Page 38 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

Was any relationship in my life real?

Remy.

His name alone brought a fresh ache to my chest. Memories of him flooded my mind—the way he used to grin at me, how he always made sure I had an extra dagger, how he was the only one who had ever felt like mine.

“Don’t worry, Ashe. I’ve got you.”

Jax’s words were soft, almost drowned out by the wind, but they pulled me from my thoughts.

I almost laughed at the irony.

The closest things I had to true friends or family were the people who had been sold into this army and forced to fight together.

By the time we reached our barracks, exhaustion had fully settled in my bones. Jax dismounted first before reaching up to help me down. I barely had the strength to move, but he was patient, steadying me as I nearly collapsed against him.

“Come on,” he said, half-carrying me toward the barracks. He didn’t let go until we were inside, where the familiar scent of metal and leather surrounded me.

Jax led me straight to the washroom, then disappeared momentarily, returning with fresh clothes from my wardrobe. He held them out, but hesitated.

“Do you need help? I swear I won’t look. I had a sister, and that’s how I see you and the other ladies in the group.”

Despite the pain, I managed a weak smile. “I know. But I’m okay. Healing ability and all.”

He nodded but glanced toward the door, lowering his voice. “The others will be back soon. It’s not unusual for halflings to have some healing, but yours is next level. Hide your torso for the next week or so.”

“I will.”

I closed the door, bracing myself against the basin as I finally took a proper look at the wounds. Deep, angry gashes trailed along my skin, faintly glowing in the dim candlelight. The pain wasn’t just from the slashes.

I swallowed hard and forced myself to clean up. The fresh water stung as I washed the dried blood away, the act grounding me in reality.

By the time I changed into the fresh clothes and cleaned the worst of the damage from my ruined ones, exhaustion overtook me. I barely made it to my bed before I collapsed, my body surrendering to the weight of sleep.

I didn’t wake when the others returned.

The weight on my bed was what finally pulled me from the haze of exhaustion.

For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to face whoever had decided to invade my space. It wasn’t until I felt the subtle shift of movement—a presence that wasn’t hurried or intrusive but waiting—that I finally forced myself to open them.

Naia.

Of all people, I hadn’t expected her.

She sat at the edge of my bed, one leg tucked under her, studying me with an expression that was unreadable in the dim light of the barracks. The usual sharpness in her eyes was softer now, but there was still something piercing about the way she looked at me.

“How are you?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I’ve been better.”

Naia nodded slightly, then exhaled. “That trial should have killed you.”

There was no mockery in her tone, no amusement or gloating. If anything… she almost sounded impressed.

“I know.”

Her gaze flickered over me, lingering on the bruises darkening my arms and the barely healed slashes peeking out from the collar of my shirt. Something crossed her expression—something thoughtful, calculating.

“We’re going for a late dinner,” she said after a beat. “Are you up to joining us? If not, I’ll bring you back some food.”