I stared down at my plate. I didn’t see the food. I saw the bodies outside the room as conversation was slow to start but soon picked up and became a steady hum. Glasses and plates clinked. Laughter sounded.

And there were bodies nailed to the walls outside the Great Room.

“Poppy.”

Blinking, I looked up at him. His golden eyes had cooled, but his jaw was hard enough to cut glass.

“Eat,” he ordered in a low voice.

I reached for a fork, picking it up and spearing a piece of meat. I took a bite, chewing slowly. It tasted as good as it smelled, but it settled too heavily in my stomach. I scooped up some of the potatoes.

A few moments passed, and he said, “You don’t agree with what I did to them?”

I looked over at him, unsure of how to even answer the question—if it was even a question at all.

He sat back, glass in hand. “Or are you so shocked, you’re actually speechless?”

Swallowing the last bit of food, I slowly placed the fork on the table. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Can’t imagine you were.” He smirked as he lifted the glass to his lips.

“How…how long will you leave them there?”

“Until I feel like it.”

My chest twisted. “And Jericho?”

“Until I know for sure no one will dare to lift a hand against you again.”

Becoming aware that several of the men around us had stopped talking and were listening, I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t know your people very well, but I would think that they have learned a lesson.”

He took a drink. “What I did disturbs you.”

I knew that wasn’t a question. My gaze shifted back to my plate. Did it disturb me? Yes. I think it would unsettle most. Or at least, I hoped so. The blatancy of the kind of violence he was capable of was shocking if not entirely surprising, further separating him from the guard I knew as Hawke.

“Eat,” he said again, lowering his cup. “I know you need to eat more than that.”

I bit back the urge to tell him I was capable of determining how much food I needed to consume. Instead, I opened my senses to him. The anguish there was different, tasting…tangy and almost bitter. The urge to reach out to him hit hard, causing me to curl one hand in my lap. Had what happened between us caused this? Was it what he’d done to his own supporters? It could possibly be both. I reached for my drink, closing my eyes, and when I reopened them, I found him watching me through thick lashes.

I could tell him that it did bother me. I could say nothing at all. I imagined that perhaps he expected one of those two things from me. But I told him the truth. Not because I felt like I owed it to him, but because I owed it to myself.

“When I saw them, it horrified me. That was shocking, especially Mr. Tulis. What you did was surprising, but what disturbs me the most is that I—” I drew in a deep breath. “I don’t feel all that bad.”

Those heavy lids lifted, and his stare was piercing.

“Those people laughed when Jericho talked about cutting my hand off. Cheered when I bled and screamed and offered other options for pieces for Jericho to carve and keep,” I said, and the silence around us was almost unbearable. “I’d never even met most of them before, and they were happy to see me ripped apart. So, I don’t feel sympathy.”

“They don’t deserve it,” he stated quietly.

“Agreed,” Kieran murmured.

I lifted my chin. “But they’re still mortal—or Atlantian. They still deserve dignity in death.”

“They didn’t believe you deserved any dignity,” he stated.

“They were wrong, but that doesn’t make this right,” I said.

His gaze drifted over my face. The muscle had stopped ticking. “Eat,” he repeated.

“You’re obsessed with ensuring that I eat,” I told him.

One side of his lips kicked up. “Eat, and I’ll tell you our plans.”

That got several other people’s attention. Hoping my stomach didn’t revolt, I started eating instead of picking at my food. I didn’t dare look at Kieran, because if I did, I would be looking outside the Great Room to the hall.

“We’re leaving in the morning,” he stated, and I almost choked on the chunk of cheese I’d taken a bite of. None of those around me seemed at all surprised.

“Tomorrow?” I squeaked, torn between panic and hope. I would have a better chance of escaping out on the road than I would here.

He nodded. “As I said, we’ll be going home.”

I took a healthy drink from my glass. “But Atlantia is not my home.”

“But it is. At least, partly.”

“What does that mean?” Across from me, Delano spoke for the first time.

“It means it’s something I should’ve figured out sooner. So many things now make sense when they didn’t before. Why they made you the Maiden, how you survived a Craven attack. Your gifts,” he said, lowering his voice on the last part so only I and those immediately around us could hear him. “You’re not mortal, Poppy. At least, not completely.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it, not quite sure I heard him correctly. For a moment, I thought something was lodged in my throat. I took a drink, but the sensation was still there.

Delano’s jewel blue eyes sharpened. “Are you suggesting that she’s…”

“Part Atlantian?” he finished for him. “Yes.”

My hand trembled, sloshing liquid onto my fingers. “That’s impossible,” I whispered.

“Are you sure?” Delano asked him, and when I looked at him, I could see the shock in his eyes as his gaze moved over me, stopping and lingering on my neck.

“One hundred percent,” he answered.

“How?” I demanded.

A faint smile played across his full lips. His gaze too lowered and stopped…on my throat.

On the bite that I realized was barely hidden under the strands of hair. My blood. He knew after…tasting my blood?

Delano’s eyes went wide as he sat back, staring at me like it was the first time he’d ever seen me. Forgetting about the Hall, I looked at Kieran. I saw none of that. He arched a brow at me. This wasn’t news to him. “It’s rare, but it happens. A mortal crosses paths with an Atlantian. Nature takes its course, and nine months later, a mortal child is born.” Kieran paused and ran his thumb over the rim of his chalice. “But every so often, a child of both kingdoms is born. Mortal and Atlantian.”