A huffing sound came from Reaver as he rose, stretching his large, purplish-black body as he lifted his wings. That made me a wee bit concerned that he would not follow said plan. Kieran rose, and I half-expected him to flounce away from the draken, but he managed a rather sedate prance over to me.

I turned to where Vonetta and the remaining wolven waited with Naill and Emil. “Be safe.”

Steely determination rose from them as I turned and began walking toward the city with Delano at my side, in his mortal form. If things went the way I hoped, there would be no risk to most of the wolven. The crunch of dried leaves alerted me to the progress Kieran made and the rattle of branches above told me that Reaver had taken flight.

Traces of moonlight cut through the bent trees as I glanced down at my left palm. The marriage imprint glowed softly. Closing my hand, I lifted the hood on the cloak just enough that the crown was hidden. I slid my right hand inside my cloak as I saw a row of torches through the bowed limbs.

“I see them,” Delano said quietly. “There’s about a dozen.”

Less than I thought there would be, which was kind of offensive.

Kieran hung back as Delano and I neared the edges of the trees. I could see a line of guards, their mantles blending into the night, even in the moonlight. Knights. My opened senses confirmed as much, but there was another—one who stood off to the side, dressed in black. A younger male with dark hair. I sensed…nothing from him, but it wasn’t the utter emptiness of an Ascended. The one with his arms crossed was not a vampry, and I was willing to bet it was a Revenant.

The knights moved in unison before Delano and I stepped out of the trees, lifting shields with the Royal Crest carved into the metal. Swords were held at their sides. I stared at the crest—a circle with an arrow piercing the center. It symbolized infinity and power, but I realized that I was the arrow on the Atlantian Crest. Not the sword. I now saw the Royal Crest in a whole new light. I smiled.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” the Revenant spoke. “I don’t believe things went well for you the last time you were here.”

I flicked a brief glance in his direction. “I truly hope it is not you that they sent to speak with me. If so, I can assure you that tonight will not end well for you.”

The Revenant lifted a dark brow. “Ouch.”

“Stand aside,” came a voice from behind the knights. A voice I hadn’t heard in years.

The knights parted, lowering their shields, and I saw who stood behind them.

The golden hair was longer than I remembered, brushing the tips of his ears, but I recognized the features of a good-looking man—the heavy brow, the straight nose, the square jaw, and the thin lips that I’d rarely ever seen curved into a smile. The ruby crown glinted darkly in the moonlight.

I almost couldn’t believe that I was staring at the Blood King, dressed in a white cloak trimmed in red and black with crimson crisscrossing his chest. She had answered my request and sent the King to meet with me. Laughter rose so quickly, it almost burst free from me, but then I realized that there was only one Revenant among a handful of knights to protect the actual King of Solis. It was obvious that the Blood Crown truly saw me as no threat.

And, well, now I truly was offended.

“Maiden,” King Jalara spoke, and I stiffened. “It has been quite some time, has it not?”

“It has,” I answered, aware of the rise of anger from Delano and where Kieran remained hidden in the shadows of the trees. “A lot has changed, starting with the fact that I am no longer the Maiden.” I lifted my left hand, tugging down the cloak’s hood. “But you already know that.”

There was a slight widening of his eyes. “The gilded crown,” King Jalara murmured, sounding as awed as I’d ever heard an Ascended, which was a lukewarm reaction at best. His jeweled hand winked in the moonlight as his grip on his sword increased. “My, my, my, Penellaphe,” he murmured, eyeing the crown as he stepped forward. “Look at you.”

Delano withdrew his sword, his features sharpening to a deadly thinness. “You will address her as Queen Penellaphe or Your Majesty.”

Slowly, the King turned his head to the wolven, the mannerism serpent-like. “The one beside you?” He sniffed the air. “Nothing more than a heathen. An overgrown dog.” The King sneered. “Disgusting.”

“Disgusting?” I repeated. “The one beside me comes from the line of those given mortal form by Nyktos himself. The one who stands to your left reeks of decay and rot.”