The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

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.