Chapter 20 #2
Several heads turned toward Thrall Squad. I saw the way they looked at us—suspicion written plain as day. We were the odd ones out, the misfits, the commoners. If we didn’t have a target on our backs before, we sure did now.
I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the heat building under my skin. My eyes sought out Zander—surely he wouldn’t believe this? But he stood with Crownwatch, his face carved from stone, his gaze locked straight ahead. He wouldn’t even look at me.
Coward.
The sting of betrayal sank deep. He knew us—knew me . Did he honestly think one of us was capable of this?
The major’s voice droned on about unity in war, about setting aside differences for the good of the kingdom, but I barely heard it. The hypocrisy tasted bitter on my tongue. He had just painted a target on us and expected us to believe we were on equal footing.
I almost laughed. If this was their version of unity, we were already doomed.
The horn cut off, the sharp silence ringing louder than the sound itself. Major Ledor’s expression hardened.
“This time, the battle has been averted,” he warned. “But the warders will remain under surveillance and protection until the assassin is found.”
His gaze shifted once more, landing firmly on us. “Fourth Guild… to the dining hall.”
The command didn’t sound like an invitation. It felt like an accusation.
The dining hall was quieter than I had ever heard it. The usual clatter of trays and chatter of voices was gone, replaced by whispered conversations scarcely above a breath. Eyes flicked toward us as we moved through the room, quickly turning away the moment we looked back.
Even the cook, a stout woman who had always been generous with Jax’s portions, had suddenly grown cold.
“Another helping of eggs, please,” Jax said with his usual charming grin.
“You get the same as everyone else,” she snapped, slapping a meager spoonful onto his plate with far more aggression than necessary.
Jax blinked but didn’t argue. He nodded stiffly and moved down the line, his shoulders tenser than usual. I trailed behind him, grabbing my tray and following my squad to an empty table in the corner.
The tension suffocated the air. Conversations throughout the hall were muffled whispers, words spoken too softly for us to decipher—but we didn’t need to. We knew what they were saying.
“They think we did it,” Tae muttered, stabbing his fork into a potato like it had personally offended him.
“I know,” I said quietly, sliding half my eggs onto Jax’s plate.
“But why would anyone kill a warder?” Jax asked, shaking his head. “That’s suicide for everyone . The warders are the backbone of the castle’s defenses. Killing one is like begging for a war.”
I swallowed, my thoughts flicking back to Solei.
Was she looking for the murderer... or was she the assassin?
The timing was just too perfect—her sudden arrival, her evasive answers, her parting words about loyalty. I’d wanted to believe she was only here to investigate a suspected mole. But doubt began to creep in like smoke through a locked door.
Could my family be involved? Could Solei?
I pushed my plate away, suddenly unable to stomach another bite. My mind raced, the weight of suspicion heavy on my chest.
I had always known Cyran played a dangerous game—one of power, deception, and shifting alliances—but this? Killing a warder meant inviting retaliation that could burn both the Order and the royals alike.
Would he risk that?
I clenched my fists beneath the table, my nails biting into my palms. If Solei had done this... if my family’s hands were covered in blood...
I wasn’t sure what I’d do.
We finished our meal and returned to our room. I sat down on my bunk, still unsettled from breakfast. Cordelle joined me, shifting nervously on the edge of my bed.
“I wanted to talk to you last night,” he said quietly. “But I never got the chance.”
“What is it?” I asked, still half-lost in my own thoughts.
“It’s... your power,” he said, his voice dropping lower.
I frowned. “What about it?”
Cordelle shifted again, clearly uncomfortable. “Everything I’ve found says you’re connected to a lost fae bloodline—one that turned dark.”
I scoffed. “That’s impossible. I’m twenty years old. I may not know my exact birthday, but it’s accurate within a few months.”
“That’s the thing,” Cordelle said, voice tight. “There were no human halflings born of that bloodline. You... shouldn’t exist.”
“Then you have the wrong bloodline,” I shot back. “Or maybe one slipped through the cracks, passed down through the human generations.”
Cordelle shook his head. “Ashe, you’re too powerful for that. You’re bonded to Kaelith.”
I pulled my pendant from beneath my shirt and showed him the barely visible hint of purple beneath the gold. “We’re not bonded yet, remember?”
“But she’s still yours . And Kaelith… she predates the Unification.”
“Zander’s dragon does too,” I pointed out. “Hein’s almost as old.”
Cordelle frowned, worry etched deep in his face. “I can’t explain that either. And there’s no record of Dark Fire in the king or queen’s lineage.”
“There must be.” I shrugged. “Again, not all births are recorded in noble houses, or none of the Thrall squad would be here.” I paused. “Do you know your own lineage?”
Cordelle smiled faintly. “I do. My grandmother was a maid in the castle. She got pregnant from a visiting noble... but no one ever knew which one.” His smile faded. “I never cared much before, but now...” He trailed off.
I reached out and squeezed his leg. “I’m just thankful you’re here.”
Cordelle’s smile returned, softer this time. “Me too,” he said. Then his expression hardened again. “But you need to be careful, Ashe. If the wrong person suspects you’re from that bloodline... they may kill you.”
His words landed like a blow to the chest. I’d faced danger before—blades, Blood Fae, even my own unstable power. But this... this was something else.
“Then I guess we better figure out who I am.”
The knock at the door startled me, sharp and abrupt. Jax moved first, tugging it open to reveal a castle courier standing stiff-backed in the hall.
“Ashe,” Jax said, his gaze flicking to mine with concern. “You’ve been summoned to the castle.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on quickly. The others watched in tense silence as I followed the courier out.
“Do you know what this is about?” I asked the young man as we walked briskly across the courtyard.
He kept his gaze forward, his expression painfully neutral. “I simply deliver messages,” he said curtly.
Liar. He knew exactly who had summoned me—and he wasn’t talking.
The castle loomed ahead, its stone facade darker under the morning clouds. The guards at the entrance didn’t spare me a glance, stepping aside to let us pass. I knew what that meant—they’d been informed of my arrival. This wasn’t some casual meeting.
We climbed the spiral staircase to the upper levels—a place I had never been before.
My steps faltered slightly as my mind turned over the implications.
If I were being taken up instead of to the main audience chamber, I wasn’t meeting just any noble.
I was meeting someone with power—someone important enough to sit high above the rest.
It also made me wonder why Princess Elara’s room was still on one of the lower floors. Was that a security precaution? Or did the king simply not value his only daughter? I hoped it wasn’t the latter.
The courier stopped outside a door adorned with wrought iron embellishments.
“Wait here,” he said, opening it just enough to motion me inside before shutting it behind me.
The room was warm, a fire crackling low in the hearth.
Dark wood shelves lined the walls, and two leather armchairs faced each other by the fire.
A long table sat beneath the windows, scattered with parchments and sealed letters.
It smelled faintly of parchment and spiced wine—a room used often, yet still cold with purpose.
I barely had time to sit before the door creaked open behind me.
I stood, my heart hammering.
I expected to see a royal.
Instead, a familiar figure stepped inside.
“Hello, Ashlyn,” came the low, gravelly voice.
I froze. “ Father? ”