CHAPTER 40 #2
“I think…” He exhaled heavily and shoved a hand through his hair. “I think I fucked up.”
“No,” I was quick to deny. “This isn’t on you. It’s me, so you—” I gasped, jerking back as Casteel appeared directly in front of me. “Gods, you move even quicker now.”
“I do.” He stood there, his arms at his sides, towering over me.
Swallowing, I took a step back, bumping into the table. “I don’t think that was necessary.”
Eather seeped into his irises as he stared down at me. “It was.”
“Nah.” I reached down and gripped the table’s smooth edge. “You could’ve just walked over here like a normal—”
“Nothing,” he cut in, clasping my cheeks. His voice dropped and thinned until it became a shadow against my lips. “Absolutely fucking nothing will ever change what I see when I look at you or feel when I think of you.”
Words failed me as I stared up at him.
“And I never see you as just Poppy,” he continued. “Not when all I can see is my everything. My world.”
A shudder ran through me.
Casteel dropped his forehead to mine. “There are no moments when I don’t need you with every fucking fiber of my being.” His hands slid back to delve into my hair. “And you know that, Poppy.”
“I do,” I whispered, my eyes closing. And I did . “I don’t know why I reacted like that.”
“You just found out you’ve lived dozens of lives,” he said quietly. “That probably has something to do with it.”
A shaky laugh parted my lips. “Probably.”
“And it’s not just that.” Lifting his head, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I did fuck up by pushing you to talk before you had a chance to process any of what has happened. I’m sorry.”
I inhaled a shaky breath that caught in my throat. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not, though,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Something like this can’t be okay.”
I stood before a single closed door, my palm pressed against the cool stone.
I didn’t even know why I’d come here after returning from Ironspire, but here I was, standing before a chamber I wasn’t even sure others knew about.
The Vault.
It was accessed through a door to the left of the dais within the Great Hall and tucked at the end of the narrow, dimly lit hall often used by servants where the passage split in two.
I hadn’t come that way.
I’d shadowstepped from the Solar to avoid being followed by Delano, who was guarding the chamber while Casteel went to speak with Kieran to see if there were any updates from Pensdurth. And to locate Malik.
But Pensdurth wasn’t the only reason Casteel had gone to Kieran instead of summoning him to the Solar. He wanted to fill him in on what we’d learned.
“ Do you want to tell Kieran or…? ” Casteel had asked when we returned to Wayfair, leaving it open-ended.
I could’ve kept Kieran in the dark. That was what I wanted.
The fewer people who knew about the whole Sotoria thing, the better.
But that would’ve been foolish. Keeping that kind of information— any information at this point—to ourselves was incredibly dangerous.
Kieran needed to know. Others would need to know so we could prepare for what Kolis may do.
So, I took the coward’s way out and asked Casteel to tell him. I didn’t want to have the conversation. The gods only knew what I would say to humiliate myself again.
Something like this can’t be okay.
I ran my fingers across the rough sandstone blocks, seeking the hidden door’s nearly invisible seam. It only took a few moments before my fingers brushed the minuscule gap.
Recalling the areas Isbeth had touched to open it felt like muscle memory since I’d watched her do it a hundred times—maybe more.
Stretching up, I pressed on the smaller block of stone, counted down five, and pushed again.
The section of stone shuddered, telling me I was successful.
Stone whispered against stone as I shoved the door open.
Cool air rushed over me as I stepped into the pitch-black void.
Tiny bumps rose on my skin as I stood in utter darkness.
No electricity fueled the lights in this area.
There had been gas lamps and torches, but they’d likely burned out weeks ago.
Still, I remembered where the torches were and had planned for this.
Shutting the door behind me, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pulled on my memory of the Vault, visualizing the dozens of torches lining the walls that lit the cavernous space. Eather stirred as my will formed in my mind.
The soft whoosh of flames igniting in quick succession shattered the silence.
A wry grin tugged at my lips. Gods. Having this ability as a child would’ve either been spectacular or a complete disaster that ended in me burning something down.
I opened my eyes. Torchlight now flickered and danced across the walls, casting an amber glow over the crates of jewels.
Diamonds of every shape and size. Emeralds the color of the sharpest blade of grass.
Sapphires that resembled the deep blue sky at dawn.
Piles of rare jewels such as Royal Jade—a milky-green stone—and Blood Ruby—prized for its deep crimson color.
There were even black opals and the Twin Stone, which currently shifted from black to white as the torchlight reached it.
I walked between the crates, passing the closed velvet boxes and carelessly left jewelry scattered across the display tables. There was so much wealth in just the collection of jewels and jewelry.
Even more existed in the area of the Vault situated below Wayfair, where the coins were stacked.
Something like this can’t be okay.
This could feed every soul in Carsodonia and beyond for years. Instead, it was just squirreled away here. Backs broken, and lives cut short to unearth the stones. Bones shattered, and flesh burned to mint the coins. All so it could be hoarded, ensuring that those who had so little had even less.
As I proceeded and moved forward, disgust with Isbeth, the Blood Crown, and myself filled me. I was haunted by memories of playing with the jewels as if they were nothing but trinkets. Then again, I had been a child and unaware of the value of such beautiful things.
I needed to make sure the others knew about this, and we needed to plan how to use it.
Because it would no longer remain here. Not a single coin or jewel.
But right now, I was here for one thing in particular.
As I neared the staircase, I turned to the right and saw a pathway between crates that led to a door. I walked under the rounded archway and turned the handle, the wood groaning as I pushed it open. I took one step inside and stopped, the eather coiling and twisting tightly.
Roses.
I could smell the faint trace of Isbeth’s perfume.
Something like this can’t be okay.
Jaw clenching, I walked in. The torches lit on my command.
I passed the plush crimson chaise I could still see Isbeth lying upon in a lazy yet elegant sprawl, and the equally lush chair I sat in, my legs dangling until, as the years passed, I could finally reach the floor.
My gaze fell upon the gilded stool and ruby-adorned vanity, a sapphire-encrusted brush on its surface. I picked it up.
Strands of dark hair were tangled between the bristles.
Something like this can’t be okay.
I replaced it and lifted my gaze to the glass case behind the vanity and what I sought within.
It wasn’t the empty shelf where the Blood King’s crown once sat. Nor the shelf where the Blood Queen’s crown had rested. It was what sat between them. Skirting the vanity, I stopped in front of the glass.
It sat cushioned on crimson velvet, its irregular sides and pointy edges glinting a luminous silver.
The Star diamond.
Something like this can’t be okay.
I reached for the small knob on the door and found it locked. The key… Isbeth or one of the Handmaidens always carried it with them. It had probably been on her when she took her last breath.
The thick glass shattered, falling to the floor with a tinkling sound in a waterfall of glittering shards as I placed my palm against the surface. I reached inside, halting with my fingers an inch from the diamond. Part of me didn’t want to touch what I couldn’t help but think of as a tomb now.
Pressing my lips together, I wrapped my fingers around it. Turning from the case, I sat on the armchair’s edge and extended my fingers. The diamond was the size of my palm and sort of shaped like a star. I turned it to the side. Kind of. I stared at it.
I still didn’t feel anything.
I didn’t know what I’d expected. A charge of energy? A flash of something? Because if her soul was also mine, and it had been in this diamond, wouldn’t I feel something?
It just felt like a diamond, sort of shaped like a star. It didn’t feel special. But…
But hadn’t I been drawn to it as a child? I often stared at it as Isbeth brushed her hair before holding court or tinkered with the countless jewels. I remembered wondering what was so unique about it.
A few years before she sent me to Masadonia, Isbeth had taken it out of its case, knelt beside me, and said, “ The most beautiful things in all the kingdom often have jagged and uneven lines… ”
I knew then that she spoke of my scars. And when she said that beauty was often broken, barbed, and always unexpected, I believed she had also been talking about me.
But now I wondered if she’d been referring to herself.
Because she was even more broken and barbed than I thought if she could do all she’d done. And no part of me believed she’d had no idea what had been held in this diamond.
Callum must have told her. And with that knowledge, she was able to understand the prophecy.
Disgust and anger churned as I ran my thumb over the diamond’s uneven side.
How could Callum allow what had been done to his sister to happen over and over?
I had no answer for that. It was the same when I thought of Isbeth.
I supposed they had allowed desperation and grief to twist them into something unrecognizable.
How could I share their blood?