Chapter 50 #2
I stepped out of the tub, wrapping one of the plush towels around my trembling body.
The fabric was soft against my skin, a luxury I’d almost forgotten existed.
I caught sight of my reflection again—cleaner now, but no less haunted.
The collar around my throat gleamed dully in the lantern light.
I dressed quickly, not wanting to give Ashterion any reason to send his guards after me.
The clean clothes were strange against my skin, almost uncomfortable after so long in filth.
They fit perfectly, which unsettled me more than it should have.
After combing my fingers through my damp hair, I squared my shoulders and approached the door.
For a brief, desperate moment, I considered searching for a weapon, anything I could use against Ashterion.
But I knew it was futile. Even if there wasn’t a collar dampening my power, I was no match for a High Lord in his own palace.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped back into the dining hall.
Ashterion hadn’t moved. He sat exactly as I’d left him, poised and patient.
“Better,” he said, smooth as polished stone. “Much better.”
I remained standing, refusing to sit, refusing to give him my compliance. “What exactly does Xyliria want with us? With Varyth?”
Ashterion’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Power. Territory. The usual prizes of conquest.”
“Bullshit,” I said flatly. “If that’s all she wanted, she’d have killed us already.”
Ashterion’s smile lingered, brittle and wrong. “Killing Varyth would not afford Xyliria the power she seeks,” he said smoothly, but there was an edge to it now.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“If Xyliria wants control over Varyth’s court—over his power—he needs to concede it to her.
” He stepped back toward the table, his fingers brushing its edge like he needed to ground himself.
“Taking his land? Simple. Just storm the gates. Install new rule. But the power of a High Lord?” He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“That’s not something you can steal. Not exactly. ”
My throat went tight. “So she can’t kill him.”
“She can. But she’d lose what she’s after.” Ashterion’s gaze flicked up to mine. “True High Lord power like Varyth’s or mine, it’s bound to more than blood. It’s woven into the land, into the court itself. And if the land doesn’t accept her, if it doesn’t recognise her—then it withers. Breaks.”
I thought of Varyth standing on the balcony, mist curling around his boots, his jaw set as stone. I thought of the steel in his spine, the weight he carried.
He would never concede.
“She’s wasting her time,” I said.
“Yes.” Ashterion’s smile turned sharp. “Which makes her dangerous.”
I hesitated. “And you?”
Ashterion said nothing, but his fingers brushed over his wedding band. And trembled.
“Why am I here?” I demanded again. “What do you want from me?”
“As I told you, I find humans fascinating.”
“Fascinating,” I echoed, the word bitter on my tongue.
“Indeed.” Ashterion dragged his thumb over his ring finger. “You in particular are intriguing. I’ve never encountered a human quite so… ferocious.”
My jaw clenched. “Is that why you kept me alive? For your entertainment?”
“Partly,” Ashterion admitted, his tone conversational. “Though I find myself more curious about what drew Varyth to you in the first place.”
“Maybe you should ask him yourself.”
“Varyth is a wild animal. He would never answer such a question.”
I bristled at his words, my anger rising like a tide.
“Don’t you dare speak about him like that,” I hissed, stepping forward despite myself. “You don’t know him.”
His eyes pierced through me, searching my expression. “I know exactly who Varyth is.” Ashterion’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Tell me, fireling, are you a passing interest for him, or has he truly decided to take a human as his consort?”
I stiffened, the question striking hard. I knew what he was doing, trying to unsettle me, searching for a weakness to exploit.
“My relationship with Varyth is none of your concern.”
“On the contrary. Everything about you concerns me now.” He rose from his chair in one fluid motion, his movements graceful as he circled around the table toward me.
I held my ground, ignoring instinct screaming at me to put distance between us.
“You see,” he said, “Varyth has always been… selective about who he lets close. Didn’t you wonder why he’s so invested in a former human?”
I kept my expression neutral, though anger simmered beneath my skin. “Perhaps he recognises worth beyond what species someone happens to be.”
A cool laugh escaped him. “How very diplomatic of you.” He stopped a few feet away, close enough that I could see the subtle patterns woven into his dark clothing, the way the firelight caught his harsh features. “But we both know it’s more than that, don’t we?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” He took another step forward. “Do tell fireling, how much do you actually know about that fire burning inside you?”
“I know it belongs to your court.” My heart thudded in my chest like it wanted out. “And I know it probably pisses you off that a lowly human’s wielding power that was never meant to be mine.”
“Oh, it certainly does bother me,” he said, “though not for the reason you clearly think.”
“I don’t care why it bothers you.”
“You should.” He stepped close enough that the heat of him rolled across my skin. “That fire—it’s darker than you realise.”
“I don’t care,” I hissed again, but the truth was a knot in my stomach, twisting tight. What the hell did he mean?
Ashterion’s smile widened. “Black fire isn’t natural,” he said, his tone intimate in its menace. “It’s not a gift like wind or flame or ice. It’s a corruption. So, I must wonder…” He tilted his head. “Did you come upon it naturally… or did Varyth create you?”
I blinked.
What?
“No one created me,” I said. “It happened when I crossed the Veil.”
His expression flickered with unease. But he smoothed it away instantly, that armoured composure sliding back into place.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I was too busy trying to push down the sick churn in my gut.
Ashterion folded his hands behind his back, pacing leisurely now. “You know,” he said casually. “Black flame wielders haven’t existed in millennia. They were once the most powerful warriors in Nyxaria—feared, unmatched. Touched by power darker than even we could understand.”
His eyes slid back to mine. “That power isn’t born. It’s taken. Pulled from the shadows and forced into the vessel. And it comes at a cost.” He smiled, cruel and slow. “Eventually, the corruption drove them mad. And when they fell, they didn’t fall quietly. They had to be hunted. Eliminated.”
I stood frozen, my thoughts spiralling.
Eliminated.
“You’re saying,” I managed, throat dry, “I’m going to go mad?”
“I’m saying you don’t even know what you are.”
“You’re lying,” I breathed, though the words felt hollow even as they left my lips.
“Am I?” Ashterion’s voice was almost gentle. “Think, fireling. Have you felt it yet? The whispers in the dark? The hunger that gnaws at you when the fire burns brightest?”
I had. Gods help me, I had. In the moments when the black flames consumed everything around me, when they licked across my skin like living things—there was something else there. Something that felt ancient and hungry and not entirely mine.
“What does Varyth truly want from you?” Ashterion cut through my words like a blade. “What are you to him, really?”
I bristled. “That’s none of your concern.”
Ashterion hummed, considering my words. Then, in a movement so smooth I barely registered it, he leaned back against the edge of the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s claimed you.
I can see it in the way you speak of him, the way you defend him.
The way you wear his scent as armour.” His gaze dragged over me.
“And Varyth’s choices tend to have… undesirable outcomes.
I’d hate to have to kill him if he finds himself creating a mess of you. ”
The threat was unmistakable, delivered with such casual cruelty that it stole my breath. The blood drained from my face, but I shoved down my fear. Instead, I let anger rise, hot and fierce, burning away everything else.
“The only ones creating a mess,” I said, “are you and your wife.”
Ashterion’s expression shifted, the change so subtle I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching him closely. A tightening around his eyes, a slight tension in his jaw—I’d struck a nerve without meaning to.
“You know nothing of my wife.”
“Oh, I know plenty.” A laugh bubbled up, humourless. “I know you’re her bitch.”
Ashterion went preternaturally still. His fingers dug into his biceps hard enough that his knuckles went white.
But I didn’t stop. “I know she has you on a leash. When she tugs, you obey.” I let my smile sharpen, my tone mocking. “While she tortures the rest of us, you stand there. Her perfect little pet.”
Ashterion’s expression turned lethal. Violence rippled beneath the surface, coiled tight, ready to strike. For the first time since the conversation began, I wondered if I’d pushed too far.
But, Ashterion merely hummed, low and thoughtful.
“We’re done for today,” he said, pushing off the table.
Relief should have settled in my chest, but it didn’t.
Because then he smiled. A slow curve of his lips. “Though,” he mused, “I do find your company… unusual.”
Unusual. Like I was some fascinating anomaly.
My throat tightened. “You—” I started, but my voice caught, unable to find words for the horror curling inside me.
His smile remained. “So, I think I shall have you brought back. Soon.”
Something inside me clawed upward, frantic and voiceless. My body tensed, like it couldn’t decide whether to fight or flee—or collapse. I had expected pain. Expected cruelty. This was so much worse.
Ashterion waved a lazy a hand. The doors opened, and two guards stepped forward, their presence a sudden, suffocating force. Hands seized my arms, yanking me away from the table. I twisted, my breath coming hard and fast, my heartbeat a wild thing in my chest.
Ashterion watched my struggle, his expression amused. “Until next time.”
I thrashed harder, panic curling around my ribs.
No. No, no, no.
I had survived so much—but something about this, about him, sent terror lancing through me in a way I didn’t understand.
The moment the guards deposited me back in our dungeon Varyth surged toward me. But he froze as he took in the sight of me. Clean. Freshly clothed.
“Where did they—” Varyth trailed off, scanning me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “What happened?”
I couldn’t speak. Instead, I moved past him, sinking down against the stone wall, drawing my knees to my chest. The others watched me silently, their expressions a mixture of concern and wariness.
“Ashterion,” I said finally, the name bitter on my tongue. “He had me brought to him. Alone.”
The cell went utterly silent. The shift in the air was palpable, as each of them processed my words. Brynelle and Darian both trembled visibly.
“Did he hurt you?” Varyth’s voice was dangerous, calm in a way that didn’t conceal the fury beneath.
I swallowed, the weight of Ashterion’s attention clinging to me. “He wanted to talk.”
“Talk?” Fenric echoed from the corner, disbelief evident in his tone.
Varyth’s jaw clenched as he took another step toward me. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” I said, the word sounding hollow even to my own ears. “He watched me. Asked questions. He didn’t like that I was dirty, so he made me bathe.”
Varyth’s hands reached for me, hesitating just shy of contact before he finally knelt beside me, close enough that his warmth brushed over me, but not to touch.
“What kind of questions?”
I stared at the wall opposite us as I spoke. “He asked about my choices. About my alignment with Luceren.”
Linc cursed under his breath, while Shaelith’s face hardened, turning cold and calculating. Brynelle moved closer to me, her movements cautious, as if approaching a wounded animal.
“Did he say why?”
I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “He said I was intriguing. That he was curious about humans.” The words were ash in my mouth. “He said he wanted to bring me back. That he found my company unusual.”
Varyth went completely still beside me, his breathing so controlled that for a moment I thought he’d stopped completely.
I didn’t dare tell them what Ashterion had said about my fire.
When I finally looked at Varyth, his face had gone pale, his eyes burning with a quiet, lethal wrath. “He won’t touch you again.”
I gave him a hollow smile. “I don’t think we have much say in the matter.”
Varyth moved before I could process it, before I could pull away—if I even wanted to. His arms wrapped around me, solid and warm, pulling me into his chest with a careful, unyielding strength. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
My fingers clenched in the fabric of his tunic.
I let myself sink into him. I couldn’t stop myself.
Not when the memory of Ashterion slithered under my skin.
A shudder ran through me, and Varyth’s arms tightened.
His breath was steady against the top of my head, his heartbeat a strong, rhythmic presence beneath my cheek.
“I hate him.” The words were raw, unravelling at the edges. “I hate the way he looks at me. Like I’m—like he owns me.”
Varyth’s hold became almost crushing. “He does not own you.”
I clenched my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. I wanted to believe that. I needed to believe that. But the weight of Ashterion’s words burrowed in my bones, in the promise that he would bring me back.
That he wanted to.
I curled closer into Varyth, trying to banish the memory of Ashterion’s gaze.
But it wasn’t enough.
Because Ashterion wasn’t just playing with my pain. He was studying me. And I had no idea what he would do once he figured out what he wanted.