Page 55 of Bride of Ash & Dust

Anura laughs softly. Her hand closes over mine.

“It was my idea to come,” she says.

I stare at her. She’s smiling, even though her eyes are sad.

“Elrick was worried about you,” she continues. “I was, too. I mean, that was part of it.”

Her smile twists, hardening into a frown. I get the sense she’s weighing her next words carefully.

“Tell me,” I whisper. “Please.”

There’s a sharp edge to my words. I know my brother and Anura are close, but I had no idea they were planning behind my back. Gods, does this mean I was a pawn in another set of plans?

Anura pulls herself up straighter. Her hand tightens on mine.

“He doesn’t trust Vsenrog,” she whispers. “The wedding was too fast, and they don’t have enough to gain from this. At first, I thought maybe Zarek had gotten the wrong woman pregnant and needed to be tied down.”

I snort. That’s so much like what Zarek thought about me that it’s almost funny.

“They want the mine,” I say, although, even as the words come out, I wonder if it’s the truth. It seems too obvious, somehow. Too easy.

Anura nods. Her face is in shadows.

“Of course they do,” she says. “But why? And why right now? And is that all they want?”

I sigh, then let my shoulders curl forward as I stare at the ground. Beneath my feet, a few rocks catch the light from the windows and wink from the dark.

“And—” Anura begins, then hesitates.

I turn to look at her. She’s staring at the bushes like she’s embarrassed.

“We heard something about a weapon,” she says in a whisper. “And a man named Fyrris.”

“What?”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. I thought I’d be able to learn more here, but if anyone in this place knows anything about Fyrris or a weapon, they aren’t talking.”

There’s an edge of bitterness in her voice, like she’s disappointed in herself. I reach for her hand and squeeze it, trying to show her that she hasn’t let anyone down.

“I wish you’d told me,” I say. “Maybe I could have helped.”

Anura’s dress rustles as she shifts on the stone bench. She makes a strange noise, almost like she started to say something and then stopped.

“Me too,” she finally says. “But I thought you were dealing with enough, having to marry the snake.”

“He’s not—” I begin, then snap my mouth shut.

Anura stares at me. I cover my face with my hands, wondering how exactly I would have finished that sentence.

So far, the snake of Vsenrog is exactly what I was expecting. He’s suspicious of everything, he trusts no one, and hells, he really does have a dagger strapped to the inside of his thigh.

And he told me he would be honest with me. He laughed when I got drunk in a shitty pub with him. He held my arm as we walked through town.

He protected me, some colder part of my mind whispers. When my husband found Blayne in our bedroom with his pants down around his ankles, he could have had me executed. Gods, if Malrik wants the mine so badly, the snake could have used my infidelity to start a war with Marion.

I swallow hard in the dark. The night suddenly feels much colder.

What I did with Blayne never felt serious before. It was playing and teasing, even when he was thrusting inside me or making me drink that horrible tea. And the stories about what happened to women who lost their innocence seemed like far-off fairy tales, as if the consequences were as real as unicorns.