The Princess of Ash novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: A Cup for the Bride

I woke alone in a bed that smelled of smoke, with a stranger sitting on the end of it eating my breakfast.

She had copper-red hair tied up with a bootlace, and a grin.

She'd taken the plum off my tray and was halfway through the bread.

"Don't scream," she said, with her mouth full.

"I only scream at the Council."

"Who are you?"

"Marit Vask. I'm the sovereign's sister, and I've been told to like you."

"By whom?"

"By me."

She swallowed and brushed crumbs off a leather jerkin cut for climbing.

"You held the Binding Flame," she said.

"Do you know what the Council did after you left?"

"I don't."

"They fought for two hours over whether you cheated."

Her eyes shone.

"Nobody has ever fought for two hours in the Emberhold without one of them throwing a chair."

I sat up and pulled the fur over my chest.

My knife was under the pillow, and my body ached in places that made me blush.

Marit looked at the dried blood on the sheet and raised her brows.

"He cut himself shaving," I said.

"Of course he did."

She leaned back on her elbows, and she was warmer than anyone I had met in eleven years.

I told myself that was why I let her stay.

That evening they held the welcome feast.

The great hall of the Emberhold was a long cavern of black stone, lit by hanging braziers, with three hundred dragon-kin at low tables.

I sat at the high table in a gown of black and red that Marit had picked, and I smiled until my face hurt.

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