Chapter 14 #2
There were no gates, no inner walls or buildings heavily stacked upon one another.
The scent of people forced to live in cramped, narrow spaces didn’t stain the air.
That was the first thing one smelled when entering either Masadonia or Carsodonia.
It always reminded me of misery and desperation, but Saion’s Cove smelled of fruit from the nearby orchards, and salt from the sea.
The farmlands and moss-strewn cypresses simply transitioned into the city, and that was a statement.
There was no separation between those who fed the city and the tables that food sat on.
Seeing that brought forth a rush of faith and possibility, and I sat a little straighter.
I didn’t know much about Atlantian politics, and I knew the kingdom wasn’t without problems. They were quickly becoming overpopulated, something Casteel hoped to alleviate through negotiations with Solis officials and by reclaiming the lands east of New Haven—a large and mostly uninhabited chunk of Solis.
Some may not even notice how significant this one difference was, but it was huge.
And it was proof that if Atlantia could do it, so could Solis.
But how could that happen? If Casteel and I were successful in overthrowing the Blood Crown, Solis would remain as it was, only safer for mortals because only the Ascended who agreed to control their thirst would survive.
But the power remained with the wealthy.
And the wealthiest were among the Ascended.
They thrived in a stratified system, which would be harder to break than stopping the Rites and the murders of innocents.
And could the majority of the Ascended be trusted to change?
Would the new King and Queen who replaced the ones who currently ruled the Blood Crown even agree?
Would Solis really be any different? We had to try, though.
It was the only way to avoid war and prevent further destruction and countless deaths.
First, we had to convince Queen Ileana and King Jalara that, unlike what the Duchess had claimed about my union with the Prince, it would be the Ascended’s undoing and not the downfall of Atlantia.
Both the Duchess and Alastir were wrong—and dead.
In a way, the Ascended had kickstarted their downfall by creating the Maiden and convincing the people of Solis that I had been Chosen by the gods—gods the mortals believed were very much awake and constantly vigilant.
The Ascended had made me their figurehead and a symbol of Solis to the people they controlled through manipulation.
My marriage to Casteel would serve two purposes.
It would prove that the Atlantians were not responsible for the plague known as the Craven—another lie the Ascended had spun to cover their evil deeds and to incite fear to make controlling people easier.
And the people of Solis would believe the gods had approved of the Chosen joining with an Atlantian.
Because of their lies, we held the upper hand.
The only way any Ascended could remain in power was if they understood that.
Because if they turned against me, their entire kingdom of lies would crack underneath them.
Casteel had been right when he’d said that Queen Ileana was clever.
She was. She had to agree. We would prevent a catastrophic war and maybe be able to reshape Solis in the process—for the better.
But a voice inside me, a strange one that sounded a lot like mine but wasn’t and came from the same place that ancient thing in me had seemed to awaken, existed deep in the very core of my being. What that voice whispered left me unsettled and cold with dread.
Sometimes war cannot be prevented.
Two large coliseums sat on either side of the road we traveled on, reminding me of the ruins in Spessa’s End.
Statues of the gods lined the interior of the columns and the outer walls farthest from the road were higher, full of rows and rows of seats.
Bouquets full of bright purple flowers sat on each of the steps leading into the structures.
They were empty, as were the smaller pavilions we passed, their gold and blue canopies rippling softly in the warm breeze, and in the windowed and roofed buildings, but it didn’t stay that way.
“Casteel,” Kieran said, his voice carrying a tone of warning.
“I know.” Casteel’s arm tightened around me. “I was hoping we’d be able to make it farther before we were noticed. That’s clearly not going to happen. These streets are about to fill.”
That odd voice inside me and the unease it stirred quickly faded as people slowly and cautiously ventured outside.
Men. Women. Children. They didn’t seem to notice Jasper or Kieran, as if the sight of the former shirtless on horseback was a common occurrence.
And maybe it was. Instead, they stared up at Casteel and me with wide eyes.
Confusion radiated from anyone I looked at.
Everyone appeared frozen, and then an older man in blue yelled, “Our Prince! Prince Casteel! Our Prince returns!”
A gasp went through the crowd like a gust of wind.
Doors of shops and homes alike opened down the road.
They must not have known that Casteel had recovered from the shadowshade flower.
I wondered exactly what knowledge they had of what had occurred in the Chambers of Nyktos.
Had the blood rain not fallen on the city?
Surely, they had seen the trees of Aios, even though soaring buildings now blocked the mountains.
Shouts of excitement and cheers filled the streets as people clamored and spilled out of buildings or leaned from windows above.
Arms rose and trembled as some yelled Casteel’s name, and others praised the gods.
An older man dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together against his chest. He wept .
And he wasn’t the only one. Women. Men. Many openly cried as they yelled his name.
Casteel shifted behind me as my eyes grew to the size of the sun.
I…I’d never seen anything like this. Ever.
“They…some of them are crying,” I whispered.
“I think they feared I was dead,” he remarked. “It has been quite some time since I’ve been home.”
I wasn’t sure if that was the reason. From what I’d seen in New Haven and Spessa’s End, he was well loved and respected by his people.
My throat tightened as I looked around, seeing a blur of ecstatic, smiling faces.
Nothing like this happened when the Ascended rode through their towns.
Not even when the Queen or King moved about in public, which if I remembered correctly, had been rare. There had always been silence.
People jerked to a stop, their cheers falling to whispers. At first, I didn’t understand what the cause was.
The wolven .
They must’ve fallen back at some point, but now they returned to our sides. They prowled the street and swept over the sidewalks, moving between mortals and Atlantians alike. They didn’t snarl or snap, but their bodies were clearly tense.
My skin prickled with awareness as gazes moved from Casteel to the wolven and then to me. I stiffened, feeling their stares on my bloodied and dirtied clothing and the bruises surely visible. The scars .
“I would’ve taken a different route to Jasper’s home if it was possible,” Casteel told me, his voice low as we turned onto a road where the buildings reached for the clouds, and the crystal-clear waters of the Seas of Saion began to peek out from behind structures.
I’d forgotten the offer Jasper had made at the Chambers.
It was telling that Casteel rode there and not to his family’s holdings. “But this is the least populated way.”
This was the least populated area? There had to be…gods, there had to be thousands on the streets now, appearing in windows, and coming to stand out on ivy-smothered balconies and terraces.
“I know this is a lot,” he continued. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t delay this.”
I reached down to where his hand rested lightly on my hip. This time, I didn’t stop myself. I folded my hand over his and squeezed.
Casteel turned his hand over, returning the gesture. We didn’t let go of each other’s hands.
Part of me wanted to look away, to not allow myself to sense what the people were feeling, but that would make me a coward.
I let my senses remain open, to stretch out just enough to get the briefest glimpse of their emotions in case I lost control of…
whatever I was truly capable of. My pounding heart and wild thoughts made it difficult to concentrate, but after a few moments, I tasted…
the tartness of confusion, and the lighter, springy flavor of curiosity coming from the people of Atlantia.
There was no fear.
No hatred.
Just curiosity and confusion. I hadn’t expected that.
Not after the Temple. My body sank against Casteel’s, and I rested my head against his chest. The crowd’s emotions could change once they learned what I’d done, and what I may or may not be.
But right now, I wasn’t going to worry about that.
I started to close my eyes when deep blue fabric snagged my attention.
A white-haired woman stood on a balcony of one of the high-rise buildings, the wind tugging at the blue gown she wore.
Holding onto a black railing, she slowly lowered herself to one knee and placed her fist over her thin chest. Her head bowed as the wind whipped her snowy hair.
On another balcony, a man with gray hair in a long, thick braid, did the same. And on the sidewalks…
Men and women whose skin and bodies bore the signs of age lowered themselves to their knees, among those who stood.
“ Liessa!” a man shouted, slamming a hand against the sidewalk, startling me. “ Meyaah
Liessa! ”
Setti’s head reared as two children raced out from one of the buildings—one of them no more than five years old—their long, brown hair streaming out from behind them.
One of them shifted right there, pitching forward as white-and-brown-streaked fur erupted from the skin.
The wolven was so tiny as it yipped and bounced, ears flopping as the older child by only a year or so ran beside the pup.
Casteel’s grip on Setti tightened as the child shouted, “ Liessa! Liessa! ”
Liessa . I had heard that before when I’d had that nightmare in the Skotos Mountains and heard Delano’s voice. He’d said those words. Or I had dreamed him saying them, at least.
An older child grabbed the younger one and turned, chasing after the one who’d shifted. Younger men and women appeared on the sidewalks and above, babies held to their hips as they lowered to their knees. Shock rolled out from others in icy waves as the chant of “ Liessa” grew in volume.
“What does that mean?” I asked Casteel as another small child shifted into a fuzzy little thing that was nudged back onto the sidewalk by one of the larger wolven following us. The little girl or guy nipped and then promptly started chasing its tail. “ Liessa ?”
“It’s old Atlantian. The language of the gods,” Casteel said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat as he squeezed my hand again. “ Meyaah
Liessa. It means: my Queen.”