Page 38 of Bride of Ash & Dust

Follow the gold, my mind whispers. Think about who benefits from this.

But that’s the problem. I can’t imagine a single godsdamn person who wins in this scenario. I put my mug down and pinch the bridge of my nose. I can already feel the hangover this shit gives me.

The bartender stops by with another two mugs. I reach for mine, knowing it’s a bad idea but doing it anyway.

“Tell me about Blayne,” I say.

Lilias is silent for a moment, long enough for me to wonder if she’s actually going to reply. Then she finishes her ale and reaches for the third mug. Her cheeks glow in the dim light.

“Blayne,” she begins, “is from Vsenrog.”

Interesting. Again, that scrap of memory tugs at me. I know him from somewhere, damn it. But where?

“When did he show up?” I ask.

She brings the mug to her lips, drinks, and then stares at the foam.

“Four years ago?” she says, although it sounds like a question. “Maybe a little less. Father hired him after the wedding to Prince Laurance was postponed the first time.”

That’s news to me. I knew she was betrothed, of course, but I didn’t realize they’d gone as far as scheduling and then postponing the wedding. And four years ago? What in the nine hells happened?

Laurance must not know her, some part of my mind whispers. There’s no way he would have postponed the wedding if he knew Lilias.

And that sounds suspiciously like the ale talking, probably in collaboration with my idiotic cock. I push the thought away.

“What did he teach you?” I ask.

She takes a very long pull from her mug, then sets it down with a little frown. Her eyes shine in the torchlight.

“Mostly history,” she says. “Geography. Lots about Vsenrog, but most of what he told me didn’t match up with what Elrick said.”

Elrick, her brother. That’s interesting.

“Did you tell him Elrick didn’t agree with his lessons?” I ask.

She snorts into her ale. “Of course not.”

“Smart,” I reply.

Our eyes meet, and something flashes in the space between us. My stupid cock pulses uncomfortably against the laces of my pants; I shift on the hard wooden seat.

“Why did he teach you about Vsenrog?” I ask. “You were still betrothed to Prince Laurance, right? So you were going to live in his kingdom, no?”

She nods. “The wedding was rescheduled four times, because my father kept disagreeing about the terms of the exchange. But yes, the basic betrothal agreement never changed. I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life in Ethiria. And Blayne—” She shrugged. “I thought he talked about Vsenrog because he came from here. I assumed that’s what he knew best.”

She finishes her mug and sets it down on the table. Her cheeks burn. There’s a bit of foam on her top lip that reminds me of the frosting from our wedding night. For a sweet, aching moment, I imagine leaning across the table, kissing those lips, tasting the bitter ale and sweat, sinking my fingers into her hair⁠—

Shit. I clench my jaw as the bartender comes back.

“No more,” I say, holding up my hand.

“What?” Lilias replies. “Why?”

I grin at her. “Because you’re already drunk.”

The bartender laughs, a rough, gravelly sound, and then limps away as Lilias blinks at me.

“Shit,” Lilias finally says.