Contents ( 61)
- Book Description
- About Jennifer L. Armentrout
- Also From Jennifer L. Armentrout
- Acknowledgments from the Author
- Table of Contents
- Dedication
- Map
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Discover The Summer King Trilogy
- Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Eight
- Discover the World Of 1001 Dark Nights
- On Behalf of Blue Box Press,
From them.
Not Atlantia.
Not even them, really. From her, was what she meant. From Eloana.
The breath I took lodged in my throat. The lies… So many damn lies soaked in blood. Both kingdoms were at fault for this mess.
Both Queens.
“All of this for revenge?” I whispered. “You’ve created this kingdom of blood and lies for revenge?”
“In the beginning, yes, but it’s so much bigger than that now. Now, it’s more than me.” Isbeth’s eyes met mine. My mother’s eyes met mine. “You were going to take it all back for me. You’d marry Malik, and through you, I would seize Atlantia.”
I shuddered. “That’s why you made me the Maiden? Was there even another Maiden?”
“That doesn’t matter,” she said, pressing her hands together. “You had to be protected. That was how I kept you safe until it was time.”
“Time to marry a man you’ve kept prisoner for how many years?” I exclaimed.
“Does he look like a prisoner to you?” Queen Isbeth looked to where Malik stood beside the Revenant.
“I know what you did to Casteel. I am not foolish or naïve enough to be convinced that you didn’t do the same thing to Malik,” I said, voice low as I stepped in front of Casteel as if I could shield him from the words I’d just spoken. “No matter what either of you claim, and I am sorry, gods, I cannot believe I’m even saying this, but I am sorry for what was done to you and your son.”
“Who would’ve been your brother,” she said, eyes widening.
“He is my brother.” I pointed at Ian. “He is my brother,” I repeated. “What was done to you was wrong. What was done to your son was horrible.”
“It was,” she murmured. “It truly was.”
“But you are no better,” I said. “What you’ve done to children? To those given to the Temples that don’t have this Revenant trait. What about the ones who died of the wasting sicknesses—those fed on by vamprys that you helped create? What of the second sons and daughters that you conned into believing that the Ascension was an act bestowed on them by the gods? What about the people of Solis, who live in fear of the gods who aren’t even asleep? Who can barely fend for their families while being forced to give their children away? What about the Craven, Isbeth?” I demanded. “What about me? I’m your daughter, and you sent me off to live with a man whose favorite pastime was whipping me and humiliating me.”
Her chin lifted on a sharp inhale. “I didn’t know about that. I would’ve flayed the skin from his body and left him alive to be eaten by buzzards if I had known.”
“That doesn’t matter!” I shouted, tears clouding my eyes because this—all of this was so messed up. So wrong. “You can’t blame Eloana or Valyn or Atlantia for anything else. This was you. All you. You became this.”