours fucking off.”
He darted to the side about a foot from me. Anticipating the move, I laughed under my breath and spun, kicking out. I caught the Rev in the stomach. He skidded back onto one knee. Our eyes locked as I straightened.
Another glimpse of white appeared—a second dagger in his other hand. One side of the Rev’s lips curled up.
The cold press of unease hit my chest as the prickle at the nape of my neck gave off a warning. I heard Vikter’s voice as if he were standing right beside me, speaking the same words he had that morning in the training yard.
All it takes is a second for your enemy to gain the upper hand.
The Rev was shockingly fast, letting one of the daggers fly.
He didn’t throw it at me.
He’d gone for Poppy.
Nothing more than the length of a heartbeat given to either arrogance or vengeance to then lose all which truly matters.
It had been an omen then. A lesson Vikter had promised me I’d learn. One I still hadn’t.
Cursing, I jumped to the side faster than I ever had, tapping in to every bit of agility and speed I had in me. My fingers curled around the blade as I snagged it from the air—
I hissed in pain, my fingers spasming open reflexively. The dagger hit the floor as I landed in a crouch. Only a thin cut crossed my palm, but it wasn’t that which caused the stingy burn. It was the blade itself. It was scalding to the touch—hot enough that the skin around the cut on my palm smoked.
“What the fuck?” I rose, twisting at the waist.
Swinging out, I grabbed the Rev’s arm, but he twisted both of us with a burst of unnatural-as-fuck strength. He thrust his right arm out, hitting me in the chest—