Page 11 of The Ashborn

—Connak—

“Any news of the girl?” Alister probed Connak.

The weekly council meeting at the Heart of Trinity was held at a large, round table carried to the ancient tree upon every important gathering and placed spectacularly over the water at the center of the room. Alister, the human elder and long-standing member of the council, sat across from Connak. The man looked more like a weasel than a sage in Connak’s view, with sharp features and an ever-twitching nose. Connak supposed he used it to sniff for advantage.

“Are we calling her Kalyra now? Or Kienna? I never can tell,” he added.

Queen Elira sat at the head of the table. Her seat was raised above the others. She was flanked by her most trusted Elvish advisors, their placement reinforcing the appearance of dominance. Farther down sat the humans and the lone Viking, deliberately spaced to reflect their lesser standing. Connak and Tristian, her military confidants, held the central positions along either side—close enough to lend counsel, but not quite at her level. The arrangement feigned balance, but the symmetry was forced.

“Tislin reports she’s doing well,” Connak sighed, fingers tapping along the grand table. Specks of light from the glowing pool under their feet shimmered and illuminated the sides.

“What does she report?” Seredai questioned.

Connak shrugged. “We haven’t spoken.” A white lie, but their talk was nothing worth reporting to the council.

She studied him closely, the lavender of her eyes growing to a deep purple with curiosity. “I thought that the whole point of her going to Dove Port was to report back to you.”

“Well, if I may, she’s only been there for two days,” Connak said, tone more automatic than engaged. He slouched in his seat, casting his eyes half-lidded at the droning council. These meetings drained him—posturing, performance, and predictable politics. He might’ve stayed slumped if Tristian hadn’t nudged his boots beneath the table, splashing water on his leather from the pool underneath. Connak grunted and rolled his eyes before straightening. He wiped the sleep from his face and forced himself to appear interested. “Kienna is adjusting well.”

“Mind telling us about the woodcarver she’s seeing?” Elira asked, her eyes frosting over. Her face remained still, lips taut.

Connak glanced at Tristian, gauging if it was him who told them. Surely not. Tristian found the woodcarver. He knew the stakes of pairing Kienna with an Ashfell. Tristian’s blank stare revealed little, but Connak felt guilty for assuming him first. He surveyed the rest of the council as Alister cleared his throat.

“She has a keen eye for carving. Tislin only helped her find a job to get by.”

Queen Elira assessed him. “How many woodcarvers do you know in Dove Port?”

“It’s in a small faction in the city. Clearly not an acclaimed master of his skill,” Connak replied, acutely aware of how dense he sounded. He hated feigning an idiot in front of the council. It only made them question their decision to give him the Hollow Blades, and he’d go down fighting if he ever had to give up his army now.

He exhaled. “I’ll have Tislin scope him out.”

“With all due respect,” Tristian said, “Tislin shouldn’t have to be scoping anything. He serves as a convoy between the Malintale and Trinity and occasionally checks in on Kienna.”

Elira squinted at Tristian, her shoulders tightening and gaze turning him cold. The glowing veins of the ancient tree above them dimmed, as if reacting to her mood. “Tislin’s duties,” she said, each word carved with precision, “are to do whatever the crown needs him to do. If this woodcarver is the woodcarver, then he is the last person who should be helping Kalyra. He’s a relic of failed ideologies. We buried them for good reason.” She turned her full presence to Connak, and the air around him thickened. “Shut it down, Commander, or she’ll be a prisoner of her own accord. Am I understood?”

Connak nodded and waited for the command to be affirmed by his High Commander to launch him into action. The command never came. Tristian’s jaw only shifted slightly.

The mist of the pool shimmered cobalt and black as if sensing the fear that shaded the queen’s face. The woodcarver clearly irked her. Connak never met the man, but his carvings must have been pretty damn special to spark such an emotional reaction. The corner of his mouth twitched. It was satisfying to see her squirm. Across the table, Alister scratched his chin and let out a quiet hum. Typical. The man always enjoyed it when the room grew too uncomfortable.

Tristian looked at Connak again. The entire room stared, waiting for him to affirm that he indeed understood the queen’s demand. He would. He had to. He couldn’t risk pushing his favor with the queen any further. It teetered on the line of insubordination. But if Connak was being honest with himself, he’d crossed that line long ago. He used his time in River Storm as an excuse to get away with things. The queen usually let him slide, but the woodcarver might have been the only thing that would snap the queen out of her own guilt. He planned to send Tislin behind their backs to track the mole who told the queen Kienna was with the woodcarver in the first place.

“Yes, understood,” Connak said after a moment.

Tension lingered in the silence like smoke. A few chairs shifted. A throat cleared. Then the council turned its attention from Connak to other matters regarding intel on Vaerin’s army. There were none. At least none that Connak was comfortable sharing. The shadow rumors were simply that—rumors. There was no need to incite fear and action without confirmation. It would only spark discussions of wards breaking and the potential need for brutal Elvish force. For now, River Storm grew quiet after the battle in Dalelry, and soldiers weren’t seen outside the city since. Not even in Alverton. Tristian asked Connak to double up on the Blades’ missions to ensure they were not missing anything. Tristian was to continue sending scouts to survey the land for enemies.

Elira clasped her hands and stood as Broan entered the Heart with soldiers, his presence commanding the space. The red insignia on his scalp pulsed beneath the ambient light of the water. Within the silence, Connak boasted with pride, thinking about how far this young Viking had come since River Storm.

“We could have done without the soldiers.” Broan folded his arms. “I’ve been here more times than necessary.”

Well, he’d come far enough. His customs would need work, but Broan wasn’t meant to be a diplomat, much to Queen Elira’s dismay.

“Bowing is customary in the presence of your Queen.”

Broan shrugged. “You have important news for me?”

Color rose along Elira’s throat as she went perfectly still. Before she could react, Kaelthar stood from his chair. “Aye, I would like you to accompany me to the Whiteridge Mountains.”

Broan’s eyes narrowed, his red-marked brow furrowing. “Where is that?”