Page 173 of Lady of Ashes

Scarlett followed Ashtine, watching the chains carefully. “What are they supposed to do?”

“The silver in the chains should be moving,” the Wind Princess murmured. “There is something wrong.”

Sorin shot a look at Briar before he said cautiously, “Maybe it is not skystone after all.”

“It has to be,” Scarlett said, a slight desperation ringing in her tone that had Sorin moving to her side and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It is skystone,” Ashtine said.

Sorin tried again. “I understand why you think that, but—”

“It is!” she said sharply, and Sorin’s eyes widened. He had never heard the princess speak in something other than her signature mystical lilt.

“What could be wrong?” Scarlett asked.

“It is not the skystone. It is me,” Ashtine whispered, eyes ?xed on the amulets.

“Try to call Nasima, Ashtine,” Briar said softly.

“She will not answer. She does not heed my summons anymore.” The princess struck out, slapping the amulets from the altar and sending them ?ying to the ground. “Nothing is right anymore.Down is up, and left is right. Black is white, and the winds ?ee from my mere presence.” Her small hand slammed down onto the altar, and a blast of wind erupted from it, the rock shuddering beneath the impact. Her chest was heaving, and the winds she’d created seemed to swirl about the Courtyard as if they were seeking a way out but could not ?nd it.

Sorin had tugged Scarlett back and into his chest, a thin shield of ?ame surrounding them. She had buried her face in his chest at the wind explosion, and she peeked out now, but Sorin’s hold on her did not lessen. Every part of him was on high alert.

He watched the Wind Princess warily as Briar slowly reached for her. Both of her hands were braced on the stone, her head bowed. Sorin knew she had not been herself. Briar had told him what had happened. Or the little that he knew anyway. Sorin had not realized it was this bad. That Ashtine, the quirky princess who spoke in lilting riddles and oddities, had descended into … this.

“Come here, my dear,” Briar said softly, and when Ashtine lifted her head, tears were coursing down her face.

“I cannot survive this, my heart. I cannot live without them,” she cried softly.

“I know, Ashtine. I know.” He pulled her into his chest, meeting Sorin’s gaze as the princess cried into his cloak.

Scarlett began squirming, trying to work her way out of Sorin’s grip, but he still refused to ease up.

“You’re being a mother hen,” she muttered.

“Did you not just see that?” he demanded in a hushed whisper.

“She is hurting, Sorin. She is not going to hurt me.”

“Not on purpose maybe.”

With a sigh, she created a swirl of shadows that cloaked her. They hovered close to her body and moved as though they were dark scales on her skin. “She will not touch me,” Scarlett said.

“When did you …” Sorin trailed off, not quite sure what to say or think as he looked at his wife. She could be Saylah herself. “When did you learn to do that?”

“I was told to master my Avonleyan magic. I have been doing so,” she answered, glancing back to Briar and Ashtine. The prince was murmuring softly into her ear.

“But when?” Sorin asked again. She was rarely out of his sight since returning.

“I came across some things during our research,” Scarlett answered, watching the other Royals.

Sorin stilled at her words. “What other things have you learned?”

“Nothing exciting.”

“Scarlett …”

Her gaze came back to his. “I am keeping nothing I have learned from you,” she hissed, those shadows swimming across her eyes again.

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