Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 38: Waking Up

I wake to warmth. Soft breaths tickle my skin, the faint scent of lavender and cinnamon filling the air. It takes a second for my mind to fully catch up, but when it does, I find myself staring into the sleeping face of Cecilia, her arms wrapped around me, holding me close.

She looks... peaceful. Serene, even. Her blond hair is slightly messy, strands falling across her closed eyes, her lips slightly parted in sleep. She really is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Before I can stop myself, I lean forward and press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in. Last night comes back in flashes—her convincing me to stay, us crawling into bed together, her arms naturally finding their way around me, a few slow, teasing kisses exchanged between us. But beyond that... nothing.

I sigh, disappointed in myself. I had apparently passed out before things could escalate. Cain would have a field day mocking me if he ever found out.

The thought of Cain sends a jolt of pure terror down my spine.

Training.

I have no idea what time it is—Cecilia's room has no windows, and I wasn't exactly keeping track of the hours when I allowed myself to be dragged into bed. Cain's brutal training started before dawn, and I know for a fact I missed it.

As I shift slightly, a sudden wave of unease hits me. Letting her sway me into staying now feels like a very bad idea.

But before I can panic further, Cecilia stirs beside me. Slowly, her lashes flutter open, and for a moment, she just looks at me, sleep still lingering in her half-lidded gaze. Then, she smiles—so radiant and soft that, for a second, I forget my impending execution at the hands of Cain.

"Good morning," she whispers, her voice husky with sleep, before she leans in and presses a slow, lingering kiss against my lips.

"Good morning," I murmur against her lips, kissing her back before brushing a few stray strands of golden hair out of her face. She smiles again, soft and warm, like the first rays of sunlight stretching over the horizon.

I hesitate for a moment before asking, "How do you even keep track of time in here?"

She tilts her head slightly, thinking. "Well, today's my day off from patrol. They had me all over the city covering different blocks for the past few days, so my hard work is rewarded—that's actually how I ran into you the other week; they assigned me to the area near the castle." She smirks at me, and I roll my eyes. "But usually, I just wake up when I need to. My body's used to it, I guess. Can't really explain it."

I sigh, dread curling in my stomach as I ask the real question. "Do you know what time it is now?"

Cecilia pauses for a second. Then, with zero hesitation, she answers, "Nope."

I groan, rubbing a hand down my face. "Cain is so going to kill me."

She chuckles, completely unconcerned for my impending doom. "Nah, he won't. You needed the sleep. I can tell him for you if you want."

The very idea sends a wave of pure horror through me. Cain meeting Cecilia? Howard telling him how she teased me at the Coiled Fork. I can already hear it—Cain's dry, mocking drawl, Howard laughing himself sick at my expense.

Oh, hell no.

I shake my head rapidly. "Absolutely not."

She just laughs again, entirely too amused for my liking.

We exchange a few more quiet words, soft laughter slipping between stolen kisses, neither of us really wanting to move. But reality looms, and with a sigh, I force myself up, stretching before I start gathering my scattered clothes.

As I fasten my belt, I hear a low whistle from behind me.

"Nice abs."

I glance at her over my shoulder, giving her a dry look. "Well, good to see you're awake now."

She just grins, entirely unrepentant. "Just calling it like I see it."

I shake my head in mock offense, rolling my eyes, but before I can get another word out, she casually stands up and, without an ounce of hesitation, slips off her nightgown.

I freeze.

Holy—

I swallow hard, my brain short-circuiting as I take in the sight of her—smooth, pale skin, toned yet soft curves, every part of her entirely too perfect. My body feels way too hot all of a sudden.

She, on the other hand, is completely unbothered, stretching her arms above her head before turning to grab her uniform. "You gonna stand there gawking all day, or are you gonna finish getting dressed?"

"Not fair," I mutter.

Somehow, I manage to finish dressing as she slips into her inquisitor gear with practiced ease, fastening the black leather in place. She clasps her own black robe at the neck, the hood hanging loosely down her back.

After a few minutes, we both stand shoulder to shoulder in front of her mirror, taking in our reflections.

A handsome young man dressed in onyx clothing, his high-collared black robe clasped at the throat, violet eyes sharp and cold, his black hair slightly tussled.

Beside him, a strikingly beautiful woman, slightly shorter than him, with hazel eyes filled with quiet amusement, her short golden hair combed into perfection, complimenting her hard black inquisitor leathers. Her own black robe, similar to his, drapes elegantly from her shoulders, the hood resting against her back.

Cecilia just chuckles, "Damn, we look good."

I raise an eyebrow. "Yea, and we are super humble about it as well."

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Cecilia leads me swiftly through the hallways, our steps brisk as we weave through the inquisitors and guards stationed throughout the garrison. She doesn't slow down, doesn't acknowledge the glances we receive, and I match her pace without hesitation. I have no patience for their shit today.

I focus on moving forward, on making it outside so I can rush back to the castle.

The moment we near the entrance, I catch sight of the sunlight streaming through the high windows, illuminating the stone floor. Mid-morning. Not the early morning I'd hoped for—hours past dawn.

I stiffen, cursing internally. Cain really is going to kill me.

Before we can push through the doors, a voice calls out from nearby.

"Lord Daath, please."

I stop, already scowling as I turn toward the speaker. Talren. The young inquisitor who guided me last night. He stands a few feet away, looking like he hasn't slept, his expression hesitant but determined.

I sneer, slipping into the condescending air I've perfected. I don't like the inquisitors, and even after my talk with Cecilia, that hasn't changed.

"What do you want?" I snap. "Can't you see I'm in a hurry?"

Talren takes a deep breath, his gaze flicking from me to Cecilia, and I watch as the realization dawns on his face. Tch, what a fucking pain. He doesn't need to say it for me to see the conclusions he's drawing, and he's not wrong. His face flushes slightly when he looks at her then back to me, and then he quickly bows.

"My apologies, Lord Daath." He clears his throat, regaining composure. "When you arrived last night, we informed Bishop Lark that you were on business with Sister Cecilia. He insists on being kept informed of any issues concerning his people; I'm sure you understand. When he heard it was you, he made his way here immediately, hoping to meet you."

I tense in annoyance. The infamous Bishop Lark rears his head again; getting real tired of hearing this guy's name.

Talren hesitates, then continues carefully, "However... upon realizing you were still in Sister Cecilia's room when he arrived, he forbade us from interrupting."

I see exactly where this is going before he even finishes.

"He ordered me to wait for you to leave since so I could then guide you to one of the offices upstairs." He bows again, more formally this time. "Bishop Lark wishes to meet with you, Lord Daath."

I exhale slowly through my nose, biting back my first instinct to tell him where he can shove that request. Cecilia's fingers brush against mine, and she gives me a look, the kind of look that says, I know you're annoyed, but don't be an ass about it. Sadly for her, being an ass was my nature.

"Great," I hiss, shooting Talren a hate filled look. "Let's go then; it's not like I have shit to do or anything."

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