Chapter 39 The Crown of Ashes
THE CROWN OF ASHES
They broke camp before the first birds found their courage. Jakobav moved with quiet efficiency, every gesture controlled and unmistakably his.
Ella crouched to tighten the laces on her boots, fingers working through the knots.
When she glanced up, Jakobav was already standing over her—hand extended to her, palm up, as though he’d done this a hundred times before.
She pretended not to notice the subtle lift at his mouth when she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.
Her wrist still ached from the Fae holding her in place on the rainy terrace, his strength bruising, furious at the scent of Jakobav on her. She remembered his mocking disdain, the way his anger had branded her.
Now, in the pale light, that red welt had faded, but something else had taken shape. A faint silver crescent lived on the inside of her pulse point, like a sigil etched into permanence. A souvenir from her Threadwalking. A Thread-burn.
Ella’s stomach dropped.
She lifted her wrist closer, rubbing her thumb over the mark as if pressure alone could erase it, but the silver sheen stayed.
The crescent appearing on the wrist opposite her black rose felt more fated than coincidental.
Had the Fae man seen the rose mark on her?
No. Surely not. If he’d been that enraged by the scent of Jakobav on her, he would’ve unleashed something terrifying at the sight of a permanent brand tying her to him.
She was grateful he hadn’t seen the rose at her wrist.
How fucking absurd.
She owed him nothing. She didn’t even know his name.
Her gaze returned to the crescent, and she longed for the moment before she’d known it was real, but there was no more pretending.
She had Threadwalked in her sleep, and her skin carried back the proof.
Instinct told her to hide it, so she tugged her sleeve down over the mark before Jakobav could see.
He had swung into the saddle first and drew her up after him, settling her against him as if that position was their natural state. He adjusted the reins, his voice low, edged with suggestion. “Sleep well?”
She gave him a sidelong look, her cheek brushing the line of his jaw. “You’re a distraction, even in your sleep.”
She wasn’t ready for Jakobav to know yet. She wasn’t even sure what to make of it herself. And he hadn’t exactly been thrilled by her reaction to the Fae’s portrait in the Dravaryn library. He’d already been furious that she recognized the man from her dream.
What would he think of her Threadwalking straight to him in her sleep? And worse—right after the night she and Jakobav had shared?
Her cheeks flushed at the thought. No, that would not be good at all. She forced the haunted look from her eyes before he could catch it.
His gaze flicked to her mouth before turning back to the road ahead. “We should get moving.”
With the heat of him at her back and his arm firm around her waist, it was impossible not to feel his attention. Or maybe it was the guilt tugging at her. She went back and forth for hours about how and when to tell him about the man with the emerald eyes.
They continued south, and by midday, the wind grew heavy and warm, laced with fruit and rain. The trail spilled them onto a high ridge, and Orchid unfurled below as though a story had been poured across the land and left to bloom.
Dravaryn had its own feral beauty, all iron cliffs and shadowed pines. Orchid answered with excess.
Hills swelled in greens of every shade: deep moss, bright fern, and pale mint layered until the eye almost drowned.
Rivers braided through the land like veins of light, slow and golden in the shallows, dark where the jungle pressed close.
Towering trees spread, bases so wide they rose like walls of living wood, their roots climbing high above the ground before plunging back into the soil.
From their branches, vines stitched the canopy into a single, breathing roof.
Orchids blanketed spots of the earth as though the kingdom had named itself into being.
Some glowed like spilled ink, others burned scarlet from volcanic soil, their petals speckled like embers cooling in the dark.
Ella had studied sketches of her kingdom’s flora in school, but the drawings had been polite.
Seeing it now at its peak was longing rendered into light, and Jakobav looked equally mesmerized.
A bird like a living jewel flashed by and vanished. Butterflies with glassy wings drifted overhead, their shadows flickering like ghosts. On a sun-warmed stone, a copper lizard blinked at them with the arrogance of royalty.
Jakobav’s arm tightened firmly around her as the horse descended down a small ridge. The humidity curled his hair, and beads of moisture gleamed across the ink that coiled down his arms. On most men, sweat looked unkempt, but on Jake, gods, it looked like even the weather obeyed him.
“Did you get to venture out this far from the capital very often when you were growing up?” he asked at last.
She exhaled, her gaze sweeping across the endless green.
“I did, but it never fails to take my breath away. The castle walls kept me safe, but they never kept me in. My friends and I were always sneaking out to explore. My best friend, Nira, especially loved these forests. Probably because she has never met an animal she doesn’t adore.
And her hair never frizzes in this humidity, unlike mine.
” A small smile touched her lips, then faltered as her throat tightened. “I hope you get to meet her.”
“I would like that.”
His words caught in her chest. The truth was, Ella had no idea if Nira was safe. She hadn’t been home in years, not since the breaches had begun multiplying, not since the Veil had started to split. A deep sadness threatened to consume her.
“I don't really know how my people have endured the Threadshifting. Or if Nira is alive.”
Jakobav’s reply was quiet and certain. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll have survived.”
Her chest lifted, eased by the comfort of his words as they descended into the green, the path narrowing until it dissolved altogether.
What passed for a road here was little more than a memory and a slight dip in vegetation.
Ferns brushed their knees, and a creature with bright eyes watched from the hollow of a strangler fig while flowers threw their perfume in fistfuls, the sweetness clinging to her skin until it was dizzying.
No wonder Jakobav had known her instantly.
Flowers and smoke ran thick in her blood, her kingdom itself betraying her.
They crossed a creek by a tumble of slick stones, the horse stepping careful and sure-footed, and on the far bank, a thin snake hung from a branch like a strand of new silk, leaf-green with a white belly and a little arrow of a head.
It tasted the air as it slithered toward Ella, her pulse spiking as the serpent nosed closer, its tongue flickering at her ear before it vanished back into the leaves without a sound.
“So that’s normal,” Jakobav said dryly.
“If you were raised on tales of Orchid spirits, yes.” She glanced to the spot the serpent had disappeared. “The stories say the river-witches send their scouts ahead of the travelers they favor. The snakes send messages and listen for lies.”
“Should I be nervous?”
“Oh, definitely.”
He gave her a look that hovered between amusement and concern, an expression she liked on him.
Animals presented themselves as if by appointment. A cloud of tiny bats slept like a cluster of fruit, wrapped in their own wings beneath a palm frond, while high above a pair of long-tailed parrots argued with righteous outrage.
“I didn’t realize the beasts of Orchid would be so loud,” Jakobav said.
“Careful,” she replied. “They prefer to be called citizens.”
He made a sound that might have been a laugh.
The heat deepened, and the light took on a yellow-green cast as it passed through the leaves. The humidity felt dense, even in the shade, and Ella loosened her cloak and let the air reach her skin.
The path curved, and Ella slowed. That tug she’d felt since crossing back into Orchid sharpened now, low and insistent, pulling at her ribs like a thread wound too tight. The horse balked once, then settled again, as though it felt it too.
Jakobav noticed. “Why are we stopping?”
She squinted through the dense green. A break in the trees revealed faint smoke curling above the canopy. “Because something is telling me to.”
His jaw flexed. “That is not reassuring.”
Ella smiled faintly. “Relax. Worst case, you get to keep playing protector.”
He gave her a long look but nudged the horse forward anyway.
When the smoke thickened and the trees began to open, they dismounted and tied the reins to a low branch, leaving the animal to graze while they went on foot.
“Ella,” he said quietly, scanning the trees. “I don’t think there’s anything out here. You sure that instinct of yours isn’t saying turn around and head straight to the castle?” He laughed, as if his joke was funny. It wasn’t.
She huffed out a breath and ignored him, pushing farther down the narrow trail.
Finally, they came across a cottage where the jungle thinned and the soil changed from brown to black.
The trunk of a massive tree split and wove around a one-room house, its roots forming ribs and its branches holding up a roof thick with living thatch and bright flowers.
Chimes sang in the breeze, feathers and teeth hung from a line like a string of weathered prayers, and the front steps were laid in mosaic, little chips of glazed tile in blues and greens and a streak of gold.
The air smelled faintly of crushed herbs and rain-soaked earth.
The door stood open.