Ashes

by Sophie H. Morgan

  He seemed so calm, so sure of himself, as he took his verbal blades and sliced into her. And he was a coward.

  Ana’s jaw tightened to the point of pain. “I love you.” Earnest, she shook him. “Do you hear me, Cade Lorin? I fucking love you. You’ve never failed me.”

  His face closed like a book. “And I’ll always love you. But this is where we go our separate paths.”

  “What happened to the man who was willing to fight for my life?” she demanded, dashing away the silly tears that overran and fell down her cheeks. She ignored the presence of her gang, of a quasi-enemy prince. Damn them. “Where’s the man who said he would never let me go? Who’s this coward?”

  “Ana.” A snarl coated the word as Cade latched on to her upper arms. “You think this is easy for me? You think I want to let you go?”

  She hit him on the chest. “Yes, otherwise you’d grab your balls and face your fears—like I am.”

  “Alana…”

  “No, Cade.” She shoved him dead center of his chest. His face fell into blank lines as she went on the attack. “You told me I was a coward. Well, now, I’m telling you. You’re so afraid of failing, you won’t even take a chance. Well, guess what, nothing in life comes with a guarantee. You either take a chance on us, trust that nothing you do would ever make me think you’d failed me, or you walk away from the best thing to ever happen to you.” Her chest was heaving, restricted breathing wheezing from her. Everything inside her tightened to the point of pain as she waited for her answer.

  She pleaded with her eyes for Cade to give himself a chance, to face his past and flip it the bird. If he could simply trust in himself…

  “I can’t, Alana.” His voice was gritty but firm. His eyes blazed with enough suppressed emotion to power a lighthouse. His jackal growled.

  Ana pressed her lips together, agony electrifying her veins like acid. She shuddered, iced to her core. But she was still the street fighter.

  She drew herself up, swallowing to stay steady. “Then we have nothing left to say.”

  “I’ll stay.” Cade’s hand made a restless move at his side, as if wanting to touch. She was beyond relieved he didn’t. “Until the Treaty have you under their protection. I’ll stay.”

  “Do what you want, Cade.” Bitterness dripped like poison as she turned. “You always have.”

  Her footsteps echoed on the floorboards as she walked to where Garrett was waiting.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Some of the Houses have been talking, Your Divineness…”

  Ana paused to enjoy the view from the bay window of the serene loch she’d played in as a girl. The sun was setting, vivid colors striking off the murky water. A deer, wild, not a shifter, bent its delicate neck to lap from it. Tranquil images.

  When she twisted, it was with an expression of resignation. “The Houses are always talking, Sebby,” she told her cousin, shoving a hand through her hair. It had been a month since she’d last hacked at it, and it now curled to her chin in a classic bob, the red vibrant due to the light in the High Lands. One month since she’d taken over from her cousin, who’d been vastly relieved to relinquish the title and had assumed the position as her chief advisor.

  A month since her awkward meeting with Ambassador Kraig from the Treaty, who had taken her and Garrett’s statements on Edward’s death with measured eyes and a noncommittal manner. The case was “under investigation”, but seeing as Gable hadn’t reared his head and Garrett was still spouting the lie, Alana was content to let the pot simmer.

  Thirty days since she’d seen Cade.

  Thoughts of him still struck her at odd times in the day: a joke she wanted to share, a story she needed to tell him, a kiss just because.

  At night, dreams plagued her until she’d wake, gritty-eyed and sweaty, her body clenched in yearning. Nights where she’d cry herself to sleep, aching for him to get over his stupid fear of failure. She didn’t need him by her side, but by the holy fires, how she wanted him.

  Thanks to Sapphy’s weekly phone calls, Ana knew he’d left the Southlands as soon as the Treaty’s hover-limousine—her “escort” home—had exited the territory. Hadn’t wasted much time—except, Sapphy had reported, to stop by the Hotel and have another piano lesson with Sakura and a chat with Gabriel.

  Ana wished she was the sort of person able to wish him well. As it stood, she wished a wild animal would eat his testicles.

  Sebby, a darling thirty-year-old phoenix, whose sole trademark was that of a continual wringing of the hands, looked at her with fretful, washed-out blue eyes. His hair was shorn to his head, a caramel color that complemented his baby face perfectly.

  “The nobles from the Mind House say your new rule of cutting taxes by a third are a flight of fancy, and that you need to come back down to earth,” he gabbled, interrupting her fantasies. He held his breath, shifting from court shoe to court shoe.

  When she’d first instigated new laws, most dealing with redistributing wealth from the rich to the poorer of her people, there’d been uproar in the chambers.

  Until Ana had thrown her dagger at the voice that’d protested the loudest.

  She hadn’t injured him, of course; she’d only wanted to make a point. The poor were being fed and clothed, factories were 30 percent more productive, housing was improving. The Guardian House would have up-to-date training facilities, the Mind House was busy creating jobs and organizing intelligence, and the Creators…well, Ana never knew what they were up to. Something to do with great art, maybe.

  The nobles would benefit in time, but they were so outraged by her impudence that they were too blind to see it.

  Others spoke of a commoner becoming their queen, how it was a slap in the face to everything her parents had worked for.

  Ana couldn’t care less. She’d made her peace with her parents the first week she’d returned to the High Lands, after she’d received word Jonah had been arrested for their murders, and she’d visited their urns in the White Chapel.

  A pang of grief plucked at her as she remembered Edward’s callous words. They might have accepted payment for her, but they’d wanted to renege. She had to take that and be forgiving.

  With two red roses symbolizing the fire of their souls clutched in her hands, under the watchful eye of the deacon, she’d laid them before each huge stone urn. Whether it was spiritual or psychological, the guilt that’d always tightened her stomach into knots as tight as a sailor’s had loosened. What could the nobles say to compete with that?

  “Let the nobles talk,” she told Sebby now. Her hand settled on the table stretching the length of her banquet hall.

  She was organizing her first official reception to mark the beginning of her rule. She’d hosted a celebration for her coronation, which had happened two weeks previous, but this party would be the first test of her ability to schmooze and kiss ass of the lily-white noble sort. Visiting dignitaries and rulers from every territory were coming to pay their respects and muse about possible alliances, putting Ana uneasily in mind of the birthday banquet that had changed her fate.

  But as she’d found, when one was queen, one sometimes had to put up with things one couldn’t give a crap about if one wanted one’s territory to benefit. Like the elegant dress Sebby had ordered for her for tonight’s banquet. If she’d had her own way, she’d have shown up in pants.

  She’d taken to wearing fitted red slacks and conservative sweaters, waistcoats and tunics. Anything but gowns. Some of the younger generation had taken to copying her. Another complaint to deal with from the chambers.

  She’d been seeing to last-minute details when Sebby had fluttered up like an anxious butterfly, dressed head to toe in azure blue and white ruffles.

  Ana nodded at the meal plan drawn up by Cook and waiting for her approval. A maid hurried away with it as Ana rubbed a circle at her temple. The party hadn’t even started, and al
ready she had a migraine. “They’ll see that happy workers equal productive workers,” she added, seeing Sebby was waiting for more of a response. “Besides, when everything’s balanced, I can increase taxes—not that we need it. The castle’s accounts are plumping up nicely, thanks to you, Seb.”

  A blush pinked his cheeks. “They don’t like change.” His smile held a touch of ruefulness. “That’s why I never did anything.”

  Ana couldn’t blame him for that. The nobles were like a ferocious band of…well, phoenixes, and Sebby was an innocent lamb. He’d have been slaughtered if he’d dare meddle with policy.

  At least her first act of diplomacy had gone well, the fae having received the sword of their fallen king, Arthur, with delight. It had been worth the battle with Garrett over who should possess such a sword, worth finally sneaking into the guarded room it’d been locked in and stealing it to send to the fae. Ana had received word a week ago that the beautiful but reserved fae ambassador, Nathe, was attending tonight’s festivities from his realm, Lunguard. A real feat, as it was well known the fae usually kept to themselves. Though it did present a problem with the seating chart, as the fae had friction with the furies. Oh, for the days when my problems were about real issues.

  But it was worth it. Sapphy’s phone call that morning had announced the last of Edward’s labs had been officially closed, every subject recovered and either shipped home or taken to the Hotel. The phoenix Edward had spoken of, one in his early twenties, was still shocky from his ordeal. The Hotel would have a mess sorting it all out, but Adelaide, dainty as she might’ve looked, was as tough as old plas-leather. Ana gave her another month before the victims began to come out of their shells.

  Ana smiled at Sebby as he started to talk at length about the flower arrangements. So it had been worth it. And, if she was really honest, on even the suckiest of days, when she’d been at loggerheads with the nobles for a solid eight hours, she enjoyed the challenge of her new life. Like her Liberty persona, it gave her a purpose. Her parents had been right; she wasn’t a traditional ruler.

  Nobody in her territory would fear her. She might not always make friends, would definitely make enemies, but she would stick to what she knew in her heart was the right thing. If that was disappointing her parents, then so be it.

  In fact, she hoped to soon draw up an alliance with the Southlands. According to Sapphy, Garrett had temporarily been assigned as governor, until the Treaty declared him fit to rule. The Hoods had decided in the end that they couldn’t force a teenager to govern a land when he was still training his empathic ability. So Garrett it had to be.

  Also according to her gossip-hungry friend, Garrett had attempted to reach out to his half brother, but the empath had refused, unsure if his brother could be trusted.

  Neither was she.

  No matter her uncertainty, it would steady the Kingdom for two powerful territories to unite, especially with the rumbles coming from loud mouths in Edan. At least the Hoods were there to contain the rebellion—an irony she hadn’t seen coming. When she traveled down at the end of the month to talk alliance with Garrett, it was going to be a challenge to resist revisiting her alter identity.

  But she absolutely, positively would not be revisiting old feelings and memories about a certain coward.

  Absolutely.

  “Your Divineness, where does this box go?” It was one of the maids, a new hire from one of the neighboring villages, a square box the size of a dinner plate clutched in her hands. She seemed awed to be talking to the queen, eyelids fluttering at hyper speed.

  Ana smiled at the girl. “I’ll take it.”

  As the maid bobbed a curtsey and scurried away, Ana glanced over the box in curiosity. It was a confectioner’s box, a well-known logo stamped on the front of the thick cream cardboard. The scent tickled her taste buds. It smelled sweet, sugary, and divine.

  She untucked the lid, eager to see inside. She almost dropped it. Her breath stuttered. Her claws cut into the card.

  Inside, gleaming with glaze, sat a dozen fruit buns.

  “Cade.”

  The box caught fire.

  Her head whipped up and she charged off, ignoring Sebby’s stammering questions.

  Maids bustled around, chattering in groups as they organized the packages being unwrapped and sorted, and cleaned the giant windows that stretched from the gleaming wooden floorboards to the twenty-foot-high painted ceiling. Footmen and local lads hauled the towering flower centerpieces, a few curses floating by her, muscles straining, sweat gleaming.

  She swept a searching gaze over the sea of heads, hoping to see him, praying she wouldn’t. Her heart bruised her ribs with every beat.

  No matter how long she searched or how many people she grabbed to ask, Cade was nowhere.

  Ana’s heart was skittering around like a puppy on a wooden floor. She worked up saliva in her mouth so she could swallow, as the noise of fifty-plus nobles and aristocrats whirled around her.

  Almost everyone had shown, as promised.

  Her valkry neighbors from the Northern Zone stood by the musicians, both the royal couple who ruled over the western half and the king who governed the eastern half, all making stilted conversation. Over in the left corner sat the incubus ambassador for the Three—the powerful trio of minority races that ruled the Heartlands—ignoring the serene human who’d been sent to convey the best wishes of the sirens who governed the Southern Territories.

  The royal family from the demon Stronghold in the Outer Isles had sent a handwritten note of regret. Along with two human slaves, whom Ana had promptly freed.

  As for the secretive High Mages, well, one could be here and she’d not even know it. Their response had been silence, but she’d only sent the invitation for form’s sake.

  As for Garrett, he had refused his personal invitation, instead sending his friend, Dex, in his place. Close to an insult, but Ana didn’t dare draw attention to it. She’d greeted the charming “advisor” with dignity, introducing him to some of the more snobbish of her nobles. Let him fend for himself there.

  To Ana’s left was Sebby, happily entertaining all those around him with the latest fashions found in New Paris, and knocking back a significant amount of her private reserve.

  To her right stood the fae ambassador, Nathe. Having traveled from a different realm, being a natural enemy of the furie race, the ambassador was doing a great job of ignoring the deadly glowers aimed his way. The stunning, elegant man sipped from a crystal goblet with quiet reservation, his hair a deep brown with a shimmer of violet, matched by velvety-brown eyes. The latter flicked over the rowdy crowd with passive acceptance.

  Ana, on the other hand, was sweating out a tidal wave. Fire pulsed beneath her skin, contained out of politeness.

  A lot of powerful people in this room…

  In two minutes’ time, she’d have to make a speech welcoming everyone to her territory, elaborating on how good friends they would all be, how she felt honored to have them in her home, blah, blah, blah. Fire knew, she wasn’t a nervous person, but the confectioner’s box had her spooked. Besides, if there was ever a time not to mess up…

  Sebby caught her eye and wiggled his eyebrows. Showtime.

  Inhaling a breath deep enough to fill ten dozen helium balloons, Ana moistened her lips. The diamond-and-ruby-encrusted tiara she wore weighed her down, the grips that secured it jabbing into her scalp. Her gown swished around her ankles.

  It, too, was heavy, fashioned from crimson velvet that hugged her waist and flared out in a fashionable A-line. Genuine rubies and garnets were sewn into the fabric, along with splashes of diamonds, to make the dress catch the light and shimmer like fire. The neckline was low. Ana could see all the way past her navel if she bent over.

  But it was a suitable neckline for the engraved gold locket she again wore, recovered from the phoenix Sentinels to hang in its rightful place. Ana
touched it, the memories of her parents’ murder silenced.

  She made her way onto the elevated platform the musicians had been seated on, and cleared her throat, signaling them to quit torturing the cat they’d been making yowl for the past hour.

  “Good evening,” she began, her voice husky from nerves but loud enough for the cheap seats. “Welcome to Castle Ignis, with my personal appreciation for appearing on this night. Tonight, we celebrate my return to the throne and cement the bonds between us all, so that we may live in peace and prosperity for many more years.”

  A smatter of polite applause swirled around the ballroom, decorated in red lilies and white orchids. The gleaming mahogany floor could barely be seen for all the nobles gathered, the raised dais for the musicians swathed with cables and instruments. Two thousand fat white candles sat in glass vases, rubies sprinkled at the bottom as a decoration. It created an atmosphere of vast wealth and exceptional taste—what Sebby had engineered with a skill akin to that of a knife filleting a fish.

  Not a good image.

  Ana cleared her throat again. Her hands smoothed the soft fabric of her dress as though stroking a pet for comfort. “There will be an hour of dancing before the banquet, following which will be the honoring ceremony, where each ruler and ambassador will receive a token of my gratitude.”

  The aristocrats clapped with enthusiasm that time, avarice throbbing around the room. Ana wished she could turn to Cade, like she’d have done in the past, or Trick or any one of the Hoods, to roll her eyes. As it was, if she did it at Sebby, he’d probably have a heart attack.

  “What I would personally like to add is—”

  Her breath stuck in her throat with a violence that forced a croak out. His hair was shorter, but still richly black, caught up in a queue tied with a crimson ribbon. Her color. Though less ostentatious than the others, he wore dress pants with a white silk shirt. No ruffles. A finely made jacket clung to his leanly muscled frame, a red handkerchief pointing in a polite triangle out of the breast pocket. A white bow tie completed the look. With heavy stubble and eyes that bored into her, he was every inch the jackal.