Page 31 of Ashen Wings

Beefy fingers wrap around my neck, pressing in on my throat until I can’t fucking breathe. Panic grips my vision as I writhe under his weight, reminding myself of the plan still in motion.

I won't die today. He’s right where I want him. I just need a little more wiggle room. A few more seconds, Nova, you’ve killed worse enemies.

“Give it up Tanner or you’re meeting Morvayne today,” Roe cries.

“F-f-u…” Tanner starts.

A spine cracks and the room goes silent.

My attacker’s legs spread over me just an inch further. Now. With every shred of strength, I shove my steel-toed boot up, and the blow lands right where I intend it to.

The giant man rolls off me, tears flooding his beady eyes, and clenches his trousers. I shove myself up and tuck the hair that’s come loose behind my ears. So much for anonymity, the hooded cloak is shredded and ripped from a snag in the flooring.

“You’re one of them,” he cries, clawing at his bruised manhood. I made sure to kick hard enough he might not ever reproduce, and he most certainly shouldn’t. Gross fucker. I pick up the blade and don’t waste another second before plunging it into his chest.

Roe’s palm brushes my shoulder.

“You alright?” she asks, eyes still glittering with blood lust.

“Fine,” I breathe. “Better than these three, that’s for sure. How’s your shoulder?” She barks a laugh, and it’s a surprising sound of comfort.

“It’ll be okay. Come on, this fucker probably has a journal of all his escapades somewhere. Man’s ego is wider than the damned continent, I’m sure we’ll find mention of this merchant,” she says, wiping the blood spatter from her brow.

The door swings open. Isra and Abe, both breathless and bloodied, inspect the massacre meeting them.

“Do I want to ask?” Isra says. A wry smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

Roe scoffs and shakes her head. “Threat secured.” She holds up a leather bound journal, pulled from Tanner’s jacket, and waves it in the air. “Let’s go, I can’t stand the smell of blood.”

14

Jace’s eyes kindle to a midnight fury when the three of us trudge into his study. A roaring fire crackles in the corner. Its flames cower like they sense the rage flooding from the King of Shadow.

“What the fuck happened?” He scans Isra first, then Roe, then me. Those inky eyes stick to the bruise now blossoming above my left cheek, and I swear the world stops spinning. “Who did that to you?”

I touch the purpling skin. It’s swollen and I may have splintered my cheekbone, but the dull throbbing is manageable for now.

“Someone who no longer breathes,” I reply.

Jace sighs and slumps in his seat. “Did you get a name?”

Roe produces the journal from her satchel and places it on the desk. It lands with a thud, and my skin blazes with the feel of Jace’s gaze still focused over me.

“She’s fine,” Roe snips, rustling through the parchment pages. “And so are we, thanks for asking.”

Isra slumps into a wingback chair beside me and I follow his lead, wincing as I sit on the matching black sofa. My body hasn’t nearly had enough time to recover from the strain of everything that’s happened since arriving in Shadow, and I’m feeling the ache of exhaustion more than I’d prefer to. My head spins, but I focus on Roe’s index finger as she traces each line of sloppy handwritten ink.

“We’re looking for a Yaris Lightbrood. Pyris mentions the ‘intriguing silver coloring’ of his hair in this section…” Roe quiets as she reads the entry. “Gods, the slippery fuck stole forty thousand stipen and twenty dragonstones from this guy? I’m surprised a merchant of that status hasn’t come for blood yet.”

“Probably because he doesn’t want the attention,” Jace says.

Isra retrieves a scroll from the floor-to-ceiling shelves that line the left wall and unfurls it over Jace’s desk. He and Roe inspect the map—an ornate, inked illustration of the continent. She presses an index finger on the border dividing Shadow and Storm. “I’ll bet Pyris crossed here, this section isn’t nearly patrolled heavily enough, but how did he survive the lurker den just north of it?” She traces her finger through hand drawn trees and lands on a red X. “They would’ve sensed him as soon as he crossed through. Either Pyris is one lucky bastard or…”

“Or the lurkers are distracted,” Jace finishes. He bites his lip with a furrowed brow, and the air chills around him. My skin pricks.

“I’ll have Tenebris patrol the area for any activity.” He paces from his seat and leans against the desk beside me as Isra and Roe continue planning the mission into Storm.

“You killed the man who gave you that?” he asks, brushing a thumb over the bruise on my cheek. His voice is low and sultry like a forbidden secret shared.