Page 92 of A Kingdom of Shadow and Ash

‘Keep clenching your jaw like that and you might just cut through the table.’ She smiled then—sharp, knowing. A dangerous little thing that flashed her fangs, taunting him. ‘It would be a shame if you did,’ she continued lightly. ‘My husband put in a lot ofeffort into making this space for me.’

Ash exhaled harshly and turned his attention to the sea.

He couldhearher smile widen.

‘Did you sleep well?’

He nodded.

‘Will you be sleeping every single night in the study?’ she asked. ‘I’d rather know, so I can organise Klara a little better when it comes to breakfast. Wouldn’t want you to get any grumpier than usual.’

‘Not grumpy.’

Her laugh was soft, lilting, and it made him glance over despite himself.

‘So youcanspeak in the mornings?’ She leaned forward, amusement dancing in her expression. ‘I thought perhaps someone had cast a spell over you that only allowed you to speak one-word sentences after midday.’

‘Not funny.’

She leaned back, utterly at ease, that wicked smile growing. ‘Why do you speak like that? I’ve seen you string sentences together in your sister’s ear.’

Ash stiffened. ‘Annoying.’

He pushed himself up, preparing to leave.

A part of himwantedto explain. He wantedher tounderstand—the reason why his words came carefully measured, why they were so clipped, why each sentence was a battle he had to win before it could leave his lips. But what if he told her… and shelaughed?What if shelookedat him differently? What if she stared at him in disgust? He could not endure such a thing.

So he turned away, silent.

And she did not call him back.

In my mind I always believed something would change the moment Hadrian and I married. Nothing truly has. My love for him runs deep within my veins, spreading through the entirety of my body. Perhaps I love him even more now. Or perhaps that is the consequence of the passing of time. All I know is that when he whispers the word wife in my ear the entire world vanishes. When I look into his dark black eyes, I know with certainty that I would burn the eight kingdoms down for him.

Tabitha Wysteria

Wren Wynter cherished two things above all else—sleeping beneath a sky thick with falling snow and indulging in the art of quiet observation. But here, in the sweltering heart of the Kingdom of Fire, where winter was nothing more than a distant myth, she was left with only one pleasure.

And so, she followed.

The two desert princesses moved with purpose, their movements careful, deliberate. Wren recognised spies when she saw them—how could she not? She was one herself.

From her perch, she watched as Princess Hessa motioned for her sister to stand guard, then slipped through the door of a dimly lit chamber. Wren began counting the seconds, her mind working through the possibilities of what lay beyond thatthreshold. Exactly two minutes later, the princess reappeared, her movements quick, efficient. No words were spoken. The sisters vanished down the hall, disappearing into the quiet hush of the castle.

Wren dropped soundlessly from her hiding place, her boots touching stone without so much as an echo. Her keen gaze swept the corridor. A servant’s wing. Rows of identical doors lined the passage, each one leading to the quarters of those who spent their lives unseen and unheard.Interesting.What business did Hessa and Sahira have in a drakonian maid’s room? Had they stumbled upon the same secret Wren had?

The chamber itself was unremarkable—small, plain, sparsely furnished. A narrow cot, a modest bedside table with a single wax candle melting over the surface, and a trunk at the foot of the bed where the occupant stored their belongings. But it was the trunk that caught her attention.

It had not been closed properly.

Wren clicked her tongue, shaking her head. The desert princesses were meant to be masterful in the ways of secrecy, their stealth unmatched, and yet—sloppy.A paranoid maid would surely notice such carelessness.

She knelt, lifting the lid just enough to peer inside, her fingers never grazing the contents. There, nestled among the folds of modest dresses and servant garb, was the object of interest—a tiny black notebook, unassuming to an untrained eye.

Wren grinned.

Hessa had searched in the wrong place. If she had possessed Wren’s particular talents, she might have found what she was looking for.

Humming softly to herself, Wren plucked the notebook from its resting place and slammed the trunk shut.

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