Chapter 9 #2
My stomach grumbles, but as much as I ache to dive into the multitude of courses and dishes set before me, I don’t.
Isra pours himself a glass of the plum-colored wine presented in a golden decanter beside him and drains his glass.
My mouth waters, my stomach begs for sustenance, but I keep myself straight backed in my seat.
“It’s not poisoned,” Roe says, stabbing a chicken thigh with her fork.
I scoff and lock my hands in my lap.
She carves a slice of the meat and places it in her mouth. “Suit yourself.”
Jace’s eyes never leave mine as his two companions dine. His hands slip behind his head as he leans into his chair.
“She’s right. I have more honor than poisoning my guests. If I wanted you dead, well, you’d be in the ground by now,” he says.
“A guest?” I reply, feeling the rage bubble in my chest. “I’m not your fucking guest. Do you lock up all of your visitors?”
“You’re free to go…if you can figure out how to break the ward.” His lip curls into that smug half smile and my stomach drops.
Infuriating but so exhilarating. Gods, what the fuck is wrong with me?
“What do you want?” I ask, swallowing my traitorous thoughts. “I can’t imagine it’s stipen you’re after, and if you already have complex wards in place, you don’t need dragonstones. So why hold me here?”
“The question game again?” He leans over the table. His tunic strands fall open, and again I catch my gaze wandering to his chest. Someone needs to teach the man how to properly dress himself, clearly. “I’ll play along.”
What should be a terrifying remark feels like a thrilling challenge, and I’m wholeheartedly prepared to meet him match for match.
“Is that your question? Then, yes. I want answers. If that’s how I get them, I’ll be the one that plays along,” I snap.
Jace leans in closer, his nose barely brushing mine. Fuck, this guy clearly has a personal space issue. Without breaking the tether between us, he reaches a hand to the decanter and fills my glass.
“New rules. For every question I answer, you have to take a bite of your dinner. Can’t have you starving to death before I’m done with you.”
“Fine.” I take in the place setting before me. There’s only a plate and napkin—no utensils. They don’t trust I wouldn’t stab anyone, I guess. “Can I at least have a fork or would you prefer I use my hands?”
“Starling, you can do whatever you want with those violent little fingers of yours,” Jace muses, draping his arms behind his head beside me.
Isra snorts so hard, I swear the man might choke on his chicken. Fuck, they’re enjoying this volley between us—toying with me like I’m some pet. Assholes.
Roe slides a new set of utensils across the table to me, her eyebrows lowered in a don’t fuck with us sort of way. I take the fork and plunge it into the closest entree—a honey glazed filet. Just by the slide of the fork tines, I know it’s cooked to perfection. My stomach grumbles.
Jace watches me with an intensity only fit for a hawk tracking its prey as I slice the filet and bring a bite to my mouth.
“Good. Now, ask your question,” he says, his voice a mere rumble in his throat.
The decadence of the meat is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Whether it’s because I’m half-starved or I grew up with day-old scraps from the tavern next to the apothecary, doesn’t matter, because I take a bite then another until the ache in my stomach is manageable.
“Why are you holding me here?” I ask.
“I think you already know the answer to that question, you just prefer not to admit it.”
I sip the glass of wine Jace has poured for me. Fuck, it’s delicious. I’ve never tasted anything with such a complex pallet—sweet, but earthy, rich, but smooth. The ale back in Smoke is glorified piss, and I don’t doubt Val might actually serve me wastewater back at her tavern.
“If you aren’t the guardian rider, how are you bonded to a Blightfang?”
“Because Tenebris deemed me worthy of the bond,” he states, taking a bite of a strawberry. His lips wrap around the fruit with villainous delicacy.
My throat dries. “Will you let me go?”
“Yes, but you’ll want to stay.” He places a roll on my plate, and I take a bite.
“I sincerely doubt it.” My stomach clenches around the shadows swirling in his dark expression.
“The three of us are the only ones who truly know who you are, Nova.”
“You know nothing about me. I’ve told you my truth,” I say, placing the fork down.
I’m dancing over coals here. He’s seen the violet in my eyes and the scar bisecting my brow.
He’s seen the silvery strands of hair unaffected by the dye.
But I’ve been taught to keep my past close, and this is beyond dangerous.
Roe’s gone quiet, freckled with a deadly potency.
“You’re just going to trust her with this, Jace? Have you gone dull?” she snaps. Isra stays silent, watching the tension build like blocks before him.
“And do you not trust me?” Jace’s voice lowers to that lethal tone I’ve heard too many times already. I’m relieved it’s not directed toward me, though. Roe sighs and shakes her head, neither of their eyes leave me.
“Of course I do,” she replies. “But who’s to say she won’t run right back to Magnius Ashar with this information. Shadow’s not ready for another invasion, Jace.”
Jace sighs and leans back in his seat. The golden gleaming ring on his pinky finger sparkles with the flicker of sconce light.
“She won’t report back to Ashar,” Isra chimes in. His blazing emerald gaze tells me what he meant was she won’t get the opportunity to. I shudder, watching his hands grip the dinner knife like it’s made for a doll.
“Why were you really at Cael’s, Nova?” Jace asks, his attention now back wholly on me.
I fight the urge to shift in my seat. “I told you. I was just retrieving dragonstones. We—my employer—was hired to track down a set of dragonstones confiscated by Smoke’s rare imports unit. That’s all.”
“You weren’t after the egg?” Isra asks, raising a full brow.
“Fuck no. I wouldn’t involve myself in Ashar’s motives. I’m telling you the truth. Please, just let me go. I know how to disappear…it’s my specialty, in fact. I swear on Astora I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” I plead, desperate, and out of options.
“I can’t do that,” Jace says.
“So you’ll interrogate me until I break and then what? Execute me?”
“Yes,” he replies, and I know it’s nowhere near a bluff. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Where are you from?”
“I’m from Smoke.” The words come out more forced than I intend, but the truth sinks its claws in and refuses to let go.
It’s been twenty-two years since I’ve released my history into the world, and the last time left me with scars painted over my back. Even if Jace Ashborne is in possession of a smuggled dragon’s egg. Even if he’s trusted me—and I’m not entirely sure why—I can’t go there again.
Sitting in the slave district’s central cell, hearing my mother’s pleas for medical attention left ignored, holding her in adolescent arms as she took her last breath…I can’t relive it, can’t accept it.
“Why don’t we cut the bullshit here. Ask me the question you’re denying yourself the answer to. Ask me the one thing that changes everything…the one that turns you from my prisoner to my comrade.” The crease in his brow and stiff posture turns my insides to ice.
For the first time since I’ve been here, or maybe in our entire continent’s history, I realize the King of Shadow is nervous. I draw in a breath, gathering myself with the one question gone unanswered.
“What breed of dragon egg was Cael Fleetwing trying to smuggle?”
Jace’s lips thin, but he doesn’t break our gaze.
“Jace…” Roe warns.
Isra’s fork clanks on his empty plate. The room settles and I swear its foundation crackles.
“It’s an Astralwing egg,” he says finally.