Page 108 of House of Ashes

Gods, I hadn’t considered that my miraculous return might have some of the Houses wondering if Rhylan had found an impersonator…but Maristela was right. Myst’s bloodline didn’t lie.

And I knew talk would have been going around after the First Claim: Houses would be quietly maneuvering, deciding who to back. The thing was, I had always considered myself Nerezza’s daughter first and foremost. The Silvered Embers was the House I laid claim to.

But those who thought our Court might have a chance weren’t seeing Nerezza’s daughter, the princess of Silvered Embers. They weren’t even thinking of my mother’s conviction.

They were seeing Nasir’s daughter. The first child of the Drakkon. My House’s wealth might sway some, but it was the fact of my father’s lineage that would win me allies.

Because I despised Nasir so intensely, I had, in a way, stopped considering myself his daughter. He was nothing to me.

But I couldn’t think like that. Not if I wanted to win the throne by the right of might. I needed to…if not make peace with Nasir’s memory, then at least be willing to use it for my own gain.

He owed me that much, at least.

I chewed thoughtfully, listening to Rhylan as he said, “The Drakkon was my Preceptor. There’s two lines of connection to the Drakkon between us—if Undying Light doesn’t take that as a sign, then I’d have to wonder what Yura has on them.”

Maristela shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ears. “The question is, who doesn’t Yura have dirt on? But realistically, if everyone plays their cards right, she has no chance. If we hit her hard and fast, take out the Bloodied Talons, then the other Houses will join your Court. Nasir’s daughter is your mate, and he trained you himself. Kirana has ties of goodwill with too many Houses for Yura to sever. And you have me and Gaelin, at least.”

“And us,” Elinor said, who was on her fourth glass of wine. I’d given up after my first; her cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling when she looked at her mate.

“You’re wrong on one count,” I said grimly, and both Maristela and Elinor looked surprised to see me speak. “She absolutely has a chance. You have to understand about my sister…she will not stop fighting, not even when she’s been backed into a corner. She’ll be even more dangerous if she has nothing left to lose. We can hit her hard and fast, but if she survives it, she’ll be deadlier than ever.”

I knew dragonbloods despised Yura. But they despised her for the wrong reasons.

Not because she was haughty, or that she thought she was the gods’ gift to this world, or because she collected secrets like an Ascendant hoarding treasure, to control people with later.

Because underneath the skin, she was no draga. She was a beast.

“Destroying the Bloodied Talons would be like cutting a head from a hydra. We’d be sitting there, thinking we struck her an actual blow, but she would have six more heads lined up behind us.” I rubbed my throat, feeling the old pain of teeth ripping into vulnerable skin. “We can’t make plans to destroy her allies and think it’ll help us. We need to destroy the heart: Yura herself.”

There was a long moment of silence.

Then Maristela said quietly, “Should we demand that she concede? Give her the opportunity to back down gracefully?”

I smiled crookedly. “Only if you want her knife in your back later.”

Rhylan was the one who responded with heat, his eyes flashing. “She destroyed an entire village in my territory. Sixty-two Bloodless in one afternoon. There are no concessions for her now.”

Doric was watching Rhylan with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher, but I didn’t entirely like it. I wondered if these dragonbloods were truly our allies, or if they would turn as soon as the wind blew another way.

Without the declared commitment of their Houses, there was no way to truly know. We would be reliant on their word alone that they were with us; the suspicious part of me couldn’t help but wonder if one of them would relay this conversation to Yura, word for word, to gain a modicum of protection for their House.

Nerezza had always reminded me that I could never fully trust another dragonblood, that they would sell my secrets and my plans behind their backs while they smiled in my face.

But I needed more than allies. I needed true friends—the kind Rhylan had.

I needed to stop being my mother’s daughter, and find out who I would have been if she hadn’t molded me so completely into…into herself.

An untrusting draga, who kept so many hidden secrets, who never let me in…and never let anyone else in with me.

Because of this, they would have no reason to lift a finger for my sake. These were Rhylan’s friends, not mine.

So I would give them just one small thing, one thing that would hopefully begin the bridge of trust between us. An assurance that any crumb of trust they gave me, I would return with everything in my power. That I took responsibility for all I would ask of them.

“I know what it is,” I said into the silence. “I know that this is cold-blooded murder. I made the plan, and I’m the one who will carry it out. I don’t expect anyone else to have blood on their hands for my sake. All I ask is that you do what you can to stand with us when the time comes, and Silvered Embers will always stand with you.”

“And Obsidian Flame,” Rhylan added, taking my hand.

Maristela ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass, contemplating the two of us. Finally she said, “I’ll back you. Gaelin wouldn’t have it any other way—we’re quite sure Mourning Fang is planning to declare themselves for your Court.”