Warmth crept into my cheeks as a wicked heat settled low in my belly. Immediately, I thought of what we’d done on the beach the night before. That had been…excessive.

Casteel grinned.

His father cleared his throat. “Have you always been able to do what you did with the child?”

Pulling my gaze from Casteel, and my mind from very inappropriate places, I answered. “No, I haven’t,” I said and then gave a brief recap of the evolution of my abilities. “They were changing before I Ascended.”

“I figured it had to do with the Culling,” Casteel supplied.

“The Culling would explain the change,” his mother agreed.

“And this was before the Ascension? I know of no other half-Atlantian to go through the Culling.” His father eyed me closely. “Or any Ascended mortal with Atlantian blood who went through a Culling and did not become a vampry. But then again, I know of no other half-Atlantian descended from the gods, who is alive today.”

“Me, either,” I said and then cringed. Obviously, I didn’t. Gods.

Amusement trickled in from Casteel, and surprisingly, his father. A faint grin appeared on the King’s face as Casteel said, “You said you know of no other that is alive today. Are you saying there were others like her before?”

I almost wanted to smack myself for not catching that earlier.

The Queen nodded. “It didn’t happen often, but deities did create children with either Atlantians or mortals. When that happened, the eather of the deity often manifested in the child in one way or another. Of course, that manifestation was stronger if the other parent was Atlantian.”

“The children? The ones from those who were mortal?” I asked, my need for answers great. “They were still mortal?”

She nodded as she picked up her small white cup from the table. “From what I remember, they healed faster than most mortals from injuries, and they were not often sick,” she explained as she looked to her husband, taking a sip. I had always healed fast, and I rarely ever got sick. “But they remained mortal—aging the same as any other. They probably would’ve lived slightly longer if it weren’t for their need to chase after death.”

“What does that mean?” Casteel asked.

“Those who carried the blood of the gods were often warriors—the first to stop a fight, and sometimes start one,” the King explained. “They were the bravest men and women I’ve ever known, fighting in the trenches alongside Atlantian soldiers. Most, if not all of them, died in the war or were taken captive by the Ascended once they realized the blood they carried within them.”

My stomach soured. They were probably fed upon or used to create more Ascended, facing a brief but no less horrific taste of what Casteel had suffered, and his brother currently lived. My lip curled as I shook my head. “Gods.” I swallowed hard as Casteel squeezed my hand. “How long have the Ascended been doing this?”