Page 160 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

“And now look,” the first snapped. “That girl—Ashlyn—word is she’s bonded to one of the strongest dragons in the horde.”

My blood turned cold.

“They see that and think the world’s turned upside down. That maybe the Sigil or the Varnari are the only ones who’ll restore the order they lost.”

“And the court? What are they doing?”

“Nothing,” came the bitter reply. “Because half of them are either funding it, or waiting to see who wins.”

The hair on my arms stood on end.

This wasn’t just rebellion.

It was retribution.

And I was suddenly very aware of the white hair falling down my back, and the dragon fire coiled in my blood.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Ireturned to the barracks with the scent of smoke and ash still clinging to my skin, even though the flames had long since died.

The others were already inside, the low hum of conversation replacing the silence of war-broken stone. I peeled off my tunic and armor, washing quickly in the washroom. The water was cold, but it cut through the grime and cleared my mind enough to function.

By the time we headed to the dining hall, the lanterns had been dimmed for the evening, their soft golden glow casting long shadows against the high stone walls. The main crowd of riders had already eaten, only a few stragglers remained, scattered and quiet. Most of them nodded to us in acknowledgment but didn’t approach.

The warders, however, were still seated. They took up three tables near the east wall, and the number of them was… concerning.

We took a corner table near the back, still covered in crumbs and half-cleaned mugs. It didn’t matter. We were used to scraps and silence.

Cordelle sat beside me, shifting his ever-present satchel off his shoulder and placing it gently on the bench.

“There’s fewer warders than usual,” Riven murmured, glancing around.

“Yeah,” Naia said. “There were at least five more last week.”

Cordelle stirred the contents of his soup slowly. “Some will be up in the towers,” he said absently. “But this few? That’s not just assignments. Something’s going on.”

“Deaths?” Jax asked, his tone low but blunt.

“Transfers,” Ferrula added. “Meri said they were being sent to outer regions.”

Or disappearing,I thought.

My gaze drifted toward the warders’ tables again, and then I spotted Quinn. He sat by himself near the window, poking absently at his bread roll. When his eyes found mine, I smiled.

He returned it softly, tired but genuine.

“He’s not being protected properly,” I said aloud, mostly to Cordelle.

“I know,” he replied.

I turned to him, watching the way he cradled the satchel like it held something fragile. “What is it?”

He looked at me, his expression a little brighter. “I found something. A few pages tucked into the binding of an old text my father loaned me.”

“What kind of something?” I asked, voice sharpening.