WRATH OF THE ASHEN TWINS: REBORN IN BLOOD

An Unexpected Visit

Five-star dining room looks incredible when every single person sitting at the mahogany table is secretly figuring out how to murder everyone else.

Three days after we marched our dusty, scarred boots straight through the capital gates and into the royal palace, Prince Cassian decided it was a brilliant idea to host a formal family dinner. His logic? Keep up appearances. Make the high council think everything is totally fine, smooth over the massive scandal, and pretend like a twenty-year-old ghost and her illegal revenge twins were just long-lost relatives coming home for the holidays.

Absolute idiot.

The dining hall was massive, dripping with stupid amounts of wealth—crystal chandeliers, gold-plated candlesticks, and a table long enough to host a military battalion. Lady Eleanor sat at the far end, looking like she had swallowed a lemon whole. Her face was locked in a tight, frozen smile, but her eyes were practically shooting lasers straight at me. She had spent two decades believing she was the undisputed queen of this castle, and now her husband’s dirty little secret was sitting right across from her, wearing a dark leather cloak while eating roasted pheasant with a hunting knife.

Cassian sat at the head of the table, sweating through his expensive velvet doublet. He hadn't touched his food. Every time his fork clinked against his plate, he flinched like someone had fired a crossbow at his head.

His three precious teenage kids sat down the sides. Julian, the pompous little prick Cael had held a blade to in the mud, wouldn't even look in our direction. He just kept stabbing his meat like it personally offended him. His younger sister, Clara, kept whispering behind her silver goblet, staring at Vesper with a mix of fear and sheer disgust.

And Vesper? Vesper was loving every single second of it.

She picked up a heavy silver spoon, turning it over in her hand, while a tiny, crackling wisp of dark purple magic danced lazily across her fingertips, melting the silver just a fraction of an inch before hardening it back up. Clara watched the metal warp and nearly choked on her wine.

"So," Lady Eleanor said, her voice dripping with so much artificial sweetness it made my teeth ache. She forced a laugh that sounded like dry glass breaking. "Your... guardians from the Ashen Wastes must have had such unusual customs. Tell me, Commander Sylas, how did you manage to raise children out in that dreadful, empty wasteland without proper tutors?"

Oh, she thought she was clever. She thought she was putting us in our place, reminding everyone that we were just wild, uncultured trash who didn't belong in polite society.

I didn't even look up from my plate. I sliced off a piece of meat with my knife, popped it into my mouth, and chewed slowly while the entire room held its breath.

"We didn't need tutors, your ladyship," I said smoothly, wiping my fingers on a linen napkin. "Out in the Wastes, we had a much better curriculum. It’s called survival. You learn how to read a battlefield, how to spot a coward from a mile away, and most importantly... how to skin a snake before it bites you."

Cassian choked on his wine, coughing violently into his silk handkerchief while a servant rushed over to pat his back.

Across the table, Cael let out a sharp, mocking snort. "Mom’s right. Though I bet Julian would fail the first test. Put him in a dark forest without a servant to carry his shield, and he’d probably burst into tears within five minutes."

"I could take you in a real duel any day, you dirty scavenger," Julian snapped, slamming his goblet down so hard wine sloshed across the white tablecloth.

Cael’s eyes flashed with absolute, ice-cold delight. "Oh, really? Right here? Let's see if your sword skills match your big mouth, little prince."

"Enough!" Cassian finally barked, his voice cracking like a breaking branch. He slammed both hands flat on the table, glaring at his son and then at us. His face was beet red, sweat dripping down his temples. "We will have peace at this table, or so help me—"

"Or what, Cassian?" I interrupted softly, cutting right through his fake authority. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the mahogany wood, locking my eyes straight onto his. "You'll throw us off another cliff? Let's see how well that works out for you this time."

Eleanor stared at her husband, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. She didn't know the whole story—she didn't know *why* he threw me off that cliff twenty years ago—but watching him cower in front of another woman was clearly driving her insane.

Little did they know, the drama at the dinner table was just a distraction.

While we were playing happy families with the royal couple, the real game was happening behind closed doors. Earlier that afternoon, while the high council was supposed to be reviewing routine trade reports, three of the most powerful lords in Cresthaven had held an emergency secret meeting in the east tower.

They weren't planning on playing nice. They knew damn well who I was, and they knew that if I stayed in the capital, the entire foundation of their corrupt little government would collapse. So, while Cassian was sweating over his roast pheasant, the high council had already signed a discreet, back-alley contract with the city's most lethal shadow guild: the Crimson Vane.

They weren't going to risk a public scandal. They were going to send assassins to slit our throats in the middle of the night, make it look like a tragic robbery, and bury us for good—just like they tried to do twenty years ago.

Only, they didn't realize something very important.

When you spend twenty years living in a monster-infested wasteland, you learn how to listen to the dark. You learn how shadows move, how floorboards creak, and how politicians panic.

Vesper felt it first. Right in the middle of dinner, while Lady Eleanor was droning on about summer galas, Vesper’s fingers stopped warping the silver spoon. Her eyes drifted toward the heavy stone arches of the dining hall doors. A faint, dark shadow was slipping past the hallway guards outside, moving with unnatural, synchronized silence.

Assassins. Already making their move.

Vesper looked across the table at me, her lips curling into a slow, terrifying, wicked grin that was an exact copy of mine.

I picked up my wine goblet, took a slow sip, and looked straight at Cassian, who was still trembling in his seat.

"Enjoy your dinner, Your Highness," I whispered, my voice dangerously low. "Because I think we're about to have some uninvited guests."