Page 149 of Ash and Feather

I didn’t always recognize sarcasm when it was leveled in my direction, but it was impossible to miss it in his voice.

I chose to ignore it.

“Yes. That’s all. You can manage that, can’t you?”

He slowly lowered his gaze to mine. His expression was stony and proud, reminding me of one of the many stone reliefs we’d passed on our way through the palace.

The seconds ticked by. The curtains whipped more wildly in the throes of my power, casting strange shadows over our faces. Papers on shelves and pages of books joined in the dance of energy, filling the room with sounds of crinkling and rustling.

“For the record,” said Fallon, “I don’t believe you can change the course this realm is on. And yet…” He stared at me with unabashed curiosity. “You’ve clearly changed my brother, which I also wouldn’t have thought possible.”

I exhaled slowly, settling my magic along with all the things it was disturbing.

The king turned his back to me, clasping his hands behind it as he stared at the sliver of Altis now visible through the stilled drapery.

“I’ll arrange what I can,” he said. “But if you are wrong, you will have put my city and its people in a very dangerous position. I just hope you realize that.”

Later that evening,I stood on the roof of one of the palace’s smaller towers, watching the sun sinking below the vast forest in the distance.

I’d been here for the better part of the last hour. The fields between the palace and the forest were covered with red flowers cast in gold by the sunset, reminding me of the fields of marigold that stretched outside of Andrel’s old family home.

I used to find such peace in that place, sitting alone for hours, watching the colors of night and day shift over the swaying flowers. Now all I could think about was the last time I’d sat there.

How everything changed so soon after that moment.

Cillian had joined me that day; I could still remember every word of the conversation we shared. I wanted to shrink at the memory—at the reminder that all I had left of him were memories. But I didn’t. Cillian wouldn’t have wanted me to. He would have been telling me to focus, to find some way to turn his death into something I could use…

And I had an idea of how to do that.

I hated it. Hated to think of the death of one of my best friends and mentors as a potential stepping stone toward anythinggood.

But it was leverage I could use, and I knew it.

The orders to poison Cillian and the other captives had come from Andrel—I was certain of it. My sister would not have given that order. Cillian had once been her closest friend. There was a chance she didn’t even know what had happened, given how expertly Andrel could weave lies.

So when we spoke, I was going to tell her everything Dravyn had witnessed.

I would keep opening her eyes, over and over, until she finally saw what I did.

Assuming she actually showed up, of course.

Fallon had sent a messenger soon after our conversation in his office. I’d been counting the hours that passed since that moment; we were approaching the tenth. The king had offered to let us stay the night while we waited, and Dravyn had begrudgingly agreed once I mentioned that I thought it would be easier to stay in one place—easier and less taxing on my magic that was still recovering after my ordeal at my old house.

Truthfully, I felt fine.

I just wasn’t willing to leave for several reasons. At the top of the list was my fear that Fallon would change his mind if I wasn’t here and constantly reminding him of my power and presence.

And though I knew it might end in disaster, I also wanted an excuse to keep Dravyn near his brother for at least a little longer. It felt like the only way to start healing the wounds between them.

Despite my scheming, they had managed to avoid each other for most of the day—but at least they were under the same roof again. That was a start.

As the last rays of sun slipped away, I heard footsteps approaching. I turned to see Dravyn walking toward me, cutting an impressive silhouette in the deepening twilight, looking more godly than human just then. I knew he’d made an effort to stifle his divine essence while we were here, but his skin still glowed with a faint glimmer of gold, as if it had drawn in bits of the setting sun.

His lips curved upward—the first relaxed, genuine smile I’d seen from him all day. My heart skipped at the sight, a mixture of happiness and relief tingling through me.

“What are you grinning about?” I asked, smiling back.

“This spot,” he replied, taking in the scenery as he strolled closer, “used to be one of my own favorite haunts. I would pass hours up here, sitting on the very edge of the roof. Now here you are. And I don’t know…it feels like something’s come full circle.”

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