Page 163 of House of Ashes

“She’s been blocking me out for three days now. All I get from her is fog.” Doric’s angled brows were pulled into a scowl. “And I never sent you a message. This isn’t a fucking alliance discussion, it’s a Judgment.”

My too-tight heart didn’t just stutter. It seemed to stop entirely, ice spilling through my limbs. Rhylan was a statue at my side.

He looked at Rhylan, the scowl giving way to uncertain confusion. “It’s not true, is it?”

“Rhylan,” I breathed. Flames of fury simmered in his gaze, his muscles vibrating with tension. Doric backed away a step, then another, confusion becoming incredulity.

It had been a trap. And I had led us right into it.

Rhylan reached for me, scales spilling over his skin, already beginning the shift—

And a shadow eclipsed us, casting the Circle in darkness. The beat of wings thundered in my ears as I reached for him.

The thing that ripped him out of my grasp was a true dragon. A mountain with wings, a leviathan plummeting from the sky.

Illiae, the Ascendant of the Shadowed Stars.

My fingertips just touched Rhylan’s, and then he was torn away, gripped in bronze talons as long as swords, their razor-edges gleaming.

She flung him across the Circle. The speed of a creature her size—it seemed to defy all the laws of nature, that something so enormous could move like a lightning strike.

Rhylan hit the ground hard and rolled to a halt. He lifted his head, lips curled back over his teeth, blood pouring from his nose and coating his chin.

I moved like a dreamer caught in the bonds of a nightmare, taking one step before something heavy crashed into my back.

My knees hit the iridescent stones hard, my teeth cracking together from the impact. Hands clamped down on my arms, a foot planted itself in the small of my back and drove me to my stomach, and I snarled up at my captors: Cyran and Asura.

I hadn’t even seen them move. All my focus was reserved for Rhylan, rising to his feet as he stared down the Ascendant, her dusky, bruise-dark scales quivering with rage.

“Pretender,” Asura said coolly, wrenching my arm behind me.

Chantrelle stepped into the Circle from a footbridge, Elinor at her side, a tiny smile on her lips. Unlike the rest of us, she had not worn leathers; layers of thin silk whispered as she walked.

She stopped as she passed Rhylan, surveying him with a look of distaste. “Hold him down,” she told Illiae, and the Ascendant circled Rhylan.

He turned his back on her, running for me, eyes aflame with scarlet fire.

But she charged at him like an avalanche, a beast of starburst eyes and fangs; she brought one clawed hand crashing down onto him, driving him to his knees. Illiae drove him downwards, crushing his chest against his thighs, her talons caging him.

I struggled against my captors, unable to slash at them, my arms twisted and brought up behind my shoulder blades. Sharp pains ripped through my muscles.

Rhylan raised his head, eyes wild as he watched Asura and Cyran force me down again.

We stared at each other across the Circle, panting, and I sent a silent apology to him.

This was all my fault. I was no master of the game, only a pretender to the throne.

I had brought him to this.

“Enough of this,” Chantrelle said with disgust. “You all know why I’ve brought you here. I’ve called for a Judgment, so you can see the liars—the lawbreakers—your allies truly are. You are fools to back them, when there is one here who has a true claim.”

Tyria finally moved, resting a hand on Cai’s shoulder. She gave Chantrelle a glacial stare. “What Law are they supposed to have broken?”

The Lady of the Shadowed Stars raised her chin, pulling something familiar from her pocket.

She’d kept the damn strap she’d cut from our saddle. The hook gleamed, as sharp as an accusation. “Only a bonded pair may lay Claim for the throne—and they are not a bonded pair. What draga needs a wyvern harness to ride a dragon?”

She held it up, turning in place, ensuring everyone saw the damning hook.

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