Page 16 of Ashen Wings

“Suit yourself,” she says, flicking the knife toward me.

“Oh, give it a rest, Roe.”

My breath catches as Jace Ashborne appears from the darkness down the hall. Flanked by Isra, he saunters toward me, shadows bending around each footfall.

“Good evening, starling,” he says, leaning beside his female companion—who I assume is called Roe. “Did you sleep well?”

His freshly changed tunic hangs open, revealing the low curves of his chest. My eyes follow the cut across his neck, and satisfaction laces through me. It’s barely a scratch, but I add wounding the Ashborne heir to my mental docket.

Noticing my gaze, Jace traces the healing wound with his thumb, dragging it over the raised skin and down his collarbone. “Next time, press your blade a little harder. It’ll hurt more.” His lip twitches into a smirk.

“Next time I’ll make sure it kills you.”

Isra leans against the opposing wall, eyeing me with an amused curiosity. There’s a plum bruise smudged around his left eye, and that too feels like a solstice morning present.

“Thought you were going to kill me, Ashborne,” I spit. The taste of rage, thick on my tongue, is hotter than brimstone.

“Fortunately for you, I’ve changed my mind,” he replies, twirling the gold banded ruby on his index finger. Those fucking hands. Long slender fingers that bend and move with deadly prowess.

What might they feel like on my skin? My mind wanders somewhere dark and I extinguish that spark really fucking quick. He’s taken me prisoner. Threatened to execute me. Am I that fucked in the head?

“Unfortunately for you, though, we’re in need of some answers.”

“I’ve told you the truth,” I snip, but I know he’ll see right through me. If those inky eyes aren’t evidence enough, the wrinkle of intensity at the corners of his mouth are.

“Right, you’re from Smoke—a silver-haired creature with violet eyes, and a slave’s mark on her brow.” He wags his finger at me, and as much as I try, I can’t force my gaze from it. You are not attracted to this. You are absolutely not attracted to this.

“She’s not going to tell us anything without a little motivation, Jace,” Roe says, flipping her knife’s pommel. The gold metal hums in the humid air and my eyes flick to hers.

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, Roe, remember what we discussed.” Jace’s eyes wander back to me. “How about a trade? I’ll give you an answer, then you give me one.”

“Right, because I’m supposed to believe anything you say.” I scoff, running a hand over my thoroughly enraged temple.

“Why don’t you test your theory?” he challenges.

I lick the trickle of blood from my split lip and wrestle the pull of his gravity. “Fine,” I reply, clenching my truths as tightly as my fists.

Questions overwhelm me, igniting thoughts like wildfire, but I take a breath and silence them as best I can.

“The Blightfang back at Cael’s barn. Are you bonded to it?” I’ve pieced enough tidbits of information together to already know the answer, impossible as it may be. It’ll be easy to catch him if he lies, and the question might catch him off guard.

“Jace…” Roe tosses a warning glance to him, but Shadow’s king raises a palm. “Suit yourself, oh great ruler.”

“Yes,” he states.

His admission sends a shiver over my skin. The last record of a bonded Blightfang was at least a hundred years ago. Dracae Torr, the guardian rider, and her dragon, Vorvex, brought Shadow into the faction unification. I think back to one of my father’s old tomes, now collecting dust under my bed. The only bonded Blightfangs have all been guardians. I suck in a breath. Did the cosmic cycle skip a faction? Am I staring at the guardian rider himself? I’m not sure if the stutter in my chest is from terror or relief.

“Blightfangs don’t bond riders,” I reply.

“Incorrect,” he says, brushing a black curl from his brow. “They only bond when they deem a rider worthy of their power, and no, Tenebris is not a guardian. I can see the gleam in your eye.”

I loose a breath, but the relief is short lived. If Jace Ashborne isn’t the new guardian rider, the morality that comes with protecting the factions is obsolete. Not to mention, he still hasn’t told me if he intends to let me go. I’m a loose end as he called it.

“Jace…” Roe tries again. Her sharpened canines bite into her lower lip, but he continues.

“My turn. If you’re from Smoke, how do you know so much about dragons?” he asks.

“I read.” I’d rather face Morvayne’s wrath than offer him so much as a shred of information.