A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire (Blood and Ash, #2)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“I will find you a diamond so big it will enter the room before you do.”

What I already felt for him in spite of everything felt like a slippery slope. It would be hard enough to pretend to be together so we could convince his people of our relationship and not be affected by it.

“Not a minute has gone by since we left the Blood Forest that you aren’t threatening Casteel’s life.”

“Yet another question?” Kieran leaned back, crossing his arms. “Seriously? Do you ever get tired of asking so many?”

“Apparently, you don’t, since you just asked three of them.”

“We were bonded at birth, and the connection is a lot of things, Penellaphe.”

“Are you hyperventilating?” Kieran asked.

“You’re breathing very fast.”

“Still so incredibly brave,”

“She may only be half-Atlantian and raised in Solis, but my people will accept her because I accept her.”

“Just so you know, Penellaphe doesn’t need protection. She is more than capable of handling things herself. But

that is my future you are walking away with. Guard her well. Your life depends on it.”

“Where are you going? I was so very comfortable with you in my lap.”

“I’m sure you were, but there’s no audience.”

“What about me?” Kieran asked. “I’m...

“I enjoyed throwing the knife at you and making you bleed,”

“I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you.”

“For choosing me.”

“Please don’t die,”

“Casteel would be most displeased.”

“What is a wivern?”

Air hissed out of Kieran’s clenched teeth as he jerked back his arm. I turned, finding him standing several feet from me. I lifted my brows, thinking that was a bit of an overreaction to his arm touching mine.

“A shock,” he said. “Like being struck by lightning.”

“Wolven can lose control over their forms if they come into contact with electricity, even at harmless levels. Sometimes, during a particularly bad lightning storm, they are often affected by it.”

“A draken was a powerful bloodline, one able to sprout wings as wide as a horse, and talons as sharp as a blade. They could fly. Some could even breathe fire.”

“Senturion.”

“Empaths?”

Lying on a cushion of dead leaves and snow was a blade the color of blood, and a handle made of smooth, ivory bone. A wolven dagger—my wolven dagger. Slowly, I picked it up with a trembling hand, the weight familiar and

welcomed. I looked to where Casteel moved like a shadow between the trees. How long had he had it with him, and why had he given it back to me now? Because bloodstone could kill an Ascended.

“I am born of the first kingdom.”

“Created from the blood and ash of all those who fell before me. I have risen to take back what is mine. I’m who you call the Dark One,”

“Yes, I have the Maiden, and I’m not giving her back.”

“Mine are bigger than yours,”

Craven. A sense of focus and calm settled over me as I darted into the yard, running for the carriage. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kieran leap upon a knight that had Elijah’s back pinned against the stone wall of the keep. He grabbed the knight in his powerful wolven jaws, flinging him to the ground. Magda appeared, thrusting one of the bloodstone swords down. I slowed as I moved along the back of the carriage, stopping at the edge. Peering around it, I saw the knight dragging the now-struggling boy toward the stables, a thick arm around his neck. In the moonlight, the child’s wide, panicked eyes met mine a moment before the knight turned away. “Keep fighting,” the knight growled. “That really gets the blood pumping.” The child was no longer a shield. He was food. Fury pumped my blood as I slipped out from behind the carriage, crossing the distance between us as I flipped the heavy-handled dagger so I held it by its blade—just like Vikter had taught me.

A humorless half-smile appeared. “There’s no need to be afraid now, Maiden,” he said. “You’re safe. Lay down the bloodstone.” The hairs were still at attention. The dagger was my only weapon against an Ascended. Without it, the paltry meat knife would be little to no help. Just like it would’ve if I had managed to escape the night prior. Casteel had been painfully right about how badly that would’ve gone, though now wasn’t the time for self-recriminations. “You’re hurting the boy.” The Lord’s brows rose as the sound of fighting continued in the yard. “Am I?” I nodded. “He’s bleeding.” He didn’t take his eyes off me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to throw the dagger as I had before. The element of surprise was gone. “He’s a Descenter, Maiden.” “He’s just a child—” “A child of those who sought to kidnap you. His safety should be the least of your worries. Why you stand before me unveiled, not only holding a bloodstone dagger but

also with the knowledge of how to use it is far more concerning.” I almost laughed. Leave it to an Ascended to believe that my unveiled face and my ability to fight was more concerning than the fate of a child. “But he’s just a little boy, and I believe he’s a second son,” I quickly lied. “He is destined to Ascend, and the gods will be very displeased if something were to happen to him, wouldn’t they?” “Ah, yes. I wouldn’t want to displease the gods.” His fingers eased, and the boy wheezed raggedly. The Lord placed his hands on the boy’s tiny shoulders. “Lay down the dagger. You don’t need it now. Then I shall let him go. I will take you far from here, back to your Queen. She is very worried about you, Maiden.” With the dagger, I had a chance. Lord Chaney was fast, and smarter than the knight. He wouldn’t come at me like a wild boar. I’d have to be clever. But without my bloodstone weapon? I stood no chance. The Lord wouldn’t kill me. The Ascended needed me. The child, however? He would kill him with little thought. My gaze dipped to

the boy. He’d been at the stables, shouting, “From blood and ash” when the others called for me to be sent back to the Queen in pieces. But he was just a child. Exhaling slowly, I opened my hand. The dagger slipped from my fingers. It hit the ground with a soft thunk that sounded like a door being closed. “I’m ready to go home.” I steadied my voice. “To my Queen. Please?” Lord Chaney smiled again, and dread knotted my stomach. He nodded, and that was ...

Leaning back, I planted my booted foot in his chest and kicked him back to his bench. His eyes widened as he laughed. “Dear Maiden, that was unnecessary. I just need a sip. The King and Queen never need to know. It will be our secret. One you would be wise to keep—” I kicked out again, catching him in the chest once more. He hissed in pain. “That wasn’t very nice,” he snarled as I shifted, reaching for the knife. “That actually hurt.” “That was the point.” I unsheathed the blade, holding it steady. “If you know as much as you think you do about me, then you’ll realize I know how to use this. It may not kill you, but I can make you wish it would.” His burning black eyes widened as he held up his hands. “Now. Now.” His tone was placating. Patronizing. “There’s no need for threats of violence.” “There’s not?” Keeping an eye on him, I scooted across the bench, toward the door. He tracked my movements. “Did you forget about the speed

in which we’re traveling? The knights?” “I’d rather take my chances of being trampled to death. At least I’ll go to the grave knowing you’ll probably be right behind me once the King and Queen learn that I’m dead because of you.” I reached for the door— Chaney struck. I expected him to go for the knife. I reared back. The moment his hand reached around my ankle, I realized I had made a fatal miscalculation. He yanked hard, pulling me off the bench. My back cracked off the edge of the seat, sending a jolt to my already aching head as I went down hard in the cramped space. He pulled me toward him, over the rough, dirty, wet floor, laughing the whole while. “There’s no point in fighting—” Gripping his knee, I sat up, swinging the knife with all my might into his chest—into the angry, seeping wound. Chaney howled, lashing out. His fist caught my jaw, snapping my head back. Bright bursts of light crowded the sides of my vision as

he fell back in his seat, clutching at his chest. I struggled to my feet. The carriage jerked, pitched me back and then forward. Grabbing his shoulder for balance, I climbed onto him. He twisted under me, moving onto his back and then rolled, throwing me to the side. I crashed into the back of the bench, hitting the cushions and then fell to the floor. Air punched out of my lungs in a painful rush. I started to sit up, but Chaney dropped on top of me. “I don’t know how the Teermans managed to be around you, knowing what you truly are. Not without stealing just a taste. You may only be half-Atlantian, but your blood is potent.” His weight and the stench of his cologne was unbearable, suffocating as he gripped my left arm, yanking it to his mouth. “I just need a little bit. Then the damn throbbing in my chest will stop—” “No!” I sh...

and through the entire carriage, becoming a tangible, third entity as I sliced the knife through his cheek. Chaney jerked back, yelping. Blood sprayed and spurted, running from his eyes and ears. I didn’t stop. Not even when a crash sounded from the roof of the carriage. Not even when I thought I heard shouting from outside. I stabbed as many holes into the Lord as I could, until he sprang so many leaks, my hands were slick with his blood, my blood, and I kept thrusting the knife into him, over and over—

He said my blood is potent.”

“No matter how much death I’ve seen, it never gets easier.” His lashes lowered, shielding his gaze. “It’s never less shocking. I’m glad for that, because I think if it ever does stop shocking me, I might stop valuing life. So, I welcome that shock and the grief. If not, I would be no better than an Ascended.”

“Your scars are beautiful,”

“But I refuse to allow your body to be scarred again.”

“I’ll get jealous if anyone else sees how pretty your legs are.”

“You waking up uninjured was more pressing than a vague, rather unhelpful message from the gods,”

dampened brows smoothed out within seconds. “What did you do?” a young woman demanded as she fell to her knees beside the man, dropping an armful of clean towels. “What did she do?” “It’s okay.” Casteel placed a hand on her shoulder. “She only eased his pain long enough for Magda to return.” “But how…?” She trailed off, her brown eyes widening as she placed a hand over her chest. Meeting Casteel’s gaze, I rose and went to another, one with eyes of winter. A wolven. I had no idea how old he was, but in mortal years, he appeared to be a decade or so older than me, his onyx-hued skin drawn into tense lines. A deep slash ran across his bared chest, where a sword had sliced open tissue and muscle. “I’ll heal,” he said gruffly. “The others, not as easily.” “I know.” I knelt. “That doesn’t mean you need to be in pain.” “I suppose not.” Curiosity seeped into his eyes as he lifted his hand. I folded mine over it, and again, I sensed there was pain that ran

deeper. Years and years’ worth of sorrow. My palm warmed and tingled. “You also lost someone.” “A long time ago.” His breath caught as his breathing slowed. “Now, I understand.” “Understand what?” He wasn’t looking at me. I followed his gaze to Casteel. Behind him, Alastir stood as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Maybe we should’ve warned him. “Jasper will be interested,” the wolven said, a faint grin appearing as he leaned his head back against the flat pillow. “I’m sure he will be,” Casteel commented, eyes lightening. “Be well, Keev.” The wolven nodded, and I rose, curious as to who Jasper was as I moved to the man beside Keev, the one that had watched me the entire time. I started forward. “No,” the man gritted out, sweat coursing down his face. His eyes were a shade of golden hazel. “I don’t want your touch.” I halted. “No offense, my Prince.” His too-shallow breaths filled the silence. “I don’t want that.”