Page 5 of Crown of Ashes

“You will be safe here,” Fear promised. “You do not have to be married to me for that. You will always be my friend, and you will always have sanctuary in Caer Own.”

Sanctuary. That word burned too.

“I don’t need sympathy. I need soldiers,” I said again.

It was there in his face, the refusal that was about to come. I rushed on instead, delaying my request for later, when perhaps I could show him how useful I could be to his court, or perhaps could awaken some childish sympathy for me.

“Tell me what you’ve heard about Caer Lira,” I said, and my voice was steady, and everything about my tone was as practiced and regal as ever, but there was a shakiness underneath it, and I feared he knew me well enough to hear. “Is there any word about my brothers?”

“There is,” he said carefully. “I do not trust it. Your parents loved you. They wanted you here, and you should stay here.”

Loved. He used the past tense so easily already. I stumbled over it every time.

“What is the word, then? My brothers—alive or dead?”

“Word is that they live.”

The relief that shot through me wrung me out like a wet rag, bringing new, hot tears to my gaze. There was still a chance. I was not alone in the world. My brothers needed me.

No one was coming to save me. But no one was going to stop me, either.

“Listen to me.” Fear leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, and for a moment I was back again in some childish plot of ours. That was the face he wore when he was scheming. “The word didn’t come through spies I trust, or someone who had a reason to betray Celyn. Stories about your brothers being alive and held by him are spreading through Caer Lira. Someone wants those stories spread. You have always been clever. Be clever now.”

“And how exactly should I be clever?” I demanded.

“Stay here, as your parents would wish,” he said, which was a low blow.

“I cannot stay here! Do you really think I came here for a hot bath and a safe bed? Should I lounge around here while my brothers bleed out for our kingdom? You know what I came here for. I can return to my kingdom, leading an army. I can be the princess of Caer Lira that I was meant to be. The warrior.”

I held my chin high, keenly aware that I did not sound like much of a warrior when our forces had been destroyed by an army of dragon riders, when I could not shift into my own dragon, when I had to plead for forces to bring home. I needed to borrow blood to spill for my kingdom.

“But only if you help me,” I said, and my voice came out strong and level. “I know what I’m asking, Fear. I promise I will find a way to repay you.”

“I cannot enter a war in Caer Lira.” His voice was resolute. Another door closed.

“You started the war in Caer Lira!” I accused.

It was not entirely fair, but it was close. The rebels in Caer Lira hadn’t learned to ride dragons on their own. Something had shifted in the magic of the five kingdoms, and everyone knew where it had shifted first.

Fear and his wife had torn something loose, something that echoed across all five isles. The dragons that should have been ours had carried rebels over our walls, while I and every other dragon shifter in our castle had reached to shift and found ourselves emptied.

That wasn’t all Fear’s fault, but it wasn’t not his, either.

I watched his face, waiting for the flinch or the argument.

He didn’t flinch, and he didn’t argue. He absorbed it the way he absorbed everything, steadily. For all Fear’s mischief, there was something steady about him, something that felt as if the ground could not shake beneath your feet when he was at your side.

My chest ached. I had thought I had cried all the tears I possibly could, but I almost wished I could cry again. The pressure in my chest was so profound I could barely breathe around it.

“I know what we set in motion,” Fear said. “I won’t pretend otherwise. I’ve thought about Caer Lira every day since the news came.”

Cara set a cup of tea in front of me. My gaze flickered to it. “Thinking. How useful.”

“The rebellion in Caer Lira didn’t start with me, Zia. It didn’t even start with Celyn. A torch only catches if the kindling is dry.”

He said the name of the man who murdered my parents so easily, as if he already knew him. As if Celyn and I were equals in his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?”