Flamecaster (Shattered Realms, #1)(79)

All morning and into the afternoon, Ash couldn’t keep his mind off Jenna Bandelow with the golden eyes and kindled skin. It was as if their minds had been joined, however briefly, when he’d tried to examine her. It would be a long time before he recovered from that.

He picked over the images Jenna had shared with him. Hurtling down into a coal-hole in a huge iron bucket. A bridge exploding, too far away to hear, the pieces sparkling in the sunlight before landing in the river. The king of Arden on a platform, looking down on a sea of roughly dressed miners, a little girl struggling in his grip until he broke her and flung her aside. A name scrawled on the side of a building. Flamecaster. A battered building with a sign over the door: Fletcher’s Tack and Harness. A warehouse in flames, sending sparks high into the winter sky.

Ash had played at murder in the summers, returning to the sanctuary at Oden’s Ford the rest of the year. If what he’d seen was true, Jenna had been a fighter, and survivor, nearly every day of her life. She put him to shame.

If he could believe what he’d seen. Perhaps her gift was the planting of lies that mimicked the truth. Truth or not—he did believe it. When he’d asked her what it meant, she’d said, It means that we are done lying to each other.

But he’d never agreed to that. He had a lot to lose by telling the truth.

Maybe she knew the truth already. She’d spotted him for a wolf, after all, as soon as she saw him. After all these years away, did that mean he was still a wolf under the skin?

She’d mucked around in his mind. What else had she learned about him that she might reveal under interrogation? Would he end up regretting that he’d saved her life?

No. He didn’t regret it—he couldn’t. That had been his mission since his father’s murder—to heal the innocent and punish the guilty.

It was as if they’d shared a lifetime during that brief connection. The only other person who knew him that well was his sister Lyss. And he’d changed so much that she didn’t really know him anymore.

Had Lyss changed as much as he had?

One thing he knew—Jenna Bandelow was dangerous. He’d saved her life—now he should just stay away from her.

But he couldn’t. Every time he thought of her, his heart accelerated and his gut clenched with longing. He’d been alone for so long. Though he’d walked out with girls at school, he’d kept his mind and emotions under lock and key. Had he really been so hungry for a different kind of connection that he’d completely lost his footing?

It wasn’t like she’d shown any sign of being smitten with him. If he made a move on a patient, chained in a dungeon, it would just seem creepy.

Don’t lose your head, sul’Han. Remember what you’re here for. As his father always said: the hunter who can’t keep his eyes on his target goes to bed hungry. Remember that feeling you had when you thought Lyss was the one locked in Montaigne’s dungeon. The best way to help Jenna Bandelow was to kill the king of Arden—sooner rather than later.

All morning and into the afternoon, Merrill’s foul mood continued. Harold and Boyd disappeared after the setup, so Ash cleaned up the lab afterward. Then he was assigned to change all the beds in the infirmary, although no one had slept in them. By the time he’d finished, the place had emptied out. Even Merrill had given up finding him jobs to do and disappeared.

“You survived, I see.”

Ash looked up to see Lila standing in the doorway of the infirmary.

“Barely,” he said.

“You do look like scummer on a slab.” She came forward, into the room, peering around to make sure nobody else was in there. Then she perched on the edge of one of the prep tables. “So who was it who so desperately needed your skilled healing hand?”

Ash shared an edited version of what had happened the night before, still wary of handing Lila anything that might be used against him.

Lila listened, head cocked, swinging her legs.

“Her name is Jenna Bandelow?”

“So I’m told,” Ash said.

“She’s from Delphi?”

Ash nodded.

“Why is she important? Is she a blueblood, or—?”

“She’s a coal miner.”

“A coal miner?” Lila sat forward, her hands on her knees. “Seriously? So what does the king want with a coal miner?”

“She says they suspect she’s a saboteur back home, and they’re going to try and make her give up her friends.”

“Is she a saboteur?”

“Maybe,” Ash said. “Probably.”

“Well. How’s it looking? Do you think she’ll survive?”

“I think she has a good chance, now,” Ash said.

Lila chewed her lip, like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite get it out.

“What?”

Lila raised both hands. “Never mind.” She slid down from the table. “I actually came here to fetch you to the Great Hall.”

Ash eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“Did you know that it’s Solstice?”

“Solstice? Really?” Ash stared at Lila, ambushed by a flood of memories. Celebrations of Solstice in Fellsmarch, wizard lights decorating the evergreens on the palace grounds, taking the sleigh up into the mountains to cut pine roping and fir, wassailing the trees in the palace gardens, breaking open the Solstice crackers at dinner, releasing magical illuminated birds that fluttered around the room. His father’s dramas in the Great Hall that rivaled those seen in any large city.