The third thing, I was failing at not thinking about. Who Alastir claimed I was related to kept popping up in my head every couple of moments. I watched Casteel pull on a thick tunic. Did he know? Had Alastir told him when he captured the wolven? Maybe he hadn’t. I didn’t have to say anything. If Casteel didn’t know, that was probably for the best. Because how would he feel to know that he was married to the descendant of the King who’d nearly destroyed Atlantia? And his mother? My stomach twisted and churned. What would she think?

Or did she already know? Was that why she had asked Casteel what he’d brought home with him? King Valyn had fought beside him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know. Alastir had arrived before us, and even if his parents hadn’t been involved, they still could know who I was related to.

And his father… I remembered him shouting at Casteel to stop—to not give me his blood. His father had known what Casteel had been about to do, and gods, it was what Malec had done all those hundreds of years ago, turning his mistress Isbeth into the first vampry out of an act of desperation.

It was like a tragic replay of history, except I hadn’t become a vampry.

But King Valyn didn’t know that.

“Where is your father?” I asked as I picked up one of the boots Jasper had found.

“Emil and a few others escorted him back to Atlantia. They’re currently keeping him under watch,” he answered.

I looked up from my boot. “Do you think that’s necessary? To keep him under watch?”

Casteel nodded as he sheathed one of his swords at his side. “He’s most likely under the assumption that I’ve turned you into a vampry,” he parroted my earlier thoughts. “If we just sent him back to Atlantia, he would’ve immediately come back here.”

“To do what?” I pulled on the soft, worn leather boot. It was a little snug around the calf but would work. “Cut off my head?” I asked, only half-joking.

“He would try and die trying,” he stated bluntly.

I froze. “Casteel—”

“I know that sounds harsh.” He bent, swiped up the other boot, and brought it over to where I sat on the edge of the wooden chair. “But even if you were a bloodthirsty Ascended, trying to rip the throats out of everyone who came near you, I would still destroy anyone who sought to harm you.”

My heart skipped a beat and turned over heavily as I stared up at him. “I don’t know if I should be worried about that or flattered.”

“Let’s go with flattered.” He knelt, holding my boot. “And be thankful that it won’t come to that. When he sees you, he’ll know you haven’t Ascended—at least not into a vampry.”

But into what? I hoped he or someone could answer. “I can put my own shoes on.”

“I know. But it makes me feel useful. Let me be useful, please.”