Page 155 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“I’m not your pawn anymore,” I hissed. “I’m done.”

Cyran’s face twisted with disgust. “You’re a fool. You think that dragon will save you? That prince?” He barked out a laugh. “They’ll discard you the moment you’re no longer useful.”

I stood in the doorway of my father’s room, the warmth of the fire dancing along the walls, flickering shadows that seemed to claw at the edges of the room. Cyran sat in his worn leather chair, a glass of wine balanced loosely between his fingers. His sharp eyes pinned me in place.

“There will be no exchange,” he said coldly, swirling the wine in his glass. “You simply do as you’re told.”

I clenched my fists at my sides. “No,” I said firmly. “That won’t work for me. But if you know anything about the prisoner, I’ll exchange information related to a castle traitor. Nothing about my squadmates or Fourth Guild.”

Cyran’s gaze shifted to the fire, his face suddenly tight. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he muttered under his breath.

“Believe what?” I demanded.

His cold eyes flicked back to me. “How long have you been helping them?”

“Helping who?” My confusion must have shown on my face because his expression twisted in disgust.

“The royals,” he sneered. “Did they recruit you when you were a child? Was your entire relationship with Remy for my benefit?”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice shaking.

His fingers tightened on his glass. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!” I snapped, stepping closer. “I didn’t know who Remy really was, and I never betrayed the Order.”

“You expect me to believe that?” His lip curled. “I gave you everything. I kept you alive when no one else would. And this is how you repay me?”

“You didn’t save me,” I shot back. “You bought me, sold me, and trained me to be your pawn.”

“You were more than a pawn,” Cyran growled, rising to his feet. “You were my investment. My legacy. I cultivated your skills foryearsso you could take my place in Solei’s empire when the time was right. Now look at you—running with royals and dragon riders like you’re one of them. Do you honestly think they’ll ever accept you?”

“I don’t care,” I said tightly. “I’m done being your asset. As I said before, I won’t be your puppet.”

His face twisted in fury, but his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’re a fool. The Order would have given you power, protection—everything you could have ever wanted.”

“I don’t want your power,” I snapped. “And I don’t need your protection.”

Cyran stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with the kind of finality that only a man like him could deliver, he said, “Leave, Ashlyn.”

I swallowed hard. “What?”

“Let me remind you that you are no longer my daughter,” he said coldly. “Nor a member of the Order. I banish you.”

The words were sharp, biting, and final.

For a moment, I just stood there, feeling like something had been ripped from me. The anger I expected didn’t come—just a cold, hollow ache in my chest. Because despite everything, a part of me had still wanted to believe that he cared. That I mattered. That he would change his mind.

“Fine,” I whispered.

I turned before the tears could fall, forcing my steps to stay steady as I walked out the door. My fingers trembled as I locked the tunnel door behind me, feeling the weight of finality settle over me like a shroud.

I didn’t return to the castle. Not yet. My thoughts were too loud, my emotions too tangled. Instead, I found myself wandering the village, the cold wind biting against my skin as I tried to quell the storm raging inside me.

I wasn’t sure who I hated more—Cyran... or myself for still caring.

I had expected hostility. I had even expected anger. But those words—those final, cutting words—severed something deep inside me. My father had never been warm, but for all his manipulation and cruelty, he had always believed in my worth. Now... I was nothing to him. Except a liability and I knew how the Order dealt with those.

I moved through the streets like a shadow, staying out of sight. The village was silent, tucked beneath the blanket of midnight. The air smelled like cold iron and damp stone. Ifocused on the rhythmic crunch of my boots on the dirt road—anything to keep my mind from spiraling.