Page 101 of Ashen Wings

“No. You’ve both lied to me from the start. I need answers. How can you expect a successful outcome of this mission if you refuse time and again to tell me the truth?”

“Nova, please.” With serious eyes, Jace points to the window booth. Seated there are three pink-faced soldiers laughing over a shared, drunken joke. The crimson cloak draped lazily over one of their chairs sets fire under my boots.

Smoke riders.

“Fuck, are we too late?” Isra mutters.

“I’m not sure, but if those three assholes made their way into Sea, I’ll bet Samkiel is here too,” Jace replies. “We should get off the streets before any civilians are caught in the crossfire.”

My teeth grind when I lock on the three younger men. The Smoke insignia pinned to their collars, the golden scabbards balancing beside the table. These aren’t just riders, but Ashar’s personal guards.

“Nova…” Isra places a hand on my shoulder. “Come on.”

My feet don’t follow, though. Yaris’s face flashes through me, grey and bloodied. I’m mere steps from those that took him from me. It’s irrational, but the shortsword sheathed across my back hums for vengeance. I could barge into that tavern and send them straight to Morvayne. Spilled blood and dying men echo through me. The journey here pissed me off enough to entertain a plan, and now I’m ripe to execute it.

“Starling,” Jace whispers, his ringed fingers brushing away the trembles. “There will be another opportunity.”

Furious tears well in my eyes.

“Nova. Remember what I said about that damned temper of yours…” He grasps my wrist.

“Fuck, fine,” I say, turning on my heels. I follow my companions and disappear into the bustling marketplace.

The inn Jace deems acceptable is tucked in a back alley filled with algae-bloomed puddles and rats. The three adjoined rooms he secured are even worse—cold, dust, and covered in sea-salted grime.

A lonely fireplace, doused in ash, sits cold in the corner opposite a cot. The woolen blanket is much closer to what I’m accustomed to back in Smoke, but I still cringe as I tuck under the covers, settling into the restless night.

Tomorrow we’ll travel to the temple and question the priestesses. Isra assured us they’ll be forthcoming.

Over a brief dinner, Jace admitted that during her time in Sea, Roe spent most of her days with Neressa’s servants. They’ll talk to us, solely because they’re on the side of whatever familial war sent Roe fleeing to Shadow.

An insidious twinge of doubt curls through me though, because neither of the two men offered any further discussion on the subject. Isra’s thrown an empathetic glance or two, but he’s shown his cards.

He’s loyal to Jace, to Roe. Even after all of our training and late night conversations. I’m still an outsider.

Part of me wonders if I’ll ever truly assimilate into Jace’s inner circle, but another part chides me for even caring.

I sigh and roll to my side, watching the gentle shadows writhe on the barren, cracked walls.

A single candle flickers by the door connecting my room to Jace’s. I’m furious and exhausted by all of his secrets, yet my eyes wander to the doorknob time and again. Is he thinking of me as he, too, waits for sleep? Or am I just another tool for this mission?

I don’t doubt he feels something toward me, otherwise why would he have been jealous of Isra? Even still the glances I share with his second don’t go unnoticed. The smirk turns sour whenever Isra and I share a joke or train in the yard.

Fuck. I roll away from the door.

I should be focusing on the mission, on the payout, like I’ve commanded myself to do time and again, yet all I can think of are those hands. Those lips against mine. His scent shielding me from the cold.

I’m lonely and broken and Jace Ashborne fills every one of my cracks.

Regardless of the lies. He’s as toxic and villainous as I am, and maybe that’s why he’s so perfect. His darkness matches my own in every way, even with the nightmare under his skin.

Before I convince myself otherwise, I throw off the blanket and stomp to the door. A quick knock on the knotted wood sends a wave of regret up my throat.

My nostrils flare when a shadow appears on the other side of the threshold.

The door creaks open. Jace stands in the entrance, candlelight framing his bare chest in golden hues.

Like a greedy little creature, I take in his steel-cut body, the midnight hair across his pectorals and down his low-rise sleep pants.