Ashes

by Sophie H. Morgan

  Edward waited to the point of insolence before breaking into a smile. “Naturally, I’ll help in any way I can, Alana. I like to think we have a connection, you and I.”

  Cade honestly didn’t know how Alana wasn’t sick into her mushrooms in cream and wine sauce.

  Instead, she dipped her chin. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you.” The words were tremulous.

  And the finest actor award goes to…

  Cade could admit, out of his basest jackal instincts, he hadn’t been thrilled about Alana braving the lion’s den with him as her only backup—considering her genes were Edward’s biggest prize—but like too many shots of whiskey, pride now overwhelmed him until he felt drunk with it. His woman was more than holding her own.

  “Tell me.” Edward motioned for his glass to be refilled. “How do you intend on clearing your name?”

  Alana crinkled her heavy cloth napkin with her fingers, eyebrows drawn in distress. “I’m not sure. I thought to go back, tell my side.”

  “Do you have proof of your innocence?”

  “Not exactly. I’m sure somebody must have seen something, though.”

  Her eager hope made Gable sit up like he was about to charge for the High Lands to clear her name single-handedly. “I’m sure with our support, they cannot fail to see your innocence,” Gable assured her with sickening fervor. “How could anyone believe such beautiful hands capable of murder?”

  Cade longed to snort, but he was better off in silence. Edward had, after all, heard his voice.

  Edward let the subject slide, instead asking her what she thought of his territory. He broke the bread that sat in a pea-shaped silver basket to his left, slathering butter thicker than the lies Alana was spinning.

  She wrinkled her nose. “If I’m perfectly honest, Edward, I find Edan a dirty and terrifying place.”

  “Surely not the palace and its gardens.” Edward arched an eyebrow.

  “Oh, no,” she hastened to say. Her hand fluttered as if to placate. “The crystal palace is magnificent, but the lower end of the city scares me. There are so many poor people.” She made poor sound parallel to shit. “Being around them makes me long for the serenity of the High Lands.”

  “I’m sure,” Edward agreed. “The Southlands are, I grant you, something to become accustomed to. But poor does not necessarily mean bad, Alana. Humans have a titanium will, especially when pushed to brutal limits. Never underestimate the fortitude of the human race. You may be surprised at what we may yet accomplish.” The glint in his eye sent a whispering chill down Cade’s spine. “And besides, the Upper Ring holds riches and architectural jewels finer than even those in the Southern Territories.”

  “Mmm.” As dismissive as a breeding judge. “That may be the case, Edward, but I did hear something disturbing on our journey in.” The impish tone undercutting the words made Cade’s jackal leap to the surface.

  Don’t blow it, Alana.

  “What was that?” Edward prompted.

  “Well,” Alana began, placing her knife and fork precisely on the plate. She lifted her wineglass, studying the crystal. “There were rumors of a rebellion, Your Eminence.”

  Edward’s face lined, mouth twisting. “Don’t you worry about that, Alana. It’s being taken care of.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” Alana sipped her wine, lips pursing as if to savor the rich taste. “I heard it’s headed by a woman.”

  “A disagreeable obstacle, but nothing that can’t be hunted with the right hound.”

  Edward’s tone dared her to disagree, while Gable shifted in place. Garrett continued his determined desire to drink himself to unconsciousness, that enigmatic smile playing around his mouth.

  “I find it peculiar that a woman could organize such a huge uprising.” Alana balanced her tone as she picked her way through a minefield. “I wonder why she is so set against you.”

  “She wants my throne, is why.” Edward slammed his fist onto the table. Wood caved at the hit, chippings bursting upward. Cade’s muscles tensed, his animal at the ready.

  How the hell had human hands chipped a table?

  A cold wash of horror swam greasily up Cade’s throat as Garrett’s words replayed:

  You’re crazed if you think pushing Other poison into your veins is going to get you into the history books.

  Gable cleared his throat. “Let’s not ruin the evening with rebel talk.”

  Edward’s eyes closed. The obvious anger glittering like dust motes seemed to suck into his body, only to glint in his eyes when they opened. “Forgive my passion, Alana. You’ll find when you reclaim your own throne,” Edward continued, as though he’d done nothing extraordinary, “that there are always those who wish to destroy your dreams. Liberty wishes nothing more than to rule my people with an iron hand and hold them back from the light of future betterment. I will fight her injustice as I have always fought her kind.”

  “Still,” the imp known as Alana persisted. She ignored the evidence of Edward’s supernatural strength. “It’s better to be cautious. I hope you won’t mind, but I plan on locking my doors tonight, Your Eminence. Just in case.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ana strapped on her trusty silver dagger, relieved to be out of the finery and back into her familiar black-on-black.

  Dinner had been an excruciating storm of emotion, featuring anger, sickness and surprise at Edward’s gall. As for his sons, she couldn’t say she preferred them to Gabriel. One was his father’s lapdog, the other a drunken sot. Not fit to run a territory, which was why Gabriel would be installed, with a governor until he was of age. It had always been their plan, and now she’d met the royal princes, it solidified into a definite.

  The door opened in a silent arc, Cade slipping in. She’d extinguished the lights thirty minutes ago, having retired on the pretext of exhaustion. In some sense, she was exhausted. She’d forgotten how much political machinations drained a person. When she returned—her stomach remained steady—that would change. In the last couple of hours, Ana had learned more than she cared to about biting her tongue and choosing her words. In her own territory, that wouldn’t be happening. She wasn’t a nervous teenager. She was Liberty. A general.

  She would say what she thought, and anyone who disagreed could go fuck themselves.

  Satisfied with her vow, Ana raised her eyebrows at her jackal. “We set?” She wasn’t worried about speaking freely; she’d swept for bugs earlier with a neat piece of machinery Vander had lent on condition she returned it in one piece.

  Cade moved toward her on light feet. Once his hands landed on her arms, he reeled her in. She went with eagerness, needing the connection as much as he. When his lips opened to her, when his tongue slid in to dance with hers, she felt a homecoming the likes of which she’d never known.

  His forehead touched hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Ridiculously, that made all of the fury, all the nerves and pain, worth it. Even the sickening role of having to play seduced female to Edward’s benevolent ruler. “He dented the table,” she murmured. “Did you notice?”

  “This makes things more dangerous.” Cade rubbed his forehead across hers. “If what I suspect is true…”

  “You suspect him of experimenting on himself.” Her tone was flat.

  “Don’t you?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Damn it, Cade. Why can’t things go our way just once?”

  “It makes him unstable. Quick to anger, heightened passion.”

  “Might explain why more kids have been taken in the past year than in the last seven put together.” Ana inhaled Cade’s scent, fire a gold hum under her skin. “Fuck. So he’s at least stronger than a human. Who knows what other tricks he can pull out of his ass?” She leaned away slightly. “He really, really needs to die before we find out.”

  “So he will. One thing first.” His tone lightene
d so it was at once both chiding and amused. “What possessed you to bring up Liberty?”

  “I wanted to see what he’d say.” Her resolution firmed at the memory. “I wanted to have my name between us.”

  His palms chafed her arms as he rubbed up and down. “He upset you.”

  “He made me sick.” Ana kept her voice low, but fury fueled it as she jerked her eyes up to Cade’s. “Sitting there with his seven courses, his gleaming wood and a dozen footmen. I don’t care how much he craves evolution for humans. I’ve seen children starve or eat scraps from the bins of the Upper Ring. I’ve seen the aftermath of his experiments. I wanted to stab him with my fork.”

  “It would’ve livened things up.”

  She huffed a hollow laugh. “He’ll die for his crimes, and that should make it right, but he’ll never suffer like he should. Never understand what misery he’s caused by his perverted idea of what’s right.” Her stomach twisted at the sights she’d seen, all because of Edward. She nestled her head on Cade’s chest. “He doesn’t deserve to die so quickly.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Cade agreed. “But we’re not torturers. If we stoop to his level, we become nothing more than his shadows.”

  Ana accepted the damnable fact, the words touching on her better nature. She chose to lighten the moment, tipping her head. “That’s wise. Have you been bonding with Trick?”

  “I’d rather bond with a cerberus.”

  Ana smiled. It faded as they stood in the shadows, the moon’s unearthly glow filtering through every crystal wall. “You’ll be careful.” She masked the terror that beat in her blood with an insistent hammer.

  He nodded, his expression fierce. “You too.” His words had the ring of a command.

  He gripped her by the nape, jerking her up for another possessive kiss. It was as though he wanted to brand himself on her. Her mouth was wet when he pulled away, eyes gone jackal. “I love you,” he stated in an urgent tone. “Take care of my woman.”

  Words stuck in her throat, past and present swirling in an emotional tornado. Her hands clutched him to her. “Cade…” she said, helpless, and unable to speak the words throbbing from her heart.

  She grabbed him for another kiss. Sickness, metallic and foul, surged up her throat at letting him go.

  What if…?

  Cade threw her a cocky smile as he drew away, winking like the assassin he played. “I’ll meet you outside Edward’s office,” he told her. “You remember where it is?”

  She nodded. The thrill of battle throbbed like an electric wave, flames uncurling and spinning in glee up the length of her body. She grabbed on to that wave, hand resting on the hilt of her dagger.

  The challenge would be getting to the West Gate, something she’d have to work blind, since she hadn’t been able to move around the palace as Cade had earlier. It didn’t matter. She’d find it.

  He gave her a look, as in I-know-best-so-don’t-even-think-about-trying-to-go-around-me. “Wait for me, Alana.”

  She smiled at him. “Of course.”

  Seemingly unconvinced, Cade nevertheless wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Don’t forget the mask.” Without waiting for a response, he shifted.

  Ana watched, heart in her mouth, as the blaze of a thousand fireworks illuminated the small space for the merest blink of a second. The jackal that stood proudly after the shimmer died padded to her and nipped her calf.

  “I will,” she insisted at the silent reiteration to wait for him, watching as the jackal loped to the exit and took off, heading for the East Gate to meet Sapphy and Vander. “Take care of yourself.” The whispered words were lost to the air.

  If she could get inside Edward’s office before Cade, she would. She’d be the one to finish the high ruler, or the one to die before him. She would not let Cade die for her, no matter what his balls had to say about it.

  She snorted, then inhaled a breath. Her fire remained in the background, a calming hum.

  Here we go.

  With steady hands, she tied the black silk Cade used as part of his Shade persona around her head. They’d had to cut it down, but it remained large enough to cover the majority of her face.

  She’d needed something to mask her identity. If there were any witnesses, they could never connect the rebel to Princess Alana—who’d be asleep in her bed when the high ruler was slain.

  As a final disguise, she swirled on the maid’s cloak she’d had Cade “borrow” from the laundry rooms on his earlier scout around. Flipping the hood up and over her trademark red hair, she took the time to tweak it so only her chin and nose could be seen on a first look.

  She took the same exit as Cade, crouching low to the wall as she targeted the West Gate.

  The mask clung to her face, stifling in its humidity as Ana waited an extra twenty seconds. Sweat pooled above her top lip. Her breathing seemed as loud as flash-gun fire.

  Where are they?

  She’d reached the West Gate unchallenged, most servants either finally tucking into their meal or retired to bed. The guards Edward had hired were too busy shooting the bull with each other to care about a lone woman in a maid’s cloak.

  Everything had gone as planned, except for the boys’ entrance.

  She caught herself about to tap her foot in a nervous tattoo. Worry encircled her mind like a glove, an iron one that squeezed.

  What if Trick and Faer have already been caught? What if they’ve been killed?

  No. They’d warned her this might happen.

  Torn, Ana let out a breath, bargaining with herself that she’d wait another thirty seconds. She couldn’t afford this delay—not if she wanted to reach Edward’s office ahead of Cade. With the threat of Edward’s heightened strength hovering over them like a storm cloud, she didn’t dare leave it to chance. If anybody was confronting an insane, biologically strengthened human, it was going to be her. She couldn’t bear it if Cade got killed because he had some archaic idea that the man should fight in the woman’s place.

  Thirty seconds trickled into a minute.

  The door was open; that had been her mission. Trick would be the first to kick her butt if she delayed any more.

  Prickles of unease bled into her mind as she turned away, luring goose bumps up her arms. She released a breath, concentrating on the comforting hiss of fire pulsing beneath her skin.

  Back in the room, Ana.

  It was surprising how easy it was to slip through the dim crystal corridors, the only light the low electric lamps positioned every five feet. Smoky cloud swamped the night sky, strangling the stars. The crystal walls were dazzling in the day, at night haunting with their tricks of the light. An intruder’s heaven.

  One demon guard, his three muddy horns encased in copper battle armor, identical to his body, was stationed on the door when she reached Edward’s office. A problem they’d foreseen.

  Ana concentrated, wishing she had her bow and arrows, but they would’ve been too difficult to conceal as she made her way to the office. Still, she missed the familiar curves of the wood as she fanned her fire. Her fingertips flared, a whispering spirit dancing along her skin. She purposefully made a noise with her boot, watching as the demon’s head snapped in her direction.

  Hold…hold…

  Ana remained motionless as the guard approached with cautious steps. Flame demons fed on fire, identical to Ana. But, like her, his circuits would overload if fed too much. He’d be knocked unconscious to process the excess. It was the quietest and quickest method of dispatching him.

  When he came within reach, Ana’s hand clamped down on the unarmored skin between throat and shoulder. Her other hand whipped over his mouth, blocking any sound.

  Muscles shrieked as he thrashed against her, his strength increasing for an agonizing heartbeat, where it felt like her shoulders were being ripped apart. Then he slumped in her arms, as heavy as a potato sack.
<
br />   Ana dragged him to the closet Cade had uncovered earlier—cleaning supplies—and shoved him in.

  Dusting off her hands, feeling pretty badass, Ana slipped through one of the office’s double doors.

  A fire brewed in the brass grate, though Edward must have long ago retired to bed. An enormous throne was dragged toward the bay window. His desk was scattered with papers and riddled with fist-sized holes, as though a demon had pounded his way through the wood. Or a human injected with supernatural powers and losing control.

  Moving as fast as her feet allowed, Ana crossed to the painting of the white castle Cade had spoken of. Lifting the wooden frame with careful fingers, she stilled, waiting for any kind of alarm. Nada.

  Sweat soaked her mask as she laid the painting against the wall, examining the metal safe with an inward curse. There was a pesky detail Cade had forgotten to pass along: it was fashioned from iron, along with its keypad. It was going to burn like sulfuric acid—and she had to keep silent.

  Ana blew out a preparatory breath. And touched her fingers to the metal.

  Immediately, blisters formed on her index finger, one layering the other as she went through the code. She bit off the scream, body quaking as she locked her bones to keep from fainting. Fire rushed to the forefront, sensing danger, hissing.

  When the last button had been pushed, a low beep sounded in the quiet room. Ana exhaled, soothing darting flames like a mother. Stomping on the pain, she peered into the safe as the door swung open.

  Blood diamonds, green sapphires, gold ingots and silver coins all stacked to the right, neatly linked with scrolls and papers. In the right bottom corner of many sheets, she spied a wasp insignia that perplexed her—which ruler had that as their crest? Then, she turned her eyes to the reason she was here: Excalibur.

  For a fae sword, it was reasonably plain, even if crafted from silver. The hilt was unadorned, a Latin inscription engraved, reading what flies must fall. A fae version of saying one could not live forever.

  With a reverence usually reserved for sweet treats, Ana tugged the sword into her hands. It was solid, but not heavy enough for her to grunt at its weight.