Chapter 2
The dining hall buzzed with morning noise, muffled conversations, the scrape of cutlery against stone plates, the low crackle of the hearth fire burning at the far end.
I picked at the bread on my plate, tearing it into small, meaningless pieces as I tried and failed to ignore the weight of a certain pair of eyes.
Zander.
I could feel his gaze, brief and pointed, skimming over me every few minutes like he couldn’t help himself.
He was sitting across the hall with Cade, the two of them deep in conversation, their heads tilted close together.
Cade said something that made Zander bark a short, humorless laugh, but even then, his mind shimmered against mine.
Light and fleeting. A whisper against the wards I hadn’t bothered to raise.
Don’t, I warned silently, lowering my gaze to my plate. Don’t you dare.
The whisper grew stronger.
Will you go to tonight’s banquet with me? His voice brushed across my mind, low and rough. Before you say no, it’s not a date.
I stabbed a piece of sausage with unnecessary force.
I wish to find out more about the Crimson Sigil and the Varnari, he continued. Both must have royal contacts inside Warriath.
I sat there, my hands curling tighter around my fork.
For a long moment, I didn’t answer. Let him sweat. Let him wonder.
Then finally, without lifting my eyes from my plate, I let the thought slip free. Yes. But only because we need that information.
Across the room, I caught the subtle tension ease from his shoulders.
Zander shifted like he wanted to say more. And sure enough, the words pushed into my mind almost immediately, tight, rushed, desperate.
About Inderia...
No.
I cut him off with a single thought, sharper than any blade. Collect me when the time is right.
Then, deliberately, I pushed him out, erecting the mental wall Kaelith had taught me to build.
The bond dimmed instantly, the shimmer of his presence severed like a candle snuffed out in a storm.
When I glanced up a minute later, Zander’s mouth was a hard line, his brow furrowed in clear irritation.
Good.
He returned to his conversation with Cade, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed him.
I went back to my food; the bread crumbling between my fingers, pretending that his anger didn’t twist something deep and broken inside me.
Pretending I didn’t still feel the echo of him... even through the wall I’d forced between us.
We finished our breakfast and went to the Ascension Grounds to begin training for the day. The sun beat down hard, casting deep shadows across the dry earth. Sweat slicked the back of my neck as I pivoted, bringing my blade up to meet Tae’s in a clash of steel. We sparred for a half hour.
“Again,” I barked, forcing my muscles to move, to focus when he retreated.
Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Crownwatch had gathered at the far end of the field with Zander among them. He stood tall, arms crossed over his chest, watching with a blank, unreadable face.
Remy stepped in front of me, tapping a training sword against the ground. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, his jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder.
“I’ll be handling Thrall Squad today,” he said, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Why?” I asked, wiping the back of my hand across my brow.
“Theron requested it,” Remy said with a casual shrug. “Which likely means Inderia did.”
A slow burn started in my chest, curling tight in my gut. I gritted my teeth against the surge of anger that threatened to break free.
“I don’t want to talk about personal business,” I snapped, tightening my grip on my sword. “We’re here to train. Let’s get on with it.”
Remy opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, then thought better of it. He stepped back, raising his blade in salute.
Naia was the first to move, darting forward with a forceful jab of her spear. Remy barely managed to parry before Tae joined in, circling around to strike from the side.
Cordelle followed, silent and as quick as a shadow, his strikes aimed to keep Remy too busy to find another opening to talk.
Even Ferrula, who usually preferred to hang back and assess, charged forward with a grin, swinging her clubtail-shaped training mace with brutal efficiency.
They weren’t just sparring. They were protecting me.
Every time Remy tried to disengage, one of my squad mates stepped in, forcing him to defend, to react, to focus on the fight instead of on me.
Jax clapped him on the shoulder after a particularly hard clash of swords. “What’s the matter, Lieutenant? Getting tired already?”
Remy huffed out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he parried another blow from Tae. “Not a chance.”
Good. Let him sweat.
I watched from the sidelines for a moment, chest tight, grateful in a way I couldn’t put words to.
They understood.
The sun had dipped low by the time the major called a halt to the day’s training. Dust clung to my boots and the backs of my legs as I spun on my heel, ignoring Remy’s attempt to catch my eye.
Without a word, I fell into step between Ferrula and Tae, the rest of the Thrall Squad closing ranks around me like a living shield.
We didn’t slow, didn’t glance back, just made our way across the grounds that led to our barracks.
Dinner was a blur of hard bread, tough meat, and the kind of easy, silent company that only a battlefield or a bond could forge.
Afterward, I retreated into the washroom with my issued formal riding uniform tucked under my arm.
The leather was a shiny black, stitched with threads of silver so fine they caught the light with every movement.
The tunic was fitted to my body like a second skin, laced along the sides, the sleeves snug at the wrists.
The breeches matched, tailored sharp enough to slice the air.
Heavy boots laced to my knees finished the look.
There was no armor, no plates to deflect a blade. This wasn’t for protection. It was for spectacle. A rider to be seen, not shielded.
When I stepped out, toweling the last traces of moisture from my hair, the squad went quiet.
“Shit, Ashe,” Naia whistled low between her teeth, grinning. “You look like you’re about to conquer the godsdamned kingdom.”
“You sure you’re not planning to start a rebellion tonight?” Tae added, tossing an apple core into the hearth.
Ferrula raised a brow in approval, arms crossed over her chest. “If the Varnari don’t notice you, they’re blind.”
Cordelle just nodded once, the corner of his mouth tugging up. A rare, silent compliment.
I left my hair down on purpose, the pale strands falling past my shoulders like a banner. A calculated move.
If the Varnari were looking to forge an alliance, they needed to see me. If they were looking to assassinate me, well... we needed answers either way. Contact was inevitable. Better they target the person who was ready for it.
A knock sounded at the door, sharp and sure.
Jax crossed the room in two long strides and pulled it open.
Zander stood there, dressed in his own formal uniform, cut in deep-black and silver, a sword belted at his hip more for ceremony than need.
His eyes found me instantly.
They roamed over me once—slow, measured, burning.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded silently and followed him from the barracks without a word, though Kaelith’s consciousness hummed at the edge of my mind like a pulse I could just barely feel.
The night air was cool against my skin, and the sound of our boots echoed softly on the cobblestones as we crossed the courtyard and entered the castle’s arched gates.
We walked in silence. The kind of silence that filled your lungs like smoke, thick, choking, impossible to ignore.
He glanced at my hair for the third time, his gaze lingering on the white strands that cascaded in silver waves down my back.
“I should warn you,” Zander said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant, “your attendance tonight will cause a stir. And not in a good way.”
“I didn’t expect it to,” I said, staring straight ahead as the towering ornate doors loomed in front of us. “But I’m not here to make friends.”
He went quiet again, the muscle in his jaw twitching once.
The castle swallowed us whole as we entered, high ceilings soaring above, arches dripping with golden vines and polished black stone. The scent of spiced wine and roasting meats filled the air, thick enough to taste.
And then we entered the banquet hall.
The light from a hundred chandeliers dripped like molten gold from the ceiling, scattering diamonds across the marble floors.
Silk banners bearing the royal crest hung from the balconies, swaying slightly with every shift in the air.
The tables gleamed, long and heavy, set with crystal goblets and plates edged in silver.
Nobles filled the room like a sea of glittering sharks, their voices a constant hum of carefully polished lies and veiled insults.
Eyes turned the second we crossed the threshold.
Whispers followed a breath behind.
I kept my chin high, my face carved from stone.
Let them talk. Let them wonder.
I was not here for a party.
Zander moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his hand grazing the small of my back once in a silent signal to follow.
I kept pace beside him, ignoring the way the nobles’ gazes snagged on me like I was a stain on their perfectly gilded world.
He began introducing me to clusters of nobles, their faces stiff and painted in courtly smiles that never quite reached their eyes.
“Lord Lerin of Solmia,” Zander said, inclining his head politely.
The man barely looked at me, his gaze sliding past as if I were a servant who had accidentally wandered into the hall.
“Lady Sora of Moustal,” Zander continued.
She dipped a shallow curtsy that felt more like mockery than respect, her painted lips curving into a condescending smile. “Charmed,” she said, though her eyes screamed unworthy.
We moved on.
“Lord Gerrin of Kruisaan,” Zander said, his voice poised, neutral.