Page 41 of A Storm of Fire and Ash

I reached for him before I even opened my eyes and knew what I was doing. My fingers found nothing but cool sheets and empty space. The other side of the bed was cold.

Of course he wasn’t here. Still, I felt disappointed.

A quiet breath slipped from my lips as I blinked up at the ceiling. The ache in my chest told me I’d secretly hoped he would have come back last night and crawled into bed. Foolish. I tucked that feeling away before it could settle too deep.

Pulling the covers around me, I tried not to replay last night—but I did.

The moment I’d stood up from the tub, water running down my skin, I felt his eyes on me.

Gods, the way he’d looked at me—like I was something burning and beautiful, something dangerous and worth touching anyway.

His gaze had made my breath catch, and it had stayed on my skin long after he left.

No one has ever looked at me that way.

But it didn’t matter. He didn’t stay. That look didn’t mean anything.

With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. The air was sharp and cold against my bare arms. I dressed quickly—pulled on a soft tunic, worn trousers, my leather breastplate, and my scuffed old boots. They weren’t elegant, but they felt like me.

My hair was a wild mess, tangled from sleep and restless dreams. I stood in front of the mirror and quickly braided it down my back, fingers moving without thought. The motion steadied me. Gave me something to do with my hands while my heart was still quietly cracking.

Once I was ready, I stepped into the corridor, boots echoing softly on the stone. The scent of bread and smoke led me toward the kitchens, a welcomed distraction.

Warmth hit me the moment I stepped through the doorway—along with a flurry of noise.

Cendrin was at the hearth, stirring something in a pot bigger than my chest, humming off-key as usual.

His belly jiggled with every movement, and sweat already glistened on his red cheeks despite the early hour.

His thick accent rumbled through the room as he barked at no one in particular, a sound that somehow always made me feel like everything was going to be alright.

Across from him, Sivka worked in silence, rolling dough into perfect rounds.

She was tall, poised, her tawny skin glowed in the firelight.

Her straight black hair was pulled back tightly, and her almond-shaped eyes didn’t lift from her task once.

Every move she made looked deliberate, elegant.

Yara was already in mid-conversation, short and glowing with energy as she tossed flour-dusted hands through the air.

Her dark brown skin was speckled with flecks of dough, and her wide grin tugged one from me as well.

She and Cendrin always had this way of hovering near each other—always soft glances and shared laughs, though neither said anything about it.

Then I saw her.

Kalista.

I slowed without meaning to. She stood near Yara, arms crossed over her chest, her bruised eyes flicked toward me.

It felt like days, but it was only hours since she saw what I really was—since I’d revealed magic in a moment I couldn’t take back. Since I’d saved her from something no one else had stepped in to stop. She used to hate me. Now—she feared me. Or at least that’s what I felt.

My stomach twisted. What if she had told someone? But then, her gaze softened. She gave me a small smile. Tentative. Careful. But not cruel.

I blinked, surprised. “Morning,” I offered quietly.

“Morning, Elara,” she said, voice even.

Before I could say more, Yara turned and beamed. “I was just saying how I’m going to help you get ready tonight!”

I blinked. “Get ready for what?”

Kalista stepped forward before Yara could answer, her tone calm but edged with excitement. “The First Snow Festival.”

I raised a brow. “What’s that?”

Kalista’s arms dropped to her sides as she spoke.

“I’m surprised the prince didn’t tell you.

” I didn’t say anything. Kalista continued, “It’s a ball.

Happens every year on the day the first snow falls.

Always the same day. The snow never misses.

” She paused, then added, “It’s said to be the goddess Niama’s blessing.

Her way of reminding us that the land will sleep, and life will return again. ”

I glanced toward the window, where the sky was cloudy and dark gray. A celebration for something I still didn’t quite understand.

“It sounds…” I hesitated. “Beautiful.”

Yara threw an arm around my shoulders. “You’re going to look like a goddess yourself, just wait.”

I smiled, though part of me still watched Kalista from the corner of my eye.

The scent of cinnamon and butter clung to my hands as I dusted flour over the dough Sivka handed me.

We worked side by side in silence, her movements swift and exact, mine slower, clumsier, but improving.

She didn’t say much, but her quiet nods of approval felt like praise.

There was peace in the repetition—rolling, folding, brushing with cream.

I lost track of time. My thoughts wandered only briefly, but they always tried to find him, to circle back to the way his eyes had lingered on mine last night. I pushed them away.

“Not bad,” Sivka finally muttered, looking down at the tray I’d filled.

I looked up, surprised. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She gave a rare smile. “You should.”

The door creaked open, letting in a rush of cold air—and Fintan. He looked handsome. His sapphire coat buttoned perfectly, not a speck of dust on him. His whisky eyes scanned the room until they landed on me.

“Elara,” he said, softly. “Can we talk?”

Ugh… that’s all he ever wants to do is talk, but I don’t think I have the answers he is looking for. My stomach twisted a little, but I nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

I wiped my hands on a cloth, offered a quick thanks to Sivka, then followed him through the side door and into the crisp air outside. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but the sky held that heavy stillness—the kind that whispered it was coming.

Fintan stopped beneath the covered walkway, back to the iron wall, his hands tucked behind him. I waited. He looked like he was trying to decide what to say.

“I can’t function without you,” he said finally. “I’ve tried. Gods, I’ve tried, Elara. But everything feels off. And tonight… I still want you there. At my side. I can’t take being away from you any longer.”

His words were sweet, heartfelt even, but they didn’t reach me the way they used to. That spark—the one that once made my pulse stutter every time he smiled—it was gone.

“I care for you,” I said softly. “I really do. You mean so much to me, Fintan. I loved you.”

He flinched. “Loved.”

I hated the way his face fell, how raw the hurt was in his eyes. I felt his pain. His heartbreak. But I couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. “I need to fix myself first,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not whole—not yet. If I gave you what I have right now…

it wouldn’t be fair,” I paused. “And it wouldn’t be real.

You deserve the world, Fintan, and I can’t give it to you. You need to move on from me.”

He looked down, breathing slowly, then stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Save a dance for me tonight?”

I gave him a soft smile, trying to keep the sting from showing. “Of course, Golden Boy.”

He smiled, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes, then turned and walked back toward the main hall. I stood there a moment longer, watching him disappear through the archway. Guilt curled in my chest, tight and quiet. I hated hurting him. But pretending would’ve been worse.

By lunch, the dining hall was filled with the warm buzz of conversations, and I needed the noise. Needed something that wasn’t tangled hearts and regret.

I searched the room for him.

I knew he was here. I could feel him.

And there he was, sitting at a table in the distance next to Genevieve.

He was smiling at her, and my heart crumbled.

She was both beautiful and royalty. Of course he would be drawn to her…

My mind wandered and I thought about them touching.

Kissing. I blinked back my treacherous tears, shook my head from my thoughts, scanned the room, and saw my friends.

Eryn was already seated at our usual table, long legs stretched out, her silver eyes searched the room lazily.

Her lavender hair was braided back on one side, the shaved part of her scalp gleaming beneath the light.

She looked like some goddess of war lounging on her throne.

Gavrin sat beside her, massive arms folded, eating in steady bites like he didn’t notice the way Eryn kept sneaking glances his way.

He wore a dark green tunic that stretched tight over his chest, and his single blue eye flicked toward me as I dropped into the seat across from them.

“Late,” he rumbled.

“Had to have my daily soul-crushing conversation with an ex,” I muttered. “Priorities.”

Makar arrived right on cue, sliding into the seat beside me with a smirk and a plate piled far too high.

“You look flushed, Elara,” he said, voice wrapped in that lilting accent of his. “Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you like emotional wreckage,” I said sweetly.

“Oh, I do,” he purred. “But I prefer mine dressed in blood and glory.”

“Then you’re in luck,” I said, biting into a roll. “The blood’s still metaphorical, but give me a few hours.”

Eryn snorted. Gavrin smiled faintly into his cup.

The tension that had clung to me earlier started to unravel, replaced by the easy rhythm we always found together. Eryn reached for a piece of bread, her hand brushed Gavrin’s. They both froze for half a second, then continued as if nothing hadn’t happened.

I arched a brow. “Why don’t you two just confess your undying love for one another? We all know you’re sleeping together.”

Eryn choked on her water and kicked me under the table.

“Ow,” I hissed, grinning as I rubbed my shin.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“You’re deflecting,” I sang.

Makar gave a quiet chuckle. “They think they’re subtle.”

Gavrin smirked faintly, lifting his cup. “You’ve got a lot of opinions for someone who stalks around and cries when she’s drunk.” He took a sip, then added, “Maybe if you got laid like the rest of us, you’d stop brooding at windows like a tragic poem.”

“You’re one to talk,” I said, peering at him as I pointed my fork at him. “You practically sobbed when you were healing my back, then wouldn’t meet my eyes for a week.”

His smile faded for a moment. “I should’ve stopped it from happening.”

“You couldn’t’ve stopped it… it would have made things worse if you had intervened,” I said gently. “But you were the one who tried to help after, and that’s what matters most.”

His jaw flexed, and he nodded. “Still. Zayn was right, I should have done something.”

Zayn. Did he make Gavrin feel bad about what happened to me? There wasn’t anything he could’ve done…

Makar sensed the shift in the mood, leaned close, and whispered loudly, “He’s just upset because he only got a good look at your naked back and didn’t get to see the front.”

Eryn smacked him with her spoon.

“Please, Gavrin has a smoke show underneath him every night,” I winked towards Eryn.

“Who says she is always underneath?” Gavrin’s words caught all of us off guard, even Eryn, and we all laughed.

“How do you sleep at night, Gavrin, with such a beauty?” Makar asked as he winked at Eryn.

Gavrin wrapped his arm around Eryn’s waist. “Fully satisfied, and naked. And if anyone walks in, they can kiss my black ass and thank me for the privilege,” he said.

We burst into laughter—deep, breath-stealing laughter. Even Gavrin grinned, shaking his head. The ache in my chest loosened just a bit more.

Here, in this moment, with these people—my people—I wasn’t just a girl with magic, or the one who carried scars. I was just Elara. And for now… that was enough.