Page 62 of The Ashborn

She startled, knocking her sore shoulder into the wall encasing the stairs. Stars shot through Kienna’s vision. Pain radiated down her spine, and she had the sudden urge to pass out. Tristian put his hand out to her before she stumbled.

“Why are you following me?” he asked when Kienna found her balance again.

Kienna stepped out of his grasp. “Moira wants you to come back for dinner. Who is that?” She pointed to the man Ruva referred to as the Captain General.

“Dove Port Commander.”

“Why are you talking to him?” Kienna asked.

“Is it any of your business?”

Kienna scoffed. “Are we preparing for another battle?”

His face held a blank expression. “Go home. We aren’t preparing for anything. I am simply building alliances.”

He turned to walk back to the Captain General. Kienna could have listened and gone home, but after her run-in with Tislin’s shadows and seeing the weapons forged with dark magic, she knew war was not going to be easy for her to escape. She followed him. The Dove Port leader met her warmly, which earned her an upward eye flick from Tristian.

“Captain General Petyr Vellorin,” said the general, holding his hand out.

Kienna returned his hand with a smile. “Kienna…uh…just Kienna.”

She wasn’t sure what surname she was supposed to be using. Was she Kienna Ashfell? Maren’s surname in River Storm was Rowen. Should she have claimed the title in honor of them? Did Tristian expect her to claim Belok? She knew which one she preferred but feared the link to Vaerin would be too strong.

“Welcome to Dove Port, Just Kienna.” He studied her a moment longer, his hand resting on hers, then he continued with, “You’re the girl with the wolf?”

“She’s quite fond of you.”

Petyr’s brows shot up. “She talks?”

Kienna pointed to her temple.

“Kienna was leaving,” Tristian interrupted. “We have a lot to discuss before I depart.”

“Ah, yes. The alliance. High Commander, let me be straight with you. Dove Port has been considered an ally with the Elvish for years. We’re grateful for our seat on the council, but there are no resources we can send to the forest without a fair return. We⁠—”

Tristian waved his hand in the air to cut Petyr off. The Captain General stopped speaking and crossed his arms, clearly annoyed. Tristian glanced back at Kienna, begging her to leave now, but Kienna only folded her arm over her slinged one to indicate she was waiting to hear this as well.

“I have no interest in Dove Port resources.”

Kienna bounced her head back. “You don’t?”

“I’d like to speak about this more privately,” Tristain said, stepping in closer to the Captain General. “Away from prying ears.”

“Seeing as you don’t want her to hear this, and I am weary to trust the Elvish, I must insist that she comes,” Petyr said, pointing at Kienna.

“Fine. Underground.”

Petyr nodded and waved for them to follow. He led them through the back of the Great Hall, where another set of stairs descended to an underground bunker. The room stretched wide beneath the city, a massive chamber hollowed out for protection against attacks. The ceilings arched high above their heads, crisscrossed with support beams thick as tree trunks.

The Captain General pointed to a large opening in the room. “That leads to other tunnels. Our masons built a highly intricate, connected barricade system. Leaves us the opportunity for ample escape if anything ever went wrong down here.”

The air was damp and thick, the musty scent of wet stone and dust clinging to Kienna’s lungs. The walls, built from layers of rock and shale, sweated with condensation that trickled in slow rivulets toward the uneven floor. Kienna wondered what it felt like to be locked in one of these places, to feel so helpless while listening to the booms of war above.

“This will do,” Tristian said, turning toward Petyr. “I’m proposing an alliance directly with my army. Not with the Elvish. But with me.”

“What’s the difference?” Petyr laughed.

Tristian remained stoic. “I’m offering my sword to Dove Port. We will answer every call to aid. No strings.”