Page 105 of Ashen Wings

My complexion drains and I sip my wine, refusing to acknowledge what he already sees. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a bad liar.” He laughs. “I could cut the tension between you two with my blade. Spill your dirty little secrets.”

“There’s nothing going on, Is.” Even if I wholeheartedly wish there was… “He’s made his position quite clear.”

“Or, and hear me out for a moment, he’s afraid to. Something changed after your midnight trip to Morvayne’s Well. He’s receded into himself. More longing stares out the windows and such.”

The candle flickers with a draft seeping in from the coastline. Sea glass chimes echo in the quiet, sleepy streets outside, like little reminders we’re foreign to this place—imposters.

“I assure you, there’s nothing between us. Once we find the rider, I’ll get my payout, disappear, and everyone will be for the better,” I say, but the knot in my chest speaks beyond measure at just how hard leaving will truly be, even if I’ve earned my reward. There’s nothing to run to. Not anymore, at least.

“Well, that’s a damn shame. He isn’t as broody when you’re around.” Isra settles back into his chair. “Plus, I’ll miss kicking your ass all the time.”

I shoot him a glare but slide my palm across the table until our fingertips brush. His warmth is that of an old friend, and right now I’m chilled to the bone. “I’ll miss you, too.”

This time, there’s far too much truth in those words.

A bottle thuds on the cabinette beside us.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” Jace says, his arms crossed over his chest, a second bottle clenched in his hand. “I’m less broody?”

Isra barks a rough, genuine laugh and shrugs. “I’m only making an observation.”

Jace’s eyes smolder when they land on me and my face heats.

I force another swash of wine down my throat, clinging to the shred of sanity I have left. “I assure you, everyone will be happier when I’ve left.”

“You’ll be better off on the opposite side of the continent, starling.”

My pulse skids to a halt and again, both Isra and I straighten. Plunge the knife even further, why don’t you King Ashborne…

“Jace…” Isra starts, but a snap of Jace’s gaze, sharper than a freshly polished blade, has him trailing off.

“You’d prefer that?” My fingertip taps against the wine glass, matching the thrum in my temples.

“It doesn’t matter what I’d prefer. The further the distance between us, the safer you are.”

My fist slams on the table before I can think twice, rattling the forgotten tableware. “I don’t need protection, Jace Ashborne.”

“And yet you demanded a protection bond. Now whose actions betray their words,” he says. Gods, the insufferable way he keeps his composure while baiting mine makes me want to stab something, preferably his stupid, perfect chest.

“That was assurance you wouldn’t turn around and slit my throat the moment we’re done. No loose ends, right?”

“You’ve spilled your wine,” he says.

I glance down to catch the trail of wine staining my lap. Rage, white hot and blazing, whips through me.

“Fuck you,” I bite, leaping from my seat. “I’ll be glad to put space between us when this is through, but make no mistake, King Ashborne, I can handle myself even against the likes of you.”

Jace simply uncorks the second bottle and places it on the table. The silence between us burns hotter than pyreflame as he takes his seat and refreshes his glass.

“That remains to be seen, starling.”

“Gods be good, can you two just fuck already so we can focus on finding the rider?” Isra pinches the bridge of his nose and slumps into his seat.

The room, once chilled and crisp, is too warm, too stifling. My lungs beg for fresh air, and an escape from the current of hatred—or unmet desire—pulsing between Jace and I. The feelings, both ravenous and tense, are one in the same when I meet Jace’s dark eyes.

“I’m going to get some air. Don’t wait up.”