“Good.” That was all he said for a few moments, and I hoped that wasn’t the only thing he’d say. “I assume you spoke with the fuck?”

  I knew exactly who that fuck was. “I have.”

  “Were you planning to tell me?”

  “I was waiting for you to ask,” I told him.

  A beat of silence passed. “Asking now.”

  I let my hands rest in my lap. “He had no idea about Pensdurth, nor did he seem to know that Kolis had come to the capital.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Can’t smell shit other than dead flowers when I’m around him, so I can’t say for sure.”

  “But…”

  “But I think he’s telling the truth.” I paused. “He also doesn’t seem to realize that I’ve changed. Probably the same with you.”

  Cas shifted, his shoulder brushing mine. “Learn anything else?”

  “He’s not very talkative,” I said with a huff. “For once.”

  “Of course,” he replied.

  He fell quiet after that, and so did I until I felt his fleeting gaze. Drawing in a deeper breath, I looked over at him—at his profile.

  Cas looked like himself. Well, a tired version of himself, but there were no bones. No shadows moving in his flesh. There was, however, a heavy growth of hair along his jaw and around his mouth.

  I pulled my gaze from his profile. “You need to sleep and eat.”

  “I’ve been sleeping and eating.”

  “You need more of both things, then.”

  His laugh was low and carried away by the wind so quickly I almost missed it.

  “The thing about sleep? About me getting more of it?” Cas said, his voice low. “I keep having these dreams. And not the kind I want. Only had that once.”

  I knew what kind he wanted. What he’d only had once. Dream-walking with Poppy. I wanted to ask about that, see if he thought that meant she was waking. But I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. “What kind of dreams?”

  “Like the ones I had when we slept in the Skotos.”

  My brows lifted, not expecting that. I glanced at him, and our gazes locked. His eyes were golden shards lit by the low glow of eather.

  “It’s like before. She’s…where I can’t reach her. Caged, but…” The breath he took looked like it pained him. His gaze drifted away from mine.

  “But what?” I pressed.

  “But it’s not the same,” he said. “What she’s in, what I can’t get through? It’s a golden cage.”

  Seconds passed, and he didn’t elaborate. I gave him a little more time, and still, he was silent. Knowing him as I did, I knew that meant he wasn’t ready to say more.

  But his dreams made sense.

  I’d dreamt of her, too.

  There were no cages, though.

  “Why?” I asked, clearing my throat. I looked over at him. “Why have you been coming here?”

  His head tilted. “I found her here once.”

  Now, I understood.

  Looking forward, I took another breath. “You gonna let me say something you wouldn’t let me get out before?”

  Cas was silent.

  I took that as a yes. “I should’ve told you about the promise I made to Poppy.”

  He inhaled sharply at her name.

  “You were right about that,” I continued. “It shouldn’t have blindsided you.”

  “I know,” he stated flatly. “And I…I should’ve said something to her. You were also right.”

  “We were also both wrong,” I murmured, blinking the snow from my lashes.

  “Sounds about right.”

  My lips curved upward in a faint grin.

  He moved again, erasing nearly all the physical space between us and what felt like a hell of a lot more. “I never really blamed you, Kieran. Not in any way that made a difference.”

  “I know,” I acknowledged, but this time, the two words came out hoarse and uneven.

  Cas didn’t say anything more. Neither did I. We just sat there in the flurries, shoulders touching with each breath. The shape of the snow blurred.

  And for the first time since Poppy left, since everything went sideways, I felt…settled. Calm. Peaceful.

  But I knew the peace wouldn’t last.

  For either of us.

  But in these moments, I didn’t let myself think about what would bring the end of that peace for us. I just let myself be, shoulder to shoulder with Cas, as it always had been.

  As it always should be.

  BRINGER OF RUIN, GIVER OF WRATH, THE PRIMAL GOD OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION

  Casteel

  Cloaked in the shadows that clung to the damp walls of an alcove, I waited.

  My patience was waning, but I’d waited longer in silence and stillness. Hours spent in cramped spaces, awaiting the right moment to make my presence known. I’d done just that in Three Rivers, learning the comings and goings of the Ascended there. I’d done it in Masadonia as I watched her.

  I could wait for an eternity, if need be.

  And I would, if necessary. Because if I revealed myself, they would make finding him even more tiresome than it already was.

  They being Millicent and my brother. And him being none other than Callum.

  They’d been careful in the weeks after Millicent returned with the Rev, keeping him away from me. I had figured they’d squirreled the golden fuck away in one of the many passageways beneath the capital. After all, Malik and his heartmate knew the tunnels better than I did. Tonight, I saw Malik entering the Shadow Temple and followed, unsurprised when he went through one of the side doors of the cella—the inner area of the ancient Temple—that led to the maze of tunnels below. We had to be damn near under the Elysium Peaks by the time Malik found Millicent.

  And I found Callum.

  “You can eat or starve.” Millicent’s voice floated out, sharp and cutting like the crack of a whip. “I really don’t care.”

  A soft, smooth chuckle answered. “Clearly, you do care.”

  Eather swelled against my flesh at the sound of Callum’s voice. He sounded just like I remembered when he’d visited my cell. Good-natured. Friendly. Polite.

  “If not,” Callum continued, “you wouldn’t be here making sure I eat.”

  There was a beat of silence, and then the soft slide of the sole of Millicent’s boot against stone. “Don’t mistake basic decency for caring. You of all people should know better.”

  “And you shouldn’t forget that I know you, Millicent.”

  “You don’t know shit about me.” Her tone was flat, and the hard clack of her heels followed as she moved.

  “I know you’re a liar.”

  The sound of her moving ceased as a spike of hot, acidic anger radiated off Malik, while my interest sparked.

  “You’re a good one. I’ll give you that. One of the best,” Callum went on. “Then again, you did learn from the best.”

  Millicent huffed. “If you’re trying to get under my skin by insulting my mother, you truly don’t know me. I know what she was.”

  I was relieved to hear that.

  “Your mother loved you.”

  “And?” she replied.

  “That right there,” Callum responded. “It’s a facade. Everything about you is an act. You wear a mask that cannot be washed away.”

  Millicent didn’t respond for several moments. “As if you don’t wear one yourself.”

  Callum laughed again, the sound faintly indulgent, like my…father when he humored Malik or me when we behaved as if we understood the world. “I am who I am. I wear no mask.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “You’re boring me.”

  There was just the sound of her footsteps, then the heavy clang of bars sliding closed.

  “Millicent?” Callum called out.

  She let out a heavy sigh that could’ve been heard in Atlantia. “What, Callie?”

  “Because I have no ill will toward you,” he said, “I’m going to give you a piece of advice.”

  “Can’t wait to hear this.”

  “You should let me go.” His words came slower, quieter. “If not, he will come for me. You do not want that.”

  “He?” she exclaimed, her voice pitched unnaturally high. “As in the Big Bad Daddy of Death?”

  I frowned.

  “The big bad…?” He cleared his throat. “Yes, Kolis.”

  “Oh. Him!” I heard hands clapping, and based on the staccato rap of her heels, I thought she might also be jumping. “That’s the plan, shit for brains.”

  My brows lifted at the insult.

  “Makes finding him easier if he comes to us,” she said.

  “He will kill you, Millie.”

  Malik’s anger nearly choked me, so I wasn’t surprised when I heard his footsteps move farther away from me and closer to them. He stopped, though.

  And so did I. But for entirely different reasons.

  Because Millicent laughed, and…

  And…fuck, my chest caved in. It was so damn familiar. Sounded so much like hers.

  My eyes closed.

  “I’m not sure what I said that was so humorous,” he muttered, sounding thoroughly put out.

  “You don’t know me at all if you think death is a threat,” she said. “It would be a relief.”

  My jaw tightened as her footsteps rapped off stone again, carrying her toward the hall and the alcove I stood in.

  “You can stop hiding.” Millicent’s hushed voice cut through the darkness, and I knew damn well she couldn’t be talking to me.

  “I wasn’t hiding,” Malik muttered a second later. “And you shouldn’t be down here—”

  “And why is that?” she drawled. “Actually, don’t bother answering. He needs to eat. Can’t get a skeleton to talk. Well, maybe you can if there’re still tendons, vocal cords, and shit. Huh. Now, I kind of want to find out.”

  “If you had let me finish, I was attempting to say that you shouldn’t be down here by yourself,” Malik ground out, apparently accustomed enough to her random tangents that he didn’t get sidetracked. “He’s more dangerous than you realize.”

  “He’s a whiny bitch boy, is what he is. Just like someone else I know,” she said. “And in case you’re wondering, that someone—”

  “Is me. Whatever,” he interrupted. “I don’t want you coming here by yourself,” Malik bit out, their voices closer.

  “I know.” She paused. “And I also know that you know I don’t give a fuck what you want.”

  “And we both know that is a lie,” he snapped. “But keep telling yourself that, sweetness.”

  “Gods, you’re annoying.”

  “And you’re beautiful,” my brother replied, causing my brows to rise again. There was a gap of silence. “What you said back there about death?”

  Her steps didn’t cease. “You do realize eavesdropping is creepy, right?”

  “It’s not true,” Malik said—or perhaps begged. “Tell me it wasn’t true.”

  Millicent didn’t answer as they passed me, but there wasn’t a single part of me that doubted she’d meant it. Only the gods knew what she’d been through, having spent most of her life under Isbeth’s thumb. But it wasn’t that. It was the way she’d said it. She’d said something so dark so lightly—almost lovingly—that I knew it was the truth.

  Because I’d once felt that the nothingness of death would be a tranquil, peaceful alternative to living a half-life, where a part of me remained in the dark, grimy cell I had been kept in.

  I exhaled a slow breath. The silence of the underground tunnels settled around me. I waited a few more minutes before moving. My steps were silent as I walked along the damp corridor. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone, and the flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows. It was all too fucking familiar.

  I stopped before the cell. It wasn’t like the one I had been kept in. That’d had a mostly solid door that was left open just enough to let the Craven in because Isbitch had a sense of humor. This one was all bars, and the cell was far more accommodating. There was a chamber pot, and a cot that the golden fuck sat on.

  His head was bowed, and strands of blond hair stained with the rusty shade of dried blood hung forward in limp clumps. The chain around his wrist jangled as he picked up the food Millicent had brought him. His lip curled at the bowl of what appeared to be a sloppy stew. He set it down. Leaning against the wall, he tipped his head back and drew up a leg, letting his wrist rest on the knee of his dirty breeches. His fingers moved slowly as if dancing over piano keys.

  I drifted closer, my gaze tracking over his face. For the first time, I saw his face bare, the wings normally covering over half of it having faded away.

  The freckles were the first thing I noticed. He didn’t have as many as Millicent. They were sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. Just like hers. And fuck, I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to acknowledge what I was looking at, even though his cheekbones weren’t as high. Didn’t want to concede that the once-painted wings hadn’t hidden the familiar features—a wide brow that tapered to a slender jaw and a slightly pointed chin. Didn’t want to accept that it was a nearly identical straight nose with a subtle lift at the tip, or that the fucking bow-shaped lips were the same.

  Callum looked like her sibling, and I couldn’t deny it. Admitting that didn’t fill me with shock like it had when I’d finally seen Millicent without the painted wings and hair dye.

  All I felt was anger at what that meant. At how utterly fucked up it was.

  Callum’s fingers froze. A heartbeat passed, and then his chin dipped and his eyes opened, narrowing at the exact moment mine did.

  I knew he couldn’t see me; the shadows were thick around me, but he stared like he could. Did he sense my presence? Fuck if I knew, as his gaze shifted away.

  Nor did I care at the moment.

  I let the shadows drop.

  Callum recoiled, the back of his skull thumping off the wall. The blood drained from his face, and his lips parted.

  “Hello, Callum.” My lips curved up on one side. “Miss me?”

  He didn’t speak, but his body was tense, wound tight as he stared at me like he was trying to figure out how I’d appeared before him. I wondered if he realized that the shadows he’d seen moments ago had been me. Or if he thought I’d just stepped out of them, into the gleam of the wavering torchlight. Then his gaze darted behind me.

  “Ironic, isn’t it? How our positions have reversed?” My words were soft but cold. “You behind bars, chained. And me free, unchained.”

  His throat worked on a slow swallow. “If you think that gives you the upper hand, you would be wrong.”

  “Funny,” I remarked. “You appear incredibly nervous for someone who thinks they hold even a single card.”

  “And you’re just as obnoxiously arrogant as ever,” he replied, once more glancing to my left and then right.

  “I’m told consistency is key.” I smirked as his nostrils flared. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

  A muscle flexed on the left side of his jaw. “You came alone?”

  I didn’t respond.

  The hand dangling off his knee fisted, then relaxed. “I doubt you’re here to make sure I eat.”

  “I don’t give a shit if you eat or not.”

  “Then why are you here?” he asked. “To get your pound of flesh? Exact your revenge on the one who tipped you into bloodlust?”

  “You think that left enough of an impression on me that I would waste a single second of my time plotting revenge?” I laughed, and Callum’s gaze darted to the torches framing the door as the flames shrank and sputtered. “On you?”

  His pale gaze returned to mine. “You can claim that it didn’t—”

  “And you can claim that I, too, wear a mask,” I cut him off. If he was surprised that I’d overheard his conversation with Millicent, he didn’t show it. “You would be correct. I’m wearing a mask right now. One of civility. And in case you haven’t noticed…” I let my arms rest between the bars. “It is cracking. So, I would suggest that we make this one-on-one short and sweet.”

  His chin jutted in that painfully familiar stubborn way. “Or?”

  I let some of the essence swirling in me hit the air. The flames roared from the torches, casting his cell in bright, orange light. “Or you won’t be alive for him to return for you.”

  Callum’s gaze shot between the torches and me, brows drawing tight. “Have you forgotten that threats of death are just that? Threats.”

  I huffed out a low laugh as the flames settled to a slow roll. “We’ll see about that.” My head cocked. “Tell me, Callum, while you were running through the kingdom like a frightened babe, were you aware of what was happening here?”

  His answer was silence.

  “Do you know what he did? Do you know what I did to him?” I questioned. “I made him bleed.”

  “Lies,” he said with a short laugh.

  My lip curved up. “I heard I did more than that. Heard I put him in stasis.”

  He sneered. “As if you could do such a thing.”

  “Oh, I did.” I paused. “Do you know what he did to her?”

  There was a flicker of something in his stare, perhaps unease.

  “Your sister,” I bit out, the words tasting like ash.

  That got a response from him. The chain dragged along the stone as he leaned forward. “Where is she?”

  It was my turn to be silent.

  His chest rose with a deep but short breath. “I figured she’d be with you.”

  I gave him nothing.

  “For some reason, she…loves you,” he spat. “Then again, I’ve never known her to make the wisest choices.”

  “Like accepting Kolis’s advances?”

  “You mean welcoming his love and devotion?” he challenged.

  Acid pooled in my mouth. “Is that what you think he offered her?”

  “I know that is what he offered.”

  I eyed him. He didn’t just speak those words. He swore them without hesitation and with reverence. There was a good chance he believed them, which was all the more disturbing because, with what little I knew of Sotoria and Kolis, I couldn’t comprehend how he could believe what Kolis had felt—had done—was remotely acceptable.