Page 95 of The Ashborn

King Vaerin contained dark magic far beyond the comprehension of the Elvish power. Tristian wasn’t ready to put prophecies to the test against the newer development of shadows. He’d already seen what they did to Tislin, and he still commanded his life for now. If shadows got hold of Kienna, they’d get hold of everyone. “Connak,” he said smoothly with control. “There’s no way we can let her fight.”

Connak grinned. “She’ll fight that. You heard her on the beach.”

She would. Tristian expected her to. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t deserve to fight anyway. “Baila is coming to kill her. At the very least, turn her into an Umbrin.”

“Under those same pretenses, why are we fighting?” Connak shrugged. The breeze from the coastline crashed with the waves behind them. “If we aren’t all willing to put our lives on the line, we should pull out now.”

Tristian studied the waves. They slammed into the rocks, kicking up splashes of water like warriors throwing themselves at a fortress gate. A fitting comparison to the battle looming over them. “We have magic at our disposal. Anything she has is too weak to do any damage, and if she uses it without the charm, she could kill herself. You must see it. I’m not looking to die tonight. Are you?”

Connak smirked. “Never.”

The way his lips curled made Tristian sneer. Tislin stood next to Connak, nearly as amused. Their friendship infuriated Tristian more than he liked to admit. He stared at them, so close. Closer than he could remember being to Tislin in a long time. They’d taken two separate paths in life, and he struggled to make amends.

Tristian focused on the slashed ruins of the tree. “She goes to the barracks.”

“Alright,” Connak caved, his shoulders loosening. “You get to tell her. She and I are…shaky at best.”

“You cower to her.”

“Well, considering she could burn us all alive one day, I’m trying to stay on her good side. I’m surprised you don’t feel the same.”

Moira’s eyes widened, her hand floating to her mouth. “So, she is the Ashborn?”

Tristian didn’t bother confirming. He sheathed his sword in the holster. “Make sure she gets to the barracks. I’ll make sure she has the command to stay.”

Chapter 37

—Kienna—

Kienna stood on the slanted rooftop of their apartment with her boots braced against the creaking beams. The cold wind bit her cheeks. She stared at the Lysiria, hoping that maybe they’d done enough to prepare. It had been two weeks since she made the mistake of calling River Storm, but she could feel the hints of iron suits nearing in.

Connak reported to Petyr often to help identify timelines for the battle. They started moving people to the barracks shortly after Kienna’s speech to the soldiers, closing off wards of the city to lay traps throughout, starting with the bridge. She tried to convince them to avoid the workshop, but it fell into the section of traps on the outskirts of the city. Kienna could only pray that the fighting didn’t reach that far.

She turned toward Dove Port. The city was elegantly lit as the sun hit the fine, white marble. The town was eerily quiet since most of the outer sections were placed in the barracks. Clouds swarmed the sky in deep, heavy hues of gray. It was as if the heavens knew the fate of the town that day.

Are you coming down? Ruva whimpered from below. The Elvish are stirring and preparing down here.

Kienna kept her eyes locked on the other side of the city, watching the bridge for any hint of River Storm. The Goldmere shimmered like a blade, cutting through the land far into the hazy distance. It split the world as it always had, desert from forest. Mountain from plain. Past from future.

Don’t worry, Kienna assured her fierce friend. I only need a few more moments.

Standing above the trembling world, the weight of the bridge pressed into Kienna’s bones. A bridge once built for unity with a river that still divided, and the daughter of its builders waited for war to cross it.

Hey, Connak’s voice rang in her head. Alverton’s swarmed with the demon army.

And the Malintale?

Soldiers are clearing the hills. We have two hours.

Kienna started to jump from the roof when she caught a figure moving along the Silver Span, like a ghost amongst the shadows. She walked well ahead of the army, her silver armor catching the light in flickers of lightning in fog. Baila’s steps were slow and deliberate. Her long braid trailed behind her, and her presence sang of war. A dirge carried on the wind.

“Shit.” Kienna rolled her eyes at the mere thought of Baila leading an army of dead soldiers, putting a personal vendetta in her heart. She’d be the one to greet her at the bridge. She knew that much. She had two hours to make sure the rest of the city had been moved. When she crawled from the roof, she landed on the terrace with a thud, pulling Moira from her trance of the book she had been reading for weeks—Mothering. Moira looked up slowly, her hand resting protectively on her belly, eyes already brimming with questions.

“Time to go,” Kienna said.

—Tristian—

Kienna greeted the Trinity army near the Great Hall, taking stride with Tristian as soon as she saw him. He peered at her from the side of his eyes but kept moving. “Where do you need me?” she asked.