Page 142 of The Ashborn

They continued forward through the trees, light barely in existence. Crystals illuminated the forest floor, shining a dull flicker of orange to mimic firelight. The bark shimmered with silver etchings. Kienna wondered what they meant. They weren’t written in any form of language she was familiar with. It was all beautiful regardless. Tristian motioned up another bridge that led them to the far edge of the hidden woods. Then Kienna’s jaw hit the ground. Nothing in the forest could compare—not even the Heart of Trinity—to the tree they called The Palace. She’d never been this far in the forest. There was no need for her to go farther south. Trinity was still a mystery to her in every way.

A bridge unraveled before them, woven with wood and pale stone. It curved outward from the forest’s edge, spiraling higher with every step until the land beneath them fell away. Mist curled through the air, and far below, water shimmered as it spilled from unseen heights. Kienna slowed without realizing it, her hand tightening around Tristian’s sleeve as the world opened wide. It would never rival the Eternal Mother, but it was shaped in her image.

The tree rose from a cliff. Its roots wrapped the rock in a careful, possessive embrace, thicker than towers twisting and arching into halls and balconies carved directly into the wood. Light glowed from within its heart, warm gold and soft violet, pulsing gently.

Water fell in silver veils from the branches, lanterns glimmering along the walkways as the canopy spread high above and sheltered them.

“I thought she was simpler than this,” Kienna said.

“It embodies the floating islands,” Tristian confirmed. “There are better places to be.”

Kienna rolled her eyes in agreement. “Why does it feel sacred?”

“The Belok line formed this palace thousands of years ago. Priests and Priestesses blessed it long before their power dwindled.” Tristian turned his back to the palace. A corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile but less severe than his usual expression. He stepped closer, voice pitched for Kienna’s ears only. “Listen, you’re going to need shields as much as swords.” His expression sharpened, steady as stone. “You have mine.”

Before Kienna could respond, Tristian turned and retreated down the bridge. She smiled and shook her head. The hardened High Commander of the Elvish army stood with her now, even after she rejected everything about her Elvish heritage. Then again…he rejected it, too. When he played a part against Queen Elira by forming alliances in the shadows. Alliances that weren’t for him. She let out a breath of laughter. He has to be the most elusive mastermind I have ever met.

“Miss Kalyra,” came a voice from the bridge. Kienna jerked her head to see an older woman—fully human—standing near her. Faint lines etched the corners of her dark eyes, and her hair tumbled in dark waves threaded with silver strands that glimmered.

“It’s Kienna,” she said firmly.

“My name is Santiana. If you will.” She held her arm out to guide Kienna across the bridge toward the tree. The outside of The Palace was immaculate, but the inside was just so. Stepping into the hall, the air shifted. The bark arched high above Kienna’s head. Light streamed through colored panes in the branches, which scattered jewel-toned patterns across polished roots. The roots had been coaxed into elegant floors and stairways. A waterfall shimmered at the far wall.

“Fetch us refreshments,” Elira said as she stood on a hand-carved set of stairs. She descended the stairwell, approaching Kienna. “Sit.”

It was a command that Kienna was wary to follow. She didn’t want to give false hope about the relationship. Elira would not be commanding her. Still, Kienna was in her home. She was taught to be strong, but Maren also taught good manners in Kienna’s childhood, so she sat. A guard stood near another doorway leading into a study of sorts. He was tall, with dark skin and long, black hair. His eyes, staring forward without blinking, were a mixture of blue and purple.

“Druag,” Elira said, snapping her fingers before taking a seat of her own on a crimson sofa. “Fetch the Blades Commander. He’ll want to escort our heiress home once we’re done.”

“Yes, My Queen.” The guard released his position and left.

The room was empty, falling cold as ice. The only sound was the rushing waterfall. Kienna cleared her throat awkwardly, hoping to subdue the tension. Queen Elira continued to sit, staring at Kienna with a gaze meant for a powerful woman.

“It’s time we discuss this matter.” She motioned her hand between herself and Kienna, then touched the tip of her branched crown. It was woven finely, not a single twig out of place, with crystal jewels that sparkled like starlight. “You are my heiress, unfortunately. We need to talk about what that means for you.”

Santiana returned with a plate of small, decadent cakes with moisture falling from their centers. They were frosted with chocolate and tipped with strawberries. Kienna wanted to grab one, her stomach reminding her that she had no food in her belly since arriving at Trinity. She withheld. Gifts from a royal felt like bribery, and she had no taste for it.

“Set it on the table there,” Elira said to Santiana. Then, softer than Kienna thought possible for the queen, she smiled and said, “Thank you, my dear. Please, have a cake and take some rest.”

Santiana did not falter. She grabbed a pastry and sauntered away, comfortable in her own skin around Elira.

“My husband would have liked you,” Elira said, focus returning to Kienna.

“How did he pass?” Kienna asked, daring to know the answer.

“Poison.” The queen’s expression did not change as she answered. Her lips were pressed flat, her eyes answering in retribution. She demanded a reaction from Kienna. Kienna refused to give one. The answer was a test. Would Kienna blame the queen for poisoning the king, or would she assume assassination in a city hidden with “loyal” soldiers?

“If I were to eat a cake,” Kienna started through the tension, “would I also succumb to such a fate?”

Elira grabbed one from the plate on the table and bit into it. She set it back down, half-eaten, then licked her fingers as if she weren’t a queen meant for appearances. “They’re incredibly rich,” she said, grabbing for a napkin to clean the rest of the cake off. “Now, back to our conversation.”

“I don’t have to be the heiress,” Kienna said.

“But you do.” Elira stood from the couch and approached the waterfall, running her hands under the stream. When she pulled back, droplets clung to her skin until she released them into the pool to be recycled back through the falls. “The Vikings have made it clear what they want.”

“What do the Vikings offer the Elvish to make their alliance so important?” Kienna had meant it when she offered her own alliance to Ingrid and the Mountainborn, but she still didn’t know why the Elvish were set on forging this relationship. The Vikings had no power from where Kienna was concerned, aside from Broan. There was little protection they could give Elira. In fact, it was the Elvish that were stood up to protect them.

“Have you heard of a wardbreaker before?” Elira asked. “Beings who are immune to magical manipulation. They can’t be touched with alterations, and that includes the wards. In fact, they could break them if they knew how.” Elira turned from the water, stalking back to the sofas.