Page 61 of Ashen Wings

Jace returns with a knock on the bathing chamber door. He’s changed into his own sleeping clothes, the tie of his cotton shirt hanging loosely down his chest. His hair, now dry, clings to his brow in waves of midnight. There’s a quiet restlessness shaded under his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe Raine’s council meeting went poorly or maybe he, too, harbors his own demons but seeing him like this, so casually intimate, does something to me I shouldn’t acknowledge.

“Get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning if you’d like,” he says, bracing a hand on the doorframe.

A piece of me begs to tell him to stay, to tuck us both under the plush covers and drift off to sleep in his arms, but I don’t. He’s seen me laid bare and raw, tear stained and sobbing. That’s more than I want to allow.

“Goodnight,” I reply.

His shoulders stiffen for less than a breath. Satisfaction nips at me, all too loud, all too eager. It’s disappointment glittering in his gaze.

He wants to stay, just as much as I want him to.

Without another word, Jace turns on his heels and disappears through the bedchamber door.

28

The following morning's chores bring Thaye and I to the temple's top level—a vast labyrinth of shelves housing ancient scrolls and water stained tomes. After Jace said goodnight, I burrowed my way into a heavy, dreamless sleep and didn’t wake until the sun rose over its misty horizon.

The images of yesterday still claw at me like silent demons, but I’ve grounded myself enough to keep them at bay. Curt reminders of the mission at hand, the resultant payout, even a daydream of Ashar’s head on a spike, keep my forward trajectory steady.

The temple steps were damp and dim in the early morning’s light when I arrived. Greeted by Thaye, a concerned but silent expression molded on her clean features. She wouldn’t ask first, and for that I almost thanked her.

Now, after two hours of cataloging the temple's library, a chill seeps through my skin and the residual itch of spiderwebs crawls down my neck.

“By Obdiris’s grace there wasn’t more damage from the storm.” Thaye inspects the damaged books, cringing as she places a tome on our cart, stacked with texts in various states of disrepair—swollen bindings, smudged ink, a shredded page or two.

“You’d think the archives might be on the lower levels, rather than way up here,” I reply. The text in my hands is stained with running ink, but still legible. Whispers of the Astral Plane offers tidbits of information about projection, incantations, and offerings, bringing one closer to their god. I make a mental note of its shelf number and return it to its place.

In a few weeks’ time, I’ll find my way back here and sneak it under my cloak to show Yaris. Perhaps something waits in its pages that’ll force Astora to pay attention when I again summon the courage to project.

“The temple has been neglected since the war. Servants come and go, but when Sovereign fell there were so many of us that feared we’d be next. Now there’s not enough of us to patch the leaks and cracks.” Thaye brushes the layer of grime off the shelf we’ve just emptied. “It’s a shame if you ask me. There’s so much knowledge lost. Not just here, but across the continent. My mother had friends that served Astora, and their descriptions of the libraries in Sovereign…such wealth of knowledge just gone. Turned to ash by dragonfire.”

I place another damaged scroll on our cart, glancing toward the priestess with controlled inexpression.

“What were they like? Astora’s servants, I mean,” I ask before retrieving a mildewed scroll from our ever growing stack.

“The best word that comes to mind is ethereal. Beautiful souls and the kindest people.” She drops her eyes to the cart. Her fingers wrap around the handle, white knuckled and tense. “If the guardian hatched just a month before the war, the continent wouldn’t be so fractured. We wouldn’t be collecting books to be discarded…losing our history.”

My ears prick, and I know the opportunity is there. Like a lump in my throat, I swallow the sudden urge to lean into her space.

“But what if there was a rider somewhere out there?” I stay focused on Thaye’s expression. Her shoulders go rigid, but she has yet to meet my gaze. A beat of silence thickens between us, then it’s gone, as fleeting as the breeze rattling the cracked window panes.

“Perhaps, but if there is…” She tucks her hands into her robe sleeves. “Why haven’t they come forward yet?”

“Plenty of reasons. Fear of prosecution, resentment, maybe they don’t know the truth of their fate.” My nails dig into the leather spine I’m holding. Have I risked too much? Did I misread her empathy? Or is she reading me now, too—cautious and reluctant.

Only a faint drip from a cracked ceiling echoes through the shelves. Thaye finally meets my eyes, and my breath shallows. Just behind those fierce irises lies something faint, something not yet forthcoming but it’s there. In her own way, she’s offering it to me. A secret. My heart slams against my chest, threatening to crack through bone and leap for Thaye.

“You know something,” I whisper.

She nods. “When I was still only a child, I overheard my mother and her friends visiting from Sovereign. They spoke in riddles most of the time, and as an eight year old it rarely caught my attention, but for some reason, this conversation stuck with me until I reached an age where I could truly understand its meaning.”

I brace myself against the cart, keeping my features as casual as possible. Sweat beads on my neck, but I don’t risk swiping it away, not when Thaye’s ripe to exchange information that could alter the entire continent’s fate.

“What did they say?” I straighten a scroll on the cart top.

“They were asking for a place in Obdiris’s service. For a babe born of noble blood,” she replies. The walls shift around me, like her story is the catalyst of their crumble.

“From House Ceti?” I whisper, bearing the blunt force of her words with a wavering mask of indifference.