Page 50 of The Blade in the Ashes
I snorted, inclining my head in acknowledgment.
The sun was unforgivingly bright as I stared out at the pathway that led towards the main road away from the estate. Covering my eyes, I blinked a few times and rolled out my muscles.
“I hate horseback riding,” I confessed, slapping the muscles of my thighs to wake them up. “It’s exhausting, it causes muscle aches no matter how strong you are, and you constantly have to worry about whether the poor thing is thirsty.”
Nikolai laughed, the sound deep in his throat. Riding up next to me, his eyes trailed over me, taking in my positioning with an appreciative purse of his lips.
“I’ll add that to the growing list of facts I’m learning about you.”
“What else is on the list?”
He smirked, kicking a heel into the side of his horse and urging it forward. “I’m keeping that information private for now.”
I stuck out my tongue at him, secretly savoring the small laugh the gesture earned. Just because I insisted on keeping our dynamic platonic didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the sound of his laugh… right?
Anyone would enjoy the sound of a laugh like that. Deep and yet joyful. Simple and yet sexy.
Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s just a laugh.
I waved a hand in front of us. “Alright, treasure hunter, show me your ways.”
Nikolai wiggled his brows at me, waiting for me to urge my horse to join him. We rode together, side by side, away from his manor and towards the open expanse of land that separated us from the Blades of Arto.
I didn’t know how long it would take to find them.
I didn’t know if I was hoping for it to be a short or a long journey.
“As you wish, my bird,” he answered.
Chapter Fifteen
Clay
It had been some time since I’d last been to the Republic of Inanis, but not much had changed since the last time I’d walked these darkened halls.
They built their governing halls within the mountains that the nation was known for. Windows were sparse, but those that existed let in the gleaming golden light that came from being this high above the sea. Unlike my castle, where every spare inch of wall was covered in golden trappings and the finest portraits, they left most of their walls bare.
Well, my former castle, that was.
“The president will see you now,” a small woman said to me from the desk where she sat.
Wordlessly, she rose and led me into a long rectangular suite. To my left was an oval cherry wood table, likely for group meetings; to my right was President Jonan’s personal desk, directly in front of three floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean.
President Jonan stood with his back to me as I entered, staring out those large windows.
“Thank you, Serafine,” he said to the woman behind me, who smiled before closing the door behind us.
“I saw you fly in,” he said to me, still without turning. “I must admit, it was quite a sight. That color of scales is rather unique.”
“They were the color of my mother’s scales.”
I hadn’t mentioned that particular fact in years.
I didn’t quite know why it came out just then.
Perhaps I needed to remind him I wasn’t just my father’s son. I’d had a mother—once—and she’d been a sweet soul who had loved me in all the ways my father hadn’t. I wanted the world to see her light when they looked at me rather than his darkness.
After a long pause of consideration, Jonan turned and met my gaze. The older man looked tired; dark circles lingered under his eyes, and his skin looked thinner than when I’d last seen him.
