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Everything had gone according to plan.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But the end goal had been accomplished.
Swift booted footsteps echoed down the hall as Casteel and his “commander” made their way to the Duke’s office. Jansen had been explaining how the meeting would proceed; the Maiden would be escorted in, Duke Teerman would explain the need for a new guard with the Rite coming so soon, some prattle about why they chose Hawke Flynn to be that guard, the Maiden’s unveiling, and the fealty oath…
He would see her. Finally. No ridiculous veil, no mask. He would see the puzzle complete, how the eyes as green as spring, the full pink lips, the soft creamy skin all fit together. He was sure she would be beautiful, if what he had seen and touched and tasted were any indication. He had a goal in mind, to be sure. But she had intrigued him. He wanted to see and know more of her.
And he always got what he wanted.
“Hawke. Are you listening?”
He turned his amber gaze on Jansen. “I’m sorry?”
“Do you remember the oath?”
“Of course,” Casteel rolled his eyes before reciting. “’With my sword and my life, I vow to keep you safe Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment to the last moment, I am yours.’ Quite melodramatic if you ask me.”
“Keep your voice down,” the commander growled softly. “You are a dedicated guard of Solis swearing fealty to the future of the kingdom, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Casteel sneered. “I haven’t forgotten. And it would do you well to remember who is leading who, Commander.”
“Of course. My apologies.”
The prince knew that Commander Jansen was on a very precarious ledge. Being a Descenter in the heart of Masadonia was dangerous in the best of times. In a position of power, Jansen could pull a lot of strings and make a lot of things happen. But he had a hand in a number of plots, and if just one person was found out or turned against him… his own demise would be the least of the consequences. It could be catastrophic to the schemes they had put in motion years ago and set back the resurrection of Atlantia for literal decades.
The arrived before a heavy wooden door flanked by two of the Duke’s personal guard. Jansen greeted them by name and Casteel gave each a nod. Then they pulled the door out, opening up the room to the pair. This was the beginning of the end.
So it hadn’t gone completely to plan. The prince knew he needed to get close to the Maiden, so he could steal her away right from under the thumb of the Ascended. That had meant an opening needed to come available for one of her personal guards – it wouldn’t do to just work in the castle. Jericho had been tasked with taking out her guard during her almost-daily evening walks.
And he had done it.
But then he’d tried to go ahead and take the Maiden, and that had gotten him into trouble. He hadn’t known she would be armed and dangerous, and when you cross a wolven with pointy things it’s bound to get a little messy.
And Jericho wasn’t known for being calm, cool and collected on a good day.
The Maiden had gotten in a few good strikes, but she had received quite the blow as well. He’d seen the angry swelling around her mouth and jaw at Rylan’s funeral. He only imagined the bruising extended far under the veil, over her cheek and temple.
That was unacceptable.
He hadn’t enjoyed cutting off Jericho’s hand. But he would not allow Penellaphe to be hurt. And to teach a lesson you had to be firm. Unyielding. Deadly, if warranted, and definitely a bit unhinged. Just to keep everyone vigilant.
“Commander Jansen,” Dorian Teerman greeted them. “And you must be Flynn.”
“Your Grace.” Casteel bowed to the Duke, something it almost physically hurt him to do. But he was playing a part, and he could spend more time later creating enticing scenarios in which he destroyed Teerman in any number of ways. “I have summoned the Maiden. She and her guard should be here shortly.”
The Duke hadn’t bothered to introduce his wife, Duchess Jacinda Teerman. Casteel wondered if he even acknowledged her existence much of the time. He didn’t know much about Duke Teerman, but he seemed self-absorbed, self-righteous, and cruel, which was not much different than any of the Ascended he had encountered. Their unyielding refusal to “petition the Gods” so the Tulis family could keep their third son, when their first two had already died so young, was only further proof of their evil. Of course, those first two hadn’t been lost to a “blood disease”, but to the Ascended’s bloodlust – they had been fed upon until there was nothing left. And yet the Duke and Duchess would only insist on taking the third as well. Had it been one of them who had bled those poor children dry? It made his stomach twist to stand with Jansen, making small talk with the pale blonde Duchess as they waited for the meeting to start.
It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. And there she was.
This was how he had expected to meet the Maiden. Veiled, so he could only see her lips and chin. Hair pulled back so it was not visible beneath the veil, either. That was a shame. Her hair had unlocked something in him that night at the Red Pearl. It had been so unexpected. And then there was the ridiculous, frilly, white lace and pleats of a dress that covered everything from her neck to her wrists to her ankles. Surely a garment such as that was an affront to the Gods, sleeping though they were. This was the Maiden, pure and docile and silent. It was a stark contrast to the woman who had snuck into his room not so long ago. In a brothel, no less.
“Please. Close the door Vikter,” the Duke nodded as he sat behind the black painted desk. Casteel looked toward the older guard with the sandy blond hair as he pulled the doors closed. He knew more about Vikter than he should for his supposed station, but what was most important was his closeness with the Maiden. Penellaphe. He would need to be thorough in his dedication to win over the seasoned soldier.
“Thank you.” Teerman nodded. “Please, sit, Penellaphe.”
He watched the Maiden as she lowered herself to the bench. Gods he hated that dress. It was such a pity to hide the curves that he knew were underneath. It was an effort to keep himself from smirking. If only those in this chamber knew what she had been up to.
“I hope you’re feeling well, Penellaphe,” the Duchess spoke, a sickeningly sweet voice that felt practiced and false. The veiled Maiden nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was worried that attending the city council so soon after your attack would be too much.” Casteel had watched the Maiden through the entirety of the meeting, trying to decipher anything from the full lips and curve of jaw that he and the rest of the world were allowed to see. Had he seen her skin flush while the Tulis family begged for their son’s life? What had she been thinking as her keepers were tearing yet another family apart?
“What happened in the garden is why we’re all here.” The Duke’s voice was cold. “With the death of… what was his name? The guard?” It made the prince angrier than it should, that this beast could not even be bothered to know the name of the man who had given his life to protect their precious Maiden.
“Rylan Kiel, your Grace,” Vikter answered.
“Ah yes, Ryan. With Ryan’s death you are down one guard… Again. Two guards lost in one year. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.” What that a joke? Was he trying to imply that this girl could have stopped it? Casteel had to contain a sneer. The guards would continue to fall, if it meant getting his brother back and burning Solis to the ground. Nobody would stop him – not the Maiden, not the Teermans, not Vikter, not the Blood Queen herself. “Anyway, with the upcoming Rite, and as you draw closer to your Ascension, Vikter cannot be expected to be the only one keeping a close watch on you. We need to replace Ryan, which - as I’m sure you realize now - explains why Commander Jansen and guard Flynn are here. Guard Flynn will take Ryan’s place effective immediately.”
“I’m sure this is surprising, as he is new to our city and quite young for a member of the Royal Guard. There are several Rise guards in line to be promoted, and bringing on Hawke is no slight to them. But the Commander has assured us that Hawke is better suited to this task.”
And so the diatribe began about why he was just so good at what he did that he was the next natural choice. Fresh eyes to see new threats. An impeccable record on the Rise and experience beyond it, which would naturally come in handy if the Queen summoned the Maiden earlier than anticipated for her Ascension. It could happen. Teerman Castle had been compromised more than once in the last week. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Queen Ileana determined that they were no longer capable of keeping the Maiden safe here in Masadonia.
If only they knew.
If only they knew that his sense of hearing and smell made him aware of an enemy’s presence long before the enemy knew he was there. If only they knew how much he had to dumb himself down to appear to be a mortal man, counting seconds so he wouldn’t move too fast or relaxing his muscles so he wouldn’t seem too strong. If only they knew that their Commander was a Descenter himself and was planting Prince Casteel himself – the Dark One – into the role of Royal Guard Hawke Flynn. If only they knew that today they were delivering the Maiden into the hands of the most dangerous creature in their nightmares.
“The Descenters and the Dark One are not the only things to fear out there, as you know,” the Duchess had been speaking. Gods they were making it terribly difficult not to laugh. They were so ignorant. The pale blonde Ascended turned to Casteel now. “As a member of the Maiden’s personal royal guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. It can be distracting seeing someone’s face for the first time, especially a Chosen, and that could interfere with your ability to protect her. That is why the Gods allow this breach.”
“Commander Jansen, if you will please step outside,” the Duke gestured toward the door and Jansen took his leave. Casteel stood alone, now, looking toward the veiled young woman now standing before him. Oh, had he been looking forward to this.
“You are about to bear witness to what only a select few have seen: an unveiled Maiden. Penellaphe, please reveal yourself.”
She was too still, and Casteel could tell that her breathing was shallow. What could she be thinking? He was sure that part of her was anxious that she’d be found out.
“Penellaphe. We do not have all day,” the Duke cut out and his wife tried to soothe him.
“Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”
Why did she hesitate? Of course, she was concerned about being recognized, but he couldn’t imagine the Duchess would know that. And why did the Duke have that glib smile plastered on his face? Casteel returned his gaze to Penellaphe as her lady’s maid assisted with the chains on the headdress before it fell from her head.
Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark as her gaze remained pinned on the Duke. He could only see the right side of her face as she glared at Teerman and from the corner of his eye he could see the Duke’s expression fall into icy stone. Then she took a breath and turned to face Casteel, lifting her chin slightly.
Gods. She was stunning.
Those lips, her jaw, those eyes as green as Atlantian spring. He was ready for those things, had seen them that night at the Red Pearl. He’d known even then that she was beautiful, and now with her stony gaze it was only confirmed. And then there were the scars. Two scars tracked down from her temple, one over her cheek and toward her nose and one down through her eyebrow. Where had those come from? Who or what had done that to her? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face before meeting her eyes. Those eyes. They were dark and stormy, betraying the lack of emotion on her face. It was as if she were steeling herself, although he didn’t know what against.
“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” She flinched as the Duke spoke again. “Half of her face is a masterpiece, the other half a nightmare.”
That bastard. Her arms tremored slightly, and Casteel realized what she had been hardening herself to feel. He knew that this moment, where he could make Penellaphe feel small, was why the Duke had that slimy smile upon his face. Appearance was a fickle thing, and beauty and perfection were highly touted by the Ascended. The Maiden, chosen but scarred, was being raised and educated under the thumb of a man who likely took every opportunity he could to tell her what a shame it was that her face could never be pleasing to any of them. She was a pawn, a possession to them. But he saw her here, just as he had seen her in the Red Pearl. She was a person, with feelings and desires and insecurities. She was Penellaphe.
He made an oath to himself that he would only treat her as such.
“Both halves are as beautiful as the whole,” he stepped forward then, wishing he could see the Duke’s face when he said it. Her sharp intake of breath made him want to smile for her. She hadn’t been expecting that, and that was the nightmare – that she was not aware how truly lovely she was.
He gave a shallow bow and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment I am yours.” Bowing to Duke Teerman had been torturous, but bowing before her was almost natural. So was swearing his fealty to her. The ease with which he did so kindled something inside of him. He had come here to play a part and set into motion the resurgence of Atlantia, and that was exactly what he was doing. But those emerald eyes, lush red lips, and two pink scars were already threatening to unravel him.
And he wasn’t so sure that he was going to fight it.