Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
The path back to the castle was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of our boots crunching over gravel and the soft rustle of Solei’s cloak. The moon hung low, casting silver light across the road like a trail meant only for ghosts.
Solei walked just behind me, but her presence was as familiar as my own shadow.
“I miss you,” she said softly.
I slowed, the words hitting harder than they should have. “I miss you too,” I murmured. “But things… they’ll never be the same.”
She was quiet for a beat, then, “I regret what I did.”
I looked over my shoulder, her face half-lit in silver. She didn’t hide from it this time. Didn’t wear the assassin’s mask. Just Solei, the girl who used to braid my hair in my room, who taught me where to hide daggers and how to lie with a smile.
“Do you regret any of the others?” I asked. “The ones you assassinated before me? Some of them had to be good people, too.”
She didn’t answer right away.
“That was just business,” she finally said, her voice devoid of remorse. “I’ve never missed a mark until you.”
I stopped walking.
“That’s the problem,” I said, turning to face her. “You were never just business to me.”
She blinked, and for a moment, the mask almost cracked.
But I didn’t wait for her reply. I walked the rest of the way in silence, the looming gates of the castle glowing like a warning ahead.
At the threshold, I turned back once, just once, and nodded. She didn’t follow.
As I crossed through the archway, I was alone again.
Or so I thought.
A flicker of movement in the shadows caught my eye, and I reached instinctively for the blade at my hip.
But then a form stepped forward, scales catching the moonlight.
For a moment, I thought he was black, shadow wrapped around flame, but then the silver light shifted, and the deep-crimson of his scales shimmered like dried blood.
Siergen.
“You startled me,” I breathed, hand still on my dagger.
He gave a faint hum, eyes glowing like coals banked in ash.
I am sorry princess, he said. And gods, I had missed that voice.
The moonlight gleamed off Siergen’s crimson scales, painting him in shadows and blood as he stood just inside the castle gates, tall and composed, his long tail curling slightly behind him like a question he hadn’t yet asked.
“I need to ask you something,” I said, stepping closer, keeping my voice low even though the path was quiet. “When you called me rogue princess before… did you know? About my heritage, I mean.”
His head tilted, eyes gleaming. Yes
That simple word made my chest tighten.
I sensed your bloodline the moment I met you, he messaged, voice like silk draped over steel. Your power is quite… distinct. His gaze narrowed just slightly. And ancient.
I blew out a breath. “Keep the princess part to yourself, at least for now. Tae knows, but no one else needs to.”
He nodded once, solemn. I will not share your heritage.
A pause. Then, Was there something else you wished to discuss?
I hesitated, then nodded. “You’ve been traveling. You said you were looking for something. Are you still tracking the Varnari?”
I am. His wings folded in tightly, as if the weight of the topic pressed against his frame. Their origin is older than the records suggest. Something about their founding doesn’t align. The deeper I search, the more it feels… manufactured.
I swallowed. “Cyran is affiliated with the Crimson Sigil.”
Siergen’s gaze narrowed. That is useful information. Thank you. He dipped his head slightly, not as a bow, but as an acknowledgment. Their web stretches farther than I thought.
“You should be careful,” I said. “They’re not subtle. They will have no qualms about killing a dragon. They want your species… culled.”
I am stronger than I look. I assure you, no human can get the better of me, he replied. But I will not be staying long. I came to deliver supplies to Hatchling Isle.
I stepped in closer, voice softer now. “I went there. With Kaelith.”
I know, he said gently.
I hesitated. “She hasn’t spoken to me since. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
You frightened her. More specifically, your power did, he said, not unkindly. And you frightened yourself. But give her time. There is much you don’t understand yet… and more that she does.
My chest ached.
“But will she ever trust me?”
Siergen looked toward the castle, the moonlight catching his eyes like twin embers. When she does, you’ll know. And when she chooses… you won’t have to ask.
He stepped back into the shadows, wings beginning to unfurl.
“Wait—” I started, but he was already moving.
Rest, Storm-born, he called over one shoulder. Your reckoning will not wait for you.
And then he was gone. A shimmer of red vanishing into the night.
The wind was icy tonight, slicing through my cloak as I leaned against the stone wall. Lanterns flickered beyond the gate, in neat rows like fallen stars, but they didn’t warm me. Not even a little.
My thoughts were too loud. Memories of Kaelith’s silence, Siergen’s words of wisdom, and Cyran’s quiet admission of his Crimson Sigil allegiance clouded my mind.
My fingers toyed with the hilt of the dagger at my hip, not really thinking. Just feeling. The cold metal. The weight. The burn of too many decisions that couldn’t be undone.
So I didn’t hear the footsteps.
Not until a hand touched my shoulder.
I spun on instinct, drawing my dagger with a hiss of steel. My heart was already in my throat when the blade came up—poised, ready.
Remy stepped back, hands lifted. “Slow down, Ashe,” he said quickly. “You should’ve heard me coming.”
My grip on the blade didn’t ease. “And yet I didn’t,” I snapped, voice tight. “I don’t need a lecture right now, Remy.”
He studied me for a moment, eyes scanning my face, searching for something I didn’t want him to see. His expression softened, but only slightly. “I was looking for you. Why do I have the feeling you were avoiding me?”
“Take a hint,” I said, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. “Now’s not a good time.”
He crossed his arms. “That meeting with Cyran. What was it about?”
I turned away, bracing my palms against the stone. I wasn’t surprised he knew where I went. Remy had a way of finding out what he wanted to know. “I told you, not now.”
“You were in danger,” he pressed. “You went to the man who might’ve tried to kill you, alone, and now you’re skulking around the castle like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I faced him with my jaw clenched. “Don’t push me right now.”
Remy stepped forward, voice low. “I’m trying not to. But I need to assess the danger to you. What did he say, Ashe? If Cyran’s connected to the Sigil, if he’s threatening your life—”
“He didn’t order the assassin,” I snapped. “And no, I’m not about to start justifying any of his choices to you.”
“So you’re protecting him now?”
“I’m not protecting anyone!” I hissed. “I’m trying to survive, Remy. Which is a lot harder when everyone I care about thinks they have a right to demand answers while I’m barely holding my ribs together from the last attack!”
He flinched. Just slightly.
And for a moment, neither of us said anything.
The wind howled between us, colder than before.
Finally, Remy spoke, softer this time. “I just… don’t want to lose you again.”
I swallowed. “Then stop treating me like a child. And remember, I’m not yours anymore.”
Remy grunted. “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten my mistakes. I just want to know what the Order is up to.”
“You’re not listening,” I said through gritted teeth, backing away from him a step, my arms folded tight across my chest as if that could somehow keep the rest of me from cracking open.
Remy followed, relentless. “I am listening. You went to Cyran. You sat across from a man who’s been accused of everything from underground trafficking to staging raids in the outer kingdoms. I need to know, Ashe.
Did he admit anything? Has he orchestrated any of the attacks on noble caravans? Is he arming the Crimson Sigil rebels?”
My heart sank. He hadn’t heard a word I’d said.
This wasn’t about me. Not really.
His voice was tight with urgency, but all I could feel was distance. A widening chasm I couldn’t close, no matter how close he stood.
“You sound like the Order,” I muttered. “Cold. Efficient. Focused on answers that have nothing to do with me.”
His brow furrowed, caught off guard by my tone.
“You asked if Cyran is helping the Sigil,” I went on, voice rising, “but you didn’t ask if I was alright. If I was scared. Or if I even made it out of that meeting with my father intact! Not physically, but emotionally.”
Remy opened his mouth, but no words came.
I shook my head. “Did anyone ever actually want me for me? Not because of my fae heritage. Not because of my bond with Kaelith. Or because I might unlock some kingdom-saving secret. But just… because I was worth wanting?”
The question left me breathless. I glanced down, my chest tightening with a pain I couldn’t name. Not physical. Not magical. Just… raw.
I didn’t get the chance to say more.
Because the wind shifted, and the stones beneath us trembled.
Kaelith landed hard, her talons scraping the stone as her wings snapped once before folding in. A second later, Hein descended beside her, his silver scales slick with moonlight, eyes glowing faintly as he settled too close to her side.
Were they… flying together?
Remy turned toward them, exasperated. “Kaelith, can you give us some space?”
Kaelith’s growl vibrated in the stone beneath our feet, low and dangerous.
But it was Hein who moved first.
He stepped forward, wings lifting slightly in warning. His tail lashed once. Twice. A low, rattling snarl rose from his throat as his body tensed—not like a dragon defending his territory.
Like one preparing to strike.
“Easy,” I said, stepping between them before things snapped out of control.
He didn’t attack. But his stare burned into Remy like embers under skin.
And somehow, I knew.
He’d heard everything.
The barracks door slammed open.
Riven stepped out first, her gaze cutting toward me, then Remy. Naia followed, expression unreadable but watchful. Then came Cordelle, quiet and watchful, already noting everything with his scholar’s stare.
And behind them was Jax and Ferrula.
Jax took one look at me, then at Remy, and his jaw flexed. He strode forward, planting himself directly between us, Ferrula at his side like a wall of steel and quiet rage.
“I think she said she’s done with you tonight,” Jax said flatly, folding his arms across his chest.
Remy didn’t move. “Did Kaelith actually send a warning to your dragons?”
“She didn’t need to,” Jax replied. “We heard Ashe raise her voice. You’re being a dick, Remy. Back off, or you and I will have a chat.”
His voice turned to steel on the last word.
Remy scoffed, low and amused. “Please. You couldn’t take me on your best day.”
Ferrula stepped forward, the firelight catching on the edge of her armor. She came to stand just slightly in front of Jax, her fingers curling around the pommel of her sword with casual ease.
“Maybe not,” she said, voice like flint and grit. “But I bet we can send you to the healers together.”
Remy glanced at her hand, and the blade she was so clearly willing to draw.
Ferrula was Dirian.
And Dirians didn’t bluff.
The silence stretched taut between them, between all of us, until the wind shifted through the courtyard again and Kaelith huffed behind me, her breath like smoke and warning.