“Heartsfire, Brayda.” I rise from the table and reach for her. She hugs me briefly, rigidly, a performative act, not the heartfelt squeeze she used to give me. “What happened to you?” “Your Ash King happened,” she says in a low tone, taking a seat on a bench. “You should know—you were there. I told you, Rince,” she snaps at him. “I told you I saw Cailin in the King’s traveling party.”
