The Crown of Gilded Bones (Blood and..

thick, cold slush. I looked past the line of guards with their
black mantles.
Crimson and black silk skirts flowed like water across
the stone floor. The gown’s deep vee cut between the swells
of breasts, reaching the impossibly narrow waist encased in
rows of rubies chained together. Red-tipped fingers clasped
together. Garnets strung and clasped tightly around slender
wrists and a pale neck. Lush, red lips tipped up in a faint
smile. A turned-up nose pierced with an onyx stone. High
cheekbones flushed artfully with rouge. Black eyes
glimmered under the golden chandeliers, outlined and
winged in black. Arched, deep brown brows. Hair that shone
a dark auburn was swept up and back so the mass spilled
over an elegant shoulder in thick, loose curls that brushed
the rows of rubies at the waist. Carved from pure, polished
ruby and consisting of twelve hoops connected by oval
pieces of onyx and topped with diamonds crafted into
spires, the Blood Crown was one of the most beautiful and
horrendous works of art that had ever been created.
As was the woman who wore it.
Queen Ileana looked just like I remembered—beautiful in
a sultry way few could ever achieve and carrying a warmth
to her features even fewer Ascended had ever been able to
master. Our gazes locked, and I couldn’t look away as
memories of her brushing my hair back from the ruined side
of my face, of reading to me when I couldn’t sleep, of
holding me when I cried for my mother and father, rushed
into me, over and over.
And maybe that was why I didn’t see who stood just
behind her, to her right. Maybe that was why it took more
than a moment for me to register the sudden explosion of
icy shock rolling off Casteel, and that he’d jerked back a
step. My gaze shifted to the man who stood there. It wasn’t
King Jalara.
This man’s hair nearly reached his shoulders and was a
light brown that showed hints of blond, but the sharp