Page 59 of Ashes of Honor

“Oh, come on. I have nothing to do until he gets here. Besides, now I’m curious about how the whole vision thing works. Not a lot of you all out there.”

I glanced at him out the side of my eyes as I lowered myself back to the floor, back against the wall for support. “Fine. Keep quiet. And stop breathing so hard, it’s throwing off my focus.”

Tomoe

“About time.” I settled into an oddly comfortable couch in Amaia’s quarters.

She closed the front door with a groan, her head slamming against it two times. Ever dramatic, she turned her back to me, hand pressed to her forehead as if she contemplated walking back out the door. Her bag fell off her arm, and she removed the personal armory from around her body. Amaia wasn’t going anywhere. “Next time I’ll just let another Moore brother walk through our front door without scoping him out first. We see how great that worked last time. What happened to you? You look like Reina’s worst nightmare.”

“A little low on magic right now. Thanks for noticing.” I jolted upright, and the world tilted—stars pricked at the edges of my vision. “Also, what? Run that back for me one more time.”

“Bet you didn’t see that one coming. I need a drink.” Amaia walked over and tossed my feet off the couch.

She sat down next to me before reaching for the box everyone knew she kept under the couch. It wasn’t a secret. More so for Amaia, a challenge, a reminder to be a stronger, better version of herself every day. She wouldn’t dare disrespect Prescott’s space that way. Not with him gone.

I kicked her hand away with a glint of threatening promise. “If you take a drink, I’ll make sure you choke on it.”

“Seriously.”

“Not sorry,” I muttered and slid back onto the couch. “Where’s theBloodhound?”

Amaia relaxed against the armrest on the other side and brought her knees to her chest. “Off to meet Tomás.”

I hated myself. Had to because, for whatever reason, heat flushed from my neck to my cheeks against my will. Glancing in the other direction, I muttered a curse. Amaia and her ability to read body language was a skill set I appreciated, as long as it wasn’t me on the other end of her scrutinizing.

“What was that?” Amaia said. Stray curls fell from her messy bun as she crossed through the boundaries of my personal bubble.

I busied myself, pushing to my feet and wandered near her bookshelves. “What was what?”

“Cute.” Amaia’s laugh was full of mockery, her face lined with accusations.

A gossip. No matter the rank she achieved or the status she and Reina gained, the two of them would always find time to chat shit.

I kept my back to her. There were more important things to discuss right now, and time was of the essence for at least half of them. “Back to the Moore brother.”

“Hunter Moore is alive and well. Raising a rebellion, actually.Therebellion. Oh, and Caleb too. Remember him? Go me for not fucking killing him, I guess. So yeah, all of this—everything—has been for, you guessed it, absolutely nothing.” Amaia threw her arms wide, the sharp movement pulling my focus even from the corner of my eye.

The word hit harder than a punch to the gut. “Fuck me.” My balance wavered, as though the ground itself had betrayed me.

“Don’t beg,” Amaia said, and I turned back toward her. She sat on the couch, staring off into the distance. “The world already fights to flick our beans every day.”

“Tell me that’s not who’s headed here in a van.”

That caught her attention. Her gaze widened, full of questions. “That’s not who’s headed here in a van.”

“This conversation is giving me whiplash.”

“And me a headache,” she said dismissively. “How do you know about the van?”

I paced the room, trying to wrap my head around what I saw and what I know now. “I had a vision. How do you plan on harboring another Moore without Ronan’s idiots calling you out on your shit?”

“I’m figuring it out as we speak.” Her voice was muffled as her face fell into her hands. Amaia’s elbows rested on her knees. She sounded deflated. Like she had lost control yet maintained clarity at the same time.

It was hard to imagine the decisions I would have to make if I were in her shoes and, to be honest, I didn’t want to. There was no envy in my heart for the choices Amaia was confronted with every day. The consequences of them inevitably followed, and theyalwayscame with them, a solid decision or not.

“And the van?” I was afraid to ask. At least if it was a Moore, we’d have some sort of insight. Background knowledge to make sense of it.

“Full of people Reina insisted on taking in.”

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