Page 169 of Ashborne Forged

I slid to a halt just beyond the stones of the chimney, where they met the corner wall, because I’d caught the faint sound of a woman’s voice, snapping.

Mother.

I turned back, took one step—and sure enough… a whisper. A murmur. But why here? The chimney stones were thick. Impenetrable. And the wall was blank. No light emanated through it. Was there a crack—?

“Enough!”

The word was shouted, yet I barely made it out—except it had been loud enough to perceive that the sound came from somewhere above my head.

It was a work of moments to hurriedly yank off my boots, then climb the stone mortars with fingers and toes, praying I wouldn’t tumble and fall loud enough for them to hear it.

Sure enough, near the top, where the chimney passed through the ceiling, there was a small crack in the mortar, and if I placed my ear to it, I could hear every word spoken at normal volume.

Arms quivering at the effort of holding myself in place, I leaned into that crack and laid my ear to it—

“…hardly the time to change the plan of your own making,” the king harrumphed.

“I might have agreed, but new information has come to light. Your interest in her makes far more sense to me now. You’ve kept things from me, Burk.”

I blinked at my mother’s familiar use of the king’s first name, but my blood chilled at her tone. She was angry. Truly angry.

“We’ve discussed this before,” the king offered dismissively.

“Have we? I believe I might have remembered talk of this kind. But in any case, here we are. It’s time for a change of plan. I will use her first. For my son.”

“Absolutely not!” the king spluttered. “Two of us made the claim first—at your insight. Even you must see the stupidity in shifting the game at this late stage. Her parents arrive in days!”

What the fuck? What was Mother doing?

“Her parents are ants on a carcass. You could dismiss them with one word.” Her tone was amused, but made me shiver. I knew when she masked true rage with pretend humor. “Not to mention that the castle is rife with rumors that the girl hasn’t bled—and why. We can use that.”

“Every new coupling is a point of gossip—”

“I’m telling you that these rumors aren’t based in petty jealousy.”

There was a beat before the queen spoke up. “What have you learned?”

Mother was once again in control, taking her time, pausing to allow everyone else to hang on her word—even when they were rulers.

How the fuck did she do this?

“It’s possible she carries a babe already,” she said finally.

The king snorted. “Her and half the Court before their weddings. If she hadn’t vowed, the child will be sickly, and die. Or we can kill it. Regardless, we’ll undertake the rituals. If Breckon doesn’t breed her within the season, I will. She has the blood for it.”

I froze.

No. No, no no—

“If you seek true power, you cannot risk a blemished vessel,” my mother spat. My heart almost leaped out of my chest.

Ritual.

Vessel.

The blood for it.

It was coming home to me—how Mother had known. Why she’d waited to come here. And why the king listened to her. What these men planned to do.