Page 22 of House of Ashes

I thought there was quite a bit missing from that story, but Anjali herself had agreed with the gossip: she had in fact been about to neuter her future mate with a sword when he decided she was the only draga for him.

Instead, Anjali brought Cratus home to Jhazra Eyrie, and made him a prince.

Their children were just as beautiful as they were, of course; a mix of the Wildlands golden skin, and the Obsidian Flames’ ebony hair and sea blue eyes.

I’d had no idea Anjali was dead. She was a legend for young draga, almost mythological.

“No, she wasn’t. Our father would have summoned the Hordes and torn Koressis apart if the Drakkon had ever tried to claim her. Some believe it was jealousy, or that Nerezza believed the Drakkon was trying to take another mistress, but…” Kirana swiped a hand over her face, rubbing her temples. “I don’t know. All I know is that Rhylan testified because he had indisputable proof that Nerezza murdered her.”

“What proof?” I demanded.

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it.

My mother had been ruthless, but she was never bloodthirsty. She had taken to the title of ‘mistress’ quite well, never seeking a mate bond with the bereaved Drakkon, or anything requiring more commitment than occasional companionship and the shared duty of parenting.

Beyond that, my mother had always hated physical violence, calling it uncouth and degrading. Her knife thrusts were made only with words.

It made no sense. Why murder Anjali, who would never have consented to become his mistress regardless, when the Drakkon already had other mistresses she couldn’t have cared less about?

Kirana looked miserable when she met my eyes. “He saw her do it. He…he held our mother while she died. And he claimed it was Nerezza who had done it.”

I sat frozen, curling my hands into fists. My palms stung where my nails bit into tender flesh.

Kirana took a deep breath, looking away out the window. “We’ve all lost someone we love. I didn’t want to dig up old grievances—”

Anger flared inside me, as quick and bright as a dragon’s flame.

“These aren’t old grievances to me, Kirana,” I said, full of quiet venom. “I am the one who was sentenced to exile on a prison isle for crimes that weren’t my own. You’ve had years to grieve, but these wounds are still quite fresh for me. Thanks to your brother, last night was the first time I’ve slept in a real bed since I was sixteen years old.”

The old fondness for Kirana had quickly curdled into a sour sort of anger.

I was sorry they had lost their mother. I was sorrier still to have lost my own, along with my entire life.

Nerezza had been a bitch of a draga, it was true. Once we’d been exiled, her concept of a mother’s love was to slap, pinch, or bruise.

But she had molded me into someone who could survive Mistward, and in the end, that had been worth far more than kisses and bedtime stories.

She had known they wouldn’t keep me alive on that island. Everything she had done from the moment we had reached those rocky shores had been done for my survival.

She’d known the Isle would not be kind.

Kirana folded her hands in her lap, twisting her healer’s bangle around and around. Her gaze hardened, the barely-concealed anger a far more believable emotion than her smiles. “I am sorry the Drakkon chose to punish you as well. You’d never done me any harm. But I’m not sorry Nerezza died out there. Now we’re even on that score, I suppose.”

She got up, pushing the chair in. I could see she had something else on her mind, her lips pressed together like she was trying to contain the words.

She failed at the door, spinning around to face me. “We can’t afford to fight, Sera. There are greater problems than yours, or Rhylan’s, or mine. This is going to be war.”

I didn’t give a damn at this moment. I only wanted to go home.

“Akalla will tear itself apart, and I’ll be damned to all the Nine Hells if I live to see Yura and Tidas on the throne. We need the old Houses to stand together, or we’ll all suffer for it. So hate me and my brother all you want. Nurse your wounds and your grievances. But I’m willing to put aside old hatred and do everything in my power to help you both.” She took another deep breath, hectic spots of color high on her cheeks. “Apologies will not give you your childhood back, but action will ensure your future. Think on that, will you? We don’t have to be enemies any more.”

After she left, I thought for a long time. My eggs and bacon were cold by the time I finished eating them.

How could we possibly go through with this ridiculous plan when our Houses abhorred each other so deeply? Nothing I said would make them believe in my family’s innocence.

And I would always hold a grudge against them. They might not have chosen to send me to Mistward, but Rhylan’s testimony had damned me all the same.

Half-killing me to bring me home did not make up for the years of fear and hunger. Far from it.

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