Page 52 of Ashen Wings

The priestess takes my hand and crosses a narrow roped bridge over the temple’s width. I don’t dare glance between each board, knowing only air and a very long way down waits for me.

Astora help me, again with the heights.

“These bridges are heavily reinforced with wards below. Even if you did misstep, you’d only fall a few feet, dear,” she says, a wrinkle of humor on her nose. I nod and follow her on apprehensive steps. The reassurance is welcome, but the drip of sweat trailing down my spine is a persistent reminder to stay sharp. This is just another job, Nova. Not until my boot scuffs the opposing hallway do I breathe again.

“Just in here,” she says, gesturing to another doorway. The chamber is identical to the others we’ve passed. A single, unlit candle rests on the central table with stacks of tomes, faded and aged, littering the floor.

“I’m scheduled to join the first year riders’ flight this afternoon, so we don’t have too much time, unfortunately.” She gestures for me to sit in the empty seat beside her. With eyes still wide, I follow her unspoken command. Every step measured and forcefully casual, careful not to show even the slightest of hands. “Are you a rider? I thought only soldiers and nobility were allowed to bond.”

“In Storm, all are welcome to attempt. Whether the Jadetail accepts is another story. Vintrex and I practically shared a cradle. She was just a hatchling when we bonded.” The priestess smooths her robes over her lap. “Now, my name is Ashe. Can you tell me yours?”

“Nova.” I straighten against the chair back. “Nova Lindwen.”

“Lindwen, you say? I haven’t heard that surname in a very long time.”

“My mother briefly served our lost goddess before separating.” I risk the truth, but the information I’m asking for requires some level of trust. Heart hammering, I weigh each word carefully, offering only as much as necessary.

“A dangerous name, it is, and to be paired with such a powerful given name—Nova.” Ashe rolls the pronunciation off her tongue. “The one who sees the cosmos.”

Apprehension stirs, thick and low in my stomach. Maybe it was a mistake in coming here, sniffing for information.

“Perhaps, but I’m by no means a servant to the gods.” I place my hands in my lap.

“No, Nova Lindwen. You are a knowledge seeker. A secret slinger. What do you wish to know? Or maybe you hope to join in our servitude?” She raises a thin brow, studying me with flared eyes.

“Like I said, I’ve lost my way. All I seek is the path back.”

“Speak plainly. You are among allies here.” Ashe drags her hand across the tabletop. “I cannot give you what you need if you refuse to ask for it.”

My fingers bite into my knees until my knuckles are bone white. “I’m looking for someone and I believe their whereabouts may be spoken or written about within your temple walls.”

“If you’re seeking servants of the lost goddess, you’ll find none here. They’re only of memory now.”

“No, not a priestess of Astora…” The truth clings to my tongue with taloned claws. Do I take the leap and trust her? Back in Smoke, I’d barely risk a breath of honesty, but just as the thunderheads have whipped through me, Ashe’s gentle patience and welcoming nature reels me in. I shift in my seat, the wood now tacky against my trousers.

“Well,” she sighs, “regardless of intentions, you’re welcome amongst us. But don’t think I’m not aware of your history. Finnick Derald’s infamy doesn’t lapse over the borders, dear. Keep that dagger out of my temple, and I’ll allow you sanctuary.”

I hiss out a breath, nearly choking on my own damned saliva. Even if Storm is a sanctuary state, my blood heats. Do I trust the woman standing before me? She hasn’t given any reason not to, but old habits are tough to crack, I guess.

She laughs and rises from her seat. “Breathe, Miss Lindwen.”

“I…” My voice quivers like the flickering candle between us. “I’m sorry.”

Her robes cascade down her slender frame as she starts for the door. My thoughts scatter like broken glass. Do I follow? Do I draw my blade and secure the risk? Instead of either, I’m left gaping like an idiot.

Ashe’s nose wrinkles with amusement. “I’m not one to tread into business where I don’t belong, Nova Lindwen. As long as you uphold our agreement, you’re safe here. Our network of servants offers much to those that listen. Stay for a while. Learn what you must. The dragon dens need cleaning and the gardens, weeding. Perhaps you’ll find what you seek.”

24

Later, after the sun has sunken well below the horizon, sleep evades me. My mind wanders through the day, replaying the conversation with Ashe over and over until I’ve convinced myself I won’t wake up to Magnius Ashar’s guards knocking at Yaris’s doorstep. The damned woman saw right through me. None of my previous jobs were ever soaked with an uncertainty like this one. Whether it’s the priestess’s aura, or my own nervousness doesn’t matter, because my head hurts and my pulse stammers.

Irritatingly so, I’m desperate to brief Jace on what I’ve found. Like a starry-eyed teenager I ran home from the temple, back to the security of Yaris’s townhome.

Or at least that’s what I told myself. The disappointment welling in my chest when I found both the study and Jace’s room vacant gave me away, though. I wasn’t returning to the townhome’s sanctuary, but to Jace’s. After our night in the study, a piece of me that yearns to be near him is one I can’t so easily shut the fuck up anymore. Even reminding myself that the King of Shadow held me captive upon our introduction does nothing to silence it.

Deep shit, Nova. You’re in deep shit.

Jace had left word with Yaris that he’d be late though—more bickering with Storm’s monarch and a delayed councilmember would keep him well into the night.