The ​Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and Ash, #3)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“I imagine Wilhelmina knows—” Casteel choked on his drink as my mouth dropped open. Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “You okay over there?” “Wait,” Casteel coughed again, eyes watering. “Wait a godsdamn second. Wilhelmina? Who is Wilhelmina?” Jasper frowned, clearly confused. “You never met Willa?” Oh, my gods. There was no way. “What is her last name?” Casteel asked. Please don’t say Colyns. Please don’t say Colyns, I repeated over and over as Kieran’s father stared at Casteel as if he’d lost his mind. “I think it’s Colyns.” My jaw was now in my lap.

“Apparently, there’s a Willa who wrote a sex diary of some sort,” Kieran said with a sigh. “It’s Poppy’s favorite book or something.” I turned to the wolven as Casteel made a choking sound again.

Gods, I hated all of them right now. I hated myself even more for wanting to know the answers.

“She’s of the changeling bloodline, I believe,” Jasper answered, his forehead creasing. “Though sometimes I wonder about that. But no, I didn’t know that. Explains a lot, though, now that I think about it.”

My mind was…well, it couldn’t even comprehend living that long. How did one not grow tired of everything after that many years?

“Unworthy.” “Excuse me?” “I am unworthy of you,” he stated roughly. “You are a dream.” My fingers fell away from the neckline as I looked over at him. Casteel’s arms had fallen to his sides as his gaze swept over me. His chest rose sharply. “Your hair. That gown.” His eyes heated. “You are so beautiful, Poppy.” “Thank you.” I felt my throat warm as my heart swelled. “And you are worthy.”

“Please tell me you’re wearing your dagger.” Fighting a grin, I lifted the right side of the skirt to my thigh. Casteel groaned. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“And you are demented,” I said. “Worthy, but demented.”...

“Once they realized what I was, one of them asked the gods to forgive them.” A cruel, tight smile formed over the rim of his glass as he took a drink. “They won’t.”

“Look at us, agreeing on who to kill and who not to.” I shook my head. “Which is a conversation I truly never expected to take part in.” “But you’re so good at it,” Casteel murmured.

I will not replace the veil you loathed with a crown you hate.

“And if you decide you want to take what is yours, claim the throne, I will set this entire kingdom on fire and watch it burn if that ensures that the crown sits on your head.” I jolted. “You love your people—” “But I love you more.”

I had no thirst for power, but maybe that was the key to being a good leader?

You paid attention when you wore the veil. More than any of the Royals ever noticed.” He was right about that. I had watched and listened without being seen. From that, I had learned what not to do when in a leadership position, starting with the simplest of things. Do not lie to your people. Or kill them. But the bar wasn’t set very high in Solis. Atlantia was entirely different.

I twisted to find Kieran at our side. He reached up, grasping my arms. “Do you have her?” Casteel demanded of Kieran. “Always,” he replied.

“I…” He swallowed thickly. “You…you are a goddess.” “No.” I folded my hands against my legs. “I’m not.” Sunlight glanced off his cheek as he tipped forward, bracing his weight on the hand he’d placed on the ground. He leaned in, brushing his nose across mine as he cupped my cheek. “To me, you are.” He kissed me softly, scattering what was left of my senses. “To them, you are.”

Curling a hand against my stomach, I turned back to Casteel. Our gazes met and held as he shifted onto one knee, placing his right hand over his heart and his left on the ground. The gesture…I recognized it. It was a variation of what the wolven had done when I arrived in Saion’s Cove. But I’d seen it before, I realized. The Priests and Priestesses would do it when they first entered the Temples in Solis, acknowledging that they were in the presence of the gods. You are a goddess.

Casteel rose, and in a daze, I watched him walk toward me, his steps full of fluid grace. If someone said he was a god, I wouldn’t question it for a second.

“Your eyes are as bright as the moon.” I blinked. “Are they still that way?” His grin spread, and one dimple hinted at making an appearance. “Yes.”

“You know what? It is a beautiful garden.”

“Can I ask you two a question and have you give me an honest response?” “Can’t wait to hear what this will be,” Kieran murmured while Casteel nodded. I shot the wolven a dark look.

They were all beautiful, but I stopped in front of a charcoal drawing. Some of it had faded, but it was clearly a sketch of a man seated upon a large throne. The lack of features told me it was Nyktos who sat there, but it was what sat at his feet that snagged my attention—and held it. Two extraordinarily large felines rested before him, their heads tilted in his direction.

Who painted it?! When!?!? I need answerssss!

“Are they cave cats?” “I don’t think so,” Kieran answered as he stared up at the drawing. “They look like them,” I said. “I saw one of them once…” I frowned as the dream I’d had while in the crypts resurfaced. “Or maybe more than once.” Casteel glanced down at me. “Where did you see one? In a painting or drawing like this?” “No.” I shook my head. “There was one caged in the castle at Carsodonia.” Kieran’s brows lifted. “I don’t think that’s what you saw.” “I saw a cat as large as you are in your wolven form,” I told him. “Ian saw it, too.” He shook his head. “That’s impossible, Poppy. Cave cats have been extinct for at least a couple of hundred years.” “What? No.”

“Let me guess, Nyktos was just super-protective of their identities?” Casteel smirked. “That’s what they say.” “Sounds like he was super controlling,” I muttered. “Or maybe just really private,” Kieran suggested as he reached over and tugged gently on the strand of hair Casteel had tucked back earlier.

It just made me think about how you find things you never knew you needed when you’re looking for something completely opposite.” “Or not looking at all,” I said,

“I…I don’t really know how to dance.” “No one does,” Delano said, grinning. “Until they do.”

I hadn’t been thinking about having fun those times. I was just…living. And that was the key, wasn’t it? To not overthink and to just live.

The hum in my chest found my blood as the hem of my gown twirled around my ankles. A new hand closed around mine as Delano let go. Whirling, I found myself held by Kieran. I grinned up at him. “Hi.” His lips curved up. “Hello, Poppy.” He stepped back, spinning me. I stumbled, laughing as he caught me. “You surprise me.” “Why?” I asked as we moved around the flames. “I didn’t think you’d dance,” he said, pulling me to his damp chest. “You honor us by doing so.”

My head tipped back, my face exposed to the flames and moonlight as I was whirled into Delano’s arms and then into Kieran’s, who lifted my feet from the sand. Grasping his shoulders, I laughed as he turned us around and around.

“Does that bother you?” Some of the passion faded enough for me to ask, “Why would it?” “The pasts of some haunt the future of others,” he said, his hands stilling.

“But our relationship was never one of raw need. That doesn’t mean I cared any less about her, but it wasn’t like this. There was no constant need to be inside her in every way imaginable, and even ways not yet thought of. I never found myself constantly hungering, and I believe you need that to find yourself exploring those things with someone you’re committed to,”

“Do you…do you want to do that with me?” He kissed me as he eased his hand out from under my gown. “I want to do everything imaginable, and things no one has ever thought of with you,” he said. “But I only need you, Poppy. Now. Always.”

“Fuck,” he rasped. “I love that godsdamn diary.”

While Casteel toyed with my hair, we chatted about what I had seen the day before, which included me waxing on rather poetically about the frozen treat I’d consumed.

Wearing all black, Kieran stood out rather starkly in the colorful room. He sat beside her, leaning against one of the chair backs, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He held a ball of orange yarn in one hand and a white one in the other. Several more lay in his lap, and the image of him sitting there, a faint smile softening the handsome lines of his face as he watched his mother, would be forever imprinted on my brain.

Having children was never something I’d ever considered, so it wasn’t something that lingered in my mind. But now it was dancing at the center. A baby. Babies. Casteel’s and my baby. Casteel holding a small, swaddled infant. My lips parted on a thin inhale. That was really something I did not need to think about at the moment. “Poppy looks faint.” Kieran smirked.

“I told her it would make you uncomfortable if she did,” Kieran answered. “Just like I told my father not to do it.” My chest warmed. “You know what?” He raised a brow as he looked down at me. “What?” I reached over and patted his chest. “You’re more than okay.” “Now that I know you think I’m more than okay, I can sleep well at night.” His tone was as dry as the Wastelands, but I grinned.

“I am very shy.” “And very delusional,” I retorted,

But I quickly forgot about what my arm looked and felt like as the little girl all but rushed from her mother and nearly tackled the black-and-white wolven. Choked laughter came from Kieran as the girl wrapped tiny arms around the wolven. “Oh, gods, Talia,” the woman exclaimed. “What have I told you about randomly hugging people?” I grinned as she gently untangled the girl from the wolven, who playfully nipped at one of her arms. A riot of giggles erupted from the child, and a second later, she was back to chasing the bird. The wolven she’d hugged trotted on, and I swore it smiled.

Watching him be held by his mother softened…well, it softened every part of me. He was Casteel, the Dark One. I’d seen him remove a man’s heart with barely a flicker of emotion and launch himself into trees and use his fangs to tear through throats. He was capable of great strength and terrible violence, and yet, right now, he was only a boy in his mother’s arms.

“My wife is far humbler than I am,” Casteel asserted, and there was a soft, barely audible but recognizable snort from behind me.

Not only was my…father prone to chaotic violence and was a habitual adulterer, he was also apparently a murderer.

And there was only ever Malec. And he was Nyktos’s grandchild. That was why he was so powerful. That partially explains why you are so powerful, as Nyktos would be your great-grandfather.”

Why would this rumor have started? Weird!

“Well, at least you can stop calling me a goddess. I am just a…deity.” A heartbeat passed, and a wide smile broke out across Casteel’s face. Both dimples made an appearance. “You will always be a goddess to me.”

“Those words—that title—are important to us because it means that from the blood of those who have fallen at the hands of the Ascended, and from the ash of all they have destroyed, we will still rise.” She cocked her head to the side. “To us, it says that despite what they tried to do to us, we were not defeated. And because of it, we will rise again.”

“I think too much value is given to forgiveness when it’s easier to forgive but far harder to forget. That understanding and acceptance is far more important than forgiving someone,” I said. “I understand why he lied. That doesn’t mean I agree with it or that it’s okay, but I have accepted it, and I’ve moved on. We’ve moved on.”

“What my son failed to mention though, is that you’re also incredibly logical,” she added. A laugh burst from me. I couldn’t help it, and it was loud enough that Kieran looked over his shoulder at us with a questioning raise of his brows. “I’m sorry,” I said, smothering a giggle. “It’s just that Casteel would argue that logic isn’t one of my strong suits.” There was a faint curve of her lips. “That doesn’t surprise me. Most men wouldn’t know logic if it smacked them in the face.” This time, my laugh was a lot softer, partly due to her response and Kieran’s reactive frown. “But because you do appear to be logical, even when emotions are involved, I feel that I can be blunt,” she continued, and my humor shriveled up.

“Very few men don’t want to make war, while nearly every woman wants to end it. Most would believe the former causes the most bloodshed,” she said, running a finger over the ruby petal. “They’d be wrong. The latter is always the bloodiest, and always requires a great sacrifice. But, sometimes, no matter how many measures one takes, or how much they are willing to compromise, war cannot always be prevented.”

“Only the King and Queen can stop war from happening now.” “Then stop it,” I exclaimed. Slowly, she turned her head to me, and the next breath I took hitched in my throat. I knew what she was saying without vocalizing the words—I

“Because you are willing to think of the people, speak your mind, and do what is necessary even if it kills a tender part of you, means you are fit enough to wear the crown,” she returned. “Ruling a kingdom can be learned.”