Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Ash froze, Skaldr’s words dropping on her like an anvil.
“You—” Her gaze rushed to a grim-faced Race. “You’re the ruler? A prince?”
He stood beneath the splintered moonlight like a marbled sculpture, mist coasting past.
Bitter irony strangled her as Paul’s mother’s haughty voice echoed in her head, Not suitable. Not good enough for a future MP’s wife. Now she was entangled with actual royalty, someone infinitely beyond her reach.
“Oh, no,” Skaldr drawled. “He’s the rightful king—”
“Enough,” Attor barked, his slitted pupils flashing. “We have no time for ancient grudges.”
“Ancient?” Skaldr retorted, then jabbed a finger at Race. “Vaesarra would have made a worthy queen! She worshipped you—you discarded her like trash.”
One moment, Race was standing near Ash, and the next, he slammed into Skaldr, both of them crashing into a boulder. The rock splintered, rubble scattering like rain.
Ash shot to her feet, her heart pounding.
“You know fucking nothing.” He shoved away from Skaldr, his features tense and almost colorless beneath the moonlight.
“Maybe.” Skaldr straightened, wiping his bleeding mouth. “It doesn’t change the facts. You abandoned her, left her to that bastard, and ran. She loved you!”
Race spun and punched the basalt. Rock splintered.
Ash shuddered as something within her cracked.
I’m such a bloody fool.
No wonder there was so much anger in him. No wonder he kept his distance.
Vaesarra. The woman he loved was out there somewhere in this world. And now he was back. Her stomach churned.
“You run after a mere mortal and act as if you’ve suffered?” Skaldr stepped closer, baring his teeth, fangs flashing.
No, he wasn’t finished, and Ash wished the ground would swallow her.
He spat, “You haven’t lived the life we had to after you turned tail and ran!”
Race pivoted, his claret eyes blazing. “I should gut you for that. But I’ll let it pass—this once.”
She turned to Attor. “Please, can you take me to where we’re staying?”
The older dragon dipped his head, sympathy softening his golden eyes. “Aye, lass—”
“I’ll take her,” Race snapped, stalking over.
“No.” She flung out a hand, stopping him, and his mouth tightened. “You stay here. You have unfinished business.”
She yanked her hood up over her head and followed Attor down the scree-covered slope. Each step away twisted her insides, like walking away from something she’d only just begun to want. And Race’s gaze burned her back as if willing her to return.
She didn’t—didn’t need the truth hammered into her head.
Cold wind stung her cheeks, stealing her warmth. Ash dug her chilled fingers into a nearby boulder, steadying herself as loose gravel slid underfoot. Behind her, raised voices clashed, but she kept going, one step, then another—because stopping would shatter her.
She refused to be that woman waiting to be chosen. Paul had failed her; she wasn’t prepared to go through it again, not with Race.
“Talonhold will give us some privacy,” Attor said once they reached the valley floor, shrouded in more ghost-pale forest, the trees’ branches rattling like bones in the increasingly bitter winds. “For food, we’ll need the inn or the street vendors.”
Ash simply nodded as they moved between the trees, their silver bark slick with frost.
The forest soon thinned, and a maze of blackened stone came into view. The angular roofs seemed sculpted by fire, the smoke-stained walls kinked at odd angles as though they’d melted and reset wrong.
They wound down into the web of scorched lanes, smoke from braziers turning the air acrid. Held in a chokehold of pain, Ash swallowed hard, keeping her breathing low. A few locals hurried past, heads down, cloaks drawn tight, their boots squeaking on the cracked stone.
They reached a crossroads, where blue lights glowed, just like the ones she’d seen in the village of Nyxholt. Up close, Ash could clearly see runic slits marking the waist-high iron post, its hexagonal sides emitting a vivid, pulsing glow.
“Attor?” she gasped. “Those blue lights, what are they?”
“Siphoning wards.” His expression grew grim. “Every pulse means the spell has found new blood. Usually a child, or a female in heat.”
She stumbled. “What?”
He pulled her into the shadows of a nearby building as something noisy trundled closer. “Quiet. Watch.”
A caged cart rattled past, pulled by hairy creatures resembling small woolly mammoths and steered by two hulking figures wrapped in gray cloaks, their hoods covering their heads. She froze, staring into the steel cage.
Dear Lord! Two children were huddled together, their broken sobs flaying her like blades.
“Attor—” She grasped his arm. “We have to do something.”
“Indeed. But not now,” Race said quietly from behind her. Her despair renewed as his palm settled between her shoulder blades. With his hood low, she couldn’t see his face. “Go and rest. I’ll be back once I’m done. Then we’ll talk.”
“There’s nothing to say.” She moved away from him, struggling to keep her composure in place, and managed a cool look. “I’m merely dropping off this backpack. It’s proving rather cumbersome. Then I’m going with Attor so we can find someone who knows about the guard schedule.”
A shard of moonlight caught his tight jaw. Clearly, he wasn’t happy.
Well, that made two of them.
He slid the pack off her shoulders and passed it to Attor without breaking eye contact, as if daring her to say something.
Well, he can sod that. Now she finally understood his blow-hot-and-cold manner with her. God! So many millennia had passed, and this Vaesarra still mattered to him.
“Stash it,” he ordered Attor. “Meet us at the Cinder-Kiln.”
“Aye, sire.”
“All I want is that rotation list.” Ash spun on her heel. Before she even took a step, he grasped her arm and snapped, “You can’t just storm off—”
“Who are we looking for?” She pulled free, dragged on the calm she desperately needed, and scanned the street—far easier than looking at him. “Not the guards, I suppose. They would grow suspicious.”
“Anyone who still has hope in their eyes.”
At his flat words, the sobs from the children in the cart scraped her mind, their pain and terror threatening to overwhelm her.
Her throat burned, but she nodded.
Farther ahead, her gaze lit on two massive males lounging by a corner brazier. They appeared rather intimidating, but there weren’t many people around to ask.
Ash aimed herself toward them. “Maybe those shifters—”
“Ash, wait—”
“We need that timing,” she cut him off. “I think I have a better chance with them.”
“Would you just listen for one damn second?” he gritted out. “What you heard—”
“Oh, you don’t have to explain anything, really.” She dismissed it, her gaze sliding past him to the street. “When I’m back on Earth, our paths won’t cross. You’ll be free to chase your past—”
“Our damn paths will cross!” A frustrated growl erupted. He grasped her arm and moved her out of the way of a few passersby. “Have you forgotten so quickly what you are?”
She tugged free, her back hitting the building wall behind them.
“Oh, right. A bloody psionic and a target.” Her laugh was short, humorless.
Sparks prickled along her fingers, and she balled them into fists.
“Ah, that’s why you’re so…what’s the word?
Yes, gung ho, about sticking to me like a shadow—”
“Ash, stop.”
“Or, you’ll what?” She glared. “Lock me up like a child?”
“By the dark damn stars.” His mouth came down on hers, his teeth sinking into her lower lip hard enough to sting. Ash gasped, slammed her palms against his chest to push him away, but froze as he licked away the pain. “You think I don’t worry about you?”
She ran her tongue over her lip, tasting him, wishing she hadn’t. “Then stop. I’ve navigated twenty-seven years well enough without you.”
With a low, animalistic growl, his mouth found hers again. For one breath, the street vanished, and there was only the heat of him against her, and the frantic drum of her heart answering. Her own longing surged, wild and reckless. She grasped his nape and melted into him, kissing him back—
Thunder cracked overhead.
Race pulled back, his eyes blazing crimson in the dark. “You’re driving me out of my mind!”
“No—” She pushed away as pain surged through her again. A flicker of lightning flashed faintly through the mist above, bleaching the street. “You don’t get to do that when your heart’s elsewhere.”
She spun away and stormed off, her prickling fingers clenched, pain engulfing her.
Why can’t you see ME? Not a ghost from your past?
Not that she wanted forever—only to know she mattered, for whatever time they might have had.
Blinking her burning eyes, she walked straight into a wall of muscle.
“Careful,” the male rumbled as another streak lit the mist-heavy sky. A black sailcloth cloak covered his bulk, and tangled brown hair hung down his back. Fangs flashed as he smiled.
“Sorry.” She sidestepped him.
He grasped her biceps and sniffed. “Well now, what have we here?”
Ash gritted her teeth, the tingles in her hands prickling harder.
“Get lost,” Race snapped before she punched the shifter in his bloody face. He wrapped his arm around her, fierce and possessive.
“Pity,” the male drawled, casting her one last covetous look.
Race’s snarl had him lifting both hands before he hurried off.
With the rumble still vibrating in his chest, Race pulled her aside. “You take off in anger and crash right into danger. Had he been one of the high-bloods, it could’ve ended badly. Stay with me—and lock down your powers, before the soldiers decide to hunt for the source.”
Mouth tight, she shut her eyes and tried to tamp down her raging emotions. It took several breaths, and she finally managed to shut off the roiling energy within her.
But meeting his brooding stare, she breathed, “I’m like prized cattle to everyone here, aren’t I?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. He didn’t respond as he ushered her along, then he slowed his steps, his head canted.
She too looked but couldn’t see anything. “What is it?”
“The guard shift just changed. We’ll wait at the tavern for the others. Hopefully, we might hear something useful there.”
His arm settled around her shoulders again as they continued up the street, his scent and warmth enveloping her. God. She wanted to lean into him—wanted it so badly—but she pushed the thought aside. No matter the pull between them, Race wasn’t hers.
Keeping her head down, hands shoved into her pockets, she watched the street from under her lashes. The blue lights blinked, steady and ominous, as the last few locals hurried off.
Hell, she couldn’t blame them. She wanted off these streets too, but they didn’t have that option. They were stuck here.
The Resistance was their only hope—and the Resistance believed the dragon at her side was their savior. Right.
Ash cast him a furtive glance. Despite his lowered head, his heated crimson gaze met hers. His arm stayed around her shoulders, as if she mattered. She knew better.