Page 8 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

I arched an eyebrow. “But you did?”

Riven smiled ruefully and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been able to move things without touching them. Not exactly flashy, but it’s something.”

“That’s pretty handy, actually.”

“And what about you? I heard you have a healing ability. I expected you’d be in the Second Guild, though I don’t know how good you are at healing others.”

Before I could answer, Jax’s voice rang out, filling the room with his familiar teasing tone. “What are you doing, little man?” he called from a nearby bunk, where Cordelle sat scribbling intently into his journal.

Cordelle looked up shyly. “I write poems,” he mumbled.

Jax smirked and challenged him, “Really? Care to share one, then?”

Cordelle hesitated for a moment, then recited softly:

Ashen hair, white as dreams,

Long and wild on twilight’s breeze.

Silken strands, a whispered dance,

Moonlit waves, in sweet romance.

Ghostly threads, kissed by air,

Flowing freely, soft and rare.

Stars entwined within each strand,

Ashen hair, by night’s command.

Jax beamed broadly. “That’s really good, kid.” He glanced at me. “But I’m not sure I like your chances.”

Riven leaned toward me, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think someone has a crush on you.”

I laughed, a hint of sarcasm mingling with genuine amusement. “Oh, please. He’s a little young for me. What is he, eighteen?”

Riven shook her head fondly. “Cordelle is twenty, like us. His family lives close to ours. His dad is the lorekeeper in the castle, so I think the king has known he has certain gifts since he was little.”

I didn’t correct her about my age. Technically, she was right, but then there was also a chance she wasn’t. “What gifts exactly?”

“He’s got this uncanny ability to find things through books and... well, if you ask him to locate something, he’ll usually come through. He might just be incredibly intelligent since he’s been reading and writing full philosophical sentences since he was three.”

I laughed in disbelief. “Wow, that’s unique. Not many kids start spouting philosophy before they can walk.”

Riven leaned forward, her eyes softening as she shifted the conversation. “Now, Ashe, do you want to talk about what happened earlier? I saw something in your eyes, you did something to protect us.”

I hesitated, then sat down beside her, my voice barely above a whisper. “I honestly thought I imagined it. For a second, I felt this surge of power run through my veins, but it’s gone now. I’m not even sure if it was my power at all.”

Riven patted my leg gently. “We’ll figure it out. For better or worse, we are family now.”

“I guess we are.”

“So, Ashe, what was it like growing up with a murderer?” Naia’s voice was low but piercing as she leaned against her bunk. “Did he tuck you in at night when you were a baby?”

I exhaled slowly and shifted my weight, feeling the cool stone beneath me as I moved toward the small window. Moonlight spilled over the water below, glittering like scattered jewels. “I wasn’t adopted by Cyran until later in my life,” I began, my tone steady though memories churned beneath. “I had three Order mothers before he took me in.”

Naia’s eyes narrowed. “Three mothers? How does that work?”