Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Ipaused just before the door to my barracks, hand resting on the worn wood, the torchlight casting long shadows along the stone floor.
My mind reached instinctively for the bond.
Kaelith?
Her presence swept in immediately, warm and vast, curling like fire-smoke around the edge of my thoughts.
I am above you, she answered. I will return to the isle and sleep as soon as I know you are safely inside your room.
I sighed, the weight of the conversation with Solei still clinging to me like sand I couldn’t shake off. Why are you here? I’m not in danger.
Her response came sharp and unyielding. I no longer trust your family with your safety.
My lips thinned, my fingers curling tighter on the doorframe. Solei isn’t going to hurt me.
She already did. Kaelith’s voice was not angry, but it was absolute. She attacked you on your father’s orders. I will not sit on the isle while you are meeting your assailant.
She came unarmed. She wore a loose tunic, Kaelith. She wasn’t here as an assassin.
And yet, Kaelith growled, she did not come to protect you either.
I exhaled through my nose, frustrated. I’m not fragile.
No, Kaelith said, quieter now. You are unique and mine. There is a difference.
The words brought me up short. My chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with battle or betrayal. She wasn’t going to back down. I could feel it in the steel under her tone. She wouldn’t sleep. Wouldn’t fly home. Not until I did what she asked.
And the truth was… despite my irritation, a part of me was grateful.
Fine, I murmured.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the familiar scent of leather, dragon oil, and smoke-washed linen grounding me instantly.
The barracks were quiet. My squad was asleep or pretending to be, their shapes outlined in the low flicker of lantern light.
I’m inside, I whispered through the bond.
Kaelith’s presence relaxed slightly. Good.
Her voice faded, warm and content, as if now, only now, she could rest.
And with her silent above me like a storm waiting to fall, I finally closed the door.
As soon as I secured the handle, the entire barracks shifted like a stage coming to life. Covers flipped back. Cots creaked. One by one, every member of Thrall Squad sat up in their beds, eyes fixed on me.
Tae was the first to speak. “What happened?”
I blinked at them. “Why were you all pretending to be asleep?”
Cordelle pulled a thick book from under his bed, already flipping it open with a distracted expression. “There have been several patrols circling. We assumed they were waiting for you to return.”
“I didn’t see anyone outside,” I said, frowning.
Riven pointed lazily to the heavy door that led into the hallway. “That’s because they’re in the halls.”
I raised a brow. “That’s new.”
“And annoying,” Ferrula muttered as she swung her legs off the side of her cot.
Jax stood, not bothering to mask the tension in his shoulders. “What happened? Where did you go?”
I hesitated only for a second. “I met with Solei.”
Jax froze. His fists clenched at his sides. “If she tried anything—”
I held up my hand. “She didn’t.”
His jaw worked, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I was able to get some information.”
Cordelle looked up from his book. “What kind of information?”
“That was risky,” Jax said. “She recently tried to kill you, Ashe.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “And I didn’t forget that. But she told me the Order believes there’s a mole, someone still feeding the Blood Fae information. Not Remy. Someone deeper.”
Silence settled over the room.
“That’s how the Blood Fae are staying ahead of us,” I continued. “They’re not just spying, they’re manipulating the court, the Order, and the wards. They’re pulling them apart one by one.”
Cordelle closed his book slowly. “And we’re next.”
“Not if we figure out what they’re after,” I said, and met each of their eyes in turn. “And stop them first.”
I sat down on the edge of my bunk, the tension in the room pressing against my shoulders like a stone. My pendant felt heavier against my chest, the gold warmed by Kaelith’s presence still humming faintly through the bond.
“There’s something else,” I said, voice low but firm. “It’s not just us. The warder deaths… they’re not limited to Warriath.”
Cordelle blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean multiple kingdoms are losing their warders. Quietly. One by one.” I looked around the room. “And many of them have no magical security left.”
The words landed like a dropped sword.
Naia straightened in her cot, her face pale. “But the wards protect the people. The cities. How could that be, why hasn’t anyone—”
“That’s the point,” I cut in. “It’s being kept quiet. No one’s saying anything because when a warder dies here, they’re replaced. Not with new initiates… but with warders pulled from the Outer Kingdoms.”
Riven’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying they’re gutting our borders to protect Warriath?”
“Exactly,” I said. “They’re stripping away outer defenses, reassigning warders, hiding the gaps. And it’s working, because the raids have been just quiet enough to keep people distracted. Just enough to keep the army busy without raising alarms.”
Ferrula’s fists clenched around the edge of her blanket. “That’s suicide.”
“Or strategy,” Tae murmured, his eyes dark with realization. “If the Blood Fae want us to feel secure while they’re dismantling everything from the outside in…”
“Then they’re building toward something,” Jax finished grimly. “A siege. A coordinated collapse. Thank Charrem we relocated Mom.”
Cordelle stood slowly, his book forgotten on the bed. “If the kingdoms are exposed and no one’s panicking, then someone powerful is helping keep it quiet. Someone inside.”
“That is exactly what Solei said.” I folded my arms. “They’ve been planning this for years. Maybe decades.”
“And we’re just now putting the pieces together,” Jax muttered.
“Yeah,” I said. “Which means we’ve got catching up to do.”
And the clock was already ticking.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, eyes sweeping across the faces of my squad, my family. They hadn’t left their cots since I came in, tension still thick in the air. The glow from the lanterns cast long shadows, but it was the truth of what we knew that truly dimmed the room.
“What did the Inquisitor ask you?” I asked finally, voice quiet, but it cut straight through the silence.
They all exchanged glances. Riven was the first to speak.
“Most of it was about the mission to retrieve Dorian,” she said, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “What we saw. What the Blood Fae were doing. But… he kept circling back to my parents. Where they lived. What their jobs were. How often I spoke to them.”
Cordelle nodded. “Same. He asked if my family ever had involvement in royal affairs. If they ever had access to noble estates. He was very focused on bloodlines. Subtle, but… intentional.”
Naia shifted uneasily. “He asked about my brother. How close we were. If he’d ever traveled to another kingdom. Even asked what his stance on the war was.”
Jax snorted. “He didn’t like my answers. Said I was evasive. Kept prodding about Naia’s brother.” His brow furrowed. “What the hell does that have to do with Blood Fae assassins?”
Ferrula’s voice was lower, more thoughtful. “He asked me if I’d ever received a gift from someone I didn’t know. If I’d ever used magic not tied to Narvea. He even asked if I’d ever had… dreams. Ones I couldn’t explain.”
That got all of our attention.
“What kind of dreams?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Didn’t say. Just watched me real close when I said no.”
“They’re not just looking for traitors,” I murmured. “They’re looking for something else.”
“Something specific,” Cordelle said, already pacing a little. “He didn’t ask me a single thing about warder deaths. Not one question. He focused on me. My heritage. My influences.”
“They think it’s us,” Riven said. “Or someone like us. Someone young. Tied to dragons. Connected to magic they don’t understand.”
“A weapon?” Naia asked. “Or a threat?”
“Or both,” Tae said softly.
I leaned back, heart racing beneath my armor.
“They’re searching for something,” I said aloud. “Something they think is hiding among the riders.”
“And they’re hoping to find it before the Blood Fae do,” Jax added.
Which meant we weren’t just pawns in this anymore.
We were the pieces everyone was fighting over.
The door slammed open, crashing against the stone wall with a bang that made half the squad reach for weapons.
Remy stormed into the barracks like a wildfire, eyes locked on me, jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle ticking in his cheek.
“What were you doing?” he demanded, voice sharp enough to slice through steel.
I stood, slow and unhurried. “Excuse me?”
“Why was Solei here?” he snapped, taking another step in like he had every right to storm into my world.
“I called her,” I said calmly, though the tension in the room skyrocketed. The others had gone still, silent and watching.
“You what?” His voice rose, disbelief flashing in his eyes.
“She had information,” I said. “And I needed answers.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed, sharp and burning. “They have a death order on you, Ashlyn!”
“Had,” I corrected, lifting my chin. “Not anymore.”
He shook his head, pacing a few steps before whirling back to face me. “No. No, you don’t understand. Cyran never revokes an order. Not unless the target is dead or the contract is fulfilled.”
“Well,” I said, crossing my arms, “I’m standing here breathing, so clearly there’s a third option.”
His eyes darkened further. “What did she say to you?”
“Enough,” I said, keeping my voice even. “To know the Blood Fae are manipulating more than just us. Enough to know Warriath is a pawn in someone else’s war.”
He stared at me, as if trying to read the truth in my skin.
But he didn’t say I was wrong.
And that silence told me everything.
“He will kill you when he gets what he wants from you. This stay of execution is just that. He never revokes a contract.”
I took a slow step toward Remy, heart pounding with something deeper than anger. I met his gaze, firm and unflinching, even as his storm brewed hot behind his eyes.
“That’s not true,” I said quietly. “Cyran has revoked an order before.”
Remy snorted, lips curling. “You think you know how Cyran works? You were a shadow in the Order compared to—”
“No,” I cut in. “I know because I saw it. Remember the merchant from Prima? The one you were tracking the night I first met you?”
His posture shifted slightly, the faintest hint of recognition flickering behind his expression. I pressed forward.
“You had him cornered in the alley. I followed you and I wasn’t even sure what you were yet. But you didn’t kill him. You looked him in the eyes and said, ‘You’re not worth the blood on my blade.’ Then you walked away.”
“I remember,” he said, but there was no warmth in his voice.
“That wasn’t for show,” I continued. “You meant it. I felt it. That man was terrified, Remy, and you let him go.”
His jaw clenched. The silence dragged before he finally answered, voice low.
“I was ordered to let him go. Two days later I tracked him down and slit his throat.” He stepped closer, eyes sharp. “You think Cyran changed his mind? No. He had that man followed until he found what he was after.”
My throat tightened.
Remy’s voice dropped into something quieter, more dangerous. “You think Cyran has let go of you? That this is mercy?” He shook his head. “It’s a game. He’s waiting.”
“You think the Order will still kill me,” I said, not even a question.
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Because they never stop. Not unless they get what they want... or you’re already dead.”
The room was silent around us. My squad hadn’t moved, but I could feel the shift in the air. The weight of truth. The shape of a threat that never stopped breathing.
And the knowledge that I was still being hunted, only now, I might not see the blade coming.