Page 52 of The Wrath of Ashes
Envi flinched when the door slammed, and Asha made a gesture in the air, tracing the action of stitching before he understood something a moment later. “Oh, gods.”
“Eugh…” Envi mimed the gesture and hesitated. “Oh. Okay, that makes more sense.”
Asha buried his hands in his lap and stewed in the stretch of silence. “I’d rather not think about Lyss engaged. It’s bad enough I’ve had to hear it once a fortnight for the last eight years. I don’t think she enjoyed it, then, either.”
Envi nodded sagely. “I’ve heard.”
Asha wiped his hand over his face and pulled it away, frowning as a streak of soot transferred, leaving a trail up his palm. “Baltheir’s arse…”
“Need to quit calling out that dog’s name. A god does not cry out the name of another.”
“I’m no god.” Asha twisted his lips and stared at the ash he’d created, like his name. He drew a finger through the fine sheen of ash across the table.
“Maybe, maybe not. We do get our directives from a higher source, but humans look to us for aid. To them, wearegods. They pray to us and we do as we were directed by fate. And fate? He, she, they’re the reason this top of life keeps spinning.”
“Wouldn’t that be a burden?” Asha drew in the soot with his fingertip.
“Dragons are better equipped to handle this burden than others. We were designed to ease the burden of others. With great privilege comes great responsibility.”
Asha stared, time stretching on as he lost himself in thought. “Yet you don’t end the war.”
“It is not our place to meddle in the affairs of man.”
“Yet you take their prayers and act like a god to them?” Asha glanced up, catching Envi’s eye. Green, like emeralds, shonedown to him, something vicious and demanding hidden in their depths. “They pray the dragons come to help.”
“Monsmountians pray to be the victor and Ramolians pray so also. There is no winning in war. Theirwaris the petty squabbles of wealthy men who arerapidlyrunning out of money. We’ll be there to pick up the pieces, but we do not wield fire on behalf of man. We blaze trails and build bridges. We feed and uplift.”
Asha took a deep breath, blinking away the bitterness. “Can you just take out the wealthy men who are starting it?”
“Not without looking to be the aggressor. We take them down in other ways.” Envi pulled out another sheet of paper and held it up. “Will you wield fire for your mortals?”
Asha stared at the paper and focused on that intense desire he had for Rath, the want he had for kisses and touch. It welled in his chest, and, like a spark, his throat pricked. He shook his head and blew a breath, giving Envi a gentle flame that sent the paper up in a soft plume. “I don’t think many mortals have been on my side to warrant me protecting.”
“Bitterness is no reason to not act, Asha.” Envi rested a hand on Asha’s head, avoiding his horns.
“Then why do I feel so poisoned against dragons and them, still?” Asha bit out a swear and shuddered.
“Because the right kind of victory has been denied you.” Rath’s voice pricked Asha’s ears, and he turned, standing so fast the chair toppled behind him.
He was windswept and reeked of hard travel. Smoke inundated his clothes with a sharp scent.
Asha didn’t mind, though. He rushed forward and be damned who was to witness, they kissed. Asha hadn’t had much experience with chaste kisses in his life, his sole experience being the hunger he felt with Rath.
Envi openly stared, and Rath made a rude gesture before pulling Asha into the hallway to continue their breathy discourse. “My Ashen, my mate. I apologize for being gone so long.”
“I understand. We had good reason to stay separate. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s… It’s so hard to want you and then—how I was raised.” Asha shook his head and pulled back, despite his body wanting nothing but to be close. He swept his tail in and wound it around Rath’s legs for a comforting squeeze, making sure his mate couldn’t leave.
“None will ever judge you.” Rath tilted a finger up under Asha’s chin, his face a portrait of victory. “Or they’ll suffer for me.”
Asha’s gut clenched at the thought of the earl, his sons, the half-brothers he never bonded with or knew as anything other than masters. “Never again.”
“Of course. I ensured it. My gift to you.” Rath dug in his pocket and pulled out three rings that Asha recognized; the earl’s, and two subsidiary signets of viscounty. He offered them to Asha. They were much cleaner than last he saw their tarnished facets on Tippen hands.
The gold in them wasn’t spent like the gold that had been sent to Monsmount. “Why is this not dull?”
“Because when mortals wear gold, they give life back to it.” Rath closed Asha’s hands over the rings. “I want them forged into your coronets. They’ll adorn your horns as a warning.”
Asha clutched his fingers over the rings, a shiver going through him. One he thought he wouldn’t like. Fear boiled in his gut that turned to heat. His mate was vicious. His mate was cruel and protective. “What did you do?”
