After a long moment, she said, “I don’t know if both my parents were Ash Riders, but I believe my mother was.”
“Any theories about your father?”
She came closer as he pulled a book from a shelf, holding it out to her before looking for another.
“I don’t think he was Fae. My magic is too…”
“You’re too powerful,” he finished for her.
“It’s not that per se,” she said, opening the book and skimming pages. “The only other Ash Riders I know of are males, and their powers are slightly different.”
That had him turning to face her completely because he’d never heard of such a thing. Ash Riders were so rare that information on them was scarce to begin with, but the theory that their gifts varied by their gender was one he’d never come across.
“Slightly different how?” he asked.
She didn’t even look up from the pages when she answered, “The males can’t create weapons from their power like I can.”
“And why do you believe your mother was an Ash Rider but possibly not your father?”
Her entire body tensed at the question. It was slight, but he saw it. Saw the minute tremor in her fingers as she ran them down the page, clearly trying to collect herself.
Which is why he didn’t understand when her answer was simply, “I heard rumors that my mother could do the same.”
Leaving that statement to unpack for another day, he asked, “Do Ash Rider males possess a gift that you do not? That you are aware of, I mean.”
Her answering smile was a terrifying thing, pointed and full of a wicked delight. “They can turn their hands into ashes and pull out your insides while you still breathe.”
Logically, he should balk at that, but his bloodline and his dragon had him understanding the delight in her smile now. “Is that a theory or a fact?”
She tipped her head from side to side, considering. “Based on my limited knowledge, I’d say fact.”
“And you’ve met other female Ash Riders? To know they can’t do this too?”
“No,” she answered. “I knew of other males, but not females.”
He stopped with the questions then, his mind working to sort through everything she’d shared and the knowledge he’d collected over the decades. He needed other books to make sure he was recalling things correctly, but now that she’d said it, he didn’t remember ever reading about a female Ash Rider. Only males.
Ash Riders weren’t Fae. To have the gifts, they had to descend from Anala, making them Avonleyan. Other realms called them Legacy.
But what if…
What if she was neither? What if she was something else entirely?
Chapter 29
Cethin
Was she searching for him tonight?
He tossed the thin stick of charcoal onto the worktable at the thought, watching it roll along the surface before going over the edge and dropping to the floor with a soft ping. Sitting back in his chair, he rubbed at his eyes before shoving a hand through his hair. Only then did he remember the slice on his arm wasn’t fully healed, and he’d now smeared blood all over the side of his face.
With a sigh, he stood, making his way to a basin he kept down here for this very reason. Dipping a cloth in the water, he quickly wiped his face, then his arm, pressing the fabric to the cut. As he applied pressure, he wandered over to the slate hanging on the wall. Sconces and candelabras lit up this side of the room, allowing him to see. Notes, symbols, and Marks written with chalk covered nearly every inch.
Studying the boards, he grabbed a piece of felt, erasing a few things before picking up a piece of chalk. Tossing the cloth aside, Cethin made a few notes based on what he’d learned tonightbefore swiping up the leather journal from the worktable and crossing to the other side of the room.
This side of his study beneath the castle was much darker, illuminated solely by the glowing embers in the white marble fireplace. He’d been so absorbed in his work, he’d forgotten to keep the fire going tonight. Directly in front of the fireplace was a low table littered with pieces of parchment, an unlit lantern, and a half-empty decanter of liquor with an empty glass beside it. No one knew of this place. Staff didn’t clean it. He’d spent years making sure the wards and glamours around it were sufficient before he’d started spending his nights down here decades ago. Even then, it was for research and experiments. He didn’t start sleeping down here most nights until this past year.
He dropped onto the high-back settee behind the table, pouring two fingers of liquor before settling back in his seat. With his healing arm stretched along the back of the settee, he sipped at the liquid, staring at the glowing embers and going over what he’d worked on tonight.
