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His lips pursed. “Can’t say that really crossed my mind.”

“Nice.”

“That was before I knew you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Probably not, but I don’t think you mind how he upended your life.”

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “I suppose, in a roundabout, really messed-up way, I’m glad he didn’t listen to you.”

Kieran smirked. “I’m sure you are.”

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t feel that it’s right to ask something of someone that I’m not willing to do myself.”

“Which is admirable. That will win you the respect of many of your soldiers. Too bad you’ll likely be captured or end up dead. Therefore, making what you feel irrelevant.”

“That was a bit dramatic,” I said. “Vonetta and the others are risking their lives while I sit here, listening to you complain about what I’m eating.”

“You’re sitting there listening to me complain about what you’re not eating,” Kieran corrected. “And now it’s you who’s being dramatic.”

“I think I’ve changed my mind about you being the Advisor to the Crown,” I muttered.

That was ignored. “It’s not like you’re doing nothing.”

There had barely been a moment when I wasn’t doing something, especially since we’d taken Massene. The Craven in the cells had been dealt with, but I swore I could still smell them if rain came. The manor was in basic disrepair, the second and third floors virtually uninhabitable. The only electricity served a handful of the chambers and the kitchens. The people’s homes weren’t much better, and we’d done our best to make much-needed repairs to roofs and roads in the last five days, but it would take months, if not longer, to finish it. The crops hadn’t fared much better. Especially when so many of those who tended them had been led outside the Rise.

“I just…” Drawing a thumb along the rim of the glass, I leaned back in the chair. I just needed to be occupied. If I weren’t, then my mind wandered to places it could not go. Places that had been hollowed out after the failed meeting with the Blood Queen. Cold and angry like a winter storm. And those holes inside me didn’t feel like me at all.

Or even like a mortal.

They reminded me of Isbeth.

Anger simmered in my gut. I welcomed it because it was far easier to deal with that than sorrow and helplessness. Isbeth was someone I had no problem thinking about. Not at all. She was all I could think about at times, especially in those silent, dark minutes of night when sleep evaded me.

No longer did I find it difficult to reconcile the kindness and gentleness she’d showered upon me with who she had been to him and countless others. A monster. I had come to terms with who she was. Isbeth may have conceived me through means that were most likely unconscionable, but she was no mother to me. Coralena was. Isbeth was nothing more than the Blood Queen. The enemy.

Feeling Kieran’s all-too-knowing stare upon me, I swallowed thickly. “I’m okay,” I said, before he could ask the question that often parted his lips.

Kieran said nothing as he watched me. He knew better. Just as he’d known better earlier, when that icy rage had manifested, rattling the table. However, he didn’t harp on it this time. He changed the subject. “Valyn and the other generals will be arriving any day now. He will approve of how we took Massene.”

I nodded. Valyn didn’t necessarily want war. Instead, he had seen it as something inevitable. Neither he nor any of the older Atlantians were willing to give the Ascended any more chances. Once they learned about what the Ascended here had done, it wouldn’t help change their minds regarding whether or not the vamprys could or wanted to change their ways or control their bloodlust. And it wouldn’t help if the Duke and Duchess Ravarel, those who ruled Oak Ambler, refused our demands.

Shoulders tightening, I stared into the glass of dark wine. Our demands had everything to do with going about war differently. It was why we’d taken Massene the way we had. I fully believed there were steps that could prevent unnecessary loss of life on both sides, especially since the mortals who fought for Solis most likely had no choice—unlike those who had picked up their swords and shields to defend Atlantia.

Some in cities like Massene and Oak Ambler would ultimately pay the price of a violent war, either with their livelihoods or their lives. And then there were the Ascended who were like…

I drew in a ragged breath, briefly squeezing my eyes shut before my mind could call forth an image of Ian—of how I’d last seen him. How he died replayed enough at night. I didn’t need to see it now.

But I believed there had to be Ascended who weren’t evil to their core. Who could be reasoned with.