The shouts were even louder now, a boom as powerful as any blast of thunder. Kieran slowly shook his head, and my skin started to hum.
“We will not live in fear of Atlantia. We will not live in fear of the Harbinger of Death and Destruction.” The Blood Queen’s voice vibrated as the essence did inside of me. “The gods have not abandoned us, and because of that, because of your faith in the Ascended, in me, they never will. You will be spared. That, I promise. And we will have revenge against what has been done to your King. The gods will see to it.”
As the people roared their support in a false god, the Primal eather swelled and pressed against my skin. Under my hands, I felt a tremor in the railing.
Millicent looked down and then took a small step back. She turned her head to me and leaned in. “Calm yourself,” she warned. “Unless you wish to alert the people to the fact that the Harbinger is among them.”
My gaze shot to hers. “I’m not the Harbinger.”
“You’re not.” She sent a pointed glance at the railing.
To the faint cracks beginning to appear in the marble.
“Poppy.” Kieran touched my back as Reaver stepped in closer. “I hate to agree with her, but now would not be the time to do anything rash—no matter how justified.”
“I’m thinking now is as good a time as any,” Reaver commented.
I had to agree with Reaver, but I had no knowledge of where Casteel was being held. No knowledge of my father’s whereabouts. The Blood Queen may be right before me, but that didn’t mean either was located somewhere safe. If I lashed out at her, someone else could strike against them.
And this wasn’t just about them or me. It was about the people on the floor who already believed I was this monster—the Harbinger. If I did anything right now, it would undo everything being done to free them.
A shudder went through me as I pushed the essence down. It took a couple of moments, but I felt Kieran relax, and Millicent turn back to the Great Hall. Eventually, I became aware of what was happening. The Blood Queen was speaking.
“You may come forward,” she said.
“What in the hell is this?” Kieran muttered.
Slipping my hand from his, I looked down to see a frail young woman dressed in a beige gown that hung from sunken shoulders. An older couple aided her, all three under the watchful stares of the knights standing on either side of the wide, curved dais steps. The young woman reached the top, and the couple helped her to her knees. She lifted a shaking arm—
The Blood Queen extended hers, folding her pale, steady hands around the much smaller, trembling one. Only one ring adorned her fingers—a pink diamond that glittered under the light. I’d shut down my senses, but the moment the Blood Queen bowed her head, the young woman’s joy burst through my shields, sweet and smooth.
And my stomach turned. “It’s the Royal Blessing. I didn’t know she was still doing this.”
“Do I even want to know what that is supposed to be?” Kieran asked.
“Mortals believe that the touch of a Royal has healing properties,” I told him. Tears ran freely down the woman’s cheeks. My stomach continued to churn. “I remember them lining up for days to get a chance to receive the Blessing.”
“They still do,” Millicent remarked.
“I used to believe it. The Blessing seemed to work sometimes. I didn’t know how. If it was just the power of the mind over the body or…” I watched the Blood Queen take a gold chalice from a nearby Handmaiden and lift it to the woman’s lips. Isbeth smiled warmly, and when she did, she actually looked loving and caring as she tipped the chalice, allowing the woman to sip. My eyes narrowed. “Or if it’s what’s in that cup she has them drink from.”
Kieran slowly turned his head to me. “Blood? Atlantian blood?”
It had to be.
“Gods,” he growled. “It wouldn’t heal someone suffering from some sort of terminal illness, but it could give them a reprieve. It could work long enough to convince the mortals that the gods had blessed the Blood Crown. That their touch could heal. That they and all the Ascended had been Chosen.”
And it had.
After a few moments, the woman’s coloring improved. Her features no longer appeared so gaunt. And then…she stood on her own. Her movements were jerky, but she stood.
Cheers erupted from the mortals packing the floor of the Great Hall. Many dropped to their knees, tears streaming down their faces as they clasped hands in prayer and gratitude. And the Blood Queen lifted her chin—raised those dark eyes to the alcove.
To me.
And she smiled.
“I don’t like how they stare at you.” Reaver’s voice rumbled just above a whisper, swept away by the hum of conversation and the soft strings of music drifting to the high ceiling of the receiving chamber we’d been brought to after the Royal Blessing had ended.