Page 142 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

Instead, she pulled the wig back over her cropped hair and straightened her tunic. At the door, she paused, glancing at me over her shoulder.

“Just… choose the right side, Ashlyn.”

Chapter

Thirty-Three

When I returned to the Ascension Grounds, the tension hit me like a slap. I didn’t have to get close to know something was off, the air felt charged, like a storm was about to break.

Zander and Remy were standing near the dragon rails, arguing, not loudly, but fiercely, their voices tight and low, too controlled to be casual. Their body language said everything—squared shoulders, clenched fists, close enough to snap if either of them so much as twitched the wrong way.

And I knew, before I even reached them, that this was about me.

Again.

“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping between them.

Remy’s jaw flexed as his glare turned to me. “I think I know where to find the man who attacked you.”

I blinked. “Which time?”

His lip curled into something not quite a smile. “When you were dosed with Lucorin.”

Zander stiffened beside me, his lavender eyes darkening.

Remy folded his arms, eyes never leaving mine. “But later we will talk about you. And the fact that it’s obvious you’re not safe in the castle compound.”

“You know who he is?” I asked sharply.

Remy shook his head. “No. But I know where these vagrants hang out. They’re not Order, too sloppy. But they are assassins for hire. And I need you to come with me. And tell me which one it was.”

“And then?” I asked, though I already knew.

“We question him,” Remy said coldly. “Before I kill him.”

“No,” Zander said, voice clipped. “She’s not going anywhere near those bastards. You want to play assassin again, fine, but she stays here.”

“I need to know who’s trying to kill me,” I interrupted before they could escalate. “And I don’t think this is about the Order. Not anymore.”

Zander turned to me, his jaw tight, eyes searching mine for something that might change his mind. He didn’t find it.

He sighed through his teeth, sharp and furious. “Fine. But, if she gets hurt, Remy, you’re dead.”

Remy smirked like he’d been expecting that threat.

Before either of them could say another word, Riven’s voice floated from nearby.

“Gods, the testosterone in this place is thick enough to bottle. Can we get a warning next time before the territorial growling starts?”

Naia snorted, and Jax muttered something about dragons having better manners.

I just shook my head.

Because if the danger didn’t kill me, these two would. I turned on my heels and headed to our barracks.

Once in my room, I stripped off the upper layer of my armor and pulled a loose, shapeless tunic over the rest. It hung downto my thighs, frayed at the cuffs, and just baggy enough to hide anything that could identify me as a rider. I tied my hair up tight and shoved it under one of my favorite caps, the faded one with the cracked leather band. No white strands showed.

I crouched down near the edge of my cot and rubbed two fingers across the dusty floor, gathering dirt and grime, then smeared it into my cheeks and across my jawline. A few quick dabs along my neck and arms, and I looked like someone who hadn’t seen a clean basin in days.