Page 89 of House of Ashes

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Page 89 of House of Ashes

“What proof do you bring of this accusation?” she asked, sounding almost bored.

And that, the flat, disinterested tone alone, that was what convinced me that the accusation was true. Yura was no stranger to bloodshed or confrontation; she knew that Tidas was guilty, and she simply didn’t care.

I had heard that same tone of voice before, when the teachers of the Training Grounds had questioned why there was blood on her teeth…why their marks had matched the ones in my skin? The memory was unclear.

But Jaien, red-eyed and furious, couldn’t form words under the cool carelessness of Yura’s regard.

I understood all too well, to know you were facing an enemy against whom your anger broke like meaningless waves.

His rage, his grief, meant less than nothing to her.

“You do not deserve it,” Jaien whispered hoarsely. “You deserve exile, you deserve death—Tidas took Loralei. How could any of you stand to back him, knowing this?”

It was Kalros who sauntered towards him, brimming with smug satisfaction as he made a shield between Jaien and Yura. “Unless we see proof, your accusations mean nothing,” he said with a wink. Gods, if Jaien ripped out his throat now, I would help him.

But all of the convocation stood frozen, and I wondered how many believed Jaien’s claim.

And how many would close their eyes to it. There was no one able to pass Judgment now.

One of Jaien’s brothers curled massive claws around him, pulling him back into their midst, and Jaien’s head slumped. Speaking the words aloud seemed to have sapped all the energy from him; he was broken now.

“I did not.” Tidas’s voice was flat. There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in his eyes. “I did nothing to her.”

He turned away, and the screech and squeal of armor being bent out of shape filled the air as he shifted, leaving his clothes and the ruins of plate metal behind.

Yura easily climbed onto his back without saddle or harness, digging her claws into his ridged gray spine as the dragon launched himself into the air.

“You have little time to decide,” she called as he circled. “Or we take your eyries by force. Choose wisely.”

Tidas flapped his wings hard, sending a gust of wind over us all, and shot out over the lake, and Kalros and his motley group of dragons followed.

Leaving silence in their wake, the gathering broken.

My aunt and uncle left over the footbridge without a backwards glance, whispering to my cousin Cyran. I heard Chantrelle spitting harsh words at Maristela, practically dragging her away, but I felt that we were in a bubble.

A terrible bubble, where Rhylan was a statue carved from stone, and Kirana was breathing quickly, hiding her face as she hyperventilated into her hands.

Doric touched Rhylan’s shoulder, and whatever passed between them passed without words. He and Elinor followed the Shadowed Stars, leaving us alone with the Jade Leaves.

Tyria sighed, even as half her sons shifted into male form. The one who had been watching Kirana was tall and broad, his eyes the same pale green as his mother’s.

Even now he watched her, that gaze brimming with both hope and hopelessness.

“Kirana,” he said, his voice deep, and nodded to her. His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

She looked back at him, suddenly seeming fragile and hollow. “Cai.”

So many things were falling into place, things that they had said and told me, and yet I’d been…so caught up in myself, in my own problems and fears, that I hadn’t stopped to think about them.

When Kirana had told me that Loralei was with the Jade Leaves, I’d truly believed she was living there. It wasn’t uncommon for younger heirs to visit other territories, or seek out potential mates—or to choose their mate’s eyrie as their permanent home.

She was with the Jade Leaves, in their territory…as ashes in her tomb.

Like Jaien, Rhylan wanted revenge. Everything driving him, everything he would risk…of course it would be love for his younger sister.

I’d been so awful to Rhylan at times, complaining at him, telling him he was heartless, when he had already lost so much. If I’d been less self-centered, I would have seen there was so much more beneath the surface.

That there was one thing which could unite every member of his House, from their ancient ancestor to the seamstress, the one thing that was more important than the Law to them.




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