Page 12 of The Wrath of Ashes
“As his kind are wont to be.” Rath had at least hoped they’d have him out of the cell by now, cleaned up, but no. Perhaps they thought he wouldn’t come, or the damage was worse than he thought.
Rath sighed heavily as they brought him inside the keep, the stink of fear coming off the both of them.
“Forgive me asking, but he is the earl’s bastard, is he not?” Rath paused when the earl hissed beneath his breath and grumbled low.
“He’s no bastard. He was my son from my first marriage to third in line of the Ramolian throne, Prince Vermier.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and Rath seethed lightly while the earl screwed his face up with disgust.
Waiting for them to expound, Rath glanced around, taking in the worn hallway runners, the cracks in the tile, all the little signs of impoverishment. A failing earldom.
“One wonders why you were sent here,” Rath said, his voice a curious mutter that earned a shameful glance away.
“My father summoned me home once my husband was killed in battle and the war began. And since I was very early on, we didn’t know, and they were left in doubt of my virtue. I was wed to Earl Tippin shortly after Asha was born with the agreement that he not hold station or title.” She glanced away, clearly ashamed.
“You act as if you were innocent. Even your father doubted you were virtuous.” The earl scoffed.
“That’s one of the few things I’ve ever been, though Baltheir knows why. You’re a terrible excuse for a husband.” She sneered and carried on, walking not toward the brighter and more welcoming parts of the keep but to the servants’ areas where Rath had to duck beneath door frames to not catch his great horns.
The stench of dungeon hit him, a familiar note from his dream. Damp stone walls wept gently, the mildew and mire of the place muddled with fresh straw. At one point, the dungeons had been beautiful work but had eroded, like everything else, into something cheap. He brushed an errant finger across the mottled stone and brought it back slightly damp and greenish-black from mildew.
A young woman stood pining by the bars while a striking male knelt over a bucket, bathing his bare chest and marred back. Thescarsthat littered his back had an interesting shape, curved, jagged, spanning from shoulder to waist, the piece of his dragon’s soul made manifest.Wings.There were scars there, too. Scars done in silver—the only thing that could mark a dragon so callously. It’d take time to fade.
“Asha…” Rath’s voice went a little softer than he intended, a coo of concern. When Rath paused, the countess and earl silenced themselves.
The male lifted his head with ruddy damp hair dripping in slightly wavy rivulets, a golden brown or dull red if he hadany guess when it was dry, a light color inundated with a fire of its own. His light lashes fluttered, focusing in the dim light, blinking water away as the fawning girl yelped and scattered.
“Why is he made a spectacle? And why has he earned such lashings?” Rath kept his voice stern and low, threat in every syllable.
“Impudence! His tongue—” The earl’s reedy voice halted.
Rath raised a single hand, clawed tips catching the flickering torchlight in a satisfactory way.
“Impudence? You’re but an earl. And he, by right of birth, is a duke at the very least, if not a lesser prince? Firstborn male of a Ramolian prince?” Rath tilted his head and let his chains jingle, a constant reminder of his height, his size, his advantage. The earl stepped back, stiff and ready to bolt.
“Elin agreed he’d have no station.” Earl Tippin ground his teeth audibly.
“Mm-hmm… I don’t think that was her decision, but it’s no matter. He’ll be a prince in time.”
Gorgeous eyes, blue like barium flames, hot and deep as they gained focus, lost on him as he stepped forward. For a moment, the wonder crept over him, the attraction of their bond flaring with recognition.
Rath carefully schooled his reaction, not wanting to play his hand.
“Finish readying yourself, Asha. I’ll need to have words with the earl and countess.” Rath snapped his fingers, a sharp sound meant to ready his nearby guard. His trusted captain, Baldric, took a stiff pose by the cell bars and stiffened his posture, obscuring Rath’s direct line of sight. Rath locked eyes with Baldric and nodded once before he inclined his head and stared at the frozen boy, barely visible beyond his guard. “Strong words.”
Chapter Six
Asha
Duke… Prince?Asha stood, frozen in place as the cold water and harsh soap stung his eyes.
A god of a man, a head taller than any male around him stared at Asha with eyes such a vivid and penetrating blue, like his own, but filled with power he could only define asmagic, but their strange shape made Asha pause, blinking in wonder as he wanted to step toward the bars.
Asha couldn’t form words, frozen, his breath stolen until the man tilted his head, chains between his towering horns jangling. Adragon, the first he’d ever seen so close.
Magnificent. Handsome.Asha’s mind spun.
Forbidden.
The dragon’s face went slack and cold as he sharply snapped a man to attend the cell, exchanging a bitter glance before staring at Asha again and storming off, the earl and countess in tow.
