Chapter 27
As Ellaryn stood at the edge of the city, her mind refused to settle. It kept circling back to last night with Xander.
His foolishness. His recklessness.
And, even still, despite her annoyance, a small thread of hope continued to swirl in her stomach whenever she thought about him.
He infuriated her. Infuriated was almost too mild a word for it.
There was something about Xander that burrowed beneath her skin and settled into her bones, something she couldn’t quite name.
And yet, she couldn’t deny the way her pulse quickened whenever he was near.
Or the curiosity his untouched face stirred in her.
Or the way he looked at her as though she wasn’t the devil incarnate.
That was rare in Cinders.
Rare to find someone you could walk away from and feel even slightly cleaner than when you arrived.
Everyone in this place had an ulterior motive—whether it was survival, self-preservation or greed—that was the thing about darkness; it didn’t discriminate.
It consumed everyone beneath it, smothering the city like a suffocating blanket.
And once it settled on you, it was almost impossible to keep it from rubbing off, as easily as the ash that permanently stained the skin.
But Xander was different.
He didn’t make her feel consumed by it.
If anything, he seemed to repel the darkness, twisting it into something brighter.
And perhaps that was why their argument had angered her so much, because she knew she could never be truly annoyed at him. Not someone so pure. So clean. But that didn’t stop her dread of seeing him again, or the pain that came with it.
Every time the thought crossed her mind, it was as though she could still feel his fingers pressed against her chest—the heat of his magic searing through her, the relentless images flooding her mind.
She knew what waited for her at the end of Xander’s fingertips, knew the hell she would have to endure if she went through with it again. When she went through it again.
But the need to uncover the King’s mark was more urgent than ever.
At first light, on her walk past the throne room, Ellaryn had overheard the King speaking with the Royal Court. She hadn’t caught much before the door closed, cutting off both sight and sound, but what she did had made her pulse spike.
They wanted to rush it. He wanted to.
Whatever the King had planned, they were moving faster than expected. Velaviere was in danger.
And they needed to do something about it.
Ellaryn shifted restlessly on her feet, the weight of the shadow wall looming behind her. It seemed to breathe against the back of her neck, cold and watchful, as though it knew exactly what she was waiting for, and what she intended to do later on tonight.
She had been assigned to import duty and, much to her dismay, paired with Lyon and several soldiers from his regiment.
The wall stood far from the city’s core, at least a hundred meters beyond where any citizen would dare to go. By the King’s orders, no one except knights—and her—was allowed near it.
“Five minutes,” Lyon called to the men under his command.
Ellaryn stood at his side, fingertips dancing on the handle of her sword. Fifty Knights stood in perfect rows before them, saluting sharply before their hands dropped to their weapons in unison, mirroring her own stance.
Beside them waited a hulking ironclad cart, its wheels groaning beneath its weight. A plume of smoke curled from the narrow spire rising from its roof. This was how the King traded—imports exchanged for the ever-burning coal that came from Cinders.
Morvan owned the mining quadrant, where its dwellers toiled for hours on end, extracting coal for Scornszar to char.
It was common knowledge that coal scorched by a dragon remained alight ten times longer than an ordinary flame.
Cities far beyond Cinders borders would travel for miles to obtain it, stockpiling the precious fuel to power their streets and homes through the harshest winters.
The wagon beside them had been reinforced with thick iron bricks and layered plates, every seam sealed against the heat.
They weren’t just transporting coal.
They were transporting literal fire.
“Are you free tonight, Ruin?” Lyon asked as he squared his shoulders beside her.
It took a moment for the question to register.
“Me?” Ellaryn pointed at herself, shaking her head as though she could physically dislodge the thoughts crowding her mind.
“No, the other Ruin,” Lyon mused.
She shot him a glare.
“No. I’ve got things to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like none of your business,” she shot back, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the shadow wall.
Lyon raised an eyebrow. “You do know the King’s going to be in meetings all afternoon?”
She did. That was precisely why she was going to meet Xander.
She sighed. “And that’s why I’ll be far away from you and your men.”
Lyon chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask yet.”
“For a drink, like always?” Ellaryn sighed. “You really are predictable.”
“Dinner?” he said, and Ellaryn furrowed her brows.
Lyon held her gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I was going to ask if you’d join me for dinner.”
Before she could answer, a horn blared from the watchtower.
Ellaryn’s head snapped towards the sound.
They blew their trumpets one after the other—a warning. The wall was about to falter, which meant defences had to be up.
The black shadows danced before her, parting just enough to let in air—clear, unpolluted air. A thin break in the wall had formed, just wide enough for horses and carts to bring in the month’s imports.
Every time the wall dipped, the air seemed to drain from her lungs. Beyond it stretched endless fields of green, trapped just outside the city. Death and decay crept in from the edges, gnawing at the grass, a stark reminder of how thoroughly the wall had poisoned what was left of Cinala.
Her impulsive mind told her to run. To be free. But she knew what would happen if she tried—the King would drag her back, chains wrapping around her soul, if Scornszar didn’t get there first. There was nothing for miles beyond Cinders anyway. Freedom was a dream she could not afford.
No one with a complete soul ever came this close.
A handful of knights had left the city over the years on missions and excursions, but the King knew they would always return. He held a piece of their essence in his hands; they could think about running, dream about freedom, but they would never be able to act on it.
And waiting beyond the shadow wall was the black-and-copper dragon, patient as a dog guarding a bone. It watched the arrivals with unsettling stillness, waiting for someone to make a move, to test the limits of the King’s control.
It was always hungry.
And on import days, it had learned exactly what kind of prey to look for.
Those who tried to escape never got far. The dragon had burned and broken many of them before, leaving nothing behind but charred flesh and skin, and a warning to anyone else who might be tempted to try.
Three horses and their carriages rolled into the outskirts of the city. Lyon barked orders, and the soldiers began unpacking boxes, checking each one for unwanted items or discrepancies.
“Any problems this time, Raphael?” Lyon called, leaning casually against the carriage.
Raphael shook his head. “No, sir. Smooth ride over, as usual.”
Ellaryn stepped forward, grip tightening on her belt. “And it’s all there?” she asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
The courier tipped his hat, nodding. “Aye, same as last month.”
Ellaryn arched a brow, letting a faint smile curl at the corner of her lips.
“Good. Because you do know what happens if it isn’t.
” Her tone left just enough mystery to make the man swallow hard.
It was her duty—her orders—to keep the couriers uneasy.
Fear was as important as the King’s coin.
“Scornszar here loves gingers.” Ellaryn mused, eyeing the fat man’s auburn locks.
Lyon smirked, watching the exchange. “We’d hate to have to get a new courier, Raphael. We were just getting used to you.”
The man’s gulp was audible. “I can assure you—it’s all there,” Raphael said, voice steadier than his trembling hands suggested. Ellaryn, however, noticed the sheen of sweat creeping down his brow.
Once the inspection was complete, Lyon allowed him to attach the wagon to his horses.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” The man grumbled before the carriages rolled away, horns blaring in farewell.
The knights blew their song one final time, and the wall fused itself back together, sealing the city in its cage once more.
Ellaryn watched the green beyond the wall vanish from sight.
“So, how about it?” Lyon called over his shoulder as he fell into step behind her. “Dinner with me? I’ll coerce Andreya into making your favourite.”
Ellaryn glanced back at him, walking away. “And how would you know what my favourite is?”
“I’m not the only one who’s predictable.” He winked.
She shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips.
“So?” he pressed, keeping up with her steps. “What do you say?”
Ellaryn stopped abruptly, turning on her heel and forcing him to halt a step behind her.
“Not tonight.”
Her eyes held his amber gaze for a heartbeat.
“Dinner feels like a line I don’t want to cross.”
“Lines in Cinders blur.” A smile spread across his face as he waved a hand around them. “From the ash.”
Ellaryn rolled her eyes.
“Not tonight,” she repeated, softer this time.
Then she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing behind her.