Page 103 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

Ankaret drew herself up into a quiet column of light. Her feathers gleamed as if freshly polished. “She will tell you where it is if you tell a truth to this woman whose love you think you deserve. A truth you have kept inside you for far too long. A truth she has the right to know. Refuse, and I will leave and take all knowings of Moonhollow with me.”

With those words, with Ankaret’s eyes trained on him as if they were in silent, private conversation, something in Ryder changed. The tension bled from his body; his shoulders seemed to sag. He said nothing.

I looked back and forth between them. “What truth? What is she talking about?”

“How do you know?” he said dully.

“She doesn’t know all, but she can find what she wants to,” Ankaret replied. I thought I heard a twinge of regret in her voice. “She listens and asks, she reads and seeks. She cannot hold all things in her thoughts, but some things she will never let go, once she uncovers them.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Ryder muttered.

“Then you are not listening.”

It was as if I were no longer there. They glared at each other, the man and the firebird. I looked angrily at each of them, willing them to look at me.

“What truth?” I asked again.

“Do we have a bargain?” Ankaret asked, still ignoring me. “A fair one, she thinks. You would be a fool not to take it.”

“Of course we have a bargain,” Ryder said sharply. “And after you’ve fulfilled your side of it, I hope you’ll return to whatever ancient pit you crawled out of.”

Ankaret’s flames didn’t so much as ripple at his furious tone. “It is best, Ryder of the House of Bask,” she said solemnly, “that this should happen. It is a kindness. Would you never have told her on your own? A coward does not deserve such a love.” Then she seemed to soften a little. The brilliant snap of her fire dimmed to something cooler, more bearable. “Here. Poor heartbroken boy, frightened and alone. I see him inside you, that child. We will do it together.”

Ryder didn’t answer, looking miserably at the ground, and Ankaret turned her full attention to me. “When you were small,” she said, “a child of eleven, you nearly died. A nefarious plot, one of many your families dreamed up for one another. For who else besides your mortal enemies would have been so bold as to burn down the House of Ashbourne?”

My blood ran cold at her words, more with shock than anything. The last thing I’d expected her to say wasthis.I braced myself against the inevitable rush of memories: the smoke, the fire, Osmund clinging to my chest, the certainty drumming through my mind that I would die.

“You tell me something I already know,” I said coolly. “You speak to me of a fire while standing there blazing with flames yourself, looking hungry and unkind. Do you mean to frighten me? To reopen old wounds?”

The stars of her eyes disappeared into the fiery swirl of her face before reappearing—smaller, paler.

“No,” she said, her tone uncanny, multipronged, but gentle. “She means to tell you the truth.”

With that, she looked at Ryder, who looked so tensely despairing that I could hardly stand to look at him.

“Ryder of the House of Bask?” Ankaret said.

After a long moment, his jaw working, Ryder said quietly, “A boy saved you that night, Farrin.”

“The shining boy, you call him,” Ankaret added. “And he did shine, for he wore spellwork meant to persuade you to run. A spell to coax you beyond your fear. And he wore a mask to hide his face from you. For if you’d seen it, you would not have trusted him.”

“You would have seen an enemy,” Ryder said. Still he would not look at me. “You would have run away and died. The mask was necessary. The spellwork too.”

My heart pounded, each of their words falling through me like a clap of thunder. “What?” I whispered. “What are you saying?”

“He is telling you a truth you should know,” Ankaret replied. Her brilliant eyes were fixed on me. Her scarlet feathers gleamed in the light of her own fire. “He should have done it long ago but has been too afraid.”

Her eyes cut past me, and I turned to follow her gaze, my whole body tingling with slow-blooming shock. Ryder stood still and silent. He finally looked at me without defiance or shame, with only a sort of tired acceptance. He was expecting a blow; it seemed he would welcome it.

Every moment I’d spent considering the impossible—Ryder, the shining boy; the shining boy, Ryder—unfurled anew inside me. My mind whirled with memory as I recalled the shining boy’s pale skin, the dark hair curling out from under the crude mask with the blacked-out eyes, his voice—rough, but kind—his strength and courage. Once we were outside and safe, he’d held my hand. He’d kissed my knuckles.Star of my life, he’d whispered, and then he’d heard my family coming, and he’d gotten angry.I have to go. I’m so sorry. They’re coming now. You’ll be all right.

With Ankaret’s words ringing in my ears, each piece of the memory rearranged itself and fell into its rightful place. I could no longer deny the truth I’d long convinced myself was laughable, that even Yvaine in all her kindness had implied was far-fetched. My sight, at last, was clear, my understanding horribly complete. Suddenly I recalled what Ryder had said that night in the Citadel, when I’d asked him to kiss me, to bind my wrists, to claim my body with his.Star of my life, he had murmured to me, and I’d thought the words familiar, but out of my mind with pleasure, comforted by Yvaine’s promise—Don’t you think I would have told you, long ago, if that were the case?—I’d forgotten to care. I’ddecidednot to care.

But Yvaine wasn’t well, and I was the worst kind of fool for accepting her reassurance so easily, for ignoring my own instincts, all because I was desperate for the affection of a man.

I felt sick and cold, as if I’d woken up from a restless night of sleep to remember something I’d forgotten to do the day before, something that had slipped through the cracks despite my lists and routines,something that would disappoint someone or anger Father or make a servant’s life more difficult. Something avoidable if only I’d been sharper, more disciplined. Except this feeling was a thousand times worse than that. Tears gathered behind my eyes.

If Ryder had keptthisfrom me—the truth of this pivotal moment in my life—what else had he decided not to tell me?

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