Page 125 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

For a while, we just talked—about Jax’s early years, about the mischief he and Naia had gotten into as kids, about Naia’s relentless stubbornness that had driven her brother mad and Jax equally proud. The conversation drifted from training mishaps to drunken nights and bad decisions.

I smiled at my squad mates, but I couldn’t stop the memories from creeping back in, no matter how hard I tried. Remy’s face, his smile—the one he saved just for me. The warmth of his hand sliding up my arm, the way his fingers would curl beneath my chin just before he kissed me.

I remembered that night beneath the balcony of the tailor’s shop in Brosha—the warmth of his body behind mine as we hid in the shadows, pressed close to avoid a patrol. His breath had been hot against my neck, his lips brushing my skin.

“We shouldn’t,”I’d whispered, but I had turned to face him anyway. He’d cupped my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

“I can’t help it,”he murmured, and then he kissed me. Not like he was testing boundaries—like he already knew I belonged to him. And I had let him claim me. I’d given him everything that night, trusted him with my body, my heart—my soul.

Later, I remembered the morning light on his face, his hand tangled lazily in my hair as we lay in a mess of sheets. The way he kissed the inside of my wrist, murmuring promises against my skin that I had believed... until now.

“Ashe,” Cordelle’s voice cut through my mind like a knife, yanking me back to the present. “Your eyes are glowing.”

“What?” I blinked and raised my hand—fingers trembling as crackling sparks of electricity danced between them. The sharp scent of ozone filled the air.

I clenched my fist, willing the power to die, but it wouldn’t obey. The sparks intensified, arcing between my fingers like living serpents.

“Kaelith,” I whispered desperately.

You called me, Rider,her voice rumbled through my mind, calmer than I expected.

I didn’t mean to. I was just... thinking.

Your emotions fuel your power. Focus, or you will burn your squad along with your own body.

I drew in a shaky breath, pressing my hands into my lap. I forced my mind away from Remy’s touch, from his voice and his lies, from the promises that were never meant to be kept.

Slowly, the sparks faded, flickering out like dying embers. My breath came in shallow gasps, and Cordelle knelt in front of me, his hand resting lightly on my knee.

“You okay?” His voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” I said, but my voice shook. “I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t. Not even close.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

The air in the Ascension Grounds was sharp and heavy with tension. I tried to ignore Remy standing with his squad—but it was hard. No one wanted to stand too close to him, and I couldn’t blame them. An assassin turned rider was one thing. But a man who’d been working for King Rayne? That was something else entirely.

I wondered if he understood what the Order would do when they found out he’d been working for the crown. For King Rayne. Remy was dead—he had to know that. And yet he stood there, as calm as ever, like he didn’t have a noose already tightening around his neck. The thought twisted my insides in ways I hated to admit.

“In the ring!” Zander’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, snapping me back to the present. “Jax, Naia—you’re up.”

Jax smirked as he moved to the center of the ring. Naia grinned back at him, the gleam in her eyes pure mischief.

“This should be good,” Riven murmured beside me.

And it was.

The moment Zander barkedBegin, Jax and Naia sprang at each other like a matched pair of wolves—all sharp precisionand calculated strikes. They didn’t just know how to fight; they knew how to fighteach other. Jax pivoted on the balls of his feet, deflecting Naia’s incoming strike with ease. She anticipated his counter, ducking low before twisting and sweeping his leg. But Jax twisted with her, rolling over his shoulder and coming back to his feet in one fluid motion.

“Damn,” Cordelle muttered. “They’re good.”

They were. There was a rhythm to it, almost like a dance. Each attack countered, every feint predicted. They knew each other’s tells—their strengths, their weaknesses.

And yet...