When Ash Falls

by Rachel Van Dyken

  ANGER COURSED THROUGH HER body in waves. Sofia clenched her hands into tiny fists as her seven protectors scurried about the room and disposed of the rat.

  To think, at one point it had almost seemed that Ash had been… attracted to her, protective even. And now? Now she knew his opinion of her without a doubt. He thought her ridiculous, spoiled, stupid.

  To say the evening had not gone as planned was a gross understatement. All Sofia had wanted was a warm bath and meal. Instead? She had been nearly accosted by a hairy rat and an assassin within minutes of one another.

  Then again, one of the previously mentioned would have been welcome.

  She shivered as Gerald disposed of the rat and headed toward the door. “Anything else you need, Princess?” His deep brown eyes were etched with concern. Sofia self-consciously pulled the blanket tighter around her body and shook her head.

  With a bow, Gerald left, shutting the door behind him.

  Mere seconds went by before another soft knock jolted her to her feet.

  “Enter.”

  Benedict slowly made his way into the room, the quietest of the guard, also her same age. He kept his eyes downcast and held out a blanket.

  Confused at his presence and the odd gift, Sofia stepped forward and clenched the small blue blanket within her hands. It was beautiful and strangely familiar, and her initials were on it.

  “’Twas yours,” Benedict whispered. “When you were but a child. Your father, his instructions before we fled… He wanted you to have something from when you were younger… happier… free.” His voice was low, tortured.

  Sofia had never asked what haunted him so— It hadn’t seemed to be her business, but now she was curious. For he was one of the only guard who refused to meet her gaze.

  “Th-thank you...” Sofia clenched the blanket to her chest. “…for bringing me this small comfort.”

  Benedict nodded and slowly closed the door behind him.

  Sofia lifted the blanket to her nose and inhaled. It smelled of cedar. It must have been taken from her box of treasures — the same box she had been forced to leave behind.

  Tears threatened.

  She would not cry — refused to give into the weakness that tears brought. Crying had never helped her when she was younger, and it wouldn’t help her now. No, the only thing that would help now would be to marry and quickly. The clock was ticking, her time was almost up. Her stepmother would know she was missing by now and would have sent someone after her.

  Not just someone.

  But him.

  Her betrothed.

  A man whom she had found in bed with her stepmother, minutes after her father’s passing. A man who wanted one thing — power.

  Closing her eyes, she shut out the images of Peter and forced herself to focus on the positive.

  Ash was bringing her to London.

  And that was all that mattered.

  The silence was chilly — as if all of the warmth had been sucked from the room the minute Ash had stepped out of it, which was ridiculous. She’d known him for a day.

  And already her body was used to his presence.

  Which wouldn’t do.

  It was the ordeal that was taxing her emotions — not the man. Inhaling deeply, she moved to the fireplace and sat in the nearest chair. It was important she not forget her reasons for escaping the palace in the first place. The reason for her note to her cousin.

  Her stepmother would stop at nothing to destroy her.

  Was it selfish that Sofia valued her life so highly? But it wasn’t merely her own life, but that of her people. After her father’s quick death, it had been rumored her stepmother had replaced every soldier within her inner circle. Every guard. She’d released all the loyal subjects and immediately started taxing the people.

  Sofia shivered again. It was up to her to take back the throne, and the only way she could do that was to marry someone powerful.

  A man who could overpower her stepmother. A man who wouldn’t as much as flinch in the face of fear. A hero. She almost laughed aloud. Yes, that’s exactly what she needed: a true, honest-to-God hero, someone willing to wield his sword first and ask questions later.

  Someone like Ash?

  She shook the errant thought from her head as a giggle escaped between her lips. The man would sooner end his own life than try to align himself with hers.

  Which was a pity.

  All things considered.

  She could use his sword.

  And his powerful friends.

  Sofia’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forward and warmed her hands against the fire. Ash… friend of Dominique. Was he titled? Rich? She knew he was brave, but what of his heritage?

  Worrying her lower lip, she leaned back in her chair. Did it truly matter if he was wealthy? Once she took back her kingdom, she wouldn’t need his wealth. Until then, she had her cousin taking care of her Season.

  “Ash,” she said aloud, trying out his name, and then a bit louder. “Ash.”

  “Are you going to scream my name next?” came a voice through the door.

  Sofia jolted from the chair and scrambled to her feet just as Ash knocked and let himself in. He locked the door behind him.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, though her voice sounded more breathless than irritated.

  “What type of hero would I be if I didn’t aid my lady after she whispers my name so…” His eyes sparkled. “…reverently.”

  “Are you foxed?”

  “God above, I wish.” He groaned, stretching his arms over his head. “Now, I’ll pretend you weren’t just whispering my name like a wanton—”

  “I did no such thing I was merely—”

  “If you allow me a moment’s silence so I can rest my eyes.”

  Sofia looked down at her feet, embarrassment washing over her. “Fine.”

  “Splendid.” His voice was closer, and then two booted feet appeared near hers. A warm hand cupped her chin and lifted her face until they were eye to eye. “Say it again.”

  “Fine.”

  His smile was dazzling. “Not that.”

  Sofia tried to pull away.

  His grip allowed no such movement, no freedom. Trapped, she was powerless to do anything except stare at his full lips and remember the way they had tasted when pressed against hers.

  “My name,” he whispered, his lower lip almost caressing hers. “Say it.”

  “Why? Did you forget it?”

  “Possibly.”

  Still, she said nothing.

  Ash grinned, tilting his head. “Perhaps I just like the way your voice sounds…”

  “Ass.”

  “That’s not my name.” He chuckled. “Well, to be fair, Pierce has called me that upon occasion… I’m not releasing you until you say it. Why suddenly so shy? You were more than happy to chant it to the moon earlier.”

  Sofia’s ears burned with embarrassment. “Ash.”

  “Slower.”

  Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Ash.”

  “Ah…” His touch lingered, and then he released her. “Was that so difficult?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I think…” His eyes darkened. “…I do. Now, we have an early morning, and apparently the princess desires chocolate. Shall we sleep?”

  She nodded slowly then made her way over to the far side of the bed, keeping the blanket secured over her body as she climbed as far as she could to the farthest side without falling off. “This isn’t proper.”

  “Have no worries, Princess. I have no intention on seduction this evening… wouldn’t be very sporting of me to seduce an innocent before she makes her debut in London.”

  “That and my cousin would have your head.”

  “His bark is worse than his bite, I assure you.”

  “Not in this certain scenario.”

  “Relax.” Ash breathed, the bed dipped under his weight. “And close your eyes… I promise you’ll still be untouched come morning.�
��

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it? As she closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come. For the first time in her young existence, she truly wished he was lying, because she wanted to be desired, though she’d never admit it out loud, least of all to him. Alone, so alone, with no friends, and journeying toward a family she’d never met before. Seduction wasn’t necessary, but being held?

  It would be nice.

  Being held by Ash?

  Heaven, really.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The darkness is never so dark as when you finally have a chance to encounter light in its truest form. —The Grimm Reaper

  ASH LAY AWAKE, STARING at the blackness above him. The swirling mist of nothingness had always been his companion as he slept — if he slept. The pain in his chest rarely dissipated, regardless of how bad or good the day previous had been.

  It was during the evening that the nightmares came.

  For evening invited darkness, and darkness had once been his friend, his sole companion. The cold reminded him of death — of his impending death, of what he deserved and why he’d made the sacrifices he had.

  To honor the blood that had been spilled.

  Her blood.

  He wasn’t a fool. He knew the love he’d had for her had been wrong. To love his twin’s wife? To covet her above all else? And then to be the reason she had stopped living altogether?

  Ash exhaled loudly and turned his head.

  It was impossible to make out the silhouette of the princess, but he’d seen enough to pull forth from his imagination. Violet eyes, sharp cheekbones, lips meant for kissing, a body begging for a man’s touch — his touch.

  The cold left his body — left the bloody room. Left him — wanting. Her.

  But want was nothing new, just a ridiculous emotion he needed to learn to control, lest he find himself on the opposite end of Dominique’s pistol.

  He’d returned to the room to apologize — again, at least five times in twenty-four hours — when he’d heard someone whispering.

  At first he had thought she was entertaining a man and had damn-near broken down the door in outrage.

  And then… it had been his name she had spoken.

  Not once, but twice.

  First came shock, second, pride, naturally, that she was whispering his name even after he had caused her to cry, caused her to feel afraid and stupid.

  So he’d done what any normal man would do. He had asked for her to repeat it. It was possible it had nothing to do with his own arrogance or inability to remember and everything to do with his need to watch her lips as they formed the word.

  His body tightened at the thought.

  Ten years of celibacy was clearly not agreeing with him in that moment. Not with her in that bed, memories of her mouth whispering his name. Memories of her taste floating through the air.

  She moaned in her sleep.

  His body wanted to moan right along with her.

  One thing was certain: it was going to be a very long night.

  And then the minx turned, the mattress moving ever so delicately under her weight, and a feminine arm sprawled across his chest.

  It might as well have been a torch.

  His body erupted in flames.

  Bad flames. The kind that destroyed a man from the inside out, only to repeat the process until he begged for water to quench the thirst.

  She was both flame and water.

  With a sharp exhale, he tried to move her arm, but the minute his fingers touched her smooth skin, something in him cracked. Maybe it was his brain, for he realized in that moment he very much liked the feel of her skin against his, and maybe, just for the evening, it would be all right for them to touch.

  Friends in the evening.

  Enemies at dawn?

  Yes, that was how it had to be. For entertaining any other thought with the woman would surely have a bad ending. That much he knew without a doubt.

  Men like Ash did not receive the hero’s ending, nor the hero’s reward.

  It was best he memorize her touch now — for when he delivered her to London, he would never experience it again.

  “Princess!” A loud clamoring jolted Ash out of bed, promptly depositing him onto the cold hard floor. “Princess!”

  “Bloody hell.” He groaned, unable to suppress his cursing in front of the princess. “Do they ever sleep?”

  “It’s morning,” came her swift reply as she moved toward the door, fully dressed and looking like she’d had the best night of her life, while Ash hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning, and even then, the sleep hadn’t been quite… deep. What with her twitchy arm.

  Not that he was complaining.

  Best bed company he’d had in ten years, that arm.

  “Yes?” Sofia pulled open the door as Cornelius saluted her.

  Ash shook his head and stood, unsure whether he should pummel the man or rush him through his speech so he could get breakfast.

  “A visitor.” He nodded swiftly. “From London.” Cornelius’s eyes turned glassy. Damnation, was the bloke going to cry? “Such a beautiful place, I can hardly believe we’ll be there so soon!”

  “Yes, well…” Sofia gave his arm a patronizing pat. “…did the visitor give a name?”

  “Yes.” Cornelius nodded.

  Complete silence filled the doorway.

  “Well?” Ash said gruffly, moving to stand beside Sofia. “What the bloody hell is it?”

  “I swear on all that is holy, if you touched her, I’ll remove your head before Dominique gets the honor,” came his twin’s reply as he pushed himself into the room.

  “Ah, lovely greeting,” Ash said dryly, his eyebrows arching. “Do you truly think I’m the type to ruin a woman, let alone one so… pure?”

  Hunter Wolfsbane, Duke of Haverstone, stood to his full height, examining the princess slowly from head to toe. “By God, you look nothing like him!”

  “Who?”

  “It’s remarkable!” Hunter addressed Ash. “She doesn’t look terrifying at all! Not even remotely like the Beast.”

  “She can give a good scare...” Ash met her gaze and smiled slowly. “…what with the right circumstances and such.”

  “So small...” Hunter tilted his head, continuing his immensely improper staring. “…like a miniature pony.”

  “Did you just compare me to a pony?” Sofia gritted her teeth. “And who are you, sir?”

  “Your Grace,” Hunter corrected. “You may curtsy when you see fit to remember your station.”

  Sofia’s eyes widened with irritation.

  Ash stifled a groan. “She’s a princess.”

  “Yes, and I’m a duke and this is not her country. Shall we hold a parade later?”

  “Hunter.” Ash groaned. “What are you doing here?”

  “You were taking too long…” Hunter pulled a piece of invisible fuzz from his perfectly fitted jacket and examined it between his fingers before addressing the room again. “…and you know Dominique. He gets that damn twitch in his eye when he’s irritated.”

  Ash nodded. “Is this the same twitch that is often followed by insults and the throwing of sharp objects, knives included?”

  Hunter snapped his fingers. “That very one.” He shook his head longingly. “Lost my very favorite dinner jacket to one of those twitches. Then again, I wasn’t helping, what with my singing.”

  “You do not sing,” Ash pointed out.

  “Probably why he had a knife thrown at him,” Sofia said in a syrupy sweet voice.

  Hunter turned to her, his yellow-brown eyes narrowing in amusement. “I think we’ll get along just fine, my dear. How old did you say you were? Fifteen?”

  Sofia’s nostrils flared.

  Ash felt the need to intervene before his brother found himself impaled by a sharp object, not that he’d feel the slightest bit guilty, since he clearly deserved such a tragic death. “She’s nineteen and ready for her debut.”

  “Debut,” Hu
nter said the word slowly. “Ah yes, I believe Dominique mentioned a few men he’d picked from the lot. I imagine by the time we arrive back in London, they’ll have washed behind their ears and learned which utensils to use during dinner service.”

  Ash coughed. “He’s joking.”

  “He’s not.” Hunter winked at Sofia. “All right, I’ll just leave you to your morning ablutions. Ash, keep your dirty hands to yourself. Sofia, a pleasure, my dear. You’ll be traveling with me the rest of the journey to London, while my twin makes sure to keep the riffraff away.”

  “Splendid.” Sofia’s voice was quiet, her eyes not quite meeting Ash’s as she nodded her approval.

  “Right then!” Hunter clapped. “Let’s be on our way. We don’t want Dominique losing any more patience than he already has… too many lives already lost.”

  “What?” Sofia gasped.

  “Cut their heads clean off.” Hunter nodded sadly. “Then promptly ate them for dinner.”

  “He means the chickens.” Ash held up his hands. “I’ll explain later.” Leave it to Hunter to make something as basic as Dominique slaughtering his own chickens for sport to sound like cannibalism.

  “They never see it coming. One day they lay an egg, the next...” Hunter made a cutting motion across his neck.

  Sofia let out a gasp.

  “Go be bothersome elsewhere.” Ash pushed Hunter from the room.

  “Can’t.” Ash tilted his head. “I’ll stay outside the door with you while our damsel finishes doing what damsels do in the mornings, and then you’ll do what you typically do in order to prepare for your job which I’m sure requires screaming at young children and kicking innocent puppies, and then we’ll break our fast.”

  “Someone likes to plan,” Sofia muttered under her breath.

  “He’s a duke. He bores easily.” Ash clapped Hunter on the back and pushed him out of the room. “We’ll be just outside if you need either of us.”

  Sofia nodded and softly closed the door behind her. The minute the latch turned on the lock, Hunter’s easygoing manner shifted into that of seriousness.

  That was how it went with Hunter. He was the best spy the Crown had ever seen, easily slipping from a simple bloke to one of power, anger.