Crown of ash and light, p.32
Crown of Ash and Light, page 32
When it was Azura’s turn, she hesitated, her hands tightening at her sides as Leona approached. “Nothing flashy,” Azura said quietly. “Just... simple.”
Leona arched an eyebrow but selected a flowing silver-blue fabric, its shimmer subtle yet striking. “Understated,” she said, draping it over her arm. “But powerful.”
When my turn came, Leona studied me for a moment before pulling out a rich golden fabric threaded with crimson. “Something commanding,” she said, her tone decisive. “You’ll carry the room.”
Stravos muttered something under his breath about “commanding enough already,” but Leona paid him no mind, her hands moving deftly as she jotted down notes and measurements for each of us.
“Your garments will be ready tomorrow,” she said briskly, snapping her notebook shut. “I’ll have them sent directly to your rooms at the Red Stag. Now go—rest. You’ll need it.”
We thanked her, though her efficiency left little room for pleasantries. As we stepped back into the night, the cool air felt sharper against my skin. Dravon's jaw was tight, his gaze fixed ahead as we walked back toward the inn.
“This isn’t just a ball,” he said, his voice low. “It’s a stage. And Elias is setting us up for something.”
Stravos groaned, rolling his shoulders. “As long as it doesn’t end with me in chains, I don’t care.”
Azura remained silent, her hood pulled low as she trailed slightly behind. Her quiet presence was heavier than usual, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was gnawing at her.
Back at the inn, we parted ways silently, each retreating to our rooms with thoughts heavy as stone. As I lay in bed, staring at the flickering shadows on the ceiling, the weight of the coming days pressed down on me. The Harvest Ball loomed like a storm on the horizon, and we were stepping into it blind.
STRAVOS
The smell of roasted coffee and sizzling bacon dragged me out of bed like a rope pulling a stubborn ox. After weeks of stale bread and dried meat, the thought of a real breakfast was reason enough to get up. I stretched, shaking the stiffness from my shoulders, and grabbed my gear before heading into the hallway.
Dravon was already there, of course, leaning against the railing like he had been standing guard all night. He always looked like he was waiting for a fight—no matter where we were.
“Morning,” I said, scratching the back of my neck.
“Morning,” he replied. “Took you long enough.”
“I wasn’t rushing,” I shot back. “No one’s dying today—at least, not yet.”
He didn’t respond, though his usual smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. The sound of a door slamming open interrupted whatever sarcastic remark I was about to make.
Azura strode into the hallway, her dark hair swinging behind her as she fastened her cloak. “Are you two still standing here?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Breakfast isn’t going to eat itself.”
“Good morning to you, too, Azura,” I said, grinning.
She waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, morning. Now move, or I’ll leave you behind.”
Therynna’s door opened next, and she stepped out, serene as ever. Her braid was neat, her cloak draped perfectly over her shoulders, and her green eyes were soft with warmth. She smiled slightly at us, her calm presence making Azura’s whirlwind energy even more amusing.
“Good morning,” she said gently. “Are we all ready?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Dravon muttered, already heading toward the stairs.
The common room of the Red Stag Inn was a hive of activity, filled with travelers, merchants, and festival-goers all chattering over breakfast. The smell of fresh bread, sizzling bacon, and spiced coffee filled the air, making my stomach growl loudly enough for Azura to laugh.
“Stravos, you’re practically drooling,” she teased, grabbing a chair at the table by the window.
“Don’t judge me,” I said, sitting beside her. “I’ve earned this meal.”
Plates of food arrived quickly—eggs, sausages, bread, and steaming mugs of tea and coffee. I didn’t waste a second, tearing into a roll while Dravon gave me his usual disapproving look.
“You could at least try to look civilized,” he muttered.
“Why? We’re surrounded by festival-goers,” I replied. “I blend right in.”
Azura snorted, shaking her head. “If by ‘blend in,’ you mean ‘look like a starving wolf,’ then sure.”
Therynna chuckled softly, her voice as light as the breeze. “Leave him alone, Azura. Let him enjoy it.”
Azura grinned at her, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth. “Fine. But if he eats the entire kitchen, don’t blame me.”
The room filled with the sounds of the festival outside—music, laughter, and the occasional cheer filtering through the open windows. Dravon, always the serious one, leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“We need to gather information today,” he said, his tone clipped. “The ball’s tomorrow, and we still don’t know what Elias is planning.”
“We’ll gather information later,” Azura said, waving him off. “Right now, we’re going to enjoy ourselves. Isn’t that what festivals are for?”
“You want to enjoy the festival?” Dravon asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “We’ve been through hell lately, and we’re finally in a city that isn’t trying to kill us. We deserve one day to relax.”
Therynna nodded, her smile soft. “She’s right, Dravon. The festival will give us a chance to listen and observe without drawing attention to ourselves. Besides, a little joy wouldn’t hurt.”
Dravon sighed but didn’t argue. “Fine. But stay sharp. This isn’t a vacation.”
The streets of Solhaven seem to come more alive as the sun starts to fall with celebration, a chaotic blend of colors, music, and laughter. The festival seemed to envelop everything, from the brightly decorated stalls to the cheerful chatter of the crowd. Lanterns swung in the breeze, their warm light contrasting the cool stone of the city, and the air was thick with the scents of roasted meat, spiced cider, and fresh ale. It was a scene meant to inspire joy, but the closer we got to the square, the heavier the air seemed to feel.
Azura led the way, her steps unusually quiet, her eyes scanning the throngs of people. Therynna trailed beside her, her gentle smile faltering with each step. Dravon walked behind them, his usual guarded expression unreadable, while I followed at the rear, the noise and chaos of the crowd grating against my nerves.
The town square was a living tide of noise and movement. Merchants barked their sales pitches from their booths, musicians played jubilant tunes, and children darted between adults, their laughter ringing out above the clamor. Azura was in her element, darting from one stall to the next with an energy that was both exhausting and contagious. She bargained loudly with vendors, cracked jokes that had them laughing, and even managed to get a free sample of candied apples for all of us.
“Try this,” she said, shoving a piece of apple into Dravon's hand. “It’s amazing.”
He hesitated but took a bite, his expression softening slightly. “Not bad,” he admitted.
“Not bad?” Azura repeated, laughing. “It’s incredible, admit it.”
Therynna walked beside me, her gaze wandering over the stalls with quiet curiosity. She paused at a booth selling intricate jewelry, her fingers brushing over a delicate silver necklace adorned with green stones.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
“Do you want it?” I asked.
She shook her head, her braid slipping over her shoulder. “No, but it reminds me of home.”
Azura suddenly appeared beside us, holding a handful of colorful ribbons. “We should all get something to remember the festival,” she declared, tying one of the ribbons around Therynna’s wrist.
Therynna smiled, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “Thank you, Azura.”
“You’re welcome,” Azura said, grinning. “Now, let’s keep moving. There’s way more to see.”
As the day went on, we wandered through the market, taking in the sights and sounds of the festival. Dravon stayed vigilant, his sharp eyes scanning the crowds, while Therynna and Azura let themselves enjoy the moment. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was laughter among us, and it felt like a small victory.
Even I had to admit it wasn’t so bad. The festival was loud, chaotic, and crowded, but it was a welcome change from the constant tension that had followed us for so long. And if it gave us a chance to relax—and maybe learn something useful along the way—then it was worth it.
“Tomorrow, we focus,” he said as we climbed the stairs to our rooms. “No distractions.”
Azura smirked. “Sure, big brother. No distractions.”
Her tone was teasing, but as I looked around at my siblings, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. For the first time in weeks, we felt like a family again. And for tonight, that was enough.
However, as we reached the heart of the square, the atmosphere shifted. Something loomed in the center, drawing all attention toward it. Azura stopped so suddenly that Therynna nearly walked into her.
“What’s that?” Azura’s voice was tight, her gaze fixed on the towering stake that dominated the square.
I followed her eyes, and the sight knocked the breath from my lungs. At the center of the square, high above the crowd, was a crude wooden stake, blackened as if burned. Mounted atop it, almost as if mocking the crowd below, was a head. The face was hidden by shade, and the long, white hair fell across it, but it shimmered in the fading daylight, stark and unmistakable.
The world tilted, my chest tightening as my legs felt like they might give out beneath me. Beside me, Dravon's jaw clenched so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding. Therynna let out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as tears brimmed in her eyes. Azura, usually so sharp and quick, faltered, her steps slow and unsteady as though drawn forward against her will.
“No,” Therynna whispered, shaking her head. “No, it can’t be.”
Azura stumbled, her knees hitting the cobblestones with a crack. She stared up at the stake, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her hands trembled. “It’s her,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “Mom.”
The crowd around us didn’t seem to notice our grief. They were cheering, raising mugs of ale in triumph, their joy cutting through the suffocating silence that had fallen over us.
“The White Devil is dead!” someone shouted, and a cheer erupted from the crowd.
“Long live the king and queen!” another yelled, throwing a flower at the base of the stake.
Each word was like a dagger twisting in my chest. They were celebrating—celebrating the death of the woman who had saved us, raised us, and sacrificed everything to protect us. A woman they didn’t even know.
Azura’s trembling hands curled into fists. “They’re cheering,” she spat, her voice rising with fury. “They’re cheering like this is a victory.”
Therynna wiped at her tears, her soft voice cracking with sorrow. “She wasn’t a devil,” she whispered. “She was our mother.”
“She gave them everything,” Azura continued, her voice shaking with anger. “She kept them safe, and this is how they repay her?”
Dravon's voice was low, his tone simmering with barely contained rage. “They don’t know the truth,” he growled. “They don’t know what she did for them. All they know is the lies the crown fed them.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the stake. Even though the face was obscured, even though we couldn’t be certain it was her, I knew. We all knew. The white hair—the mark of her strength, her power, her defiance—was unmistakable.
The weight of grief was crushing, like a tidal wave dragging me under. My chest felt hollow, and my throat burned with the effort of holding back a scream. But as the seconds passed, the sorrow began to twist, reshaping itself into something darker, sharper. The edges of my vision burned red, and my hands shook—not with fear, but with rage.
Azura rose shakily to her feet, her breath coming in short, angry bursts. “She deserved better,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. “She deserved so much better than this.”
“She did,” Dravon said coldly, his eyes still locked on the stake. “And we’ll make sure they know it.”
Therynna sniffed softly, her tears streaking her cheeks. “We can’t do anything now,” she said, her voice trembling. “We need to leave. We need to figure out what to do next.”
Azura hesitated, her fists clenching and unclenching as if she were ready to fight the entire crowd. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders slumping as the fire in her eyes dimmed. “Fine,” she said, her voice hollow. “But we’re not leaving the city without a plan.”
The crowd’s cheers followed us as we turned and walked away, their shouts of triumph echoing in the narrow streets. Every laugh, every cheer grated against my nerves, each step through the throng a painful reminder of what we had lost. Azura walked ahead of us, her head high but her hands trembling at her sides. Therynna moved quietly beside her, her soft sobs muffled by the noise around us.
Dravon glanced back once, his expression dark and unreadable. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.
“No,” I said, my voice heavy with conviction. “It’s not.”
As we disappeared into the shadows of Solhaven’s streets, the echoes of the crowd faded, replaced by the burning resolve that now united us. Our mother’s story wasn’t over. The truth of her life—and her death—would be known.
The streets outside the Red Stag Inn had quieted, the distant sounds of festival celebrations dimming under the weight of what we carried. We entered the inn, the warmth of the fire and the scent of roasted meat doing nothing to dull the storm inside. Azura strode ahead of us, her fists clenched tightly, her usually sharp and loud demeanor subdued into a heavy, suffocating silence. Therynna followed close behind, her soft green eyes downcast, her expression as fragile as glass.
We ascended the stairs, but the noise from the common room below froze me mid-step. A voice—loud, boastful, and grating—rose above the murmur of conversation.
“It took all four of ’em to bring her down,” the man said, his words twisting in my chest like a knife. “The King’s Champion, Xira, and her top three soldiers. They tore the White Devil apart like the monster she was.”
Dravon stopped beside me, his face darkening. I felt the fury radiating off him like a heatwave. Azura and Therynna turned back to us, their expressions flickering with confusion.
“What is it?” Azura asked, her tone sharp.
“Go upstairs,” Dravon said quickly, his voice tight with restrained anger. “Both of you.”
“What?” Azura frowned, her fiery eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“Just go,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. “This isn’t for you to hear.”
Azura folded her arms, her jaw tightening. “If it’s about her—”
“It is,” Dravon interrupted, his voice cutting through the tension. “And that’s why you need to leave. Now.”
Therynna placed a gentle hand on Azura’s arm, her voice soft and steady. “Come on,” she said. “Let them handle this.”
Azura hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. “You better tell us everything,” she said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. With a sharp turn, she followed Therynna up the stairs.
When their footsteps disappeared, Dravon and I shared a look. No words were needed. We turned toward the common room, moving quietly, blending into the shadows like ghosts.
The man’s voice rang clear, his tone filled with the exaggerated swagger of someone who didn’t have to dirty his own hands. “The Silent Reaper herself,” he said. “Xira doesn’t leave loose ends. They tracked the White Devil for months, her and those three monsters she keeps at her side—Talon-7, Kane, and Vega.”
“Was it a fair fight?” someone asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
“Fair?” The man laughed, slamming his tankard on the table. “Fair isn't Xira’s style. She stalked the White Devil like prey and waited until she was cornered in the northern hills. They ambushed her in the dead of night—no mercy, no warning.”
I clenched my fists so tightly I could feel my nails digging into my palms. Dravon's entire body was rigid; his teeth clenched so hard I thought his jaw might crack.
“They say Talon-7 went in first,” the man continued, lowering his voice to draw his audience closer. “The Beast of the Battlefield. He ripped through her defenses like wet parchment, his claws carving through her flesh. The White Devil fought back, of course—threw everything she had at him—but he barely felt it. You know how he loves to drag it out—”
“Get to the end,” another voice interrupted, impatient.
The man leaned back, grinning. “Xira stepped in when she was weak. Moved like a ghost, they say, struck like death itself. Her twin blades pierced the White Devil’s heart, but she didn’t stop there. They say she severed her head with one clean stroke, then held it up for her soldiers to see.”
The bile rose in my throat. My chest burned with the effort of staying silent, my rage clawing to break free. My mother hadn’t just been killed—she’d been hunted, slaughtered, and desecrated. These men were drinking to her death, celebrating her humiliation as though it were some grand spectacle.
“And the others?” someone asked. “Her top three—did they do anything?”
“Talon-7 dragged the body out for all to see,” the man said with a smirk. “Kane cleaved through anyone who dared to get close, and Vega? That one’s a real piece of work. He kept whispering to her, they say, even as she bled out. Broke her mind before they broke her body.”
Dravon trembled beside me, his hands shaking with rage. “Not here,” I hissed, gripping his arm. “Not now.”
