The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

Nothing.
I felt nothing in him, Kieran, or Jasper. A hum whirred
within the very core of my being as I stared down at Casteel
—at my husband. My heartmate. My everything.
He was lost to me.
My skin began to vibrate as a dark and oily, soul-deep
rage rose within me. It had a tang like metal in the back of
my throat and burned like fire in my veins. It tasted like
death. And not the kind that occurred here—the final kind.
Fury swelled and expanded until I could no longer
contain it. I didn’t even try to stop it as tears tracked down
my cheeks and fell on Casteel’s iron-colored skin. The rage
lashed out, pounding the air and seeping into the stone.
Under me, I felt the Temple begin to faintly tremble once
more. Someone shouted, but I was past hearing words.
Leaning over Casteel, I picked up his fallen sword as I
brushed my lips over his still, stone-cold lips. That ancient
thing inside me pulsed and throbbed as it had done before
as I rose above my husband and turned. A sharp wind
whipped across the Temple floor, extinguishing the fire of
the torches. The leaves of the blood tree rattled like dry
bones as my grip on the short sword tightened. I didn’t see
Casteel’s parents. I didn’t even see Alastir.
Dozens stood before me, all garbed in white, holding
swords and daggers. Familiar metal masks, those worn by
the Descenters, hid their faces. Seeing them now should’ve
terrified me.
It only enraged me.
That primal power surged, invading all of my senses. It
silenced every emotion inside me until only one remained:
vengeance. There was nothing else. No empathy. No
compassion.
I was me.
And yet, I was something else entirely.
The sky above was free of clouds, remaining a stunning
shade of blue. Blood didn’t rain, but my flesh sparked.