Page 44 of A Conduit of Light
Chapter20
Ash
Thesoundof crackling wood in a fireplace metAsh’sears as she woke from her deep, dreamless sleep.Shefound herself in a bed fully clothed, her legs tangled in soft white sheets.Aheavy blue quilt lay over her chest, warm and thicker than her thin blanket in the tallest tower of theFortress.
Thiswas not her room.
Thiswas not her bed.
Shesat up abruptly, dizzying in the movement.Inthe low light of the dying fire, she could see well enough.Shewas in someone’s personal chambers and based on the lingering scent of the quilt and what she could remember from their last meeting, she guessed they wereRevich’s.
First, water.Maybesome food.Then, she could face what had happened and try to remember how she’d ended up here.
Thankinghim silently, she moved toward the cup and pitcher on a small table beside her.Shepoured a full glass and did not stop drinking until she could feel the entirety of the cool water in her belly.Shelaughed to herself, thankful again, as she reached for a small plate of sliced pear and cheese beside the pitcher.
Thatman thought of everything.
Shestilled her breath, forcing herself to close her eyes and chew, taking the moments to breathe and be mindful of each mouthful.
Shecouldn’t help it, though.Curiosityruled her spirit and she stood, steadier than she would have guessed, cheese in one hand, more water in the other.
Wouldit be rude to explore this room?Shetold herself she would just look around, not open any drawers or read any of the books that lay atop the table.
Theroom was large, the bed enormous, and the fireplace was the centerpiece.Itgraced one wall, almost as tall as she was, and a blue, wing-backed chair was placed across from it with a small end table by its side.Sheslumped down into the chair, tucking her legs underneath her, careful not to spill, the seat too inviting to avoid.Shethrew another log onto the fire and poked it absently with the iron prong laying against the wall.
Sheglanced around the room, finishing her meal and drinking more water.Shehad no idea what time it was, and this room, like most rooms in theFortress, had no window.Shesat still and listened for the ticking sound of a clock.Shefound it at his bedside table.Shehad missed dinner, and according to the time, she had been asleep for four hours.
Hisroom was finely furnished with midnight-hued curtains draped across the headboard of his four-poster bed, pulled into a ribbon at each corner.Thewood was dark, almost black, of course.
Bookcaseslined two walls, connecting at the corner of the room, and they were filled, overly so—some of the shelves displaying two rows of books.Theroom lacked a writing desk, which surprised her.ButperhapsthisBaronhad his own study as well.Adoor was slightly ajar next to the massive black stone fireplace, and she guessed that one led to a washing room.Theother door was at the far end of the chamber and she guessed again that it led to the main areas of theFortress.
Shelet her gaze fall to the flickering of the fire, burning with gusto now that it had more fuel to feed it, not unlike her own self.
Rememberingthe tree, the bloom of it, the fire that killed it, she rubbed her face, thoughts of shame and guilt wracking through her body.
Hehad asked her.Hehad asked her to show him what she could do, and she did it.
Thelovelyandthe monstrous.
Shewas well aware that she was capable of more destruction than she had ever let on.EventheQueenwas likely not fully aware of her capabilities.
Yet, she thought, head turning,maybe she was.
IftheQueenhad encouragedAsh’ssolitary life, it was possible she did so out of protection.WhetherAsh’sprotection or everyone else’s, she didn’t know.
Timeand again she had been reminded to keep her heart to herself.Notto share such precious things with others because all she needed to survive was to hold her own.Ashhad always assumed that was meant to keephersafe.Tostopherfrom being hurt, but what if theQueenunderstood more than that?
Ashcould only imagine what she might be capable of if her heart was in the wrong hands.Ifshe was groomed to believe something from someone she loved, they could use her as a conduit of power for their own personal gains.
Surely, she would never let that happen.Surely, she knew well enough of herself to know when she was being used and when she was being seen as a path to power rather than a guiding light.
Cursingaloud to herself, she wished she could speak to theQueen.But, asSylvahad said when she’d asked, there were no quick means to get letters toHyrithia.Therewere shipments toFelgrenfrom the other cities where trade happened on the outskirts of the forest, but that happened only twice a year.Thenext shipment was a whole season away at the end of summer.
Wasshe so easy to break?Allof the lessons taught by the woman who was a mother to her, all of the restraint she had practiced in keeping her heart hidden and guarded, seemed to be unraveling at a speed she could not control.Likea ball of wool fallen from a lap, rolling across the room, unspiraling at an impossible rate and freely, no pretense of what it must stay to fulfill a purpose it did not choose.
Rev.
Washe withBaronHeimlennow?Explainingthe chaos he witnessed and the madness she felt?Howcouldit be explained?Shefelt a beating heart in theBlight—no exhaustion nor empty belly could be at fault, and she feared that only something awful could account for it.
