Page 34 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

‘Nothing, Vera,’ Mal said. ‘I’m just tired.’

After her bath, Mal was led to an enormous wooden wardrobe, its doors opening to reveal an array of dresses. Every single one was red or gold—colours that made her stomach twist with distaste.

Turning away, she strode towards her own trunk, which had been brought to her room while she bathed. Digging through its contents, she pulled out her favorite black gown, smiling as she slipped it over her head without assistance.

‘Wouldn’t you prefer to try on one of the dresses the queen selected for you?’ Vera asked.

‘I’m not one of them yet.’ When she caught sight of Vera’s troubled expression, Mal hesitated. With a quiet sigh, she picked up her hairbrush and handed it to the maid. If she was to learn their ways, she would have to start somewhere—if only to avoid unintentionally offending those assigned to serve her. ‘I can never reach the back. Would you mind?’

Vera’s smile brightened the room immediately.

…

‘We were attacked,’ Mal said, her voice edged with steel. ‘By witches.’

She fixed her brother with a glare sharp enough to cut, yet Kai merely smirked, choosing to ignore her entirely. They had attempted to discuss the matter in Haven’s chambers, but too many watchful eyes loomed in the shadows, leaving them no choice but to slip into the corridor, where Kai had excused himself to inspect the training yards.

‘I never said there were no witches left,’ he grumbled, his tone almost lazy.

Mal’s jaw clenched. ‘Yes, you did! For years, you’ve dismissed my worries, told me I was being paranoid, that I was chasing ghosts. And now—now you act as if you’ve known all along?’

Kai pulled a face, feigning innocence. ‘You make it sound worse than it is, sister. Of course there are witches in the wastelands. But they are not a threat. They’re an inconvenience at best, making it difficult to cross into their cursed lands, but seeing as we never do, it hardly matters.’

Mal stopped mid-step, her body coiled with mistrust. ‘You lied to me, Kai.’

He arched a brow,arms crossed over his chest.‘Youlied tome, Mal.’

‘When have I ever—’

‘You didn’t tell me you had powers.’

Silence settled between them like a brewing storm. Mal bit the inside of her cheek, her frustration curdling into something heavier. He was right. She had never told her brothers or even Haven the truth of what she was capable of.

She exhaled, conceding, ‘Very well. I deserved that.’

By the time they reached the training yard, Kai had already shifted his interest, his gaze scanning the drakonian men as they swung their blades in strong, quick motions. He leaned against the stone wall, lips curling in distaste.

‘Look at them,’ he mused, his voice thick with amusement. ‘Utterly useless. That one there—do you see him? He can barely lift his sword above his head. Gods help us if these are the men guarding the Fire Kingdom.’

Mal huffed in irritation, unimpressed by his dismissal of their prior conversation. But as her gaze roved over the yard, another question clawed its way into her mind, and her frown deepened.

‘Where are the women?’

Kai gave her a look she did not like.

Mal straightened, shoving past him as she strode into the training yard, the stomp of her feet demanding attention. The men faltered, swords lowering as they took in the wyverian princess with wary curiosity. Among them, a blonde head caught her eye, a shade almost familiar. She kept walking, unbothered by the men who stepped forward as if to shield their prince.

The man she sought sat at the edge of the yard, back turned to her, hissword in his lap as he polished its silver edge.

‘Ash Acheron, is it?’ Her voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and deliberate.

The prince did not lift his gaze, but the men around him stiffened, their hands gripping hilts, the metallic whisper of steel shifting in its scabbard filling the air. Mal barely spared them a glance, her lips curving into something akin to amusement.

‘Where are the women?’ she demanded. ‘Do they train separately?’

A scoff, low and guttural. Someone spat, the gesture thick with disdain. Laughter rippled through the yard, the kind of cruel mirth that set Mal’s teeth on edge.

‘Drakonian women do not train, your highness,’ a voice answered from across the yard. She turned to find a young man garbed in crimson, his head shaven, his stance poised like a warrior. ‘Our women are not allowed to fight.’

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