All Chapters of Ashes of Six: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Nothing would cleanse that meeting from my mind, not even wine. Too many voices raised in vain, too many elaborate poses, and all of it pointing back to her. I left before I said something that would make things worse, my hands jammed into my coat pockets, cutting across the courtyard. The night air was sharp, but it was cleaner than the chamber full of people who seemed to care more about politics than about keeping her safe. The crunch of gravel beneath my boots came as a relief as I made the path to the Everley greenhouse. Soft amber light spilled through the glass panes, a warm glow in the darkness. The air inside always smelled of damp earth and something sweet, and I needed that calm. Needed to remember something that wasn’t tangled up in bloodlines and rivalries. I was halfway to the door before I heard voices, Professor Dana’s, lilting and a little bit ragged at the edges, and Professor Voss’s deep, rumbling voice in reply. I stopped in the shadow of a climbing vine and liste

It was the kind of dream that burrowed under your skin and settled there, thick with heat and danger. Nora was under me in the grass, her back arched, her mouth open in a silent scream. Moonlight shone in her hair, a tangled cascade of black with glimpses of gold that sometimes appeared in her skin when her magic was high. My hands were on her hips, pulling her forward against my body in a steady rhythm that left no room for thought. Her nails dug into my shoulders, biting, and I could hear the scrape of them close to her skin, harsh enough to draw blood, and the bite of it only had me harder. She breathed in sharply and fast, and I breathed with her, and it was too soon, but it had to be this way. And then the wind changed. Her scent shifted. Silver. Cold. Wrong. Shadowed figures stepped out of the tree line in the same predatory glide I’d seen them do on patrol. Silver-blooded mercenaries. The eyes of one caught the light of the moon and gleamed like coins pulled fresh from a grav

By the time the sun had risen above the rooftops of Obscura Arcanum, I had already been whisked back and forth between three professors and more than one thinly-veiled battle over what, precisely, it was I should be studying for the trials. Caelen Fae had me drilling defensive maneuvers until my arms ached and my palms were raw, his voice smooth but insistent as he pointed out every flaw. The moment I got into a rhythm, he upped the intensity, quicker parries, sharper counters, faster footwork, tighter reflexes. “You won’t have the time to think during the trials,” he lectured, face unreadable. “Your body needs to react before your mind does.” After that, Shara Boudin practically dragged me to the Hawthorne training hall for what she euphemistically referred to as “controlled aggression exercises,” which was basically her way of saying she wanted me to punch things until my brain turned to mush. I stopped thinking about who might be watching. She hovered over me like a vulture, bark

Elias didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he stalked off. Just that maddening, cocky, easy walk with his shoulders loose and his hands shoved deep in his pockets like he had no cares in the world. My wolf pressed against the insides of my skin, claws scraping, teeth bared. It wanted me to snatch the bastard by the collar and slam him up against the nearest wall and demand to know exactly what had gone down between him and Nora before I had arrived. I didn’t. Not because I didn’t want to, hell no, every muscle in my body ached to, but because if I gave in and let myself go, I would lose control. And right now, I needed control more than I needed blood. Barely. By noon, I’d run, fought, and worked off enough of the tension in Hawthorne’s training hall to think clearly, but the itch under my skin didn’t go away. I told myself it was because the trials were less than a week away. Okay, more like two, but still. The pressure was high, the stakes were higher than they ever had been.

The walk back to Nerezza felt longer than it should have. Every step carried the ghost of her against me, the faint heat of her lips still clinging to mine. Nora Carver. Dragon. Trouble. Mine. The thought pulsed like a drumbeat in my chest, stubborn and relentless. She’d let me kiss her. She’d responded, fire sparking in her veins until it bled out into the air itself. I’d felt the scales threatening to surface beneath my hands, seen the faint ember glow lick across her skin. And then she pulled away. Breathless, shaken, but gone all the same. I should have been satisfied, I’d cracked the walls she tries so hard to build. But instead I felt the hollow echo of her absence, a frustration I couldn’t silence. Every instinct screamed that I was right to push her, that I was the only one who could handle what she truly was. And still, she ran. Again. The corridors leading into Nerezza were hushed, as if the House itself sensed the storm riding my shoulders. But the silence didn