“Because you were never truly mortal,” King Valyn confirmed. “Who your mother is? What she is? She would’ve had to be of elemental descent or of another bloodline, perhaps one that died out as far as we knew. And she would’ve had to be old—nearly as old as Malec.”

I nodded slowly, realizing that there was no way Coralena was my birth mother unless she was somehow fully aware and party to what the Ascended were doing. I doubted that was the case, as I couldn’t see any Atlantian being okay with that.

Or surviving long enough in the capital if the Blood Crown had moved me away from there because I would’ve been too much of a lure.

“It is possible,” Kieran began, looking past me to Casteel. “Isn’t it? That another Atlantian was held by the Blood Crown?”

“They were usually half-Atlantians, at least that I saw or heard of,” Casteel answered, his voice rough. “But it’s not impossible that I just never knew or that…she was held at a different location.”

If that were the case, then was my birth mother…forced into pregnancy? Raped by a deity out of his mind and somehow manipulated into the act?

Gods.

My hands trembled, and this time when Casteel released me, I pulled my hand free. I rubbed my palms over my knees.

“I hate asking this,” Casteel whispered, even though everyone in the room could hear him. “But are you okay?”

“I feel like vomiting,” I admitted. “But I won’t.”

“It’s okay if you do.”

A strangled laugh left me. “I also feel like I could very well become the Bringer of Death and Destruction that the masked Unseen called me.” I looked at him then. “I want to destroy the Blood Crown.” Tears filled my eyes. “I need to do that.”

Queen Eloana watched as his gaze searched mine. He nodded. He didn’t speak, but there was a silent vow there.

It took me a few moments to find my ability to talk again. “Well, at least you can stop calling me a goddess. I am just a…deity.”

A heartbeat passed, and a wide smile broke out across Casteel’s face. Both dimples made an appearance. “You will always be a goddess to me.”

Feeling my cheeks warm, I sat back. A hundred or more questions roamed through my mind, but two came to the forefront. “Have you heard of any prophecies supposedly written in the bones of the Goddess Penellaphe that warn against a great evil that will destroy Atlantia?”

Casteel’s parents stared at me as if a third arm had grown out of my forehead and waved at them. It was his mother who snapped out of her stupor first. She cleared her throat. “No. We don’t have prophecies.”

“But I’m kind of curious about this one,” King Valyn murmured.

“It’s really dumb,” Kieran advised.

“It is.” I glanced at Casteel before continuing. “Do you know if deities have to…if they need blood? I did when I first woke up after Casteel gave me his blood, but I haven’t felt a…hunger for it since then.”

King Valyn’s brows lifted. “As far as I know, deities didn’t need to feed.” He looked at his wife, who nodded. “On the other hand, I do remember reading something long ago about gods needing to feed if they’d been wounded or physically exerted themselves too much. Your need could’ve stemmed from receiving so much Atlantian blood,” he said, his brow furrowing. “That could’ve been a one-off thing or something that becomes a necessity.”

Casteel smiled faintly as I nodded. The idea of drinking blood was still a strange thing for me to consider, but I could get used to it. I snuck a glance at Casteel. He would definitely get used to it.

His mother’s gaze met mine. “Would you like to take a walk? You and I?”

Casteel stiffened beside me, and inside me, my heart turned over heavily. “I don’t know about that,” he said.

Sorrow spiked in his mother, bright and raw. “I only wish to get to know my daughter-in-law. There is no nefarious reason to the request, nor any other shocking news to share.”

There wasn’t—at least, I didn’t sense hostility from her or dread, only sadness and maybe the nutty flavor of resolve. I wasn’t exactly sure I was prepared to be alone with his mother. The mere idea made it feel like a hundred flesh-eating butterflies were in my chest, and that provided momentarily disturbing imagery.

“I promise,” his mother said. “She has nothing to fear from me.”

“I don’t,” I agreed, and she looked at me. “I don’t fear you at all.”

And that was the truth. I was nervous, but that was not the same as fear.

The Queen stared for a moment and then smiled. “I would think not. My son would only choose a bride whose bravery equaled his own.”

The Queen of Atlantia and I walked a path made of ivory stone and lined with soaring blossoms a bluish-purple shade. We weren’t alone, although it might appear that way at first to some. Hisa and another followed at a discreet distance. Kieran also followed, and I was sure I’d spotted a flash of black when we first stepped onto the path. I believed that to have been Lyra, moving through the shrubs and trees.