A Soul of Ash and Blood (Blood And Ash Series Book 5)
A Soul of Ash and Blood: Chapter 18

The rites of death in Solis weren’t all that different from those held in my home. Performed either at dusk or dawn, the bodies were carefully wrapped and then set on fire as it was recognized in both kingdoms that what remained upon death was nothing more than a shell. The soul had already moved on to the Vale or the Abyss, depending on what kind of life one lived.

The Ascended hadn’t completely butchered that, at least.

The main differences were that those who stood in attendance as the sun began its climb above the Undying Hills, its bright glare reflecting off the black stone of the Temple walls celebrating Rhahar, the Eternal God; and Ione, the Goddess of Rebirth, believed Rhahar was waiting for Rylan Keal’s soul. Rhahar, like Ione and all the other gods, even the King of Gods and his Consort, slept. I had no idea how souls were ushered, but one would think they had some process in place before they went to sleep.

The second difference was that no one representing the Crown was in attendance. At home, the King and Queen, along with the Council of Elders who aided in ruling Atlantia, attended the last rites of all the guards who served them. In other cities, the Lords and Ladies tended to the funerals, paying the respect due to a life either served or ended in service of the kingdom. Here, no one from the Crown attended. Not the Duchess, the Duke, nor the numerous members of Court. Granted, none of them could step foot in sunlight without going up in flames. Of course, they had an excuse for that, claiming they couldn’t walk in the sun because the gods couldn’t.

Which had to be the most uncreative excuse ever.

They could’ve held the funerals at dusk. Or, at the very least, sent Lords and Ladies in Wait, those who hadn’t yet Ascended.

However, they hadn’t.

They didn’t care enough.

I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck as I stood among the other guards, fully aware of the hypocrisy of my irritation regarding the Blood Crown’s lack of respect when I was attending the last rites of a man whose death I’d ordered.

One who was said to be good.

Who didn’t deserve to die.

Whose blood would forever stain my hands.

A hushed murmur swept through the line of guards before me, drawing me from my thoughts. A few turned, looking over their shoulders. Brows furrowing, I followed their stares.

My lips parted as shock rippled through me. I blinked, thinking I was hallucinating, likely due to the single hour of sleep I’d gotten, courtesy of old memories deciding to pay a visit. It was the only logical explanation for what I saw. Or who.

The Maiden.

She walked beside Vikter in her white robes and veil, the golden chains holding the latter in place gleaming in the rising sun.

I stared, as dumbfounded as the others clearly were. No one expected her to attend. I sure as hell hadn’t. It didn’t matter that Rylan Keal had been her guard. The Maiden was never seen in public like this, not without the Duke or Duchess. I watched her and Vikter come to a stop near the back of the crowd. He stared straight ahead. She stood with her chin bowed slightly, hands clasped.

I quickly looked away as the murmurings quieted. An odd feeling hit me as I stood there while Keal’s linen-wrapped body was carried forth and lifted onto the pyre. It was…a churning in my gut and chest. Her presence unsettled me.

The respect she showed the fallen guard.

I glanced over at her, my heart thumping. She stood so still I would’ve thought her one of the statues lining the gardens she liked to visit at dusk. I doubted she could see much of the pyre from her position, as nearly all those who stood before her were taller. As the Maiden, she could’ve walked right to the front and stood among the Royal Guards. That was where Vikter should be, but he remained affixed to her side. She could sit at the feet of that damn pyre if she wanted to, but I thought her quiet arrival right before the beginning of the service said she didn’t want to draw too much attention.

That she knew this wasn’t about her presence and didn’t want it to turn into that.

Unlike me, where I had made last night about my anger.

Well, if I were being fair to myself, my anger had been more about her being struck than it had been about Jericho disobeying my orders. My gaze narrowed on what I could see of her face, just the lower half. Anger flared back to life as my eyes narrowed more. The skin at the corner of her lip was red and a faint blue.

I should’ve cut off his fucking head, but that would’ve been irresponsible and reckless, at least according to Kieran.

I watched her as one of the white-robed Priests began speaking monotonously, going through the rites as if he were half-asleep. He flung salt and oil onto the pyre, the air filling with a sweet scent.

Then she moved.

Not a lot. A slight jerk as she glanced at Vikter and then back to Keal’s body. Her hands unclasped and then came back together.

At the pyre, my gaze skipped from Lieutenant Smyth to where Jansen waited, the breeze stirring his white mantle as he held a torch. He was looking at…

Vikter.

Shit.

The tradition among the guards dictated that the one who worked closest with the deceased should be given the honor of lighting the pyre, but as Vikter started to take a step forward, he stopped and returned his attention to the Maiden. I understood what she had also realized.

Vikter wouldn’t leave her unprotected.

The Maiden’s hands twisted as she shifted from one foot to the other, her stance practically vibrating with anxiety after standing so still.

I was moving before I realized what I was doing, silently cutting in and out of the guards. The fact that it was forbidden for guards other than her personal ones to approach her didn’t stop me.

Coming up behind them, I kept my voice low as I said, “I have her.”

The Maiden went incredibly still again, so much so that I wondered if she had stopped breathing. Vikter’s gaze lifted to mine. For a brief moment, I thought of what he’d said to me the other morning during training. The cold press of unease returned.

“Do you?” Vikter asked.

I moved to stand at the Maiden’s side, speaking the words that belonged to Atlantia and had since been stolen by the Ascended. “With my sword and with my life.”

Her chest rose suddenly and deeply, confirming that she did, in fact, still breathe. Thank the gods.

“The Commander tells me you’re one of the best on the Rise. Said he hasn’t seen your level of skill with a bow or sword in too many years,” Vikter said.

I already knew what he thought of all of that. He’d made it clear the morning we trained together. But I answered, nonetheless. Now wasn’t the time for me to be an asshole. “I’m good at what I do.”

“And what is that?” he countered.

“Killing,” I answered with the truth. I’d always been good at that, even before my captivity. I’d just gotten better since.

“She is the future of this kingdom,” Vikter said after a moment, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Maiden twisting her hands so fiercely it wouldn’t have surprised me if she bruised herself. “That is who you stand beside.”

Something about how Vikter said that struck a nerve. Did he say it because of who she was or what she symbolized? I wasn’t sure why it even mattered, but in that moment, it did to me. “I know who I stand beside.”

Vikter said nothing.

Then I spoke my first lie of what I was sure would be many. “She is safe with me.”

Vikter got done eyeballing me and then turned to the Maiden. I quickly realized that he was waiting for her to tell him it was okay.

Damn.

I honestly had no idea how she would handle this. I wouldn’t have known even before her little adventure at the Red Pearl, but it could go either way now. It didn’t matter that she was unaware that I knew it had been her. She knew it was me, and I imagined that was somewhat…awkward for her.

The Maiden nodded.

A little surprised, I barely caught the look of warning Vikter sent me before he turned and went to Jansen. It was another reminder that she wasn’t here for herself. She’d come to show Rylan Keal the respect he deserved. If she protested, it would’ve drawn attention and would’ve prevented Vikter from honoring the man he’d served beside.

I kept my head facing forward, but I still caught the slight turn of hers. She was looking at me. I had no idea what she saw. I’d wondered more than once how much she could see through the veil, but I felt her stare, as strange as that sounded.

She wasn’t the only one who eyed me. The Lieutenant did, too, and he looked pissed, as if he were on the verge of stalking through the guards and squirming his body between the Maiden’s and mine. But he could go fuck himself.

As Vikter took the torch, the Maiden continued looking at me. Was she wondering why I had stepped forward? Or did she worry that I recognized her? Had she believed me when I’d told Vikter that she was safe with me?

She shouldn’t have, not when the only reason she was standing here was because of me. A stone sank to the pit of my stomach. It felt like guilt. That muscle in my jaw ticked more.

The Maiden’s attention shifted away from me then, just as I turned to look down at her. The veil rippled in the breeze, giving me just a glimpse of one nostril. My gaze lowered, fixating on the corner of her mouth. My hand closed into a fist at my side. The reddish-blue bruise marring her skin wasn’t so faint to me now, not when I stood so close.

I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for chopping off Jericho’s hand. Not a damn bit.

At the pyre, Vikter lowered the torch. I’d expected the Maiden to look away, but she didn’t. She breathed in deeply, watched, and…

Right then and there, I stopped expecting. Stopped assuming. Kieran had said we might’ve underestimated the Maiden, and I’d agreed, but it didn’t hit me until right now that we truly had. It was clear I had no clue about who was beneath that veil. I only had the scant knowledge of her I’d gained, and now what I had learned.

The Maiden was adept at sneaking out. She clearly didn’t want to remain all that untouched. She carried a wolven-bone and bloodstone dagger and had either gotten lucky with it when Jericho attacked or knew the basics. She clearly wasn’t like the Ascended here, at least not when it came to showing the guards the most basic respect.

The Maiden drew in a shaky breath as fire ignited on the pyre, quickly sweeping over the linen-wrapped body.

Did she know what it probably meant to the other guards that she was here? Even the Royal Guards? If not, she should know.

“You do him a great honor by being here,” I told her as Vikter knelt at the pyre. Her attention cut to me, and she tilted her head back. The edge of the veil danced above her mouth. “You do us all a great honor by being here.”

Her lips parted, and…fuck me, I held my breath, waiting to hear if her voice was as smoky and warm as I remembered it being at the Red Pearl.

But she didn’t speak.

She wasn’t allowed.

Her mouth closed, once more drawing my attention to the mark my orders had inadvertently left behind. “You were hurt,” I said, tamping down the fury that was far too easy to ignite. “You can be assured that will never happen again.”