Reign of Shadow and Ashes by A. R. Anderson

Author:A. R. Anderson [Anderson, A. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A. R. Anderson
Published: 2024-01-02T16:00:00+00:00

THE NOONTIME SUN BEAMED DOWN overhead by the time we started making our way back toward the inn. The crowds were out in full-force now, which meant the roads were even more packed with pedestrians and carriages trying to get through. It also meant more food vendors had set their stalls up, tempting passersby with the savory scents of roasted meats and the sweet aroma of confections clinging heavily to the air.

Lia tugged me by my arm toward a stall. She was all but salivating as she scanned the assortment of pastries and cakes.

“Which are you going to choose?” Nik asked, peering over her shoulder.

“She’d choose all of them, if she could.” I bit back a grin as Lia gave me a sidelong glare, her lips twitching with amusement.

“Don’t judge,” she said, turning her eyes back to the flans and griddle cakes. “This may very well be my last dessert once I get to Sotiras. Once I’m locked away—sorry, I mean cloistered for protection, never to see sunlight again.” Her sigh was as pitiful as ever.

Another grin tugged at me. I turned to Nik. So dramatic, I mouthed to him, rolling my eyes.

He chuckled, drawing Lia’s suspicious gaze, and promptly snapped his mouth shut. When she turned back toward the sweets, Nik and I shared another stolen glance. The corner of his mouth curled in that alluring way of his, that way that made me forget I was supposed to be a devout Daluyan priestess. And was promised to another.

I forced my attention back to Lia, deeming her theatrics the safer option. “Choose one,” I prodded.

She hummed, eyes scanning up and down the treats on the table. The vendor waited patiently behind the stall, his kind smile reaching his eyes as Lia spoke to him, asking his recommendations. As they chatted, my attention then drifted to the woman beside me who’d just approached the stall.

One look at her, and everything in my body petrified.

But it wasn’t the fact that her raven hair was fashioned into battle braids, drawing more attention to the jagged scar running down the side of her suntanned face. It wasn’t even the wolf fur mantle hanging from her shoulders or the razor-edged machete dangling from her hip or the runes circling her wrists.

No, what had my heart fisted in a death-grip was laying eyes upon the one thing I never expected to see again.

My mother’s marriage ring.

On that raider’s finger.

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