Page 189 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

Gods. I wished I’d told Casteel I loved him. Just one more time in case things didn’t go as planned.

I wished for a lot of things as I bathed and then dressed.

I wished for silly things: to swim in the sea and walk barefoot in the snow.

To finish Miss Willa’s diary. I wished for this to be the last time I was forced to do something I didn’t want to do.

To have a future where all my choices were mine.

I wished I had time to know my father. To know Seraphena and Nyktos.

To have a normal conversation with Millicent.

To see Ian one more time. I wished I had done right by Tawny and told her what I’d done.

And I wished I had told Casteel about the oath I had Kieran make.

I could only make one of those things happen.

Strapping the sheathed bone dagger to my forearm, I didn’t look in the mirror as I left the bedchamber. I knew what I looked like.

I’d donned all black—black breeches, a long-sleeve shirt, and a sleeveless waistcoat I had first thought was for Casteel but discovered it fit me perfectly, cinched at the waist.

It reminded me of something I’d seen Millicent wear.

It took an absurd amount of time to find some parchment and a quill—almost as long as it took to braid my hair. I’d gotten used to Casteel doing it.

I couldn’t think about that.

For some reason, what I searched for was stored in the liquor credenza in the dining chamber.

I quickly wrote what I needed to—what I knew—not letting myself dwell on what I was writing.

I knew the letter was impersonal and a far cry from how the conversation should’ve gone, but I’d wasted too much time.

It had only taken about two minutes when I finished.

I read over it, hoping it made sense and wishing I had thought of going to Sven as I’d instructed in the note.

But as the quill hovered over the parchment, my veneer of control cracked enough that the drop of ink that splashed off the bottom of the letter wasn’t the only thing. I hastily wrote one more line.

I am so incredibly sorry .

Dragging in a shaky breath, I started to return the quill, then grabbed another slip of parchment.

This letter was shorter and less destructive.

Once I was finished and the ink had dried, I folded both and wrote a name on each.

One to someone I felt like I’d known for most of my life, and another to someone I barely knew at all.

I closed my eyes and focused on the image of the person I knew could deliver both.

I summoned the essence and stepped through a tear into what I thought should be a sitting chamber, except it was absent of anything to sit on and was dark with heavy curtains pulled over the windows, allowing only a few thin gaps of light to sneak through.

“ Fuck —”

I jerked back as a blade sliced through the air inches from my face. My head snapped to the right.

Malik stood there, breathing heavily and…sweating. His golden eyes were wide as he stared at me. “Do you know how close you came to me cutting off your nose?” he exclaimed.

“Sorry.” I took several steps back. “I wasn’t expecting you to…” I trailed off, staring.

Malik was shirtless.

But that wasn’t why I stared. Dark ink covered nearly the entirety of his damp chest and continued over the lean—almost too lean—muscles of his stomach. Broad strokes disappeared under the band of his breeches.

I snapped my gaze up, not looking long enough to really know what I saw, but I was pretty sure I recognized hands and a face—a familiar face.

“I was training.” Malik turned sharply and bent, picking up a sheath. He shoved the sword into it and then picked up what appeared to be a tunic.

“Why are you doing it by yourself?”

“Easier that way.” He straightened and tugged the tunic over his head. “I assume you needed something?” He thrust a hand through his damp hair, shoving it back from his face. “That was so urgent you couldn’t knock.”

“Yeah, I’m new at this using-the-eather thing to find people. Sorry about that, too.” Shoving down what I’d seen inked into his skin, I stepped toward him. “I need a favor.”

He frowned and glanced at my hands. “Okay.”

“There is a chance I won’t return—”

“What the fuck, Penellaphe?”

“Poppy,” I corrected. “I know. It’s a small chance—”

“How about no chance?” His brows slashed together.

“But there is a chance,” I insisted. “And you have to know that. It must have crossed your mind.”

His jaw locked.

“There was something I needed to do but didn’t, and if I don’t make it back…” I lifted the letters. “Can you make sure these get to them? It’s important.”

He stared at them as if they were full of spiders.

“Please.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and snatched the letters from my hand. “Tawny?” He turned the other over, and his shoulders bunched. “Millicent,” he whispered, his gaze lifting to mine.

“I don’t know anyone else who would be willing to find her if she doesn’t eventually show up,” I said. “But it’s important.”

His gaze returned to the letters, and a long moment passed. “I’ll make sure they get them.” He let out a breath, then looked up. “But whatever is in them? You can tell them yourself.”

“I plan to. That,”—I gestured at the letters he now held—“is just in case.”

He nodded, and a few seconds passed. “If you see Millicent…”

“I will bring her back,” I said, hoping it was a promise I could keep.

“Okay.” Malik pressed his lips together. “But…but you’ve got to come back.” His voice hoarsened. “I can’t…” He cleared his throat. “I can’t lose my brother.”

My heart squeezed. “I know.” I swallowed and blinked rapidly. “I need to go.”

Malik said nothing as I started to turn. “Millicent will be pissed if you don’t return.”

I turned back and felt my lips spread into a small smile. “I wouldn’t want that.”

“Trust me.” His laugh was raspy and thick. “You do not.”

Rubbing my chest, I took a thin breath. A moment passed. “Take care of yourself, Malik.”

His gaze rose.

“Promise that. No matter how this ends, you’ll start taking care of yourself,” I urged. “The Ascended need you, and…if things go south, your family will need you, too. So will Millicent. Promise me.”

Malik’s chest rose, but it didn’t fall. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “I promise.”

It was ten to noon.

I hadn’t sought out anyone to say goodbye. Not Tawny or Vonetta, not even Delano, Naill, or Emil. All but Tawny knew what I was about to do, and I didn’t want to say goodbye. It felt too…permanent and unsettling.

I was already unsettled enough.

As I stood in the Great Hall, taking in all the changes made to the space, I wondered if I should’ve left a letter for Casteel.

I hadn’t been able to do that.

What would I have said that wouldn’t have caused me to break down? Nothing.

Casteel wasn’t here.

I couldn’t look at Kieran as Attes milled about, eyeing the Atlantian banners that replaced the crimson ones—the ones bearing the sun and the sword and arrow crossed evenly in the middle.

Instead, I stared up at the glass dome. The paint had been scratched away, allowing the sunlight in.

How long had it been since that had happened? Hundreds of years?

Lowering my gaze to where Attes stood near the statue, I knew we could’ve left by now.

Wait.

The statue.

I frowned and turned to it. It was pale, taller than the ones in the Hall of Gods, and richly detailed from the heavy-soled caligae to the shield and spear clutched in the figure’s stone hands.

Ian had once told me how hard it was to paint and carve hands. That it was the most difficult part of the body to render realistically. I wasn’t sure why. I would’ve thought faces would be since so many of the statues were devoid of features. Like this one. My gaze flicked up to the head.

I moved toward it. I had thought it had been a statue of Nyktos, but I remembered what Reaver had said and how he’d said it. Obviously, Isbeth wouldn’t have had a statue of Nyktos in her Great Hall.

Not when she worshipped who she believed was the true King.

Kolis.

I was moving before I realized it, eather rising to my fingertips. The moment I placed my hand against its side, the statue shattered.

“What—?” Attes whirled, his brows rising as he watched large chunks of marble and limestone disintegrate into dust. He turned his head to me. “Did that make you feel better?”

“The statue was of Kolis,” I explained.

Before anyone else could respond, the Great Hall’s large doors opened. I turned, my heart in my throat, even though I knew it wasn’t Casteel.

Delano burst in, the doors swinging shut behind him as his blue eyes swept the Hall and stopped on me.

“How did you know we were here?” Kieran asked.

Delano didn’t answer as he took the wide steps at the entrance two at a time. He was in front of me in a heartbeat, and then his arms were around me.

“I went to the Solar,” he murmured. “We thought you would be there.” He paused, and I had a feeling he was sending a glare over my head at Kieran. “I was afraid I would be too late.”

I smiled against his chest. “You aren’t.”

His arms tightened around me. Gods, Delano gave good hugs.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he said quietly. “So don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” I whispered.

With one last squeeze, Delano let go and stepped back. I smiled at him. He didn’t return it. The breath I took felt tighter as I turned to Attes. “We should go ahead and leave.”

“You sure?” he asked, crossing the Hall. “We still have a few minutes.”

I nodded and glanced at Valyn. My senses were locked down, but there was no mistaking the anger etched into his features. Pressing my lips together, I faced Kieran and stepped toward him.

I can’t , he said through the notam . Tension bracketed his mouth. He swallowed. I’m sorry. If I touch you, I won’t—

I understand , I assured him. “I’ll see you when I get back,” I said out loud, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

Kieran nodded, his jaw so tight I wondered if his teeth were cracking.

I turned to Attes. “Okay. Let’s—”

The throb of awareness in my chest stole my breath. I froze as the charge of eather danced over my skin. I couldn’t move. I was too afraid I was hallucinating. Was I so desperate to see him that I had conjured him from thin air? A second passed, and then another.

The scent of spice, pine, and freshly fallen snow surrounded me.

With my heart in my throat, I spun. My eyes locked with amber ones framed by a heavy fringe of lashes.

Casteel looked as worn down as I felt. He had faint shadows under his eyes, and his features were stark. The tunic he had worn to the address was wrinkled, and his hair looked like he had spent the night running his hands through it.

I was still frozen. The only thing that moved was the fast rise and fall of my chest and the rapid beat of my heart.

Casteel’s eyes slammed shut, and then he was in front of me, one hand fisting my braid and the other cupping my cheek. Both hands shook.

“Cas,” I breathed.

He kissed me, and there was nothing slow or gentle about it.

It was a fierce clash of tongues and teeth.

It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t a seduction or a reward.

It was a devastating claim, full of desperation and anger, yearning and fear.

It was too much, yet not enough as I clung to him, and his grip tightened.

We kissed until we were both breathless.

Until the blade-sharp edge of all those emotions eased a little.

We kissed until there was no more time left, and it took everything in me not to hold on to him when his mouth left mine.

Casteel’s hands were still trembling as he dropped his forehead to mine, his eyes open and wide, the golden hue pierced with swirling streaks of eather and crimson-laced shadows. His throat worked on a swallow, and his lips parted.

I placed a finger over them. “I love you, Casteel Da’Neer,” I whispered. “And I will return to you.”