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The plan would work, but it would also take time.
And it would cost more lives.
Kieran’s shoulders rose with a deep breath. “It’s just that…it’s too bad so few of the guards can be called good, and we’ll be causing those numbers to be even less.”
That we would.
“Have you learned anything that explains why the Maiden is so important to the Blood Crown?” he asked. “Other than her supposedly being a child of the gods.”
“All I can figure is that she is somehow key to the Ascensions of all those Lords and Ladies in Wait. Why? Not even Jansen, who has been here for years, can answer that, so your guess is as good as mine.” I snorted, knocking back a strand of hair that had fallen forward. “I assume you haven’t learned anything new, either?”
“You assume correctly. Anytime I casually bring up the Maiden, it incites suspicion. You’d think she was some sort of benevolent goddess based on how people speak of her. Even the City Guard.” He glanced to where I’d placed my weapons by the door. “It has to be the shroud.”
I raised a brow. “Come again?”
“You’ve heard that she was born in a shroud.”
“I have.” I frowned.
“Then you also know what that means.”
It was believed that Atlantians born in a shroud at birth—a caul—were Chosen by the gods. Blessed. There hadn’t been an Atlantian born in one since the time of the gods. But besides that… “She doesn’t have Atlantian blood in her, Kieran.” I stated the obvious. There was no way she was even half-Atlantian, unless her brother wasn’t related to her by blood. But none of the digging we’d done had indicated that he was a half-brother. “She’s mortal.”
“No shit,” Kieran replied dryly. “But who’s to say mortals cannot be born in such?”
Who was to say? “I suppose it’s not impossible,” I decided. “But since the vamprys are pathological liars, I’m sure this is yet another lie.”
“True,” Kieran murmured. “But there has to be a reason they keep her cloistered and well-guarded at all times.”
“Perhaps that is something I will discover once I become one of her guards.”
“I would fucking hope so.”
I cracked a grin. “And if not, maybe we will find our answer in one of the Ascended we…befriend.”
“Befriend?” Kieran scoffed. “What a lovely way to frame capturing and torturing vamprys for information.”
“Isn’t it?”
Shaking his head, he scratched at his jaw. “By the way, exactly how are you going to earn the trust of someone you haven’t even spoken to?” he asked.
“Besides using my irresistible charm?”
“Besides that,” he replied dryly.
“I’ll use any means necessary.”
Kieran’s stare sharpened. “I think you mean that.”
I lifted my chin. “I do.”
“She could be innocent in all of this,” he stated.
I tamped down my rising irritation. Kieran’s words came from a good place. They almost always did. “You’re right. She could be, but her possible innocence or even her complicity doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is being able to use her to free Malik without setting the entirety of Solis on fire. That’s all that matters.”
Silent, he eyed me for several moments, his head cocked. “Sometimes I forget.”
My brows knotted. “Forget what?”
“That the Dark One was a fabrication the Ascended created to frighten the mortals. That you really aren’t that.”
I laughed, but it didn’t sound right to my ears. Nothing about the rough, low noise did.
I looked away, my jaw working. The Blood Crown may had spun tales about how murderous and violent the Dark One was before I even got to Solis. They created a shadow figure to hold up as an example of how evil Atlantians were, using the mere threat of such a specter to further frighten and control the kingdom’s people.
But how far off were they?
My hands were soaked in blood. I’d racked up more kills than all my men combined. Those I’d struck down upon my arrival in Solis. The high-ranking guards in Carsodonia. The lives I took in the town of Three Rivers. Throats I slit in all the many villages. Hannes. The yet unnamed guard who would also find their life cut short. Some of them deserved it. Too many were simply in the way.
I wanted to regret taking those lives.
In the bright light of day, I thought I did. At least those who were only an obstacle between me and freeing my brother. But at night? In the silence when there was no liquor to quiet the thoughts or a warm body to forget what I’d experienced and what I’d lost at the Blood Crown’s hands? I didn’t think I felt a damn bit of guilt then.
And didn’t that make me a type of tulpa—created in the minds of others and then willed into existence? Because the truth was, the Dark One hadn’t been real. Not in the beginning.
But he existed now.
