I didn’t hesitate, even though dealing with Alastir meant facing Casteel’s father. “We deal with this now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Something akin to pride drifted from Casteel to me as his lips touched my cheek. “So strong.”

To our left, the sound of running water reached us. In the moonlight, water glistened from the face of the Skotos Mountains and rushed across the wide strip of land. The water tumbled and spilled off the cliffs, reaching the rocks below.

Stars shone across the sky as the rippling light of numerous torches became visible through the soaring trees, casting an orangey glow over columned sides nearly as tall as the surrounding cypress.

Kieran joined his father as they darted between the trees, racing toward the wide steps of the enclosed Temple. People stood on the colonnade, dressed in black, and I knew without asking that these were Casteel’s men and Guardians of Atlantia. Those he trusted.

As several of the wolven climbed the steps, Casteel slowed Setti. “We will most likely see my father first. He needs to see that you didn’t Ascend.”

I nodded as nervous energy and something rawer buzzed within me.

“Then we will handle Alastir,” Casteel continued, the arm around my waist shifting. His hand slid across my stomach, leaving shivers in its wake. “I’ve gotten all I can get out of Alastir that will be of use to us, so you know how tonight will end?”

Nervousness settled as resolve crept over me. I knew how tonight would end. Determination inked itself onto my skin, carving its way into my bones and filling the center of my chest. My chin lifted. “With death.”

“By your hand or mine?” he asked, his lips grazing the curve of my jaw.

“Mine.”

Casteel and I climbed the steps to the Temple of Saion, our hands joined. Nearly two dozen wolven prowled the colonnade while Jasper and Kieran stood in front of doors as black as the sky and nearly as tall as the Temple.

The tartness of uncertainty and the fresher, lemony flavor of curiosity saturated the air as those waiting between the columns took notice of Casteel and then me. Whatever Casteel had sensed that was different about me, they felt it, too. I saw it in the way the Guardians stiffened, their hands reaching for their scabbards and then halting as their heads tilted to the side while they tried to understand what it was they sensed. I felt no fear from any of them, not the Guardians or the others. I wanted to ask one of them what they felt when they looked at me—what made them first go for their swords but then stop. However, Casteel’s grip tightened on my hand, preventing me from wandering over to one of the women—which I had apparently been in the process of doing.

Then again, only the gods knew what I looked like at the moment with my hair a curly, knotted mess, the too-tight breeches and boots, and Casteel’s cloak over a too large, borrowed tunic. It was quite possible they thought I was a Craven.