Page 51 of Ashen Wings

My lips part to reply, but he tilts his head, and I freeze, caught between irritation and intrigue. The pulse in my throat still races with his proximity, but I take another sip of my wine if only for the false courage.

“How was court?” I ask, desperate for a distraction from these traitorous feelings.

“Miss I’d rather bathe in dragonfire making casual conversation with me?” His thick lashes drop, and my complexion turns inferno.

“What else are we supposed to do? Sit in silence until we return to Shadow?”

He laughs, low and easy, taking a seat opposite me. “Well, court was the usual ugly politics. Raine wants full access to our trade routes but refuses to lower the tariffs she’s enacted since my father’s reign. We got into a bit of a heated match and she dismissed her council until tomorrow. Everyone on this damned continent is pushing an agenda, and I don’t know how to please them all. Nor ensure my own faction’s wellbeing.”

The wine warms my belly as I sip it slowly. Outside, raindrops patter on the roof, filling the lingering silence like fallen pebbles. “Finnick once said, of all the citizens in Smoke, only the wealthy see their hair grey. Meaning none of us less fortunate are even given the opportunity to grow old, and it’s true. Those in the mercantile district are either murdered or die of infection before they reach forty.”

Jace leans forward and drapes his hands between his thighs.

“Do you know how many people with grey hair I’ve seen in Shadow? How many full bellies and content smiles? I’d say you’re doing just fine, King Ashborne.”

He bites his lip at the remark like I’ve offered him a prayer to the gods. “You don’t know that, starling.”

“It’s apparent you care about your people. That’s of much higher value than Ashar’s stipenvaults.” I shrug and drain my glass, settling into the quiet comfort of a crackling fireplace. A shiver runs through me like the flames can’t compete with the heat between us. My heart thuds against my chest when the silvery flecks in his eyes flare. He rises from his seat slowly.

With that serious, intense expression etched over his face, I half expect the man to approach me, drop to his knees and brush our lips together. A smaller, more daring piece of me hopes he does.

Instead, he simply paces to the door. With a voice soft yet deliberate he says, “Goodnight starling, sleep well.”

23

The thunderstorms finally break a day or so later, and I’m desperate for fresh air. Between avoiding Yaris’s knowing looks and wrestling my own damned head, I’ve needed the sun’s warmth on my cheeks.

My heels click down the cobblestone as I follow the path from Yaris’s estate toward Nimbusport. Merchants with vast assortments of wares bustle about, passing me with curt nods and incurious glances. I’ll admit, the change in reaction as I cross strangers’ paths is refreshing. The citizens of Smoke might avert their eyes or shy away, but here, even with foreign features, I’m of no relevance.

I follow the sloping road down the hillside. My thoughts move with the curve of the cobblestone, winding around and around with plans set in motion. Locating Sovereign’s lost rumors keeps my path steady, even with the cold sweat beading on my brow.

From what I can remember, my mother rarely spoke of her time with Sovereign’s priestesses, save for the abrupt end to her sacred servitude. Indoctrinated into service meant giving up all possibility of love, of a family. Whether it be some archaic rite enacted by Ceti’s regent, or a direct calling from the goddess herself, priestesses swore an oath of chastity. My mother swore…then, clearly broke that oath when she met my father.

Even now, I remember how bitter her words were at the mention of Astora’s servants. She never spoke of everything that’d happened upon her separation, but the scars on her wrists—all too similar to brands—offered up her truths.

The streets narrow as I follow the path toward Obdiris’s Temple. Although I know very little of the Rain God’s followers, just as their faction, they’re peaceful. Obdiris teaches patience, like the growth of a fern, and strength, like the force of his storms. They’ll welcome a stray traveler, just as their god would, but even here, caution is wisdom. I take a breath and slip into the role. This is just another mission, yet my palms twitch and my heart thumps.

The temple appears in the plane just down the hill with a large rotunda carved from the base of the Motherwood. Roots entangle around granite support columns, appearing to fuse with the stone. The colossal construction steals my breath in a way I’m not used to.

While everything is cut clean and sharp in Smoke, there are no man-made angles in this temple’s structure. Everything ebbs and flows around the natural shapes of the tree, molding and conforming to nature’s sheer will. The line where stone begins and ancient wood ends is blurred, creating a landscape of vast, wild beauty unlike anything I’ve witnessed before. A nervous thrill dances in my stomach, part awe, part apprehension. Even the glimpses I remember of Sovereign’s own creations don’t compare.

“Welcome.” A woman dressed in layered robes of varying green shades smiles as I approach the temple’s open entrance.

“By Astora’s grace,” I reply, bowing my head. Every muscle recoils, as I mold my expression to one of simple serenity.

Her expression shifts. “You offer the greeting of the lost goddess…”

“Lost only to those who refuse her wisdom.” I pull from the few memories I have of my mother and embody the grace of Astora’s servants as best I can. Still, my gaze darts to the shadows, cautious and alert.

“Agreed,” the woman says, tucking an auburn braid behind her ear. “What can I offer you today?”

“I’ve come seeking wisdom…seeking faith in our gods.” Our gods might be a calculated phrase, but not without some truth behind it. I swallow again, tightening my grip on the dagger at my hip. It’s not the other gods of our world that turned their backs when Sovereign fell, but the people.

She reaches her long, elegant fingers for me. “All are accepted by our god. All who seek one have a place here.”

“Thank you.” I take her hand and follow through the temple's entrance. Every step is a risk into the unknown. The interior stretches as far as I can see up the tree’s trunk, with stairwells carved into the wood’s curvature, spiraling around and around until disappearing into the darkness above.

The priestess leads us through a corridor burrowed into the trunk. Encapsulated-flame sconces flicker down the hall, casting shadows over wood knots and growth rings. We pass doorways open to dim chambers, each housing shelves stuffed with scrolls and tomes, most likely predating our modern world. While the collection isn’t as vast as Sovereign once held, it still sends ripples of hope through me. I steady my breath, masking the flutter of nerves in my chest.