I caught up with Poppy in the sitting chamber. “So, how jealous are you that I shifted before you?”
Poppy spun on me, sending me a look I imagined she had just directed at Kieran right before she threw the shirt at his face. “You know, you shouldn’t even be able to shift this soon.”
“Seriously?” Kieran said, walking in behind me.
“I guess I’m just special,” I said, grinning when she rolled her eyes.
“Is it because of the Joining that he can?” Kieran asked.
“I don’t think so,” she replied, carefully pulling her hair from where it had gotten snagged under the collar of her shirt. “Because I know I can’t yet."
“Let me guess.” A faint smile played across Kieran’s lips. “Yourvadentiaisn’t telling you why.”
“Unfortunately, you are right.” She sighed. “But I keep thinking I know why. Like it’s—”
The air suddenly charged and crackled as a presence surrounded us.
Herpresence.
It was like a warm summer breeze that carried the fresh scent of…lilacs. Iknewin my bones and blood that the Queen of the Gods, the true Primal of Life, had arrived.
POPPY
A sudden awareness pressed down on me, warm as a golden sunset. I’d felt that when I stood at the Chambers of Nyktos, but that wasn’t the image that came to mind now. Instead, I saw a meadow full of…orange-red poppies. I’d felt her then, in a dream right before I woke.
Essence flared and throbbed, and a slight tremor shook the walls, scattering the image in my mind. Tiny goose bumps erupted on my skin as the realm opened with a soft crackling sound. A sparking orb of eather pulsed and lengthened a few feet behind Casteel.
Uncertainty tightened my chest, causing my breath to hitch in my throat as Kieran moved to stand in front of me. Gold-tinged silver light poured out of the tear, intense and blinding as it filled the chamber.
Kieran threw up his hand to shield his eyes. “Good gods.”
I repeated Casteel’s reassurances, trying to ignore the rapidly building uncertainty surrounding how she would respond to me. She and I were bonded by blood but in a tainted, wrong way. How could that not skew the way she saw me? And how would she handle what Casteel and Kieran had become? And everything with her sons?
My knees felt like they were made of jelly. And, gods, that made me feel like the girl frombefore. The one who, despite her suspicions, hadn’t asked questions or peered beneath the thin veneer the Ascended wore like a mask. The girl who took herlessonswithout any real fight, whether they came in the form of Priestess Analia’s sharp slaps or Duke Teerman’s favored cane. The girl who hadn’t even realized she’d been kept in a cage. The daughter of a traitorous false god who had allowed her heartache and tragedy to spoil any good in her. The product of rape—and that is what Isbeth had done. There was no prettying it up, and it would be wrong to do so. How couldshenot wonder if Iwould somehow turn out like Isbeth? That I, too, would become spoiled?
A presence, cool and crisp like snow falling among the pines, brushed my mind.Your heart is beating too fast, sweetheart.
A jolt ran through me as Casteel moved to stand beside Kieran. Without taking his eyes off the pulsing tear, he reached around until his hand found mine. Energy danced between us as he threaded his fingers with mine and squeezed.
I let out a ragged exhale.
That simple gesture was its own kind of magic, stronger than the eather coursing through the three of us.
My knees strengthened. My heart slowed. My mindquietedenough for me to remember that I wasn’t the girl who’d been forced to wear the veil of the Chosen. I hadn’t been her in a long time.
I was Penellaphe Da’Neer. I wasn’t timid, and I didn’t need to be protected or set free. I was vicious and even a little murderous when needed. I was Poppy—wife, Queen, and Primal. I had faced down Craven, Ascended, and everything in between and had the scars to prove it. I’d ended the Blood Crown.
Freed myself.
Most importantly, I wasnothinglike my mother.
And if the Queen of the Gods was disgusted by me, then…fuck her.
My chin lifted as the light receded, and then I saw her.
Well, I sawpartof her since Casteel’s and Kieran’s enormous frames blocked most of her.
All I could make out was a cascade of long, silvery hair flowing over her shoulders in soft waves and loose curls—hair that was just like Millicent’s. I saw no crown. Did they even have crowns? Yes. Yes, they did. And so did we—and not the Atlantian crowns.
