Page 66 of The Ashborn

“Should be back with Ash soon,” Kienna said, picking at the edge of her nail, and then disappeared mentally. Moira never noticed it before Dove Port, but when Kienna went into her head, whether it be to talk to Ruva or Connak, she’d stare idly into space, as if looking at something.

Moira hoped she never did that in the middle of a fight. They’d kill her instantly unless she learned how to task through it. She set the chicken out on plates for everyone, still watching Kienna when Tislin grazed his hand over her shoulder and sat. She jumped, then glowed. Shadows or no shadows, Moira was elated to see Tislin.

“Sit, Sunbeam,” he said, begging her with his stormy eyes. Her heart tugged for him, so she sat. “Thank you for this. It is not often that we all have a fine dinner such as this.”

“Yes,” Tristian cleared his throat, tugging at the book in his arm. “It’s a nice sentiment away from our duty.”

Tislin’s eyes hardened. “We are not always bound by duty.”

Tristian opened his book and leaned back in the chair. His speckled green and blue eyes focused on the words inside. “Some of us aren’t.”

“Why are you not back behind the wards? Do you not know the shadows are free?” Tislin’s jaw set. Even in the worst of scenarios, the tension between them remained high. She wished Tislin would talk to her about it, tell her why he and his brother couldn’t stand each other. She held his hand instead.

Danek attempted to cut his chicken and dropped his utensils. His hands covered the bridge of his nose.

“I can cut it for you,” Moira offered.

“Please don’t.” Danek waved her away and tried again.

The table fell silent, only the sounds of clinking metal on glass echoing. Moira met Kienna’s gaze and found she was smiling at her. It warmed Moira’s heart to have one friendly face in the room when she tried so hard to diffuse the awkwardness. She had to admit that even she felt tense. Tislin and Tristian could barely converse without snapping. Danek’s usual light demeanor was darkened by his hands. Connak hadn’t even returned yet.

The sunrays were sinking low in the sky.

“This poem has your name in it,” Tristian said to Kienna. A pleasant interruption to the silence.

“Which one?” Kienna asked, hopping up and peering over Tristian’s shoulder. She squinted as she leaned in further, her hand grazing Tristian’s arm. Before Moira could protest, her baby moved. She couldn’t do this here. In front of all of them. She tightened her hand on Tislin’s and attempted to move, but her body remained locked, and her vision swirled.

Her breath caught as the room blurred. Tristian’s face melted into smoke, and Kienna’s cup shattered without a sound. Moira tried to turn again, but the walls vanished. The table gone. Her feet were buried in endless snow beneath a violet sky choked in clouds. Her child appeared next to her, taking her hand. Moira’s heart warmed.

A scream echoed from ahead. A pale woman with bright, orange hair tangled down her back.

Baila.

She was dragging a body through the snow. Blood painted her arms to the elbow. She fell to her knees and howled, but her voice split in two. It was her own filled with a low, growling tone that didn’t belong to her.

“Why are we seeing Baila?” Moira asked, stepping forward.

“She is broken, Mama.”

In front of them was a chasm yawning open beneath the snow. At the bottom, a ribcage the size of a house twitched. A voice whispered, “Come, my child.”

Above it, the king stood cloaked in pure black. Baila knelt beside him, eyes blank and mouth stitched shut with silver thread. She didn’t fight. Moira tried reaching for her, but flames burst behind her. They were in the burning forest of Trinity now. In the flames stood Kienna, untouched by the fire. Behind her stood a shadowed man. A Shade? He certainly looked like the descriptions of what Tislin had told her. He didn’t face Moira, but she knew his stance. She’d seen that same stance commanding armies. He was crowned in fire and smoke.

The crown cracked and then the ground.

The stitching from Baila’s mouth ripped open as she screamed, “You’ll never trust me in time! The world will burn by her hand.”

Moira gasped and pushed back. Her plate rattled as her hands slammed into the table as Kienna tsked, “I can’t even read that language. How do you know?”

“Are you okay?” Tislin asked Moira.

Her eyes fell on Tristian, growing wider. She never actually saw anything that happened, only random prophecies that she could never confirm. Her heart raced. She didn’t think she’d be sharing this one with Tislin. It hit too close to home. She only smiled. “I think I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Do you want to lie down?” Kienna asked.

Tislin’s eyes remained fixed on her, brow furrowed.

“Yes, I think so,” Moira said. She stood and turned toward her room, then she stopped. Her heart drummed against her chest, thinking about going back into her room after the shadows. She’d been able to bring Tislin back, but not before the damage had been done. And there was the matter of the blood. She’d need a new mattress. Her shoulders slumped.