Vikter leaned in behind her, whispering something. The Maiden nodded, then stilled. I glanced out at the crowd, seeing that many weren’t paying attention to what the people said to the Duke and Duchess. Instead, they were as focused on her as I was. Was that her source of discomfort? But why would it be more of a bother to her today than any time before? My gaze inched its way to the ceiling and her namesake. Penellaphe. I knew no one else named after the gods. No one in Atlantia would even dare to do so. Her parents had, and I was sure her naming was one more purposeful act initiated by the Blood Crown—
“Are you fucking the Duchess?” Lieutenant Smyth’s low, nasally voice came from behind me.
I smiled at his question, keeping my stare on the dais. On the Maiden. “Not that I’m aware of.”
There was a beat of silence, and I knew my refusal to turn to him had the Lieutenant bursting with quiet rage.
Smyth moved to stand at my side. “Then how in the hell were you nominated to replace Keal?”
“You’ll have to ask the Commander that,” I replied.
“I did,” he snapped. “All he would say was that you were the best qualified.”
“Well, there you go. You have your answer.”
“That’s a bunch of bullshit. You’ve only been here a few months. There are plenty who are more qualified.”
I looked at him then. “Like you?”
His ruddy cheeks deepened in color. He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. I smiled, returning my attention to the dais. To her. The Maiden was beginning to fidget again.
Smyth leaned in close enough that his shoulder touched mine. I wanted nothing more than to turn and snap his neck. It wasn’t morality that stopped me, even though that should’ve been why. Killing people because they were annoying likely wasn’t considered a good enough reason. He lived only because murdering him in front of hundreds of people would cause a bit of unnecessary drama.
“Something about this isn’t right,” Smyth hissed. “And I will get to the bottom of it.”
“Good luck with that,” I murmured.
He cursed under his breath and turned from me, sulking as he moved along the edge of the alcove. I watched him, thinking there was a good chance he would have to die.
Oh, well.
I returned my attention to the Maiden. Some man spoke of how great the Duke’s and Duchess’s leadership was.
She turned her head slightly toward where I stood, and though I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew our gazes locked. The nape of my neck tingled as the strangest damn feeling hit me. I could feel her stare peeling away the layers of who I was. Muscles tensed throughout my body. Several moments passed, and then her head tilted away. As a couple approached the dais, the inexplicable and undeniably silly sensation was slow to pass. I looked at the mortals. I believed the steward had introduced them as the Tulises.
I continued studying the Maiden as the couple spoke. She’d found me in the crowd, and that was intriguing.
Because I had lied to Duke Teerman about many things during our meeting, including what my relations with her would entail.
I fully planned on getting as close to her as possible. Gaining her trust was as necessary as receiving theirs. I would use any tactic. Friendship? A confidante? More? A faint smile tugged at my lips. Despite what I had said to Kieran the night at the Red Pearl, I’d had no real plans of seducing the Maiden—or any interest—but that was before meeting her. Tasting her lips. Feeling her beneath me. Seduction was definitely not off the table.
“Is he your first son?” the Duke asked, drawing me from my thoughts. He spoke to the couple at the foot of the dais. The woman held a small bundle to her chest—a babe.
Mr. Tulis swallowed. “No, Your Grace, he isn’t. He’s our third son.”
Fuck.
An image of the babe in the tenement formed.
The Duchess had the absolute opposite reaction, clapping joyfully. “Then Tobias is a true blessing, one who will receive the honor of serving the gods.”
“That’s why we’re here, Your Grace.” Mr. Tulis slipped his arm from around his wife. “Our first son—our dear Jamie—he…he passed no more than three months ago.” He cleared his throat of emotion. “It was a sickness of the blood, the Healers told us. It came on real quick, you see. One day, he was fine, chasing around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And then, the following morning, he didn’t wake up. He lingered for a few days, but he left us.”
Sickness of the blood? The ever-present anger boiled deep. The only sickness was the Ascended who preyed upon mortals at night while they slept. It was likely what had taken Jole Crain’s parents. It was what had turned that babe. Neither the young nor the old understood that what visited them in the night was no phantom or dream.
“I’m incredibly sorry to hear that,” the Duchess said as she settled back in her seat, her delicate features fixed in sympathy. “And what of the second son?”
“We lost him to the same sickness that took Jamie,” the mother answered. “No more than a year into his life.”
Fuck.
“That is truly a tragedy,” the Duchess said. “I hope you find solace in the knowledge that your dear Jamie is with the gods, along with your second born.”
“We do,” Mrs. Tulis shared. “It’s what’s gotten us through his loss. We come today to hope, to ask…”
Oh, fuck.
I knew it before they even spoke. I knew what they were about to ask for.
“We came here today to ask that our son not be considered for the Rite when he comes of age,” Mr. Tulis said, and a rolling gasp hit the Great Hall. His shoulders tensed, but he pressed on. “I know that it’s a lot to ask of you and the gods. He is our third son, but we lost our first two, and my wife, as much as she desires more babes, the Healers said she shouldn’t have more. He is our only remaining child. He will be our last.”
“But he is still your third son,” Duke Teerman responded. “Whether your first thrived or not doesn’t change that your second son and now your third are fated to serve the gods.”
“But we have no other child, Your Grace.” Mrs. Tulis’s voice trembled as her chest rose. “If I were to get pregnant, I could die. We—”
“I understand that,” Duke Teerman interrupted. “And you do understand that while we’ve been given great power and authority by the gods, the issue of the Rite is not something we can change.”
“But you can speak with the gods.” Mr. Tulis stepped closer but stopped when several Royal Guards shifted forward.
This was…
It was fucking heartbreaking.
“You can speak with the gods on our behalf. Couldn’t you?” Mr. Tulis’s voice roughened. “We are good people.”
Of course, they were.
It just didn’t matter to the Ascended. They needed that small bundle held in the mother’s arms to feed upon.
“Please.” Mrs. Tulis cried openly, her cheeks streaked with tears. “We beg of you to at least try. We know the gods are merciful. We have prayed to Aios and Nyktos every morning and every night for this gift. All we ask is that—”
“What you ask cannot be granted. Tobias is your third son, and this is the natural order of things,” the Duchess cut in, drawing a broken sob from the mother that cut up my chest. “I know it’s hard, and it hurts now, but your son is a gift to the gods, not a gift from them. That is why we would never ask that of them.”