Page 6 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“The secret,” Elodie stated, pulling Alaire from her thoughts, “is finding something they can’t take from you.”
Alaire scoffed. “You sound like Blake.” She dug her fingers into her tunic.
“Blake?”
She hadn’t intended to mention him. Connections had consequences. But something about Elodie’s earnestness—the thought ofthree yearsin Grimstone—made her continue.
“A fae I once knew. Born without magic.” She missed him.
Aether was the primal source of magical energy in Elithian, a force interwoven through all things. The ability to tap into aether was typically passed down through each generation.
“A null?” Elodie squeaked. “Rare.”
“He used to volunteer at the orphanage. He taught me how to fight.” Alaire ran a finger along the metal bar. “Said everyone needed to be able to rely on themselves.”
“Smart man, this Blake.”
“He was.” The past tense slipped out before she could take it back.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
Alaire shrugged, even though Elodie couldn’t see it. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
Blake had never explained why he’d approached her that day, when she was huddled in the corner of the orphanage while the other children played in the yard. A sickness had swept through weeks earlier, and while the others recovered, Alaire’s lungs had not. The physician who treated her couldn’t compete with the soulwarden healers of House Vitalis.
The only explanation Blake had ever offered was that his sister had suffered from the same affliction but had been healed by a soulwarden. He’d taught Alaire the breathwork techniques his sister had learned. One of a thousand small pieces of kindness he’d offered her—kindness she could never repay.
A commotion erupted down the corridor.
Footsteps—more than the usual patrol. Voices barked orders as the cell doors slid open automatically in a cacophony of screeching metal.
“What’s happening?” Alaire asked.
Elodie’s response was hushed, urgent. “Inspections. They strip the cells, sometimes the prisoners too. Looking for contraband.”
Alaire’s mind raced. Most contraband had to be peddled during the one hour of yard time. Surely, there was some information she could find, some way to get out of here.
Elodie interrupted her thoughts. “Doesn’t matter if you don’t have anything. They’ll find something if they want to.”
Something in her tone made Alaire pause. “Speaking from experience?”
A prolonged silence answered her. The implication hung between them.
Alaire gritted her teeth.
Boots approached—closer.
Four guards stood at the entrance to her cell. One was slightly taller, his hand resting on a concealed weapon. Alaire recognized him. He was the one she’d spat at after he called her a “human leech” during intake. He’d backhanded her hard enough to send her flying against the cold stone.
The gods must truly detest her.
Elodie had gone quiet.
“Well, well, Prisoner 8273.” He smirked. “I believe we have unfinished business.”
Alaire straightened her spine.
He signaled, and two guards entered her cell. The one who’d spoken remained at the threshold.
