Page 64 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

I swallowed hard. “So I might be descended from… a dead bloodline?”

Cordelle met my gaze, his expression serious, searching.

“I think you may be.”

A chill skittered down my spine.

“I have no idea how,” he continued. “But we will find out.”

I forced a deep breath, ignoring the way my chest tightened.

“Does the king care about commoner bloodlines?” I asked.

Cordelle hesitated again.

“Not if he thinks you are a bastard offspring,” he said, “but if you’re not from one of Warriath’s noble bloodlines—then, yes. He would be very interested.”

I sat there for a long moment, processing.

Then I looked Cordelle dead in the eye.

“Let’s find out.”

He nodded.

“But don’t tell anyone.”

The door swung open, and my squadmates filtered in, their boots scuffing against the floor.

Riven was the first to approach, her brows furrowed in concern. “How are you?”

I stretched, testing the lingering soreness in my muscles. “Better. Cordelle’s been keeping me company.”

She glanced at him, then nodded. “Good.”

The others didn’t hover, but I could tell they were watching—not in an overbearing way, but in that quiet, unspoken way soldiers did when one of their own had been through the ringer.

As they took turns using the washroom, I caught Naia watching me.

I held her gaze, waiting, and after a moment, she sighed and strode over.

“Cordelle, leave us.”

Cordelle glanced between us before standing, smoothing his hands down his tunic. He gave me a slight nod before retreating to his own bunk.

Naia crossed her arms, her sharp blue eyes unreadable as she stared at me.

“You’re struggling with that dragon of yours.”

I smirked, leaning back against my headboard. “Don’t gloat.”

Naia scoffed, but there wasn’t as much bite in it as usual. She tapped her fingers against her forearm, as if debating what to say next.

Then she exhaled.

“I should hate you, you know.”

I raised a brow. “But you don’t?”