Page 70 of Ashen Wings

Roe sips her glass, glaring at the emissary with an expression that absolutely matches my own. “She’s not going to fuck you, Is. You’re not her type, clearly.”

Isra rests a palm on his chest, feigned heartbreak molded over his face.

“And what’s my type?” I raise a brow at Roe. This is the first we’ve spoken since before I left, and I can’t imagine her jest isn’t laced with intent.

“Dark haired and brooding,” she replies with another sip.

My lips snap shut. She’s stolen the retort right out from under me, so I bury myself behind my own ale.

“How many more rounds do I need to buy us before I earn your forgiveness, little viper?” Isra asks. Roe scoffs but there's a twitch of her lip that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’ll have to drain your wallet to earn that,” she says.

Isra leans back in his seat, his hands lapping lazily through his curls. In another life, I’d absolutely be attracted to the man seated opposite me. His carefree nature and the moments of kindness brighten the room with a warmth I haven’t felt in a long time, but I’m damaged goods, fit for someone who is just as broken as I am. As far as I can tell, Isra’s entirely whole. Entirely undamaged.

“This is the last I’ll say of it tonight, but we need you, Roe. You know that better than any of us,” Isra says, his expression turning grim.

She sighs and picks up her pint. “Just give me some time, okay?”

Isra nods and turns to me. “So, tell us more about this new lead.”

“There’s not really much else to say.” I bring my own glass to my lips. “The priestess who mentioned it overheard a conversation in passing. Maybe this noble babe is still in Sea, living with the servants of Neressa. It’s a long shot, but what else do we have to go off of?”

Roe leans across the table, her fingers thrumming on the gnarled wood. “And you trust this woman? Who’s to say she won’t run to her high priestess claiming you’re poking your nose in Ceti business?”

“She won’t, I swear it on Astora.”

“I’m not one to easily trust strangers, I thought you’d share the same sentiment,” Roe says bitterly.

“She’s a friend. Not a stranger. It’s evident that there are many, not just of Sovereign, who lost people during the war. We can trust her word,” I say, frustration hot on my teeth.

Isra rests his chin on locked fingers and watches the two of us.

“There are also those that would kill for what they’ve lost, courier.” She picks at a fingernail.

I’ll never win with her or be accepted into her circle—I’m too much of an outcast, a rat, desperately seeking a crevice to tunnel in through.

“My name is Nova.” Our half empty pints rattle with the blow of my fist against the table. “And I don’t care if you think I’m weak or pathetic. I don’t even care if you fucking hate me. Jace trusts me to get this job done, and a whole lot hangs on the line if I don’t. So when I say my intel is good…it’s good. End of story.”

Sweat trails my jaw with the spewed rage, maybe spoken a little too boldly, but I’ve had enough ale to not give a shit anymore. “I’m not going anywhere until we find our rider. So you could at least give me the courtesy of calling me by my fucking name.”

Roe’s lips thin as she takes me in. My breath comes in shallow bursts, and the alcohol’s gone to my cheeks, now pink and dewy.

“I’m gonna go get something stronger than ale,” she says, shoving off the table.

Isra stays quiet, suddenly very focused on his pint.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “She knows how to get under my skin, clearly.”

“Roe’s been through a lot. I give her shit, but she’s suffered worse than any of us. Trust doesn’t come easily, and her jabs are from a place of fear. Try to keep that in mind, okay? Even when she’s being an asshole.”

I nod and slither lower in my chair. Isra and I don’t speak, both watching Roe lean against the bar. She offers a stipennote to the bartender and nods to Abe, now in his usual seat by the exit. A grin spreads over his lips as he jumps from his stool and slides through the drunken patrons like a lost puppy who’s found its way home.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” I ask. Roe leans into Abe’s ear with a shared whisper. The bouncer laces his fingers through hers and they trail the perimeter before disappearing down the back hallway.

“Nope.” Isra chuckles and drains his glass. “Do you want one more round? I’m nowhere near drunk enough yet.”

I finish my own ale and hold out the glass. “How about whiskey instead? I need to disappear for a while.”