Page 37 of Ashborne Phoenix

“My advice in the past was, in part, colored by ignorance. Ignorance of a fact I learned this evening, just moments ago.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” the king seethed. “Please share it so that we all might move on.”

Something inside me went cold when the woman turned to look me directly in the eye. Her expression didn’t change, but something about that gaze sank through my skin and chilled the pit of my stomach.

“The girl hasn’t bled yet,” she announced to the room.

I braced as, at my other side, Breckon swore. The king’s eyes narrowed. The room became a hubbub of scandalized whispers and avid gazes.

I scrambled. ‘What is she doing?’ I sent to Voski as I gaped at her, mentally reeling—should I beg forgiveness? Deny her? Deflect?

Behind me, Breckon spluttered under the king’s flat gaze. “Sire, I—that is, there is some conjecture—”

“No conjecture. She has not bled, and rumors to the contrary were started by the Lord himself, to cover for his possible cuckoldry.”

“I have not been cuckolded!” Breckon snapped indignantly.

“One wouldn’t know,” the woman said with a smug smile. “Except that those in the laundry would, and there is no doubt, the girl remains… how might I put this politely—without need for their services?”

“Her needs, or otherwise, are no one’s concern but mine!” Breckon hissed.

Lady Ashford arched one brow at him. “Don’t force me to embarrass her, Breckon. It would be uncouth of you to make me bare her here so I might not wear the wrath of the king. Yet I will do so, if needed. Though, we can all see she appears in such a beautiful, pale, golden dress that offers her pale, unblemished skin such a glow, don’t you agree?”

“You have no proof—”

“Not yet,” the Lady Ashford conceded, dropping into yet another barely sketched curtsey, with a mischievous grin on her face. “After all, proof of her not bleeding is not yet evidence of anything else. But that is precisely my point, Your Majesty,” she continued, fixing a hard gaze on the king. “This girl possesses desirable blood, and until she spills it—or doesn’t—this is the time to wait and be cautious.”

Breckon huffed, leaning past me, snarling at her. “It’s a ruse, Sire!” he spluttered. “A petty ruse to thwart your favor over me—”

“I’m saving you from wringing your own weak little neck, Breckon. You should be grateful!” she snapped.

Both men frowned at her. “Why would the Lord Breckon owe you gratitude for this display, Lady Ashford?” the king asked, that dark warning still in his tone.

“Sire, if he has been cuckolded, if he offers the binding from an unworthy position, it could kill him.”

The king’s eyes narrowed. “If Lord Breckon is unworthy, who would draw her power?”

“Whoever possesses blood strong enough to have gotten the babe on the girl,” she said sweetly.

And then, finally, I saw her angle.

I almost laughed. I reached for Voski in the bond, to cling to him, terrified of what she would bring down on our heads, but also pettily thrilled at the idea of Breckon being embarrassed—

“How would anyone have gotten a child on her without the blood ties?” Breckon muttered to the king. “She is the one who claimed they were necessary—”

“Unless the blood is so strong,” Lady Ashford said quietly, placing an elegant hand at the base of her throat. “Unless that man is in possession of such strength—”

“The girl is mine. Any child is mine,” Breckon spat. I felt him quivering at my side, and had to bite back a smile.

She’d neatly cornered him. Now that they all knew the threat of pregnancy was real rather than rumor, he had to play along. Because to do otherwise would be to admit that if there was a child, it wasn’t his—which meant he hadn’t been capable of lighting my blood, while someone else had.

But there was no time to enjoy his discomfort, because the Lady Ashford took a step forward and spoke to the king quietly, but with grim weight.

“The old blood sings in her veins, and if that girl is pregnant, the man who gave her the babe has great power. He’s strong enough to spark her without the vows. Strong enough to consume the old blood and its power and impart it to a child outside the bonds of agreement.”

“I told you, any child is mine—”

Lady Ashford whirled to face Breckon. “My lord, for once please open your ears before your mouth: If the girl is pregnant by any but you, and you offer the binding vow, the power of your mighty blood will rebound. You could lose your mind. And perhaps your life. Now, we are all very clear on your statement that any possible progeny is yours, of course. But on the very small chance that she has deceived you, perhaps it is best we wait—just a few more days—until either she bleeds, or the pregnancy can be… tested.”