But tired.
We’re all so tired—me and Briar and everyone else living in the ashes of Emberfall.
And after sifting through those dull ashes for so long, it’s hard not to be drawn in by shiny things.
If something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
The familiar adage pounds through my thoughts. Nevertheless, I hear myself quietly ask, “…And what would you give them?”
“Whatever you like.” He shrugs. “Better food. Shelter. Protection.” He throws the words out so casually, as if these things, these riches, mean nothing at all to him. Like he’smerely tossing out whatever entertaining wager comes to mind, betting on a card game rather than people’s lives.
It makes me hate him even more than I already did—a feat I didn’t think was possible.
“Your friend outside will remain safe, too. For whatever that’s worth to you.”
I inhale slowly, trying to bring steadiness to my pounding heart. “And if I say no?”
He doesn’t reply, but the dark look that crosses his face tells me that denying him would likely be the last thing I ever do.
This is not really achoice.
I’m not foolish enough to think otherwise.
So the only question that remains is whether or not I can truly squeeze something valuable out of my predicament.
Noise is building outside—the dragon hatchling still making a racket, along with what sounds like more and more soldiers crowding around the tent, blathering about what’s happened on this strange night.
King Reave darts a look toward the exit, then picks up his gloves and starts to pull them on. “Give me your answer, Ashwalker. I’m a busy man.”
But not too busy to race out here in the middle of the night and deal with me personally.
The whole situation seems stranger and stranger, now that I’ve had a moment to catch my breath, to truly examine what’s unfolding. Why is he here? Who were those people who attacked the camp? What is really happening between me and that dragon?
My curiosity drives my next question almost as much as my desperation. “If I go to your palace, what happens to me then?”
He arches a brow.
“I never accept any proposal without knowing all the terms upfront.” I’ve taken on the same cold tone I use when negotiating Ashwalker jobs. “Crucial to surviving in my line of work, you understand.”
He considers, pulling his second glove on and adjusting it with deliberation. “You will train. We will test you and make sure that the bond we suspect is, in fact, real, and then we’ll work to forge it into something deeper. Something that can be of use to the Mouren crown.”
My stomach twists at that last sentence, but I somehow keep the disgust from contorting my face.
“For every successful week of training, and every service you provide, I’ll see to it that you—or others of your choosing—are rewarded.”
The offer hangs between us like a gilded noose. The danger is obvious, but I can’t help imagining scenarios where I somehow avoid being hung by it, where I find a way to slip free and wrap it around his throat instead.
Something that can be of use to the Mouren crown…
A crown that has ruined my life and the lives of so many others.
What a fool this man is, to think I’ll forget what he and his family have done just because he’s dangling such pretty promises in front of me. And what a foolIwould be to not take this opportunity to steal from his crooked palace, to do everything I can to burn it all down from within.
My entire body tingles with dark possibility and fresh, savage purpose.
He has no idea who he’s just invited into his court.
“Well?” he prompts.
