“Hell,” Kieran muttered under his breath as at least a dozen more drifted from behind trees and bushes in the courtyard.

“I’m guessing these aren’t friendly Descenters?” I asked.

The Descenter closest to us unstrapped a dagger from his hip.

“I’m going to go with no,” I answered my own question, my pulse kicking up as I stared at the blade. “And I’m also going to assume that they no longer have any intention of not outright killing me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Kieran promised.

“No. It won’t.” My grip tightened on the wolven dagger as I scanned them. From what I could tell, they all appeared to be male. They had to be part of the brotherhood Alastir had spoken of, but that couldn’t mean that all Descenters were involved. Although, if any in Atlantia looked upon me as the Maiden, a tool of the Ascended, it would be them.

I allowed my senses to stretch out, and what came back to me was…cold emptiness. “I…I don’t feel anything,” I whispered, focusing on the one with the dark blade. Unnerved, I realized I still sensed nothing. “It’s like with the Ascended.”

“They are not Ascended,” Kieran said, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air.

There was something…off about the men standing in the beams of light. Something that had nothing to do with my inability to read their emotions. Shivers broke out across my flesh as I stared at them. It was their skin. It appeared paper-thin and too pale as if not a drop of blood remained in their veins. My stomach squeezed tightly. “Are they…? They aren’t Atlantians, are they? Or any other bloodline?”

“No,” Kieran growled. “I have no idea what these things are.”

Things?

I swallowed hard as instinct demanded that I put as much distance between myself and these things as I could. The Craven always provoked the same reaction, but I didn’t run from them, and I wouldn’t run now.

Kieran’s chin dipped. “I have no idea what in the hell any of you are, but whatever you are planning, I strongly advise against it.”

Movement along the wall caught my attention. Another masked man was crouched there, his skin carrying a pink undertone. He wasn’t the shade of death. I reached out with my senses, tasting…something dry and oaky, like whiskey—almost nutty. Determination. The one on the wall was different. He was alive, for starters. My eyes narrowed on an ivory and gray-brown chain draped over his chest. Anger rushed through me like a swarm of hornets. If there had been any doubt about what they wanted, it was erased now. Those bindings would not touch my skin again.

“You have no idea what you guard, wolven,” the masked male spoke, his deep voice muffled from behind the mask. “What you seek to protect.”

“I know exactly who I protect,” Kieran stated.

“You don’t, but you will,” the man replied. “We just want the Maiden.”

“I am not the Maiden.” I welcomed the burn of my rage. It smothered the ache of grief over the fact that others were of like mind with Alastir. I pushed it aside before the sadness could settle inside me.