Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
W armth flooded my chest, a gentle pulse rippling outward.
Magic surged, a force not my own, yet intimately familiar.
Above us, a shimmering veil formed, translucent silver threads weaving swiftly into place.
Each strand caught the faint glow of candlelight, stretching until they connected, sealing the room beneath a dome of crystalline protection.
I felt the hum deep in my bones, strength, safety, certainty, but knew instinctively it wasn’t mine. It was as if someone else held the threads, guiding the shield into place. A heartbeat later, the connection faded, slipping through my grasp like smoke, leaving only an echo of warmth behind.
Tae knelt beside me, his strong hands steadying my unsteady legs as I struggled to rise.
“Easy now,” he said, his tone a mix of concern and wry amusement.
The room was still hot from the blast, the stone walls and tiny window having saved us from being completely incinerated.
I managed a crooked smile as I pushed myself upright.
“Does that happen often?” Jax piped up, his eyebrow arching as he looked around at the singed walls and smoldering air.
Tae shook his head, his expression incredulous. “I’ve never seen the Sentinel come this close to the castle before, let alone attack like that. Just avoid her if you see her again,” he advised firmly.
Had they not noticed the shield? Maybe I had imagined it.
Riven, inspecting her shirt now marked by a fresh burn on the shoulder, chimed in with a laugh, “No kidding.”
As we began to gather our scattered belongings and set up our bunks, the banter flowed as naturally as the heat from the lingering fire. Naia leaned against one of the rough stone walls and remarked dryly, “Well, if it weren’t for your famous Rebec family luck, you might have been dead.”
I rolled my eyes and retorted, “Oh, come on, Naia. If incineration were my destiny, I’d at least go out with a bang. Not a half-hearted smoky exit.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.
Jax was setting up his bunk by the door. “You should stay away from the window, Ashe.”
“Honestly, I’m just grateful these stone walls did their job. Nothing like a good brick barrier to keep you from turning into dragon toast,” Tae said.
“This day just gets better and better,” Jax quipped, eliciting a chuckle from the group.
Riven glanced at me as she neatly arranged her few belongings. “Hey, Ashe, do you always manage to infuriate a dragon and nearly get yourself incinerated, or is today special?”
I shot her a smirk. “I was just trying to make a lasting impression.”
Naia shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite her earlier severity. “I call it as I see it—the Rebec family attracts trouble like moths to a flame.”
“Trust me, Naia,” I shot back, my tone playful yet edged with defiance, “if trouble was a fashion accessory, I’d have it embroidered in gold.”
I was just putting my things in the small wardrobe beside my bunk when Riven sat down on my bunk. “Need any help?”
“Just company,” I replied, my tone engaging. I had to align myself with those I could trust, and right now, that was Thrall Squad. “How did you end up here? I mean—what’s your story?”
Riven sighed, leaning back against one of the bunk frames.
“My family owns a small tavern on the outskirts of town. It’s been struggling for years, and we need every coin we can get.
Hopefully, the money I brought in will provide for them for years to come.
My mom has always displayed a few… unusual abilities over the years, but neither my brother nor my sister ever caught that spark. ”
I arched an eyebrow. “But you did?”
Riven smiled ruefully and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been able to move things without touching them. Not exactly flashy, but it’s something.”
“That’s pretty handy, actually.”
“And what about you? I heard you have a healing ability. I expected you’d be in the Second Guild, though I don’t know how good you are at healing others.”
Before I could answer, Jax’s voice rang out, filling the room with his familiar teasing tone. “What are you doing, little man?” he called from a nearby bunk, where Cordelle sat scribbling intently into his journal.
Cordelle looked up shyly. “I write poems,” he mumbled.
Jax smirked and challenged him, “Really? Care to share one, then?”
Cordelle hesitated for a moment, then recited softly:
Ashen hair, white as dreams,
Long and wild on twilight’s breeze.
Silken strands, a whispered dance,
Moonlit waves, in sweet romance.
Ghostly threads, kissed by air,
Flowing freely, soft and rare.
Stars entwined within each strand,
Ashen hair, by night’s command.
Jax beamed broadly. “That’s really good, kid.” He glanced at me. “But I’m not sure I like your chances.”
Riven leaned toward me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think someone has a crush on you.”
I laughed, a hint of sarcasm mingling with genuine amusement. “Oh, please. He’s a little young for me. What is he, eighteen?”
Riven shook her head fondly. “Cordelle is twenty, like us. His family lives close to ours. His dad is the lorekeeper in the castle, so I think the king has known he has certain gifts since he was little.”
I didn’t correct her about my age. Technically, she was right, but then there was also a chance she wasn’t. “What gifts exactly?”
“He’s got this uncanny ability to find things through books and... well, if you ask him to locate something, he’ll usually come through. He might just be incredibly intelligent since he’s been reading and writing full philosophical sentences since he was three.”
I laughed in disbelief. “Wow, that’s unique. Not many kids start spouting philosophy before they can walk.”
Riven leaned forward, her eyes softening as she shifted the conversation. “Now, Ashe, do you want to talk about what happened earlier? I saw something in your eyes, you did something to protect us.”
I hesitated, then sat down beside her, my voice barely above a whisper. “I honestly thought I imagined it. For a second, I felt this surge of power run through my veins, but it’s gone now. I’m not even sure if it was my power at all.”
Riven patted my leg gently. “We’ll figure it out. For better or worse, we are family now.”
“I guess we are.”
“So, Ashe, what was it like growing up with a murderer?” Naia’s voice was low but piercing as she leaned against her bunk. “Did he tuck you in at night when you were a baby?”
I exhaled slowly and shifted my weight, feeling the cool stone beneath me as I moved toward the small window.
Moonlight spilled over the water below, glittering like scattered jewels.
“I wasn’t adopted by Cyran until later in my life,” I began, my tone steady though memories churned beneath.
“I had three Order mothers before he took me in.”
Naia’s eyes narrowed. “Three mothers? How does that work?”
I stared out at the shimmering water, gathering my thoughts. “Nobody knows who my mother really was,” I said softly. “Likely a maid who got knocked up by a noble. At least my hair suggests I’ve got a pretty strong fae bloodline.”
“Definitely,” Tae agreed, his tone laced with quiet curiosity as he joined our conversation.
I continued, “My first guardian was Stella. She was the Order tailor. She took me in when my mother abandoned me. I don’t really remember her; she died when I was about four.
She was murdered.” I paused, my throat tightening as I recalled the pain.
“Then her friend Octavia, an Order thief, took me in. She taught me how to pick a pocket and break into almost everything. But Octavia was caught and killed, and her best friend, Dalila, took me in.”
I sighed, the weight of those memories heavy in the still air. It was so hard to talk about Dalila. “I loved her very much, and her death nearly destroyed me.” My voice faltered as I recalled the gentle strength of the woman who had given me a second chance.
I straightened up, the memories swirling.
“Dalila was a woman of the evening,” I said, a trace of a bitter smile tugging at my lips.
“Cyran was quite smitten with her. He rescued her from her old life, and we moved in with him. She died when I was fourteen. Her poisoning was most likely aimed at hurting Cyran.”
Naia fell silent, her expression unreadable. I could tell my story was not what she had expected. The room, filled with the soft hum of our bunk room settling for the night, held a fragile pause as the others listened, equally quiet.
The door burst open, and Prince Zander Rayne strode in. His presence cut through our somber mood like a sharp blade. “Time for your first challenge,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
He stepped aside with the door still ajar. His gaze was fixed on me—a silent command that we must exit. Everyone got up and filed out of the room without comment, but as I reached the threshold, his gloved hand shot out and wrapped around my arm.
“No more experimenting without a squad leader present,” he declared, his tone both amused and scolding.
I felt a slight tingle, as if his touch had singed my skin, and then he released me abruptly. I blinked in surprise. “Experimenting?” I said, glancing at the bunks. “We don’t have private beds. Did you think we were having an orgy?”
Zander blinked, his dark eyes widening momentarily before he responded with a dry smile. “That would be inadvisable,” he said.
“Is everything all right?” Jax asked from outside, his voice echoing softly in the wind.
“Get into formation, prospect Rebec,” Zander ordered, his gloved hand still hovering near my arm as a reminder of his watchful presence.
“Prospect?” I echoed with a half-grumbled laugh.
“Most of your squad has to earn the right to be called cadets.”
I grunted in response, my tone dismissive. “Of course it does.”