Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
We were all bone tired when we landed at the Ascension Grounds.
Even the dragons staggered slightly as they touched down, their wings dragging as if the air itself had finally grown too heavy to hold them aloft. We’d at least had the benefit of resting in the saddle. They’d carried the weight of battle and riders without pause.
Dorian slumped against me halfway through the descent, and I had to keep him awake, nudging his shoulder, calling his name through clenched teeth until Kaelith’s claws struck the stone with a final, heavy thud.
The moment we were down, I slid off her back and scrambled to Dorian’s side. He was pale, eyes fluttering.
“Stay with me,” I whispered as I eased him out of the saddle.
Riven sprinted over before I could unbuckle the last strap. “Want help?”
“If Kaelith will let you.”
Kaelith huffed, smoky heat curling from her nostrils, but her head dipped in permission. Riven didn’t hesitate. Her hands flew over the harness with practiced speed.
Kaelith was already launching skyward by the time Zander pulled Hein’s final strap and joined me with ragged breath.
Together, we half-carried, half-guided Dorian toward the healer’s quadrant. Meri met us at the entrance with her night robes rumpled and her copper hair falling from its braid, but her eyes sharpened when she saw Dorian.
“Bring him in. There.” She pointed to the nearest cot, and Zander helped me lower him gently.
Meri immediately began her work, summoning a soft glow of healing light into her palms as she pressed them to Dorian’s side. The bruised and torn flesh pulsed beneath the light, his chest rising more easily within minutes.
Zander looked around, frowning.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice hushed but hard.
Only then did I notice it, every healer in the room had their heads bowed, shoulders tight with grief or fear. None of them spoke. The air was too heavy.
Meri met Zander’s gaze wearily. “Two warders were killed while you were gone. Ambushed outside their tower.”
My blood ran cold.
“Our defenses are…” she sighed. “Weakened.”
Zander stepped closer to Dorian, brushing damp hair from his brother’s brow.
“Will he be alright?”
Meri nodded, still focused on her spell. “He’s stable. He’ll sleep the rest of the night, but he may be able to return to his quarters by morning.”
Just then, heavy boots echoed against the stone.
A guard appeared in the doorway, armor dark and slick with rain.
“The king has ordered the castle to go into lockdown,” he announced grimly.
I met Zander’s eyes, my heart sinking.
Zander turned from Dorian’s bedside, his jaw tight. “Take me to my father.”
The guard didn’t flinch. “The king is sleeping, my prince. Orders were left before he retired.” He adjusted the grip on his spear, clearly uncomfortable. “All returning riders are to report directly to the Court Inquisitor.”
Zander narrowed his eyes. “We were away on a rescue mission. No one in Thubia could’ve had anything to do with the warder deaths.”
The guard hesitated, then glanced at me, just for a breath, but it was enough to set my teeth on edge.
“The assassins were caught,” he said. “Three of them. One… claimed he was part of the Order of Thorn. Said his contact in Warriath was a rider.”
The silence that followed hit like a slap.
Zander stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. “And I suppose the inquisitor wants to see Ashlyn.”
The guard nodded. “Those were the Inquisitor’s instructions.”
Zander didn’t argue, but I felt it, the shift in the air around him. The temperature dropped.
We followed the guard out of the healer’s wing, but we didn’t speak aloud.
This is a witch hunt, Zander’s voice murmured into my mind, sharp and precise.
They’re not looking for the truth, I replied, matching his pace. They’re looking for someone to blame.
Theron, he said. This wasn’t my father’s order. He’s not well enough to issue anything this structured. This is Theron tightening his grip.
I agree, I said, watching the guards posted at every turn of the hallway. He’s waiting for an excuse to take command. To justify stripping us of power.
And he knows your history, Zander added. Your Order connection, it’s going to be enough for him, Ashlyn.
We turned down a long, torch-lit corridor that spilled into the main judicial hall.
Thrall Squad was lined up there, every one of them tense, standing straight in their armor. Jax’s jaw clenched when he saw me, but he didn’t speak. Riven’s eyes followed my every move like she was calculating a dozen possible outcomes.
The guard leading us stopped and pointed to a heavy wooden door with an iron crest bolted at the center.
“She goes in first.”
Zander moved as if to follow, but the guard raised a hand.
Don’t, I told him through the bond, Let’s see what they’re playing at.
I stepped past the threshold and into the room beyond, the air cool and heavy.
And the door closed behind me with a hollow thud.
The room was dimly lit but lavish in its appointments, an intentional contradiction meant to unsettle. Rich tapestries lined the walls, and an incense I didn’t recognize hung thick in the air. The Court Inquisitor sat behind a polished mahogany desk carved with runes I didn’t pretend to understand.
He was older, with silver threaded neatly through dark, slicked-back hair.
His beard was sharp, trimmed to a precise point that matched the sharp line of his cheekbones.
His robes were ornate, deep-crimson edged in black, with golden embroidery that traced ancient judgment sigils across the sleeves and collar. Not a single fold was out of place.
He didn’t rise when I entered. He simply motioned to the wooden chair across from his desk.
“My name is Judiah. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ashlyn.”
“That’s not what I hear,” I said coolly, after sitting.
“This discussion is informal… for now,” he said, folding his hands. “Please answer my questions honestly. I will know if you are lying.”
His voice was soft, polished. But it carried the burden of someone who had destroyed people with nothing more than a whisper.
I sat straighter in the chair, keeping my hands visible, steady.
He didn’t glance at the parchment on his desk, though there were at least a dozen documents stacked neatly in front of him.
“Now,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “tell me about your father.”
I didn’t flinch. “We’re no longer on speaking terms. He ordered a hit on me when I refused to do his bidding.”
The Inquisitor’s lips thinned, his fingers tapping once against the wood. “That is not what I heard,” he said, irritation creeping into his tone. “Despite you believing what you said.”
I met his gaze head-on. “My sister tried to assassinate me. There’s no other way to take that.”
That gave him pause. His mouth tightened, not in anger this time, but discomfort. Like the truth tasted worse than the lie.
He shifted, picked up a pen but didn’t write.
“Tell me about your mission. Your trip to Thubia.”
I gave him what he asked. No embellishment. No games. I told him how we were called by Foran, how Dorian was injured, how we responded, and the Blood Fae’s ambush. I left out nothing, especially not the wave I called, or how they avoided me like I was something marked.
He didn’t interrupt, but I could feel his attention tightening like a noose.
When I finished, he didn’t ask any follow-ups. Didn’t thank me. He just stared for a long moment.
Then, abruptly, he stood.
“You may leave.”
I rose silently, not bothering with formalities.
And as the door shut behind me, I could feel his eyes lingering on my back like a blade that hadn’t finished its cut.
I winked at my squad as I stepped back into the hallway, their tense shoulders easing the moment they saw me alive and unshackled. Jax raised a brow, and Riven smirked, but none of them spoke. The silence said enough. We were all still waiting for the next shoe to drop.
What did he ask you? Zander’s voice slipped into my mind as naturally as breath as I passed him in the hallway.
About my family. About the mission to save Dorian. I told him the truth. I paused, remembering the look in the inquisitor’s eyes. He didn’t seem impressed.
I’m with him now, Zander replied, his tone clipped.
He’s acting on orders from Theron, but what my brother told him was half-truths.
Skewed just enough to make everyone suspicious.
The inquisitor isn’t happy about it. He knows he’ll have to interview all of us, including Crownwatch.
And it’ll be the same story from everyone.
I huffed, brushing a hand over my braid as I walked. Your brother’s a real snake. Are you sure he isn’t adopted?
Zander laughed in my mind, the sound dry and surprisingly fond. I wish. He was… better when my mother was alive. But things took a turn for the worse after she died.
I’m sorry about your mother, I said, but that isn’t an excuse for what he’s doing now.
I know.
The hallway curved before I exited the castle and made my way to the outer gate. Gerane stood there as always, his posture stiff, the ever-present scowl fixed on his face. His eyes scanned me like I was something dangerous wrapped in dragon leather.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice low and clipped.
I stepped closer, lifting my chin. “Tell Solei to meet me.”
His gaze sharpened. “And why would I do that?”
I didn’t flinch. “Because I said so. But make sure she knows, if she tries to kill me again, she dies with me.”
Gerane’s expression didn’t change, but I saw the twitch in his jaw, the flicker of surprise.
He turned and gestured toward the darkness, motioning to a commoner just inside the village boundary. The man approached, wide-eyed and wary, and Gerane bent down to whisper something in his ear.
The messenger nodded and took off at a run, disappearing into the tavern beyond the walls.
I folded my arms and waited, the weight of old blood and new threats coiling in my chest.
Solei would come. My sister assassin.
And this time, she’d find I wasn’t so easy to kill.