Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
“Cas.” Malik’s voice was low as I felt my father step onto the balcony. “What’s going on?”
Before I could answer, a low murmur rose from one of the streets to our right, intensifying with each passing second. We turned as those filling the street flanked by stately row homes, their brick facades painted ivory and crimson, began to rise slowly at first and then with a speed that bordered on panic. The heavy thud of hooves echoed alongside the clattering of carriage wheels against the cobblestones.
Poppy pushed back from the railing as two Atlantian soldiers rode out from one of the side avenues blocked by the several-story row homes and turned onto the street ahead of us. Beneath the steel helmets, their stares were fixed straight ahead, faces devoid of emotion. My gaze snapped to the black carriage pulled by white horses—and not just any type of horse. They were sirtians. Atlantian horses.
And not a soul led those horses.
No one sat on their backs or in the driver’s seat.
“I’ve got a not-so-great feeling about this,” muttered Kieran as those below rose swiftly when the Atlantian riders bore down on them.
Neither did I as the soldiers drew to a halt. They didn’t dismount. They didn’t even move. They remained facing forward.
“I feel nothing from them,” Poppy whispered. “Absolutely nothing.”
“What the hell?” my father muttered.
I saw immediately what had garnered his response as the carriage turned onto the courtyard below, baring its side to us. You couldn’t miss it.
It was the Royal Crest of the Ascended—a circle with a slightly off-center line cutting through it—but painted in crimson instead of gold. Depicted as such, there was no mistaking what it had always represented.
Death.
The essence rising in the three of us spiked as the carriage door swung open.
A dark-red, sharp-heeled boot appeared first, the pointed heel striking the cobblestones with a crack, followed by the slow sweep of a matching gown that flowed like spilled blood from the carriage.
The deep crimson gown clung to long legs and rounded hips. My gaze lifted as tension seeped into every muscle. A lacy veil was draped from the head, the wind lifting the scalloped edges that ended just at the waist.
My heart kicked up, mirroring Poppy’s as the figure below glided toward the Temple, paying no attention to the frozen mortals. The veiled head tilted back.
“No,” Poppy whispered.
That single word was like a crack of thunder in my head as she shot toward the railing. She clasped the stone as the figure raised gloved hands, gripped the edge of the veil, and lifted.
Time seemed to slow.
Sound disappeared.
Inch by inch, what stood below was revealed. An impossibly narrow waist. Dark-auburn hair. A chest nearly exposed by the deep cut in the gown’s bodice. Lips painted red—full lips curved in a tight smile. A narrow nose pierced by a ruby. High cheekbones. A face shaped like the one standing beside me.
When the veil was lifted completely and left to stream down her back, I knew the eyes would be dark but not as black as an Ascended’s. A part of me thought I knew the moment Poppy did when she whispered that single word.
But it was impossible.
What stood below us, what stared up at us with a mocking twist of blood-red lips, had died. Had been torn apart at the Bone Temple until nothing was left.
But she was here.
And the bitch was smiling up at us.
Isbeth.
CHAPTER 51
POPPY
A low hum filled my ears, rising like a swarm of angry bees as I stared down at her.
The Blood Queen.
My mother.
“Isbeth,” someone whispered, either Valyn or Malik. Murmurs from those inside the Sun Temple and below joined the buzzing.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
It couldn’t be real.
I had to be hallucinating—we all were. My gaze shifted to the mortals—to those who had halted. They stared at the figure draped in crimson in open wonderment while others farther back pressed closer to see what had gained such rapt attention. They saw her. The sound of bloodstone scraping against sheaths momentarily pierced the buzzing as the soldiers below drew their swords.
She didn’t react to them—not a quick glance or even a flinch. Her dark gaze remained fixed on us—on me. My heart pounded so fast that my chest actually hurt.
She was truly standing there.
Isbeth.
It couldn’t be.
I stepped back as a tremor started in my fingers. “Impossible.” The corners of my eyes filled with gold-and-silver light.
Someone said my name—perhaps Kieran or Delano. I could feel them closing in on me, but I wasn’t sure from where because the buzz was now a roar in my veins. It wasn’t just loud; it was scorching hot. “I killed her.” Heat flowed into my voice. “As in, there was nothing left of her but a stain on the Temple floor.”
“I know.”
I knew that voice. Would always recognize it, no matter what. Casteel.