Page 92 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Something in his tone made her turn to look at him. His shoulders were tight, lips pursed—pain there, albeit carefully hidden.
“You’re speaking from experience.”
Solflara stretched her wings, observing him.
“We all have our burdens.” The moment of openness shut as quickly as it had appeared. “But that’s a conversation for another time.”
“Seems like everything is a conversation for another time with you,” she muttered.
“For now, focus on your training. Trust Solflara’s judgment, and your own instincts. They’ve served you well so far.”
“Have they? Because, despite your evasions, they tell me you’re still hiding things.”
Walking backward toward the archway, he added, “Your instincts are excellent. But not for the reasons you think. Be careful.” He tugged at his tweed lapels, a faint smirk ghosting across his face.
As his footsteps faded, Alaire stood alone with her thoughts.
What kind of professor kept that close of an eye on a student? What kind of man tracked down prisoners in the depths of Grimstone? One the Consortium kept files on.
One thing was for sure—the web was far more tangled than she’d ever anticipated.
By the time the first frost covered her arched window, Alaire’s first trial was only weeks away.
On their way back from Sigils and Ancient Runes, Kaia pulled Alaire into a secluded courtyard. “Alaire, look.” She held out abook brimming with intricate illustrations, a rectangular scrap of fabric marking a page.
“It’s beautiful.”
“No, look,” Kaia insisted, spinning the book and tapping a particular image.
The painted portrait showed a regal couple facing the artist—he in a white suit, she in a striking red gown, a familiar crown resting atop her dark hair.
Alaire’s chest tightened. She knew that crown. Those faces. Her parents.
“Where did you get this?” Her voice was thick with shock.
“I was sorting through some old books my parents made me bring. Saw this last night and thought…” Kaia hesitated. “I know you don’t have much of them, and I thought?—”
Before she could finish, Alaire hugged the book to her chest as if it might vanish. The longing it stirred was a physical ache. She surged forward, wrapping Kaia in a fierce embrace. “I can’t thank you enough,” she choked out, tears pricking her eyes.
“It’s yours,” Kaia murmured, returning the squeeze.
Alaire didn’t let go for several moments. It was a piece of them—of her—and only now did she realize how much she’d needed it.
When she stepped back, her gaze clung to her parents’ likeness. Her father’s hand rested on her mother’s hip, their fingers intertwined. Her eyes fell to the oval ruby on a plain gold band.
Her breath caught—and suddenly she was no longer in the courtyard.
Queen Elara pushed back Alaire’s light-brown waves, tucking her into sunshine-yellow sheets tied with bows.
“Time for bed, darling.”
Alaire clutched her mother’s hand. “Don’t leave. I’m afraid.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Monsters under my bed.”
Her mother slipped the ruby ring from her finger and placed it on the nightstand. “This ring is special. It belonged to your great-grandmother, and when I was little, I was scared too.”
