Page 85 of The Ashborn

“Why didn’t Rhior come with you?”

The room shifted, a cold draft fluttering through the terrace. “He was too scared of what was out here. He told me to go and then cowered. For all I know, the king could have gotten him and killed him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew about us. Still, I wish I knew, if only to ease my mind.”

“Knew if he were dead?”

“Shit, Kienna, no. If he were alive. He’s still my husband, Tislin or not.” Moira squeezed Kienna’s hand. It was endearing how much she wanted to help. It gave her a purpose. “It’s okay. It’s a loss. I can be happy alone. I know I can.”

—Kienna—

Kienna exhaled deeply through her nose. She scanned Moira, thinking back to how helpful and nurturing she had been to everyone. She never fought or spoke pain into a world full of it. Her heart crumbled at the thought. She knew what she wanted to do, but the drumming of her heart kept her at bay.

Her hand rummaged over her wrist, fumbling with the bracelet more than once. Moira’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything, a quiet hope pulling her closer to Kienna. That’s when Kienna knew. She pulled the bracelet off and placed it on the floor.

Kienna, Ruva scolded.

She shut her mind as a loud growl sounded outside the terrace. “If something goes wrong,” she said, pointing to her charm, “put it back on me.”

Moira agreed, taking the charm for safekeeping. “Thank you.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Kienna warned. “I literally read about it today. Connak said it could be dangerous, but I can send my mind back to River Storm. Sort of like a vision, but one I control. I need a tether to help me find him. Something of his.” Kienna’s eyes floated to Moira’s stomach, the bump rounding over her legs as she sat with them crossed in front of her.

“Oh, please,” Moira agreed, placing Kienna’s hand over it for her.

Kienna’s heart skipped when a kick acknowledged her. She almost pulled back but steadied her mind. Her fingers laced around Moira’s womb, feeling the little life floating so peacefully. This heartbeat would be her anchor—a thread to follow through blood, carried across the realms. She stitched apart the pieces that were Moira, natural and true, and pushed into the parts of Rhior. Those parts were odd, whispering of desert heat.

Her mind soared through the skies and landed behind a familiar wall. Her body formed next, not truly there, but she could sense it all. Cold hit her first like icy fingers brushing along her ribs, then came the noise. River Storm rose around her as reality: The creaking of metal carts, the barking of orders, boots slapping against cobblestones. It was disorienting and intimate, the sounds of a life she had left echoing back with dull urgency.

Kienna rummaged through the city. The castle loomed tall and domineering in contrast to the past when she’d thought it powerful and regal. The gray city. Kienna could easily see why Moira needed to be away from there—a woman blessed by the sun in a city with none at all would only wither and die. Her hands trembled in Moira’s. A nudge from Ruva pulled at Kienna, but she was already in, walking through the streets of the villages. They were lined row by row with nothing special, nothing different. She hesitated on the only home she’d ever known there, desperately wanting to run inside to Maren and Jacob, to pull them out with her mental fortitude. Kienna stopped herself. She was there for Moira. Plus, what good would it do? She wouldn’t be able to take them with her through the projection.

She cleared the villages and crept closer to the city square, a place bustling with people dragging their feet with carts or running to their next assigned duty. Everyone appeared sickly with pale skin and low eyes. It wasn’t the River Storm she remembered.

“Where can I find him?” Kienna asked.

“Rhior would be in the merchant square around this time. He was loyal to his work,” Moira whispered to her.

Kienna brushed the tickle of Moira’s voice away, focusing on weaving her mind through the docks above the river. “I think I see him,” she mumbled, then stopped with a gasp. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Moira exclaimed.

Kienna squatted behind pillars as if she had truly been there in the city. Her eyes landed on Rhior, surrounded by soldiers, with his spices scattered along the planks. Kienna couldn’t tell what was happening, but she knew she couldn’t report back to Moira without help. “Hold on,” she whispered. She thought hard, pulsing her mind as far as she could, calling for Connak. Begging for him, for his presence. She’d never conjured him like this before, barely understanding how it worked, but she hoped that if she threw out enough emotional pleas, he would feel her and come knocking.

Moments later, his presence dripped into her mind like sweet nectar. His image appeared before her, his lush green eyes feasting on her with a devilish grin. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

“Shh,” Kienna implored.

Connak looked around, his body tensing as his fists gripped tightly against his legs. “I just spoke to you hours ago. Why are we in River Storm?”

“Don’t be mad,” Kienna started.

Connak exhaled deeply, a twitch forming above his lips. “I don’t like where this is going.”

Kienna explained quickly and quietly, much to Connak’s dismay. He chastised her multiple times, especially once she got to the part about removing her charm.

“He’s in trouble,” she said, pointing to Rhior, who was now being hauled by the guards out of the square.

“What do you expect me to do?” Connak asked in a clear tone of annoyance.

“I need you to save him,” Kienna pleaded.