Chapter 47
Sunlight coats the room in gilded shades of dawn when my eyes open. Gods be good, did I fall down a cliff? Every inch of muscle is heavier than mud like I’ve melted into the mattress under me.
The down comforter tucked over me is foreign, and nowhere near as rough as the woolen blanket in my room. Where am I? What day is it?
I half expect to be back in Shadow, given previous wakings from the brink of death, but the scent of this place is crisp and salted like the open coast. The sunlight is humid and vibrant, reflecting in scattered dust particles willowing through the air.
And outside the streaked window is a glorious oceanic horizon, imbued with gold.
“Starling, thank the gods.” Jace kneels beside me with tired eyes. Did he stay up all night? The grim shadows, etched in his brow, wrinkle when I tip my chin toward him. There’s an uneaten plate of breakfast on the bedside table—one unfamiliar and new.
My nose pricks on the scent lingering in the sheets. “I’m in your bed?”
“Here, drink this. It’s Morvayne’s Water.” He places a glass in my hand.
The contents coil my stomach, but I gulp it down. Other than a heavy exhaustion, there’s no pain. No sharp ache in my side or throbbing in my temple. I pull up my sleep shirt. Only two pink scars speckle my skin.
“Wh-what?” I touch the freshly healed wounds.
“I’m not sure if you have any memory of the night, but it seems the little sips of Morvayne’s Water I gave you while you slept worked fast. How are you feeling? Any pain?” Jace retrieves a water pouch from the floor beside him.
“I feel fine, well, exhausted, but fine. You looked after me all night?”
His lips thin. “I couldn’t just let you die…”
“No, it’s okay, th-thank you.” I flex my abs. The muscles respond as they should, albeit a little sluggish.
“I’m glad you’re okay, starling.”
“Where’s Saphine?” I ask, attempting to sit up. My body complies and I straighten against the headboard. “Also, why the fuck did you get the room with the goose feather bed while I’m stuck sleeping on a cot?”
Jace chuckles, a genuine smile spreading over that perfect face. “Saphine is downstairs with Isra. He’s explaining everything to her—the egg, the lurkers, Samkiel. Nova…I think we found our rider.”
My heart jolts. “So, I didn’t imagine that?”
“No, starling. You were in and out last night, but that part was real.” Jace’s fingers skid down my jaw, throwing my pulse to the wolves with each prickle of contact. “Regardless, we’ve agreed to take her to the egg. If it responds to her, we’ll know for sure.”
“That easily? What if she’s lying to us? This isn’t like you to simply trust the word of a stranger. Did you see her scar? She’s marked as a slave, just like I am.” I point to my brow. “What if she’s bound by a debt, just as I was? Or hired by Ashar to retrieve the egg?”
“She has a Ceti signet ring. Just as Yaris did. Those are next to impossible to obtain unless…” Jace trails off.
“Unless she’s a descendant,” I finish.
He takes a seat beside me on the bed.
I shake my head. This feels wrong. It’s too convenient. The guardian rider happens to be watching from the shadows right at the moment I’m ambushed? I’ve seen enough betrayal to suspect a staged fight, but Jace seems so sure.
“I don’t think we should trust her. She’s a mercenary for Astora’s sake.”
“So are you.” He tucks back a loose strand that’s fallen over my eyes.
“Try to rest. We can’t risk movement before dusk.
Until then, Isra and I will keep an eye on her.
If there’s even a slight discontinuity in her story, I won’t hesitate, but Nova, we don’t have time.
The egg is stoning more and more by the day.
It seems we’re past the point of caution.
Besides, the Blightfangs will rip her to shreds if she’s not who she says. ”
Fuck, I know he’s right, but the stranger downstairs won’t win my trust that easily. Maybe she saved my life, maybe she offered some version of the truth, but the pinch in my gut refuses to release.
“Did Isra track Samkiel down? I was hoping to have a chat with that fucker.”
Jace scoffs and shakes his head. “Unfortunately no, but his time with Morvayne will come. We’ll find him. According to Saphine, she didn’t reveal herself until after he disappeared, so at least we have the advantage now.”
“I still don’t like this, Jace,” I say, my voice low and weary.
“I know. I don’t either, but we’re out of options.” He watches me for a moment or two, the silence ripe with unmet resolution. “What else do you remember about last night?”
“Nothing, just that I was ambushed. Samkiel insisted I was the guardian rider, clearly he was mistaken, and then I misstepped. I lost focus and slipped right into a soldier’s waiting spear.
Then again into an unsheathed blade.” My knuckles whiten.
“Those assholes are ruthless, but sloppy. I should have been ready.”
“Saphine said Samkiel had ten soldiers with him. You held your ground.” His palm cups my cheek, eyes rallying between mine. “You survived. That’s good enough.”
I swallow the bile lodged at the back of my throat and lean into his touch. Even if we left things on terrible terms, even if he’d been an asshole, I can’t help it.
His warmth is one I crave, one I’m addicted to. I’ve fallen into his orbit, time and again, but I’m not fighting the gravity.
Not anymore.
“Thank you for ensuring I didn’t die,” I whisper, my throat gripping the words.
“It was my honor.”
We’re quiet for a while, lost in our own haunted darkness.
Jace’s room isn’t nearly as glamorous as the bedchambers back home, but it’s far more livable than my own.
Linen drapes rustle in from a half-cracked window, wisping through the sunlit air.
Save for Jace’s pack, the room is barren, empty. And yet it’s never felt so full.
A single chair sits by the door connecting our rooms. Its desk rests vacant against the opposite wall. My lip twitches. “Standing guard over me, King Ashborne?”
Jace's neck cranes over his shoulder, and without returning his eyes to mine he says, “Always.”
What was meant to be an innocent jest now grips my heart. I stare at my hands, picking a hangnail forming on my thumb.
“You don’t have to withhold around me, you know,” I murmur.
“Yes, I do. You don’t know what I’m capable of, what I’ve done to those that get too close,” he replies, his voice hushed.
“Then tell me. Why keep all of these secrets? You don’t think the blood on my hands is just as thick as yours? I’m a fucking mercenary, Jace, not some fragile little thing so easily broken.” The blanket knots in my fists.
“No. Some things are better left alone.” He bears his teeth. “I’ve told you before I won’t risk losing control. Not with you.”
“And I’ve told you before, I don’t need to be babied. Give me your worst. Let me see everything. I alone decide how much I can take.”
“You’re smarter than this, Nova. I’m the worst type of nightmare, why would you willingly put yourself in danger?” His voice wavers.
“Because I’m not running. Whatever is between us isn’t something I can ignore anymore, and neither can you.” My words are far more steady in their resolve than the frantic beat in my chest.
“Enough, starling,” he says, warning threaded in his tone.
I’m past the point of caring, though. If last night was proof enough, life is fleeting. Our continent is brutal and deadly, stealing what little time we’re granted. I’m done running from what I know with my whole damned being to be true.
Jace Ashborne is the warmth I crave and the darkness I deserve. His broken mirrors mine in every way. We are two nightmares, molded from loneliness, and fighting against these instincts is exhausting.
“This self-loathing act is as tiresome as it is pathetic, Jace Ashborne,” I hiss.
His eyes darken. The room stills. The outside world quiets. Even the faintest of creaks is damn near deafening as he washes his gaze over me.
“And your hypocritical one is exhausting,” he says.
“You’re being cruel.” Something splits through my breath, and tears pool behind my eyes. He’s right, but that doesn’t lessen the blow. How can I speak of self-loathing as if I don’t hate every piece of myself? All I’ve known is mistrust, betrayal, violence. But I’m tired of running.
I’ve fought so long to be here, in this moment of utter change, and I can’t walk away. Not from him.
Anguish flickers over Jace’s face, but only for a heartbeat. Then there’s nothing but cold, stony indifference. “It’s better for you to hate me, Nova.”
My jaw cramps. “You want to know the difference between you and I?”
“Don’t push me, Nova Lindwen,” he growls.
“Then stop fucking hiding, Jace Ashborne.”
He leans into my space, brushing his brow against mine. “I said, don’t push me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I breathe.
A frantic pulse booms in my ears, but the thrill of facing this sort of predator isn’t terrifying. No, it’s vicious and unruly, and I’m loving every fucking second of it.
This rage between us is a secret shared between lovers. A death sentence for two.
“You should be.” His midnight eyes simmer to a voidless black and when he glares up at me through thick, furious lashes an ache erupts in my chest. I need this man more than I need air.
Right now. For the rest of my feeble existence, I want to call him mine, because I know at my core that I will always be his.
“The difference between us, King Ashborne, is that I might hate the murderer I’ve become, but I’m still fighting.
Every fucking bruise and cut and broken bone is one step closer to the life I want, no, the life I deserve.
You sit there, holding everyone at arm’s reach, drowning in self-pity, and yet you’ve done nothing to change.
You want me to hate you? Well, get used to disappointment, because even with those fangs and claws I can’t.
You may be a monster, Jace Ashborne, but so am I. Don’t think for a sec—”
His fingers snap around my throat, cutting my air just enough to blur the edges of my vision.