Page 219 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Alaire crossed her arms, staring at the vaulted ceiling though she wasn’t really seeing it. She’d shared secrets her parents had died to protect—bled to protect—with people she thought she could trust. And not even a breath later, she discovered there were traitors in their midst.
“So you stayed silent, knowing full well the danger could’ve killed us. And now you choose to say something?” Her voice was cold, every word plucked to deliberately hit their mark.
Her gaze flicked to Kaia before narrowing on Caius. “You talk about honor as if it’s sacred to you. But where was it when we needed it? When Kaia—when all of us—trusted you?”
The words hung heavy.
Caius broke the silence first. “I didn’t think he’d ever take those kinds of risks. Honestly, I didn’t realize the lengths he was willing to go until you shared what happened.” His throat bobbed. “He refused to tell me what went on, only that it was in Cielore’s best interest. I never thought anyone’s lives were at stake.”
Alaire glared at him. “You let us walk into a trap, Caius. You letmewalk into a trap. How are we supposed to trust you now?”
He met her harsh stare, unflinching. Guilt simmered beneath the surface.
“I won’t ask for forgiveness,” he said flatly. “But I’m here now. Sharing what I know.”
Alaire leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Why? What changed?”
For a breath, Caius said nothing. Then, slowly, his hands curled into fists.
“Once, I lost someone I loved. Human rebels tore her apart for nothing more than being fae. They brutalized her in the worst ways. To them, she was a symbol—a thing to break.” His face twisted with pain. “It was a message—to remind us that magic wasn’t armor. We could bleed like anyone else.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.
“And she did. Slowly.” Silence stretched. “Any sympathy I had for Cielore’s humans died with her.”
His gaze dropped as if the weight of his words dragged him down.
“Then you showed up. Rounded ears, arrogant, snarky.” His lips curled. “I hated you on sight. You were one of them to me.”
Caius exhaled. “I still don’t like you. But you’re half fae, you shared your secrets with us, and protected Dawson and Kaia. I trust you’ll do what it takes when it matters. That’s enough for me.”
Alaire didn’t move for several long moments, processing.
“I don’t need you to like me,” she said at last, leaning back. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. “But I do need you to respect and trust me, if I’m to do the same for you.”
Her gaze searched his, looking for cracks in his expression. She found none.
“No more secrets. No more half-truths.” She crossed one leg over the other. “You get one chance to prove it. One.”
Caius nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
She extended her hand across the table. “I’m sorry you had to endure that kind of loss, Caius. I know too well the price grief demands.”
He didn’t hesitate to take her hand. In his eyes, she saw sincerity—and the faintest flicker of hope.
Kaia refused to acknowledge him.
Right now, their priority was gathering information. Everyone had their assignments; they would regroup in a few days.
The Winged Wars would be a long, brutal game of chess, and they needed to know every player moving the pieces.
She swept her gaze around the table—unexpected allies, and those she knew would stand with her no matter the darkness ahead.
Dawson had retreated behind his mask of indifference, observing with shrewd attention, revealing nothing.
A faint smile tipped her lips. She wasn’t naïve enough to think this would be easy—or even possible. But they were here, standing on the edge of something new. A dangerous, vicious threat loomed, and yet they’d stayed. For now, that was enough.
“We should get to class,” Kaia said, tone lacking its usual warmth as she slung her bag over her shoulder.
