Page 188 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“That’s part of it,” Zander said carefully. “But not all of it.”

He shifted his weight, glancing at the Lowborn Squad, then back to me. “My father wants updates on your progress,” he added quietly.

I felt my stomach twist. Of course. I knew better than to believe Zander’s presence had been some random assignment. He’d been sent to watch me—maybe to protect me, but certainly to keep tabs on whatever power I was developing.

“Your father,” I muttered bitterly. “Why am I not surprised?”

The others started to mutter among themselves, but my thoughts strayed to the words the Blood Fae leader had spoken before Zander’s Dark Fire had sent them running.

You are the chosen vessel... the instrument of the Blood King... your birth was preordained...

I glanced at Jax as he carefully secured Eilvin onto Makor’s back, tying the lifeless rider into the saddle for the long return trip.

Riven knelt in the dirt, her fingers brushing against a scrap of scorched leather. Tugging it free, she revealed a half-burned bag—the kind riders used to carry orders and communications. She flipped it over, inspecting the faded sigil, but it was too damaged to tell which faction it belonged to. Without a word, she reached inside and withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment.

She unfolded it carefully, her fingers smoothing out the scorched edges. The paper was singed, but the ink remained clear enough to read. Her eyes flicked over the words once, twice, then she turned toward me.

“Ashe... you should see this.”

I crossed the clearing, stepping over broken branches and patches of smoldering earth.

Riven handed me the letter. My gaze moved across the page, the words settling like ice in my chest.

Make sure the supplies make it to our eastern friends. There are enough supplies and weapons to support the next stage of the rebellion. More will be on its way.

I barely registered the words. My focus locked on the symbol stamped at the bottom of the page—a rose with massive thorns curling around a crow.

“It’s the Order of Thorn,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “My father... he’s helping the Blood Fae.”

Zander appeared at my side, his expression darkening as he plucked the letter from my fingers. He scanned the contents and shook his head.

“It’s not specific,” he argued. “This could mean a lot of things.”

“Don’t,” I snapped. My emotions surged—power flickered beneath my skin like sparks ready to ignite. “Don’t try to downplay this. Look at the ground.”

I turned, pointing toward the churned dirt and creased tracks where the wagons had disappeared.

“That’s not a coincidence.” My voice was colder now, edged with something sharp. “My father’s been supplying the Blood Fae directly. He’s been feeding them weapons, resources... gods know what else.”

“It doesn’t prove that,” Zander insisted, but there was doubt in his eyes. “This letter could’ve been intercepted. Anyone could have planted this here.”

“Then why was it hidden in a dispatch bag?” I shot back. “And why would someone go to this much trouble unless they didn’t want anyone finding it?”

Zander didn’t have an answer for that.

“I knew he was ruthless,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. “I knew he would betray anyone to serve his own interests... but this?” I shook my head. “He’s siding with the Blood Fae. That’s not just treason—that’s insanity.”

“It’s worse than that,” Riven added quietly. “The Blood Fae don’t just want land or power. They want access to the hatchling grounds.”

“And my father’s giving them the means to get it,” I finished.

The air felt suffocating, thick with lingering smoke and the weight of realization. Whatever my father was planning, it wasn’t just rebellion. It was annihilation.

“We need to get this letter to my father,” Zander said grimly. “If this is real... who knows how far the corruption goes.”

I nodded, my mind spinning. My father had betrayed me—I knew that. But this? This wasn’t just personal.

This was far worse.