Page 132 of The Ashborn

Like he expects me to believe he didn’t search for that on purpose. Kienna leaned over to Connak and glanced into the pages anyway. Her name was written elegantly on the page alongside a definition of its origins.

Kienna: an old Elvish word for: EMBERS THAT DO NOT DIE. Some scholars would argue that the name once meant HOPE BURIED IN ASH.

“Give it a rest, Connak. I see what you’re doing.” It took everything in her not to throw the book on the ground. This was exactly why she didn’t want anyone to come with her. “Why does it matter to you if I’m the Ashborn? Or the queen? Or anything at all? Why do I have to be?”

“You don’t,” Connak said, his voice light with amusement. “But don’t you want all the facts before you decide that for yourself? I came here to ensure you didn’t miss the facts while being flooded with old emotions.”

“I’m going to bed.” Kienna stood and went into Moira’s room. Hers was never cleaned after the war. The door remained closed to hide the smell of the dead, and Kienna didn’t dare go in again. She’d help Moira burn everything when ready. She cast one last glance in Connak’s direction.

He held a sparkle in his eye and a half grin on his face.

Kienna scoffed at him and closed the door.

Chapter 53

—Danek—

The forest was quiet without Kienna’s presence, even with Broan talking next to him. His Viking brother invited him to sit amongst the rest of his newfound family. He’d boasted to them of Danek’s exceptional company, so when Danek zoned out and brooded instead, he earned a rightful elbow to the ribs.

“Where the fuck’s your mind, Brother? We haven’t seen each other in weeks.”

Danek lifted his chin off his hand. The rest of the Vikings stared at him with a mixture of emotions. The woman was the least friendly and least favorable, matching closest to Broan’s demeanor. The smallest Viking, however, reminded Danek of his past self. Danek wasn’t necessarily smaller or weaker than his other Guardians, but his heart lived on his sleeve, and he often trailed the others.

He didn’t think he’d go back to that kind of man after the island split him bare, gave him his memories, and told him he was meant for something. What that something was refused to be seen. Danek’s power increased regardless. He grew stronger. Faster. Smarter. He proved that in the desert and on the battlefields. He proved it every day in the Hollow Blades.

“Pretty boy?” Broan asked.

“Sorry,” Danek responded, shaking his thoughts away.

“Fuck.” Broan reached behind him, digging in a pack until he pulled out a large skin filled to the brim. He shoved it into Danek’s chest. “Drink.”

Danek stared at the skin. Slowly, he unlatched the cover. Strong barley released into the air, foam spilling over the rim. “I don’t⁠—”

“Brood like that, and you drink,” Ingrid snorted, crossing her arms. “Viking customs.”

Lief and Broan laughed. Danek took a careful swallow and immediately coughed, eyes watering. Whatever was in that flask was three times the ale he’d ever had. It was earthy and pungent. Danek resisted the urge to growl in disgust.

Broan grinned. “You’re still soft. Drink more.”

Danek grimaced, handing the skin back to the Vikings. “I think I need a walk.” He rose from his seat and left without saying goodbye. They were a brutish bunch anyway. Anything polite he had to say would probably have been mocked by Broan’s sister, Ingrid.

Broan’s heavy steps crunched behind him. “Mind explaining?”

“Do you want to spar?” Danek asked, stopping quickly as he turned to Broan. He certainly didn’t want to explain anything about what he was feeling. It wouldn’t have made a difference.

Broan tilted his head for a moment, studying Danek out of the corner of his eye. Then he smirked. “You are brooding a little too much. Makes sense to hit something. Which island?”

Danek thought about it. He had three islands that empowered him. Broan had one. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, but part of Danek wanted Broan to know who he’d become as well. Broan never made Danek feel inferior despite his grand presence. Walking next to the Viking, Danek realized he wasn’t as tall anymore. Danek’s head nearly reached Broan’s chin. “Galeweaver?”

“The fucking wind?” Broan scratched at his jaw.

“I can fly,” Danek said.

Broan raised a brow at the declaration. He caved instantly and let Danek lead them up to the island gusting with wind. As they walked, the trees swayed, pouring light along their path. It guided them past the sacred islands with prayer temples. Danek caught glimpses of the water sanctuary. He’d seen small spurts of water magic in Trinity once after a battle he had no part in, but there weren’t any water mages around.

When his eye caught the sacred house of fire, Danek had to clear his throat. “Did you know I used to like history?”

“What?” Broan asked, almost stopping.