“Both are far too young.” Naill joined us. “I was under the impression that none of the young had moved out here.”

“As was I.” Casteel squinted. “The last I saw of Beckett, he could barely control holding one form or the other.”

I blinked. “Is that common?”

Kieran nodded. “It takes at least two decades for us to gain control over our two halves. Any slight change of emotion can send us to four legs or two.”

“That has to be…inconvenient.”

He laughed dryly. “You have no idea.”

“Have Atlantians relocated to Spessa’s End?” I asked. “Is that what you meant by a temporary fix to the land issue?”

Casteel nodded. “It hasn’t made a huge impact. Not yet. But it has freed up some of the homes and land. Those who’ve moved out here have been hand-selected for the most part. Old enough and trained in case the Ascended do happen to venture to these parts, but that hasn’t happened since the Ascended laid siege to the town.”

“How many people live here now?” I asked.

“A hundred, give or take a few.”

Irritation pricked at me as my gaze swept over the smooth stone façade of the fortress. Why was Casteel just now telling me this instead of when he first spoke of the land and the population issue in Atlantia? Or at any point after that? Better yet, why was I irritated that he hadn’t? Was this information even necessary for me to know? Probably not, but it still…frustrated me.

The young Atlantian reappeared, carrying a bundle. “Alastir said that you may be in need of clothing, and we were able to gather some items. I don’t know if any of this will be helpful, but it’s clean, and I’m sure we’ll be able to get you more in the morning.”

I took the light bundle. “I’m sure it will be of use. Thank you.”

Quentyn beamed before pivoting on his heel. Kieran lingered back as we followed the Atlantian through the covered walkway. He chattered, telling us about the wildlife he’d seen as we passed several dark rooms and then continued around the side of the fortress where it was evident that no rooms were near. He swore he saw a cave cat, even though Alastir told him that there were none still alive in this area.

The first thing I saw was a terrace. Wind caught the pinned curtains, causing the material to snap softly. As Quentyn unlocked the door, I was able to make out a chaise lounge at one end, and several low-to-the-floor chairs.

Quentyn handed the key over to Casteel and then opened the door. “Alastir made sure the room was aired out and a fire lit since the nights get kind of cold here.”

A lamp turned on, casting light throughout the spacious, private living quarters outfitted with plush couches and a dining table.

“There are pitchers of fresh water by the fireplace.” Quentyn opened another set of doors, and I caught the scent of lemon and vanilla.

If the living area had been a surprise, the bedchamber was an utter shock. The fireplace sat in the corner, and as Quentyn indicated, several pitchers sat on the floor before it. In the center of the room was a canopied four-poster bed with gauzy white curtains. Across from it were double lattice doors that appeared to lead out to another terrace. On the other side was an entryway to a bathing chamber. All I could do was stare.

“If either of you would like, I can get more water for the bath,” Quentyn offered.

Casteel looked to me, and I shook my head. It was far too late for all that work. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

“If you’re sure.” When I nodded, Quentyn added, “I cannot wait to have a shower where the only thing I have to do is turn a knob.”

“Shower?”

Casteel shot me a half-grin. “Instead of sitting in the bath, you stand. The clean water comes from the ceiling. It’s much like standing in a rain shower—a warm one.”

I stared at him.

A dimple appeared in his cheek as he turned to the other Atlantian. “She doesn’t believe that we have running hot water in Atlantia.”

Quentyn’s eyes grew to the size of small saucers. “He speaks the truth. I always took it for granted. I will never do that again.”

Marveling over the concept of a standing bath that felt like a warm rain shower, I didn’t even realize that Quentyn had left until Casteel spoke.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, placing our bags at the foot of the bed.

I shook my head, having filled up on the baked bars and nuts Casteel had brought with us. “I can’t believe these rooms.” I touched one of the curtains on the bed. “They’re beautiful.”

“My father would stay in this one or the other room that faces the Bay when he traveled to Spessa’s End. Both rooms have been updated as much as possible.”

I turned back to him. “I expected rooms with the bare necessities.”

“We eventually plan to fix up the rooms on the second floor. That will allow for more to stay here while the homes are either being repaired or rebuilt.” His gaze roamed over me. “I want to check your arm.”

“It doesn’t even hurt,” I told him, placing the small bundle of clothing on a settee that sat in the corner near the bed.

“Be that as it may, I would still like to see it.”

Knowing that he wouldn’t let it go, I unhooked my cloak and hung it on a hook near the fireplace and then pulled up the sleeve of my sweater tunic. I started to tug at the knot, wondering if he’d tied it in a manner that required scissors to remove.

“Let me.” He approached me as silently as always. His fingers were warm as they grazed my skin. He had the knot untied in a heartbeat. The bandage slipped away, revealing a thin slash that had stopped bleeding some time ago. His thumb slid over the skin near the wound. “This doesn’t hurt?”

“I swear.” I bit the inside of my cheek. It didn’t hurt. His touch, nor the area. The smooth swipe of his thumb felt…pleasant and shivery.

His chest rose with a deep breath and then he dropped my arm, taking a step back. “I’m going to check in with Quentyn and the others. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m sure you must be tired. Just make sure you clean the wound.”

“I will.”

His gaze met mine, and all I could think about was those moments outside, after he’d helped me down from Setti. Would he have kissed me? Would I have allowed it? I imagined we would have to kiss in front of people.

“Get some rest, Poppy.”

Casteel was gone before I could even formulate a response, and I knew I should be relieved by that. But I…

I wasn’t sure what I was.

Turning to the settee, I walked over to the bundle of clothing. There was a thin lilac-hued sleeping robe and a thicker, forest green tunic that would definitely come in handy.

Unhooking the sheath, I parted the curtain and was greeted by soft furs and a mountain of pillows.

“Goodness,” I murmured, placing the sheath on the bed.

Using only one of the warmed pitchers, I carried it into the adjoining chamber. Half afraid Casteel would return while I stood naked, I cleaned up as quickly as possible in the much cooler room, making sure to clean out the wound with fresh water and a mint-scented bar of soap. Once I was finished, I slipped on the soft robe, tying the sash around my waist. Digging my brush out of my bag, I undid my braid and worked through the tangles in my hair as I stared at the doorway to the living area.

Sometime later, while under the blanket, I wasn’t thinking about the Dead Bones Clan, the marriage, or what had happened at the keep. I wasn’t even thinking about what the sun would reveal about Spessa’s End come morning, or how strange it was that Casteel had left the room so quickly. I lay there thinking of all those stone graves, burnt-out and rundown homes in Pompay and in the fields between the two cities. If Tawny were here, she would be convinced that spirits roamed the night.

I shivered as my eyes drifted shut, wondering how the Ascended had been allowed to grow to this kind of power where they could destroy entire cities with no recourse.

And the only answer was a bitter one.

So very few had questioned what the Ascended claimed, and I’d simply accepted what they said, never truly giving life to any of the suspicions I had. That went beyond submission and straight into willful ignorance.

Shame slithered through me, another tell-tale sign that in many small ways, I’d been a part of the problem. A spoke in the wheel of the very system that brutalized hundreds of thousands, including myself.

The fire must’ve been fed at some point during the night because a pleasant heat surrounded my body. I couldn’t even remember being this toasty in my bedchamber back in Masadonia. That was my first thought as I slowly came awake.

I didn’t want to wake up and leave the warmth of the bed nor the heady scent of dark, lush spice and pine. Snuggling down against the warm, hard bed, a contented sigh escaped me.

Wait.

The hard bed?

That…that didn’t make any sense. The bed had been soft, the kind that you sank into. But now it was warm, hard, and smooth against my cheek and hand. Not only that, the bed was wrapped around my waist, my hip—

My eyes flew open. Tiny particles of dust floated in the morning sunlight seeping through the terrace doors across from the bed. The curtains had been tied back, and I knew I hadn’t done that before I fell asleep.

And I wasn’t lying on the bed, at least not completely. What was under my cheek wasn’t a pillow. It was a chest that rose and fell steadily. Beneath my hand wasn’t the worn texture of the blanket, but a stomach. The bed wasn’t wrapped around me. It was a heavy arm over my waist and a callused palm against my hip—my bare hip.

Oh my gods, I was using Casteel as my own personal pillow.

And based on the fact that I was lying on him, it was me who had sought him out in my sleep. When had he even returned to the room? Did that matter at the moment? It didn’t as I became aware of every place our bodies met.

This was nothing like curling up together while camping on the road. There was no excuse for being all tangled up in him.