Page 117 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“We checked the area,” Cordelle said, voice low. “The boot prints—they’re standard issue squad gear.”

I scoffed. “That doesn’t prove anything. The Order could get their hands on that.”

Tae crossed his arms. “Maybe, but could they sneak multiple assassins inside the castle during morning meal? Without anyone noticing?”

My stomach twisted. He had a point. The timing, the precision—it felt too calculated to be random. Whoever had ordered the attack knew my schedule, knew where I’d be. This wasn’t a gamble. It was deliberate.

“They’re trying to make us paranoid,” Naia muttered, pacing near the window. “They want us second-guessing each other.”

“Well, it’s working,” Jax snapped. “If we can’t trust anyone, what the hell are we supposed to do?”

“We trust each other,” Riven said firmly. “That’s all we can do.”

The room stilled at her words, heavy with the weight of unspoken promises. My squad—my new family—wasn’t going anywhere. Whatever the Order was trying to pull, they weren’t going to break us.

“I’ll be back,” Cordelle said suddenly, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He paused just long enough to smile. “To grab you some tea. You look like you could use it.”

When he returned a few minutes later, Cordelle handed me a steaming mug, the scent of herbs curling up to warm my face. I clutched the cup like it was the only thing grounding me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, voice softer than I intended.

Cordelle shrugged. “No problem. But you should know I ran into Zander. I think he knows something is up.”

“Kaelith may have told Hein.”

Riven pursed her lips. “Would your father really order a hit on you?”

I took a sip, the warmth spreading through my chest. “He didn’t always hate me,” I whispered, thinking of Cyran. “When I was little... before Dalila died, I think he actually cared.”

The squad stilled, waiting quietly, like they knew I needed to get this out.

“He’d bring me hair ribbons or sweets—things he said my mother would’ve given me if she were alive.” I stared into my tea. “I think... I think he really did try at first. But after Dalila died, it was like I became a burden—something to manage rather than care for. Then Solei trained me, and he realized I had potential. I stopped being his daughter that day. I was just an asset after that.”

Riven reached out, her fingers curling over mine. “You were never just an asset.”

I managed a shaky smile. “Tell that to Cyran.”

“Forget him,” Jax said. “You’ve got us now.”

“You’re family,” Naia added quietly. “We’ll figure this out together.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. For the first time since Cyran had turned his back on me, I felt something solid beneath my feet. Whatever the Order had planned, whatever my father had done, I knew I wouldn’t be facing it alone.

The door slammed open without warning, and every head in the room snapped toward it. Zander Rayne strode in like heowned the place, his face hard. His eyes dark, like a storm barely held at bay, swept the room before landing on me. Not quite black, but dangerously close.

“What the fuck happened?” His voice was a low growl, the kind that made the air feel too thin.

I swallowed hard. “I was attacked.” I kept my voice even, but my fingers tightened around the mug of tea Cordelle had brought me. “Three men in black. Not rider armor, but one had an Iron Fang tattoo.”

Zander swore under his breath and turned to the others. “Get to the Ascension Grounds. Now.”

Nobody questioned him. Tae grabbed his boots, Jax muttered something about “not getting a damn break,” and the others filed out. I knew I should follow, but Zander’s gaze stayed locked on mine—pinning me in place.

When the door shut behind them, he crossed the room and dropped heavily onto my bed, so close that his thigh brushed mine. His scent—leather, smoke, something faintly metallic like steel—curled around me, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to lean into him.