Page 17 of Ashen Wings

Jace rumbles a laugh low in his throat, and the sound…Gods, it’s the most delicious melody I’ve ever heard.

Snap the fuck out of it Nova, he’s holding you fucking captive.

“What deal did you make with Cael Fleetwing?” I blurt. The logical questions are left unanswered—where am I, why didn’t you kill me, will you let me go? Why am I terrified but also turned on?

They don’t burn like this one, though. Well, maybe the last one does, but again Morvayne’s fate sounds better than ever speaking those words into existence.

I’ve survived long enough to trust that if I make it out of here alive, I’ll find my way back. The tracking link raises gooseflesh up my arms, reminding me of Finnick’s assurance, and for a moment it warms my blood. He’ll send someone searching. I’m his golden trophy after all.

“He came into possession of something that didn’t belong to him. I took it back.”

“And what exactly was it you slaughtered him for?”

Jace’s index finger raises to my lips, hovering close enough to feel his frost coated skin. “Greedy thing you are. It’s my turn.”

“Fine,” I snarl, jerking my face away. My neck creaks and the wince escapes me before I can swallow it. Jace’s eyes simmer.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“I’m fine. I just tweaked my neck when your guard dog over there knocked me on my ass. How’s that bruise, by the way?” I throw Isra a wicked smile.

“It fucking hurts.” He flashes a genuine grin. That's confusing.

“Good.” My reply is met with a snort from Miss Murder still lurking in the corner. Her muscular calves dangle off the top of a battered wooden table. She kicks her boots back and forth, like our conversation has bored her, and the steel toes barely brush the floor. For someone who stands maybe five feet tall, she’s disturbing.

“What did you kill Cael for?” I ask again.

“A dragon egg,” he says with an all too casual tone. That truth lands harder than a left hook. So Piri was right. Magnius Ashar was smuggling a dragon egg. Fuck. If Magnius Ashar were to get his hands on another faction’s hatchling…I’m suddenly relieved Isra terminated the trade permanently.

“What’s your name?” Jace asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s fleshy and swollen, but the taste of iron stifles a response before I blurt that out, too. Do I dare tell him the truth? So far his answers are saturated with risk.

“Nova Lindwen,” I reply, letting the name drip from my lips like a roof leak. In this rallying game, I pray to Astora that I haven't shown my hand. But a fucking dragon egg. My throat dries. I’ll offer this truth if it means more information.

“Nova Lindwen.” Jace says my name like he’s tasting a fine wine.

“What breed of dragon egg?”

His black tunic falls down his frame, draping his chest in effortless folds of cotton as he rises from his knees. “No more questions. Isra, take her upstairs to the main house. Get her a bath, and maybe some new clothes.”

Isra pushes off the wall and treks toward us, the steel broadsword sheathed on his hip clanking with each stride.

“Oh and keep her away from this one.” Jace points to Roe. “Clearly she’s out for blood today, and we wouldn't want any accidental casualties.”

“Fuck you, Ashborne,” Roe snips. She drops from the table and follows Jace back down the corridor until they both disappear into the shadows.

“You know, you’re the first in over five years that’s left me bruised like this in hand to hand,” Isra says as he wraps a calloused palm around my bicep.

“I’ll give you another one if you’d like,” I snarl, jerking my arm away.

Isra swings his hips in an exaggerated bow. “It would be a blessing.”

9

The main house as Jace referred is not a house. It’s a fucking fortress, carved from gleaming crystal gemstones. There’s no daylight shining through the floor-to ceiling windows in the endless stretch of hallways, so I assume night has fallen.

In silence, Isra and I climb a winding staircase, adorned in ornate obsidian carvings, until we reach the top level. By the final step, my knees ache and I’m winded, but I don’t dare let that be known. Isra pauses for a moment, flicking a switch embedded into the deep emerald walls.