Aether and ash, p.11
Aether & Ash, page 11
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just...tired, that’s all. Things have been a bit hectic lately.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she didn’t entirely believe me, but she didn’t press. Instead, she folded her arms and tilted her head, studying me like she could see right through my words. “You sure? Because if you need to talk, you know I’m here. Always.”
“I know,” I said softly, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a small leather pouch. I placed it in her hands, and her eyes widened slightly as she felt the weight of it.
“What’s this?” she asked, her voice quiet with surprise.
“Just a little something,” I said, brushing off the gesture. “So you don’t have to work yourself to the bone cleaning up others’ messes. Take a break for once, Am.”
Her eyes shimmered as she opened the pouch, the glint of nickels catching the light. She looked back at me, her lip quivering slightly before she threw her arms around me again, holding me tightly.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
“I wanted to,” I replied, my own voice softer now. “You deserve it.”
She pulled back, wiping at her eyes with a laugh. “I’ll be sobbing all over this freshly mopped floor and then blaming you for ruining it.”
I laughed at her audacity. For a moment, the darkness I had felt earlier seemed like a distant memory. Amara flopped down on her narrow bed, arms flung wide. “You have no idea how dull this place is now,” she said, staring up at the low wooden ceiling. “I’ve been reduced to arguing with Majors.”
Kicking off my boots, I climbed onto the bed. It creaked as I lay down beside her, the mattress so thin we were practically touching the wood beneath. But it felt...safe. Like we were girls again, before everything became complicated.
She turned her head, curls spilling over her cheek, eyes still glinting with unshed tears and the threat of more mischief. “So,” she said, dragging the word out with suspicion, “you gonna tell me why you look like someone just handed you both a crown and a knife?”
I hesitated. Her eyebrow arched. “Don’t make me guess.”
I groaned, covering my face with my arm. “Am I a moron?”
“That’s a strong start,” she muttered.
I peeked out from under my sleeve. “I mean it. Am I an idiot for reading something more into every little thing? Every kind gesture? Like, what if someone’s just...being decent and I ruin it by thinking it means something?”
Amara turned on her side, propping her head on her hand. “Bella,” she said sweetly, “you wouldn’t know the difference between basic decency and romantic interest if it grabbed your face and kissed you.”
I sputtered. “That is not true.”
“It’s adorable,” she continued, like I hadn’t spoken. “Sad. But adorable.”
I gave her a look. “It’s not Jasper.”
“Oh, thank the stars,” she said, placing a dramatic hand over her heart. “I was about to chuck that pouch straight back at you out of sheer disappointment.”
I snorted. “He tried something, but no. Definitely not him.”
Amara went still for a beat. “He tried what? Wait, wait...is it the Heir?”
I didn’t answer. That was enough.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her voice dropping into something between horror and awe. “Mirabelle,” she whispered. “You’re doomed. I knew it, knew it from that first day.”
“I didn’t say anything happened.”
“Yet,” she sing-songed, eyes gleaming. “But the way you’re clutching that pillow like it betrayed you in a past life? Yeah. It’s not ‘nothing.’”
I looked away, fingers twisting in the edge of the blanket. “It’s not that I want anything from him. I just…I don’t know what to do when someone’s kind without reason. I can’t tell if I’m reading too much into things or not enough.”
Amara’s expression softened, the humor in her gaze dimming into something warm. She scooted closer. “Hey. First of all, if he’s being kind, that’s on him. And second…” She sighed. “You’re not the only one who needs to learn how to figure all this out. I’ve had a crush on someone who offered me a spoon.”
I blinked. “A spoon?”
“A really nice spoon,” she deadpanned. “Polished. Engraved.” She laughed at herself. Despite everything, I also laughed with her.
“I think I’m emotionally illiterate,” I admitted.
Amara gave an exaggerated shrug. “You’ll survive,” she said confidently, patting my shoulder. “And when you don’t, I’ll be right here offering terrible advice.”
I smiled at her. I’d come here intending to spill and solve it all—every knot of confusion. But looking at Amara, seeing the way she tried to play advisor with all the grace of a panicked deer, it struck me that maybe she was just as clueless as I was.
So we shifted to something easier. Fiora, for one, being an insufferable pain. She got properly outraged on my behalf, muttering curses and plans, and from there, we spiraled into the usual mess of mundane things. Sore ankles. Vanishing bread from the kitchens. Whether the stars above Celestia really looked different when your heart was a little bruised.
Talking like we always did.
The room dimmed to the soft rhythm of her drifting into sleep, her hand still resting loosely on the pouch I had given her.
I watched her for a moment longer, a quiet fondness swelling in my chest. Then, silently, I slipped off the bed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulder as I stood. The floor creaked under my steps, but she didn’t stir.
The night air was cool against my skin as I made my way back to Argent Estate. The hallways were dim, save for the soft glow of light flickering from the far end. As I drew closer, I heard talking. Curious, I moved closer, my footsteps muffled by the stone floors. I peered into the room. Cassian, Lyria, Rhevas, and Alden were gathered around a large wooden table.
They didn’t notice me at first, too engrossed in their discussion, but their expressions were tense, serious.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, my voice breaking the quiet hum of their conversation.
Cassian looked up, a sharp glint in his eyes, but he smiled faintly upon seeing me. “Ah, Mirabelle. You’re back.” He gestured toward an empty seat, but I shook my head, not yet ready to sit.
Rhevas, always the more composed of the group, leaned back in his chair. “We just got back from a meeting with the Young Sovereign. The Elders and Royals were there too. They’re preparing for something...big.”
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the others, as if weighing whether to share the details.
“Big?” I repeated, curiosity piqued.
Lyria spoke next, her voice low and careful. “They’re planning to Hunt more Tameables. We’ll be included in that Hunt. But they didn’t say why. We only know that it’s going to be dangerous.” Her brows furrowed in frustration, as if the lack of information was gnawing at her.
Rhevas leaned forward, tapping his fingers absently on the table. “You know we’ve been hunting Tameables for decades? Whole Clan’s been at it. And in all that time?” He gave a dry shake of his head. “Only two have been tamed in the last decade. Both by Young Liege.”
He glanced around the table before adding, “Those two brought the number up to seven. That’s all we have in the Hold, counting the old ones from the past century.”
Lyria continued from there. “The odds rarely favor the tamers. These creatures are wild, unpredictable. If they sense danger, they won’t hesitate to strike first.”
I glanced at the map of Etheris—the land of Tameables, studying the marks and lines. “How many are you planning to hunt?”
Cassian snorted. “Better question—how many of us are coming back alive after cleaning up centuries of failed hunts?”
“And what about Young Sovereign? What does he say about it all?” I asked, my voice cautious.
Alden shook his head. “He’s leading. But there’s a coldness to him. It’s as if he knows more than he’s letting on.” He sighed, sitting back. “None of us feel right about any of this. Why are we pushing Hunts? It’s too soon.”
I could see the unease in their eyes, the uncertainty that lingered even in the midst of their usual bravado. As if something far darker was on the horizon.
I swallowed, my stomach tightening. “And you four—are you ready for it? You know how dangerous this could be.”
Lyria nodded gravely. “We don’t have much of a choice, do we? We’ll do what we must.” Her tone was resolute, but I could hear the faint edge of fear beneath it. I looked at each of them in turn, feeling the gravity of their situation.
There was no turning back now for any of them. The stakes had been raised, and the road ahead was filled with more questions than answers. And as I turned to leave, my mind was filled with the echoes of their words, the weight of the unknown pressing in from every side.
Chapter 15
Mirabelle
I had just begun to stir, the remnants of sleep still clinging to me when a sharp knock echoed through the door. The early morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a muted glow across the room.
Before I could even move to answer, it swung open with a force that made me flinch. Damien stood in the doorway.
“Where were you?” His voice was cold, demanding, and utterly unyielding as though my whereabouts were of the utmost importance.
I sat up in bed, the shock of his sudden intrusion burning through me. “Wherever I please,” I snapped, my words sharper than I intended. “I’m not your prisoner.” Maybe I was overreacting. But if there were boundaries here, he’d never set them for me.
Damien’s eyes darkened. “Don’t test me, Mirabelle.” His voice cut clean through the room. “You could barely stand when I left. And when I came back, the bed was empty.”
I lifted my chin, forcing calm into my voice. “So what? I woke up, I felt well enough to stand, so I left.” I met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “I didn’t think you needed a report the moment I could walk again. Why would you even care?”
The restrained fury in his voice said enough. “I care because you disappeared without a word after collapsing in my arms. You don’t get to vanish and play stubborn when I’m the one trying to make sure you don’t drop dead somewhere.”
His jaw clenched, his gaze fixed. “So no, you do not get to act like a brat and call it freedom. Not when I am the one dealing with the consequences.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Did I ask you to bear the consequences?” My voice was low, the bitterness curling out before I could stop it. “And if you were that concerned,” I bit out, “you wouldn’t have left me with one of your—” I faltered, jaw tightening, “—mistresses.”
“Nowa is not my mistress,” he said, clipped and cold. “She’s the quietest of them, the kindest. I asked her to sit with you because I trusted her not to overstep while I was handling what you don’t yet know about.”
I looked away, the anger still prickling at my skin, though I couldn’t even trace where it began. I didn’t know why I was this furious, or if I even had the right to be.
But damn him for expecting me to fall in line just because he’d shown me a fraction of warmth.
“What if I don’t want to be looked after by your kindest Thrall. I don’t want to sit on your bed—the one they warm.” My eyes snapped back to his. “I am not blind, Damien. Or stupid. And I’m sure as hell not one of your Thralls.” My voice cracked slightly, and I hated the sound of it. “So stop treating me like one.”
Something in his expression shifted with realization. His gaze softened. “Come here,” he said quietly.
“No.” The word came out sharp. I shook my head, backing away a step. “Don’t do that. Don’t—whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I haven’t touched any of them,” he said. “Not since I met you.”
I blinked. “Why?” I asked, almost a whisper. “Why would that even matter?” Still, it eased a weight in my chest I hadn’t meant to feel.
His eyes didn’t waver. “You know why.”
I swallowed, hard. “Do I?” My voice came out quieter now. “Because it feels like I’m meant to understand things you never say. You give me pieces, Damien, and I never know if they mean anything, or if I’m just confused—”
He crossed the space between us in a single breath, and before I could say another word, his hands were on my jaw, and his lips were on mine.
His lips were warm, soft, and devastatingly sure. My heart leapt against my ribs, and heat rushed up in me like wildfire. His mouth moved over mine like he was tasting something rare— coaxing, devastatingly gentle, yet threaded with a desperation that made my pulse stutter.
I’d never imagined it could feel like this.
My body reacted before thought could catch up, arching into him with a soft gasp as something low and unfamiliar curled deep in my core. A hunger for more. My knees buckled, but he caught me like he’d known I would fall. A quiet grunt escaped him as he pulled me in, one strong arm wrapping around my waist, lifting me effortlessly to meet him and I clutched at the front of his tunic, needing some anchor to hold onto.
His kiss deepened, and with each movement, it felt like he was taking something more from me. A quiet, involuntary sound slipped from my mouth—half shock, half need, and he swallowed it, answering with a low growl that vibrated through his chest and into mine. I didn’t even know my body could feel like this. Warmth pooled between my thighs, aching, and I was dizzy with the need I didn’t yet know how to name.
When he finally pulled away, we were both breathless, hearts pounding, eyes wide and full of something we hadn’t said aloud. He gazed down at me with awe, as if he was seeing me for the first time, his expression both tender and full of admiration.
Then, gently, he leaned in again and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth. But when he started to pull back, I instinctively chased his lips, deepening the kiss before I could second-guess the impulse.
He smiled against my mouth, that maddening, knowing smile of his, and kissed me again. Slower this time, like he was memorizing the shape of my lips.
When he finally stopped, his lips lingering just an inch from mine, his breath still warm against my skin, he murmured, “Was that clear enough for you?” The edge of a smile tugging at his mouth.
I blinked, still trying to remember how air worked. My lips parted. “I—um…” I swallowed. “Yes. No. Maybe?”
He looked right into my soul while I just stared at him like my senses had been thoroughly kissed clean from my head. “I have never had anyone in my chambers for anything other than changing the linens or cleaning it.”
I could feel my skin flush with embarrassment. I quickly turned my gaze away, suddenly feeling shy in a way I hadn’t expected. Damien, however, didn’t seem to mind my sudden discomfort. He reached up and tilted up my chin gently with his fingers, his eyes taking in my red face. “I am done pretending I don’t see you, or want you, or feel like I am losing my mind every time you walk away.” His words landed somewhere deep in my chest.
His thumb brushed my jaw, “Mine? That’s too simple. You have settled under my skin and made yourself a home.”
My breath caught. My voice came out smaller than I meant it to. “Are you mine as well?”
What was I saying? Who says that? Who asks that? Apparently, Mirabelle the Mortifying. But I didn’t take it back. Couldn’t, because somewhere beneath the horror of having actually said it...I meant it.
He looked at me then, really looked, and asked. “Do you want me to be?”
Something fluttered and twisted inside my chest. I gave a small nod, lips brushing his. “Yes. I’d like one of those…if you’re offering.”
His smile deepened. “Then you have me.”
I thought he might laugh, maybe tease me for how ridiculous I sounded. But he looked at me like I’d just handed him the stars. My throat clogged, unsure if I was supposed to feel this safe. This claimed.
“You know,” he murmured, brushing his thumb gently across my cheek again, “you hiss like a feral cat when cornered. But the rest of the time, you are just a wide-eyed kitten who hasn’t realized her claws are sharp.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to summon a glare, but it lacked conviction. “Maybe stop cornering me, then.”
He cocked his head, in that way that made him look unfairly good. “But then, what if I miss the hissing?”
I swatted his hand away. “If I am going to be with you, your intimate Thralls are gone. I’m not walking in to find one of them fluffing your pillows or cooing at you from the foot of the bed.”
His brow arched, but he didn’t even pause. “Fine.”
I blinked. “Fine?”
He nodded. “Yes. Gone. All of them.”
I stared at him suspiciously. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he said, far too easily.
It threw me more than I cared to admit. “You can’t agree that fast—it makes me sound unreasonable.”
He laughed—low, warm, far too fond. “I owe you the right to be unreasonable,” he murmured. “After dragging you into something you never chose.”
“Hmm…yes, maybe you do,” I hummed.
He reached for my hand, his touch steady and unhurried. “Let’s take a walk.”
“Where?” I asked, glancing up at him.
“You will see,” he said.
With one hand, he picked up my cloak from where I’d left it folded across the chair and wordlessly draped it over my shoulders. Then he turned toward the door, and without needing a tug—I followed, my fingers still wrapped in his.
We walked through a shadowed tunnel carved into the stone fort, dim lights flickering along the path. The air was hushed, our footsteps echoing in the stillness.
“There is more at stake than what the Majors see,” he said, his fingers shifting slightly, skimming the soft skin at the bend of my elbow before retreating. “The Elders and Royals have their own agendas. The Majors fight battles, but the real war is being decided elsewhere.”
