The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

at my cool cheeks as my eyes adjusted to the faint traces of
pale sunlight and the dark, almost-black leaves above us.
Swallowing hard, I glanced to where Naill rode, facing
straight ahead, and then before us. The white wolven ran
beside the fawn-colored one, turning his head to look back
at us, his ears perked. For a brief second, our gazes
connected, and I felt his concern. The buzz in my chest
hummed as a singular pathway opened along the
connection to the wolven’s emotions, a clearer cord that fed
something other than feeling. A springy, featherlight sense
that had nothing to do with relief. It was almost like a brand
—an imprint of Delano, of who he was at his core—unique
only to him.
The wolven broke eye contact as he loped over a
boulder, moving ahead of Kieran. I let out a ragged breath.
“Poppy?” Casteel’s fingers brushed my chin and then
the side of my neck. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice
low.
Pulling my gaze from Delano, I nodded. “I’m fine.”
His fingers stilled, and then he lowered his hand, picking
up the strands. “What were you dreaming about?”
“The crypts,” I admitted, clearing my throat. “Did I…did
I scream? Or speak?”
“No,” he said, and I silently thanked the gods. “You
started to squirm around a bit. You were flinching.” He
paused. “Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head.
He was silent for a few moments and then he said,
“They felt you. Felt whatever you were dreaming. Both
Kieran and Delano. They kept looking back here,” he told
me as my gaze tracked back to the two wolven. They raced
over the ground—ground that was no longer as mossy.
“Delano started howling. That’s when I woke you.”
“I…do you think it’s the Primal thing?” I asked,
wondering if I had really heard Delano’s voice. That didn’t