Page 37 of Rhapsody of Ruin (Kingdoms of Ash and Wonder #1)

Rhydor

I woke to the mountain air pressing against my skin, cold enough to burn, but not cold enough to drive away the memory of her warmth.

Elowyn lay curled at my side, cloak tangled with mine, her breath a steady rhythm against my chest. My arm had tightened around her in sleep, reflex, instinct, or need, I couldn’t say.

What I did know was that I hadn’t wanted to let her go.

The brazier had long since died. Ash crusted its rim, the faint smell of char still clinging to the stones. Beyond the ledge, the mist shifted in coils, glowing faintly as dawn pressed against the horizon. Above us, the Shroud hung like a veil stretched too thin, shimmering with restless silver.

For a long moment I simply watched her.

Her hair had slipped free of its pins in the night.

Dark strands caught the pale light, gleaming against her cheek.

Her mask was gone, cast aside without thought, and in its absence I saw her face unguarded, soft in sleep, utterly without artifice.

She was breathtaking like this. Not a pawn. Not a weapon. Just Elowyn.

And that terrified me more than anything.

Because I wanted her. Not for alliance. Not for politics. Not for survival. I wanted her for herself, and that was a hunger I couldn’t afford.

My hand moved of its own accord, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

She stirred, lashes fluttering, and then those pale eyes opened, fixing on me.

For a moment neither of us spoke. The only sound was the wind tugging at the cliffs and the faint crackle of a stone shifting under the weight of frost.

“You’re awake,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.

“So are you.”

She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that could break a man in two. “We should talk before the world claims us again.”

I pushed myself up, letting the chill bite so I wouldn’t forget where we were. I fetched the parcel of bread Torian had left in the satchel and broke it, handing her the larger piece. She accepted without hesitation, tearing it with delicate fingers before biting in.

The taste was plain, coarse, but grounding. It reminded me of Emberhold kitchens, bread baked by soldiers on iron plates, eaten with burned fingers and laughter too brittle to last.

I chewed slowly, watching her.

“Today we make our ask,” she said, matter-of-fact. But beneath it, I heard the tremor. Not fear. Anticipation. “Food for truth.”

“Food for truth,” I echoed.

The words were heavier than any vow I had sworn.

We went over the plan once more, her voice steady, mine low and deliberate. She would lead in council, force the reading of the gloss into record. I would follow with the grain counts, demand trade routes be opened. Alone, either could be dismissed. Together, the court would struggle to deny us.

But when I looked at her, I thought of more than council. I thought of last night. Of her body pressed to mine, the fire we’d made against the cold. I thought of how she had whispered my name like it was something worth saving.

I tore another bite of bread, jaw tightening. “If they try to turn it back on us?”

Her eyes burned silver. “Then we remind them who suffers when they delay. Their comfort is not more sacred than survival.”

Pride rose in my chest, sharp as steel. “You’ll make a fine queen of Ash.”

She tilted her head, lips curving. “You’ll make a tolerable consort of Wonder.”

I snorted, but the laugh lodged half in my throat. She had a way of making my pride sting and soothe all at once.

And then the world shifted.

A ripple ran across the Shroud above us.

It began as a shimmer, harmless as heat-haze. But then it fractured. A jagged seam split across the veil, silver and white light flaring in a line that stretched from horizon to horizon. It lasted only a breath, but in that instant, the mountain seemed to tremble beneath us.

I froze.

Elowyn’s breath hitched. Her hand found mine, fingers tightening with sudden desperation.

The fissure vanished as quickly as it had come, the Shroud smoothing back into its false calm. But I knew what I had seen.

“We thought it had decades,” I said hoarsely.

Her grip did not loosen. “So did I.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any battlefield. My dragon blood roared with instinct, protect, fight, burn, but there was nothing to strike. Only a sky that could fail at any moment.

When I finally looked at her, her face was pale, lips pressed thin. But her eyes held resolve.

“We cannot show fear in court,” she said.

“No.” I forced my voice steady. “We proceed anyway.”

Before I could say more, wings beat against the dawn.

I turned sharply, scanning the sky until I caught the glint of bronze against the mist. A dragon approached, smaller than mine, banking low toward the ledge. Relief tangled with dread. Only one would come here.

Torian.

He landed on a lower shelf, talons scraping stone, and shifted in a ripple of heat and light. His cloak snapped around him as he climbed, his face grim.

“Brother,” he greeted, then nodded curtly to Elowyn. “Princess.”

“What news?” I demanded, though I already knew it would not be good.

“Cindralith’s stores are nearly bare,” he said bluntly. “The last convoy from Grenoble was waylaid. Bandits, they claim, though some whisper Fae involvement.” His gaze cut to Elowyn, sharp, suspicious. She bore it without flinching.

“And Kylian?” I asked.

Torian’s jaw clenched. “He’s withdrawn. Refuses council. Locks himself in Emberhold. The Ashenblades grow restless, and the minor houses begin to hoard openly. Without intervention, the kingdom will turn on itself within the month.”

A curse tore from my lips. Kylian, damn him. He had always been reckless, but to abandon our people now,

I felt Elowyn’s eyes on me. Cool, assessing. “Then the united ask cannot wait. If you delay, both kingdoms suffer.”

I turned back to Torian. “You heard her. We proceed.”

Torian frowned. “With the Shroud trembling? With Kylian adrift?”

“Yes.” My voice cut like steel. “We can’t falter. If we do, the court will devour us both.”

Elowyn inclined her head, mask of serenity slipping back into place. “Tonight, we return to the archives. The hymn. The gloss. More proof. But today, we demand.”

Torian exhaled sharply, but nodded. He knew as well as I that there was no other path.

We stood there, the three of us, bound not by trust but by necessity. The wind whipped hard across the ledge, tugging Elowyn’s cloak tight against her frame. My eyes betrayed me, flicking lower before I forced them back to the horizon.

“Time to return,” I said.

She met my gaze. “Together.”

“Together.”

I shifted, the dragon ripping free in heat and bone. Elowyn climbed into my arms without hesitation now, fitting against me as though she belonged there. My wings unfurled, snapping wide, catching the thin dawn.

We soared.

The wind cut like knives, but her body pressed into mine kept me steady. The city sprawled below, rooftops silver-threaded, alleys stirring with early movement. The Shroud loomed above, smoothed once more, but I could still see the crack, etched into my memory like a scar.

We circled wide, descending toward Shadowspire. The palace rose like a blade from the mist, its spires piercing the Shroud as if daring it to fail.

I landed on the terrace, lowering her with care. For an instant, she lingered, her hand brushing my jaw, her eyes searching mine.

“Together,” she whispered.

And then she was gone, gliding down the eastern stair, her mask sliding back into place, every inch the dutiful princess once more.

I shifted back, pulling cloak and steel around me. Torian joined at my side, face hard. We descended the western stair, every step measured, every glance calculated.

The court would see composure. They would not see the pact forged on a mountain ledge. They would not see the crack in the Shroud. They would not see the truth burning in my chest.

But I carried them all the same.