Page 237

“By the way,” he said, tucking his fingers under my chin, “you’re beautiful when you’re like this, wrapped in nothing more than a cloak. As beautiful as you are when you’re draped in fine silks and dressed in breeches and a tunic. And tonight, when you moved between us? When you opened yourself to us?” he said, and my breath caught, “and your essence spilled out from you, surrounding us? Entering us? Entering me? I felt worthy of such a beautiful gift as you.”

Tears filled my eyes as he kissed me softly. I couldn’t speak as he straightened, and I watched him walk into the river, joining Kieran. Blinking back the dampness, I curled my fingers around the edges of the cloak and brought it to my chin. I watched Casteel and Kieran, standing waist-deep in the water, and hoped both knew just how worthy they were.

How lucky I was.

And as I pulled the cloak tighter, desperately ignoring the hollowness slowly returning like an unwanted visitor, I prayed to gods that slept that I was worthy of them.

I woke at dawn the following day, wrapped tightly in Casteel’s arms. It wasn’t long before he eased me onto my back and we came together slowly, kissing and exploring as if we had all the time in the world.

We didn’t.

A clock was counting down, ticking away minutes and seconds, but as the cool, gray rays of dawn seeped into the chamber, we cherished each of those heartbeats deeply.

“When will you speak to your father?” I asked as I sat on the bed, eyes closed as Casteel dragged the brush through my hair.

“Soon,” he answered.

I arched a brow. “We leave for the Bone Temple in a few hours, so I hope soon is actually soon.”

“It will be.” He gently worked the brush through a tangle. “How in the world did your hair get so knotted from walking a handful of feet?”

I snorted. “That is a question I have asked a thousand times.”

His laugh was soft and sweet, and I smiled, loving the sound as much as I loved him. He was quiet as he managed to untangle the hair and then moved on to another section. “My father is not going to be happy with what we have decided.”

No, he would not be.

After returning from the banks of the River of Rhain, we’d spent the better part of yesterday morning in bed, sleeping…and definitely not sleeping. Then we finally managed to do the responsible thing and meet with the generals to discuss our plans in more detail. Casteel and I had decided on some things that had needed to be shared.

None of us knew what Isbeth truly planned or what she was capable of as a demis, and since I was days or possibly weeks away from completing the Culling, I was—as much as it ate away at Casteel to acknowledge—not infallible. I could be gravely wounded…or worse. Which also meant that Casteel and Kieran…

The mere thought of that made me want to hurl, but it was a reality. And because of that, it also meant leadership needed to be in place. Thankfully, there already was.

Vonetta was the Crown Regent.

In the event that neither Casteel nor I could rule, Vonetta would ascend the throne. She needed to be healthy and whole for that to occur. So, Casteel and I had…asserted our authority and ordered Vonetta to remain at Padonia with a decent force of about fifty thousand soldiers. Of course, she had not been at all pleased to hear that, but when the reality of what it meant hit her, she had appeared as if she’d needed to sit down.

It wasn’t the shock of realizing that she would rule Atlantia that had her taking several short breaths. It was the realization of what would have to occur to cause that.

And Casteel would, as Kieran had put it when we’d spoken to him about what we’d decided, pull rank again when it came to his father.

“Finished.” Casteel laid the heavy length of hair over my shoulder as he bent, kissing the nape of my neck.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He climbed off the bed with a level of grace I would never master, probably not even as a Primal.

My gaze roamed the defined lines of his chest and stomach as he pulled on the black tunic that would be worn under armor, relieved to see that he had filled out even more. In a day or so, I imagined he would be back to his normal weight. What my blood could do for him was really a miracle.

He returned to where I sat to put on his boots. “I’m going to talk to him now.”

“Do you want me with you?” I asked.

Casteel shook his head. “Probably best if you’re not.” He glanced at me as he tightened the buckles on his boots. “He’ll probably want to bring up the shit he and my mother should’ve said ages ago. Then I’ll look at you and think about how differently things could’ve gone for us if we had known the truth, and then I’ll want to punch him.”