Chapter 40
Chapter
Forty
T he flight back to the castle was faster, but it was quieter too. The air was thick with exhaustion and grief, and no one seemed to have the strength for conversation—not even Kaelith. She stayed silent the entire way, her presence a massive weight in my mind.
When we landed in the dimly lit Ascension Grounds, the castle looming like a shadow in the distance, Kaelith stood quietly as Zander and Tae unfastened Elivin’s body from Makor’s saddle.
The brown Swift let out a mournful sound before taking to the air.
The other dragons followed, wings beating rhythmically as they flew behind him in silent tribute.
The sight of them, their formations tight and protective around Makor’s smaller frame, made my blood boil. My father had done this—or at the very least, played a part in it—and I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
“I need a few minutes,” I said to Riven quietly. “Can you keep Zander occupied?”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?” she whispered.
“I need a moment with my father.”
Her lips thinned, but she nodded and turned toward Zander, stepping into his path before he could follow me.
I motioned for Jax, Cordelle, Tae, and the others, to join me. Once they gathered around, I kept my voice low. “I need you to cover for me.”
No one argued. They knew what this was—revenge, justice, or maybe just a desperate attempt to find answers. Either way, they silently agreed.
Zander was still deep in conversation with Riven when I slipped away through the gates. My boots scarcely made a sound against the cobblestones as I crossed the courtyard.
Gerane was standing just beyond the gate archway with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the walls. He didn’t even flinch as I approached.
“Looking for your next payoff?” I asked coldly.
He turned slowly, eyes narrowing when he saw me. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’ll decide where I should be,” I shot back.
He shifted his stance, but I didn’t miss the way his hand slid closer to his belt and closer to his dagger.
“I’m going to visit my father,” I said.
“Your father?” He laughed, a low, bitter sound. “He has disowned you.”
My fingers twitched toward my own weapon. “Don’t test me tonight, Gerane.”
“Or what?” His smile faded, and his gaze darkened. “You’ll start a war right here in the courtyard?”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “If that’s what it takes. Which will reveal where your allegiances truly lie.”
He shrugged and motioned for me to pass. “Go ahead. It’s your funeral.”
The village streets were quiet, the usual bustle of late-night stragglers long gone.
Only a few flickering lanterns illuminated the narrow alleys, casting shadows that danced across cobblestone.
The tavern’s windows glowed warm and bright, spilling light and noise into the street.
Laughter, the clatter of mugs, and the low hum of conversation filled the air—but when I walked in, the energy shifted.
People saw me. They knew who I was—or who I used to be.
Eyes darted away quickly, gazes dropping to their drinks or their plates as if ignoring me would erase my presence.
The upside of being dead to the Order was that no one dared to stop me.
I kept my chin high and walked past their hushed whispers.
I bypassed the main room, weaving between tables until I reached the dimly lit hallway at the rear.
Without hesitation, I slipped behind the large tapestry that masked the tunnel entrance.
The air inside was cool and stale, the walls damp with condensation.
My footsteps echoed faintly as I navigated the twisting path below the tavern.
When I reached my father’s office, I didn’t bother knocking.
Cyran scowled as I stepped inside. His dark eyes locked on mine, as sharp as a dagger.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here.” His voice was low, hard.
“Are you really surprised?” I shot back. “Your treachery caused the death of a rider.”
He grunted like I’d said something foolish. “Riders die. This is a war.”
“We were ambushed by Blood Fae,” I snapped. “They were being supplied by the Order. Wagons full of supplies from Amdar’s port warehouse.”
His eyes narrowed. For the briefest second, I saw something flicker across his face—concern, maybe. Or something darker.
“You think the Order had something to do with this?” he asked.
“Not the Order,” I corrected coldly. “You.”
His face twisted, and before I could react, his fist slammed down on the table, rattling the inkpots and papers scattered across it. “How dare you.”
“How dare you ,” I countered and shoved the scorched letter across his desk. “Recognize this?”
He barely glanced at it before scoffing. “That can be forged. You know this.”
“But it wasn’t, was it?” My voice was softer now, dangerous.
His eyes locked on mine. The quiet stretched until it felt suffocating.
“I have evidence too,” he said at last. His voice was clipped, almost amused. “It says a rider has been helping the Blood Fae. This person was recruited before but only recently began to interfere in court politics.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “And this person is you?”
He laughed without humor, the sound as sharp as broken glass. “No.” His smile widened, cold and cruel. “It’s you.”
For a moment, I just stared, his words turning my blood to ice. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” He sat back in his chair like a man satisfied with his own cleverness. “You’ve been stirring chaos in the castle since you arrived. Strange that the Blood Fae started targeting the kingdom’s warehouses not long after you infiltrated their ranks.”
“I didn’t infiltrate anyone!” My voice rose with frustration.
“Didn’t you?” His gaze sharpened. “You’ve managed to get yourself bonded to the most powerful dragon in the horde, and oh... conveniently keep surviving every attack meant to end you.”
“Because I fight ,” I hissed. “I win because I refuse to die—not because I’m working for the Blood King.”
“You’re a pawn, Ashlyn,” he sneered. “You always have been. The only question now is... whose game are you playing?”
“You sold me!” My voice rang out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. The air in my father’s office felt like it had thinned, like I couldn’t quite pull enough into my lungs. “I never wanted to be part of the guild. But I am now, and that will never change.”
Cyran stood slowly, the firelight casting jagged shadows over his face. He was calm and that was more unnerving than his rage ever could be.
“You never wanted to be part of the guild?” he repeated, mocking my words. “You think you had a choice? You were nothing before I put you in play.”
“I was surviving just fine without you,” I snapped.
“No,” Cyran growled. “You would have become a mediocre seamstress or a gutter rat stealing loaves of bread to stay alive.”
“Kaelith chose me, and that kills you! Your pawn turned out to be a knight, and you made your move too soon,” I snapped.
He scoffed. “Kaelith chose you because she’s waiting for you to break. She wants a tool, not a partner.”
I took a step forward. “You’re wrong.”
“Am I?” His lip curled. “Look at yourself, Ashlyn. Do you really believe you belong with the riders? You’re reckless. Undisciplined. Emotional. And now you’ve dragged an entire squad into your mess.”
“My squad trusts me!” I shot back.
“Your squad will be dead before this is over,” Cyran sneered. “Every single one of them. Because you can’t keep your emotions in check, and you can’t control your power.”
His words struck deeper than they should have. I knew what he was doing—manipulating, undermining—but it still stung. The worst part was that small, terrible voice in the back of my mind whispering that he was right. I felt my magic stir, restless and volatile beneath my skin.
“You’re a danger to yourself,” Cyran continued coldly. “And to everyone around you.”
I shook my head. “You’re just angry because I won’t be your weapon. I won’t spy for you. I won’t kill for you.”
“You don’t get to decide that.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “You think you’re free now, but your life belongs to me, Ashlyn.”
“I belong to no one,” I spat. “Not to you. Not to the Order. Not to anyone.”
His face darkened, and for the first time, I felt something dangerous roll off him—something cold and deadly. “If you won’t obey,” he said softly, “then I’ll make sure you can’t defy me again.”
I stepped back, heart hammering in my chest.
“I will lock you in my dungeon,” he went on, stepping closer with each word. “And you will sit there, forgotten and rotting, until you beg me to kill you.”
Kaelith’s voice lashed through my mind like a whip, sharp and furious.
Tell the human criminal I am on my way. If he touches you, I will annihilate the building in which you stand. No living thing will survive.
“No, Kaelith,” I said aloud, my voice shaking. “There are innocent people here.”
A surge of raw power stormed down our bond, curling in my chest like a raging inferno. Thunder rumbled overhead—no longer my anger, but hers. The air thickened, charged with the scent of fire. My father’s eyes flicked upward, warily glancing toward the ceiling.
“Remove yourself from my presence,” Cyran said, his voice low and cold. “Return at your own peril.”
He stepped back, but I didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. I turned and bolted, my boots striking the stone floor in rapid succession. Behind me, the air seemed to crackle like a gathering storm, Kaelith’s power simmering on the edge of release.
I’m out, I sent to her. I’m safe. Don’t burn it down.
Her power didn’t fade immediately, but I felt her presence shift—still simmering, still furious, but waiting. Watching.
You shouldn’t have gone alone, she growled.
I know, I admitted as I burst from the tavern’s back entrance into the cold night air. The wind hit my face like a slap, but I ignored it and kept running.
Hein’s rider wishes a word with you.
The castle doors groaned closed behind me, and I didn’t spare Gerane a glance as he conveniently turned his head, pretending not to notice my return. The chill of the corridor seeped through my clothes as I walked toward the barracks, exhaustion settling in my bones.
I reached for the door handle, but an arm shot out from the shadows and yanked me to the side. Before I could react, I found myself pinned between cold stone and Zander’s hard chest. His eyes were pure obsidian, swirling with Dark Fire as they bore into mine.
“You disobeyed me.” His voice was low, rough, and it crawled down my spine like a warning.
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat. His scent—leather, smoke, and something unmistakably him —flooded my senses, and my gaze dropped, traitorously, to his mouth.
“You never told me I couldn’t see my father,” I managed, my voice low.
“I thought avoiding situations that could get you killed was implied,” he growled.
“I’m a rider. That’s a daily occurrence.”
His hand flexed against the wall beside my head, and his eyes narrowed. “It’s not the same.” His voice softened, but there was no less heat behind it. “I have some control over your missions... Do not scare me like that again.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, feeling the tension coil tighter between us. “I just...”
His mouth crushed mine.
I gasped, and he took full advantage, claiming my lips with a hunger that left me breathless. His hand slid to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair as he pressed closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of me just to know I was still here—still safe.
I melted into him, the fire of loss and frustration igniting into something raw and consuming. His tongue swept against mine, coaxing, demanding, and I couldn’t help but answer. The heat between us spiraled higher, and I clutched his arms like I was afraid he’d disappear if I let go.
His other hand gripped my waist, his thumb brushing just beneath my armor, branding my skin with his touch. The warmth of it spread through me, and I arched closer, desperate for more.
Zander pulled back, just enough for me to see his eyes—still dark, still blazing. His breath came fast and shallow, and his hand on my waist trembled.
“This,” he murmured, his voice strained, “is exactly why you can’t run off alone.”
“You’re worried about me?” I teased, trying to mask how unsteady my own voice was.
His thumb pressed against my skin, firm and possessive. “I don’t just worry about you, Ashe. You’ve become... more.”