Page 85 of House of Ashes

Beyond them stood the House of Lunar Tides. Elinor was there, at Doric’s side. She had never been a scion of her House, and now she wore the pale blue and pearls of the Lunar Tides, throwing her lot in with her mate’s House. Doric himself was dressed as simply as Rhylan, with no concessions to vanity.

Shadowed Stars…a delegation in dusky midnight blue and bronze, diamonds glittering like their namesake. Maristela stood in front of the large group, gripping Gaelin’s hand so tightly I could see the whiteness of her knuckles.

Behind her, the Lady of her House, Chantrelle, wore a sour look on her face. She had always conspired to mate bond Maristela to Rhylan, and even now I saw her eyes flicker to us—irritation as she gazed at Rhylan, and bitter curiosity as she took in my veiled form at his side.

But it was the Jade Leaves who surprised me. Unlike my own House, or Undying Light, the Jade Leaves had always been particularly prolific. I knew their Lady Tyria had eight sons, one of whom was mated to Loralei, and several daughters.

But Tyria stood alone.

Chin high, emerald scales gleaming against dark skin, she was doing the same thing I was: taking in each House, measuring whether they would become allies or if she’d have to kill them later. A hundred dark braids hung down her back, glimmering with tiny specks of peridot, and I watched as deep green claws flexed at her side.

Why was Tyria alone? I desperately wanted to speak to her, to know what my father had said in his last days alive to one of his few confidantes, but as Tyria’s gaze moved over us, she gave the tiniest shake of her head.

Relief welled in me. The rumors had been right about one thing, at least; Tyria would not make an immediate move to murder me. Perhaps she had her own questions.

But I did worry about the lack of family around her—and Loralei’s absence.

But, following Tyria’s movement, I glanced to the far side of the Circle. Slowly, not wanting to see, but needing to.

A ringing filled my ears as I took her in. Honey blonde waves falling over her shoulders to the small of her back, cheeks cut sharp as glass and shining with gilded scales, and eyes as black as night.

The hot taste of copper filled my mouth and I swallowed, knowing there was no blood and tasting it regardless.

The last time I had seen Yura, her teeth had been smeared with it. Those long nails had been clamped around my throat…or had they? I couldn’t remember.

I remembered screaming, the blood, the feeling of…of being hunted…

Now she stood like a goddess come to earth, shining in a dress of golden silk studded with coins, Tidas standing proudly at her side. He hadn’t changed much since the Training Grounds; I recognized his messy dark hair and steely eyes from across the Circle. Unlike Yura, he wore iron armor, his chin raised and eyes half-lidded as he watched his competition.

Rhylan and I took our places next to Tyria, and even under the veil I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Yura.

But even as I stared at my sister, wishing immediate death upon her, I realized something that I hadn’t practiced—something that sent ice crawling through my veins.

We all stood in silence, and yet I could see which dragons and draga were mate bonded.

It was in the way they were turned toward each other, the small tilts of the head, the flicker of an eye. I had seen Maristela and Gaelin at the wyvern outpost, I had known this would come…why hadn’t I practiced the tiny tells, rather than just focusing on trying to like Rhylan?

All around us, in the silence, a thousand words were being spoken at once.

With my heart pounding, I turned myself slightly towards Rhylan, giving him a peek of a glance under my eyelashes.

Thank Larivor he took the hint, tipping his head slightly towards me. Maybe it would be easier if I pretended we were actually speaking.

Well, we really fucked up, didn’t we? This should’ve been on the curriculum.

Of course there was no response, but it would’ve been such a relief if I could hear him tell me that we could get through this.

I brushed my hand against his, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach that was pure nerves. Across the Circle, Maristela leaned into Gaelin, ignoring the deepening frown on her mother’s face as she looked up at him, holding an inaudible conversation.

There were so few of us. That was what struck me as I looked around—the future of all of Akalla was to be decided by no more than eight Great Houses.

There was something disturbing in that, to know a few million lives hung at the mercy of so few—all of whom hated each other.

I swallowed my nervousness, pushing it aside.

The silence as the Houses gathered had lasted no longer than a minute, and I squeezed Rhylan’s hand harder, preparing for him to speak—

But it was Yura who stepped forward, the soft chime of her coin-dripping dress calling all attention to her. She held out her hands, head raised high.

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