Page 21 of Ashen Wings

“I’m from Smoke.” The words come out more forced than I intend, but the truth sinks its claws in and refuses to let go.

It’s been twenty-two years since I’ve released my history into the world, and the last time left me with scars painted over my back. Even if Jace Ashborne is in possession of a smuggled dragon’s egg. Even if he’s trusted me—and I’m not entirely sure why—I can’t go there again.

Sitting in the slave district’s central cell, hearing my mother’s pleas for medical attention left ignored, holding her in adolescent arms as she took her last breath…I can’t relive it, can’t accept it.

“Why don’t we cut the bullshit here. Ask me the question you’re denying yourself the answer to. Ask me the one thing that changes everything…the one that turns you from my prisoner to my comrade.” The crease in his brow and stiff posture turns my insides to ice.

For the first time since I’ve been here, or maybe in our entire continent’s history, I realize the King of Shadow is nervous. I draw in a breath, gathering myself with the one question gone unanswered.

“What breed of dragon egg was Cael Fleetwing trying to smuggle?”

Jace’s lips thin, but he doesn’t break our gaze.

“Jace…” Roe warns.

Isra’s fork clanks on his empty plate. The room settles and I swear its foundation crackles.

“It’s an Astralwing egg,” he says finally.

10

An Astralwing? A fucking Astralwing? Sovereign’s dragons died out with their people during the war. If there was truly one left…the only surviving dragon would complete the celestial cycle. That would make this egg…a guardian.

Jace Ashborne could be making up lies to keep me here, but what use would I be if he wasn’t telling the truth? The risk of my understanding has to outweigh that of my betrayal.

“That’s not possible. Astralwings died when Sovereign fell. Ashar and your father made sure of that,” I snip, jaw clenched and trembling.

“So says the histories, and yet here the egg is,” he replies. My stomach threatens to upheave its contents all over the dinner spread. “And if it’s not turned to stone, then there’s a surviving rider it’s waiting for.”

“Show me,” I demand, fighting the pump of blood through my veins.

“I can’t.” Jace braces his palms on the table.

“And why not? You think I’ll simply believe this incredulous claim without physical evidence? I’m not a fool, King Ashborne.” A feeling I refuse to name tugs at my chest though when my eyes lock on his.

“The Blightfangs have taken it to nest with their other hatchlings, and they don’t trust strangers. You’ll be shredded to bits before even stepping foot on their lands, and we risk it stoning if we move it.” His argument is a logical one. All dragon eggs, regardless of breed, are kept warm in their native grounds until they’re ready to hatch, but still this is Jace Ashborne I’m dealing with. In no world would I willingly take his word, especially in regard to something entirely earth shattering as this.

“How do I know you’re not lying through your teeth?”

“I guess you don’t.” He shrugs, adjusting the ring on his index finger. “But I have no reason to make up such a claim, especially when you could weasel your way back to Smoke and report me to your king. Why do you think Ashar’s been dishing out dragonstones like they’re nothing?”

I force myself still. Do I trust Jace’s words without further proof? He has a point in that even making a false claim is a risk, especially with Magnius Ashar chomping at the bit for those trade deals with Fleetwing…but I remind myself of the facts. These people threatened to kill me—no, attempted to kill me, and now hold me captive without any intention of release.

But an Astralwing egg changes the entire course of the continent. The sole survivor of its breed and the next in line for the cosmic cycle. If a guardian were to rise again, Ashar’s conquest attempts would be fruitless. I suck in a breath. My mind begs me to think rationally and see through Jace’s bullshit, but the pulse roaring in my ears…well, that pleads to believe him.

“Now, I’ve given you my dark little secret. Time to give me yours. Tell us where you’re really from, starling.” Jace watches me with a heavy, expectant gaze. I swallow the urge to squirm and force myself straight. There are truths I’m most certainly unwilling to offer, Astralwing egg or no.

“I have. I’m just a mercenary,” I hiss, but my tone falls flat.

“Ok,” Jace replies, his tone void of any emotion. “Then you can return to your rooms until we’ve discussed what to do with you.”

He rises from his seat, and the chair chills with a vacancy not gone unnoticed. The room spins out of control, stealing my rationality with it.

“I told you this was a waste of your time,” Roe spits, plucking a grape from its stem. “She’s from Smoke. She’s as selfish and ruthless as the rest of them.”

My fingers lock around the fork with knuckles bleeding white. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve become selfish and cutthroat, but am I not a result of the violence, the pain, the isolation this world’s offered me?

I’m a fucking mercenary for Astora’s sake.