Page 110 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

He kept his gaze forward, his expression painfully neutral. “I simply deliver messages,” he said curtly.

Liar. He knew exactly who had summoned me—and he wasn’t talking.

The castle loomed ahead, its stone facade darker under the morning clouds. The guards at the entrance didn’t spare me a glance, stepping aside to let us pass. I knew what that meant—they’d been informed of my arrival. This wasn’t some casual meeting.

We climbed the spiral staircase to the upper levels—a place I had never been before. My steps faltered slightly as my mindturned over the implications. If I were being takenupinstead of to the main audience chamber, I wasn’t meeting just any noble. I was meeting someone with power—someone important enough to sit high above the rest.

It also made me wonder why Princess Elara’s room was still on one of the lower floors. Was that a security precaution? Or did the king simply not value his only daughter? I hoped it wasn’t the latter.

The courier stopped outside a door adorned with wrought iron embellishments.

“Wait here,” he said, opening it just enough to motion me inside before shutting it behind me.

The room was warm, a fire crackling low in the hearth. Dark wood shelves lined the walls, and two leather armchairs faced each other by the fire. A long table sat beneath the windows, scattered with parchments and sealed letters. It smelled faintly of parchment and spiced wine—a room used often, yet still cold with purpose.

I barely had time to sit before the door creaked open behind me.

I stood, my heart hammering.

I expected to see a royal.

Instead, a familiar figure stepped inside.

“Hello, Ashlyn,” came the low, gravelly voice.

I froze. “Father?”

Chapter

Twenty-One

Istared at him, my heart still racing in my chest.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

Cyran smiled, that smug smirk he always wore when he knew something I didn’t. “You’re not the only one with court ties.”

I folded my arms across my chest, biting back the surge of bitterness clawing up my throat. “Then why did you sell me to the king?”

“You are an asset, Ashlyn.” His tone was so casual, like he was talking about trading horses at the market. “Nothing more. I cultivated you until I could put you in play. Now look at you—a dragon rider. That’s more than I could have hoped for.”

“An asset?” My voice broke on the words. “I was yourdaughter—or at least I thought I was. But you never saw me as anything other than a piece on your board, did you?”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “You were born into this life, girl. Destiny carved your path before you even knew how to walk. I just… guided you along the way.”

“Guided me?” My fingers curled into fists. “You made me steal. You taught me tokill. And when that wasn’t enough, yousold me to the crown to be used as a pawn in a game I don’t even understand!”

“You think you’re the victim here?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “I gave you a purpose. A place. A role in something bigger than yourself. You were nothing when I found you. Just a scrawny little white-haired brat clinging to Stella’s skirts. I gave you power—I made you into something more.”

“You made me into a weapon,” I shot back. “And I hate you for it.”

Cyran chuckled darkly. “Cursing my name doesn’t change what you owe me. You are mine, Ashlyn. My chosen daughter, my investment, my creation. And youwilldo everything I ask of you.” His gaze turned sharp, cold. “Including telling me about the nobles in this castle—their powers, their weaknesses.”

“No.” I took a step back, shaking my head. “I won’t betray my squad.”

“You think they care about you?” His voice softened, deceptively gentle. “You’re a Thrall, a commoner dressed in dragon leathers. Do you honestly believe they’d put their lives on the line for you?”

“They already have,” I snapped. “More than you ever did.”