Page 60 of The Ashborn

“Lack of sleep will drive you mad.” She stepped toward him.

Tristian wanted to step back. He already bore the weight of the world to get her to this point. He had no desire to let the rest of it take hold. Connak did, and it consumed him. Tristian didn’t have time to be consumed. “All due respect, but I’m a soldier. I can handle a few restless nights.”

“I’m calling in a favor, then. For saving Tislin’s life. We have a third room. I can find more blankets. Please rest.”

“You didn’t save Tislin for me. There is no favor owed.”

Kienna rolled her eyes and huffed. “I’ll fight you if I have to.”

Amusement twitched Tristian’s lips. He gave Kienna a once-over, her arm wrapped in a sling, specks of blood staining her skin. The bruises faded a bit from Liora’s healing efforts, but the traces remained. All of it painted a clear story. She’d never last a minute in a fight against him. “Why does it matter if I stay?”

“You told me once that you’d grit your teeth through betrayal to save Tislin—as I would Jacob. You left your command to be here for all of this. That means something to me.”

Tristian meant it when he told her that. He would go to the ends of the earth defending the world from evil, but he’d give it all up if his brother had a better chance at life than him. Before he could stop it, Tristian’s chest lit up with faint gold, followed by Kienna’s. A subtle reminder that his life wasn’t one hundred percent his to command. He simply sighed. “I’ll take a few blankets, then. If you don’t mind.”

“Tristian, what is this between us?”

“Maybe another curse,” Tristian admitted, and he meant it. “That’s all I care to share.”

He retreated into the third room next to Tislin’s and lay on a long chair. The room was empty aside from that single piece of furniture. The way Moira looked at Tislin, Tristian was surprised the room hadn’t been allocated to his brother. Though he was sure the baby would take it once born. Moira had to be about five months along now. She barely showed, which probably helped her keep her secret from Kienna and Danek. Tristian gave her about another two or three weeks before she’d have to come clean.

Kienna brought a few blankets and set them down for him. With them, she handed him a book.

“What’s this?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Poetry.”

He opened the book, sifting through the pages. They were ancient texts from the Edranic civilization. Tristian could speak some of the language, but not enough to fully decipher the text. He breathed a small laugh. “May I take this back to Trinity with me?”

“Of course. It’s all yours.”

Kienna gave him one more glance before leaving. He watched her go as the morning light settled in the room. Tristian listened to the voices in the city, the faint conversations between Connak, Moira, and Tislin in the room next to him. Out on the terrace, asterlilies bloomed. He thought of his mother, how she died in this city, and he’d avoided it ever since. He’d done a disservice to Dove Port because of it, never truly allying his army with the city. He’d fix that.

He’d fix all of it. It was what he was meant to do.

—Moira—

Moira stirred a bowl of boiled potatoes, pushing all her energy into mashing them down and folding them into the salts and creams. She didn’t know which would have tasted better, so she used all three options offered to her by The Elarent House. She was supposed to be working that evening, but her heart couldn’t manage it. Not with Tislin strung up in bed and Danek’s hands barely recovering. So, she cooked. Kienna had watched the place while Moira ventured into the city to find all the ingredients to make her feel better. She stopped in to check on Elowen, then spent the entire afternoon pouring seasonings on food and putting them over a fire.

The men in the house slept all day, as they should have after the night they had. Moira wanted to sleep, too, yet her body wouldn’t let her sit. Kienna asked her only once, and after Moira snapped at her, she left for a run. Moira would have protested, her arm being strung up in a sling, though after yelling at her, she no longer felt entitled to.

When Kienna came back, she was cupping her arm.

“We can get Connak to heal the pain,” Moira said.

Kienna plopped on the sofa. “I’d rather not. He and I are in a weird place right now.”

“We still don’t know if Danek’s hands will work.”

“I don’t need anyone healing me. I can manage the pain.” By now, Kienna’s eyes were closed, and her voice was distant.

Moira almost argued. Kienna had a healer at her disposal for most of her life. King Vaerin. Danek. Connak. She wanted to say as much but didn’t think it was conducive to their friendship. Her exhaustion tugged at her. “I invited Elowen to dinner. She might not come, though. Thorn is back in town.”

“Mhm.”

A smile tugged at Moira’s lips. “She gave me one of her rats to cook.”

“That’s nice, Moira.”