Page 20 of House of Ashes

As soon as the door closed, I slumped in my seat. My body clamored for the food, but eating was exhausting. I forced myself to eat a slice of ham on a chunk of thick, crusty bread before I finished off the water, then I dragged myself to the bed.

I was asleep before I hit the pillow.

I woke in a completely different position, lying on my back, under the covers. My hands felt strange and stiff.

Thick bandages had been wound around them, redolent with a sharp herbal scent. I’d completely slept through the visitation from the healer.

The healer had also pulled off my boots—at least, I hoped it was the healer—and left them neatly aligned by the heartwood wardrobe. I pushed back the covers, groaning a little as my locked-up muscles stretched out.

Someone knocked at the door and I tensed. I didn’t like the sensation of being locked in this room, the only exit now blocked by someone else. My cave on Mistward had been carefully selected to allow me multiple escape routes.

“Yes?” I called, shocked at the sound of my own voice. It cracked from dryness and disuse on that one word.

A Bloodless woman opened the door, wearing servants’ livery: a black undershirt and soft pants, and a long-tailed sapphire silk overcoat over it.

She carried a vast silver tray, laden with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, dishes of fruit, a bowl of yogurt dotted with berries and swirled with golden honey, and a steaming pot of tea.

My stomach rumbled to life immediately, clenching with an almost nauseating desire to throw myself at the tray.

“Prince Rhylan has asked me to convey that you eat this in its entirety,” she said, carefully placing the tray on the table and keeping her eyes down. “He and the healer will visit with you later today, if you please, your highness.”

Your highness. There was something I hadn’t been called in a very, very long time.

“Thank you,” I said, keeping my tone polite. I wouldn’t abuse the messenger for her master’s high-handedness.

She bowed and retreated, and I forced myself to walk without hobbling to the table.

He didn’t have to order me. I was ready and willing to lick the plates clean.

Halfway through, I came to an abrupt halt, my stomach churning through sharp pains.

I stopped eating and forced myself to sip the tea while I rubbed my stomach, savoring the fresh rosehips and real sugar. I’d once seen a dragonblood rip a Bloodless’s leg off for a tiny bag of sugar. It was so rare on the Isle, the convicts would actually kill each other over it. Some even managed to snare desperate mates with such a gift.

“He doesn’t realize that this much food on a starved stomach will just make you sick.”

I almost lunged out of my chair at the unknown voice, sloshing tea on the rug. How could I have gotten so comfortable I’d forgotten to keep watch?

A draga stood in the doorway, one so stunningly pretty I immediately felt like a goblin next to her.

Long black hair cascaded down her back in waves, and her eyes were a shade of clear hazel speckled with green and gold. A proud nose arched above full lips, and soft black scales dusted her dark gold skin.

She wore a healer’s bracelet, hammered gold set with smooth malachite cabochons, but not a healer’s robes. Her dark dress was simple and practical, yet made of expensive fabric, with long slits cut in the sides that would allow her to mount a dragon at a moment’s notice.

“I came to check on your progress,” she told me with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I worked on your hands and your eye while you were sleeping. Fortunately, most of the damage was superficial.”

She looked oddly familiar in her own right, though she was clearly one of Rhylan’s sisters, and I had to search the recesses of memory for her name.

“Kirana?”

Kirana of Obsidian Flame, the middle sister of their family. Like her mother Anjali, she’d been destined to be a famed beauty, but she took after her Wildlands father in coloration. The youngest sister, Loralei, was a small, feminine version of Rhylan, with black curls, golden skin, and brilliantly blue eyes.

The last time I had seen Kirana was at the Koressis Training Grounds. Tidas’s clear and obvious infatuation had been a blade in my heart at first, but then I’d laid eyes on Rhylan, her older brother, and I’d completely forgotten Tidas existed at all.

Kirana had not been cruel about my arranged mate’s attention. If anything, she’d avoided Tidas like the plague during our training years.

I wondered why she would smile at me when Rhylan hated me so much. She was making a token effort, at the very least.

“The very one,” she said, letting herself into the room. She took one of my hands, unwinding the bandages with gentle but efficient movements. “These look much better.”

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