Chapter 44
“Welcome to Neressa’s sanctuary,” the priestess says, bowing her head.
“Thank you,” Jace replies.
We follow her into the temple and take a seat at one of the various tables scattered throughout the main atrium. My boot scuffs on the cerulean blue tile as I fight the fidget that’s kept me in a chokehold all morning. I refuse to look at Jace.
Instead, I count the large floor-to-ceiling murals that line each of the interior walls. One is a decadently detailed map of the faction, another a simple landscape of the eastern sea. Their beauty is beyond words, and yet, somehow muted by the weight of our apprehension.
“We have a few questions that require the utmost of discretion, I’m afraid,” Jace says, stitching his fingers together. The priestess nods and smooths her robes.
“This conversation must stay between us,” Isra says. I glance between the three of them, and thank the gods, Jace’s attention doesn’t linger on me.
“A friend of Roe Mercora is a friend to me. You have my word,” she replies.
Jace bites his lip before speaking, as if he’s second guessing our decision to be forthright. “Are there any Sovereign refugees in your ministry?”
The priestess’s eyes light up before landing on me. “Not that I’m aware of, unfortunately. Why do you ask? Are you looking for Astora’s servants?”
“Yes.” Jace looks to me. “We’re looking for any living descendants of Nova’s family. She was separated from them during the war and we heard a whisper that there might be Sovereign survivors amongst your ranks.”
I feign a solemn expression and focus my attention on the priestess. Her brow furrows and she places a hand on mine. It takes everything to keep still. Playing a role to get information isn’t new, but this feels different—wrong. My chest tightens.
This nameless priestess reminds me so much of Thaye, of the life I left behind in Storm.
Her kindness is without end, her trust even more infinite.
We’re three strangers seated before her, asking a question that could result in execution, and yet she answers as if we’d merely asked about the weather.
“A few years before the war started there was talk of a Sovereign babe joining us, but if I’m remembering correctly, that never came to fruition.” She inspects her clean cut nails.
“Why not? Do you know what happened to the babe?” Jace asks.
“Something about faction politics. House Mercora refused to allow Astora’s servants over their borders without a trade. The servants refused their terms and kept the babe in Sovereign.”
Blood drains from my face. The Ceti descendant never crossed the border. We’ve come all this way for nothing.
“Do you happen to know what their terms were?”
The aging priestess scratches her chin, cautiously watching my every movement. “I do, actually. Mercora wanted an artifact the servants kept in their temple, a piece of jewelry I believe with an opal dragonstone.”
Jace straightens in his seat and the air evades the room. “Was it a circlet?”
“Yes! I couldn’t place it, but it was an ancient relic from House Ceti. How did you know that?”
Isra mutters a curse and braces his elbows on the table.
“Because up until yesterday that artifact was in House Ashborne’s possession.” Jace’s words are low and threaded with rage as he leans back in his seat. “Fuck…”
“So we came all this way for nothing then? There are no Sovereign survivors amongst you?” I ask.
The priestess offers a sad smile and shakes her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“No, that’s alright. You’ve given us your time and that’s more than enough,” Jace says, soothing his furrowed brow.
“Unfortunately, I do have to leave you now. Evening prayers start soon, and the dragons need to be fed beforehand. Otherwise they get a little…well, grumpy.” She chuckles.
“Understood.” Isra takes her palm in thanks.
“Please give Roe my best. She must have grown into such a wonderful woman.” If by wonderful she means violent and enraged, then yes. I catch the scoff before it escapes.
With our lead entirely blown, this mission feels hopeless again, useless. We’re back where we started with nothing but questions amongst us. So, when we leave the temple and set out down the chilled street. I let Jace and Isra trudge ahead.
I’ve always been meticulous in my mission planning, but this job breaks all of my habits.
We came to Sea on word-of-mouth alone. It was a shot in the dark, so why are my fists still clenched like I’ve lost everything?
There was no plan B or alternate lead to follow.
This was it, and now, any hope of finding the rider rolls down the sloping street like it’s been severed limb for limb.
Fuck, I should have stayed in Storm, stayed with Yaris. Maybe he’d still be alive if I had. I swallow those thoughts before they can flower.
A flash of silver crosses my periphery and my step falters.
I scan the shadows of the alley to my left, but only a dark stillness greets me.
Maybe a trick of the light, or simply a glint from the dagger sheathed on my thigh.
Regardless, we shouldn’t be out so openly with Ashar and his men scouring the faction.
“Let’s regroup in an hour and figure out our plans. Maybe we go back to Storm and comb through their archives again. I’m sure your friend Thaye would be thrilled to see you, Nova.” Jace pauses at the inn’s entrance.
I’d been so lost in my own head I hadn’t realized we’d arrived back already. The dim evening light coats the vacant street in shadow and just like that, our first day in Sea is over. Two left until we’re forced to cross the border, and return empty handed.
“Maybe…” I whisper, but my gut disagrees. There’s nothing else to find in either of the southern factions. This descendant may well be the continent’s best kept secret, and without any written records there’s almost no chance we’ll find them.
An hour later, I find Jace and Isra seated in a private backroom.
My brows raised when the barkeep led the way through empty tables, claiming my travel companions reserved the whole place for the rest of our stay.
I guess the King of Shadow truly does prefer his discretion, but with Samkiel breathing down our necks, I can’t help but agree with the decision.
One lucky innkeeper will be sleeping in a bed of gold after our stay, that’s for sure.
“You bought out the whole tavern?” I chide, taking the empty seat next to Isra.
“I couldn’t be too careful with Smoke’s soldiers searching the city. Besides, the cook’s assured me they serve the best seafood in the faction.” Jace shrugs, a wry, satisfied smile twitching on his lips.
My stomach grumbles when he passes a plate of smoked bass. The spiced steam nips my nose, stealing the argument with one swift swipe.
“What have you two been scheming without me?” I take a fork.
“We wouldn’t possibly think to scheme without you, starling.”
“Right. Your past actions say otherwise, King Ashborne.”
Without breaking our gaze, he brings a glass of wine to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. My fork digs into my palm.
“I want to know what your next move would be, little mercenary. Neither Jace nor I are experts in this field, so we thought your background might be of use.” Isra’s eyes leap between Jace and me.
He’d have to be blind not to notice the wall of tension between us, but I’m grateful for his lack of confrontation. There’s too much else to focus on and throwing myself into the mission is the only reprieve from the ache budding in my chest.
“You want my honest answer?” I take a bite of dinner. The fish practically melts in my mouth and I swallow the audible moan before I make a fool of myself. “I’d go home. Focus on the next job. There’s always another payout to be earned.”
Jace’s jaw ticks as he shares an unspoken look with Isra.
“Not the answer you were hoping for,” I state, now shoveling the meal down my throat.
“What if walking away was a non-option?” Jace asks. “You’re telling me when things got difficult you simply gave up?”
At Finnick’s, failed missions resulted in death, so it was essential to recognize when to abandon the job early. Cut your losses and focus forward.
But I’d thrown my senses to the wolves when I took on the assignment to Shadow.
Out of desperation alone, I crossed the border and slithered my way through.
It was a blind plunge into the unknown, but it led me here—to Yaris, to Thaye…
to Jace. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the echo of him standing shirtless in the doorway, in Morvayne’s Well, burying his fingers inside me.
“Time and resources aside, I’d go back to the source. Sovereign may be nothing but rubble now, but ash holds memory. Maybe something in the ruins will give us the answer,” I say finally, chewing a scab on my lower lip.
“Then that’s where we’ll go. I’ll have Tenebris meet us at the border and we’ll cross at dawn,” Jace says. My heart drops to my stomach.
“Hold on. That’s it? You’ll trust my decision without weighing our other options first?” I place my hands on the table, watching him carefully. Is this some sort of game? He’s willing to play my cards that easily? I don’t think so. Jace Ashborne is up to something.
“There are no other options. You tracked Fleetwing down and garnered information from Obdiris’s servants. Every choice of yours has furthered this mission. I trust you.” He leans back in his chair.
I pour myself a glass of wine and drain it. “Okay, that’s what we’ll do then.”
Isra reaches for the bottle and serves himself another round. Jace watches me with unbreakable contact. To get a glimpse under his skin, at the thoughts he keeps so heavily guarded…I would offer up all of my stipen.
My throat quakes. It’s not just stipen I’d bargain with, but my own damned life.
He is as dark as he is cosmic. As vast and mysterious as the deities who reign from the stars.
I want to crawl under that skin and see the monster lurking there.
My thighs shudder with the thrill of those fangs burrowed into my neck.
Astora be good, I really need to calm the fuck down.
“Well, now what?” Isra clears his throat. The tension simmers with his interruption.
“We wait until morning. The innkeeper provided full access to his wine cellar as a gift for our generosity, so might as well enjoy yourselves for a night.” Jace taps his index finger on the table.
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Isra chuckles and empties the wine into his glass.
“I’ll fetch us another bottle.” Jace rises from his seat and makes for the wine cellar down the hall, leaving Isra and I seated beside one another in silence.
“So…” He flashes me a toothy grin. “What’s going on with you two?”
My complexion drains and I sip my wine, refusing to acknowledge what he already sees. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a bad liar.” He laughs. “I could cut the tension between you two with my blade. Spill your dirty little secrets.”
“There’s nothing going on, Is.” Even if I wholeheartedly wish there was… “He’s made his position quite clear.”
“Or, and hear me out for a moment, he’s afraid to. Something changed after your midnight trip to Morvayne’s Well. He’s receded into himself. More longing stares out the windows and such.”
The candle flickers with a draft seeping in from the coastline. Sea glass chimes echo in the quiet, sleepy streets outside, like little reminders we’re foreign to this place—imposters.
“I assure you, there’s nothing between us.
Once we find the rider, I’ll get my payout, disappear, and everyone will be for the better,” I say, but the knot in my chest speaks beyond measure at just how hard leaving will truly be, even if I’ve earned my reward.
There’s nothing to run to. Not anymore, at least.
“Well, that’s a damn shame. He isn’t as broody when you’re around.” Isra settles back into his chair. “Plus, I’ll miss kicking your ass all the time.”
I shoot him a glare but slide my palm across the table until our fingertips brush. His warmth is that of an old friend, and right now I’m chilled to the bone. “I’ll miss you, too.”
This time, there’s far too much truth in those words.
A bottle thuds on the cabinette beside us.
“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” Jace says, his arms crossed over his chest, a second bottle clenched in his hand. “I’m less broody?”
Isra barks a rough, genuine laugh and shrugs. “I’m only making an observation.”
Jace’s eyes smolder when they land on me and my face heats.
I force another swash of wine down my throat, clinging to the shred of sanity I have left. “I assure you, everyone will be happier when I’ve left.”
“You’ll be better off on the opposite side of the continent, starling.”
My pulse skids to a halt and again, both Isra and I straighten. Plunge the knife even further, why don’t you King Ashborne…
“Jace…” Isra starts, but a snap of Jace’s gaze, sharper than a freshly polished blade, has him trailing off.
“You’d prefer that?” My fingertip taps against the wine glass, matching the thrum in my temples.
“It doesn’t matter what I’d prefer. The further the distance between us, the safer you are.”
My fist slams on the table before I can think twice, rattling the forgotten tableware. “I don’t need protection, Jace Ashborne.”
“And yet you demanded a protection bond. Now whose actions betray their words,” he says. Gods, the insufferable way he keeps his composure while baiting mine makes me want to stab something, preferably his stupid, perfect chest.
“That was assurance you wouldn’t turn around and slit my throat the moment we’re done. No loose ends, right?”
“You’ve spilled your wine,” he says.
I glance down to catch the trail of wine staining my lap. Rage, white hot and blazing, whips through me.
“Fuck you,” I bite, leaping from my seat. “I’ll be glad to put space between us when this is through, but make no mistake, King Ashborne, I can handle myself even against the likes of you.”
Jace simply uncorks the second bottle and places it on the table. The silence between us burns hotter than pyreflame as he takes his seat and refreshes his glass.
“That remains to be seen, starling.”
“Gods be good, can you two just fuck already so we can focus on finding the rider?” Isra pinches the bridge of his nose and slumps into his seat.
The room, once chilled and crisp, is too warm, too stifling. My lungs beg for fresh air, and an escape from the current of hatred—or unmet desire—pulsing between Jace and I. The feelings, both ravenous and tense, are one in the same when I meet Jace’s dark eyes.
“I’m going to get some air. Don’t wait up.”
Before either of the men can scold my decision, my chair scrapes against the floor and I bolt for the door.