Page 166
Story: Ashes to Ashes
“Three days,” Amarantha continues with victorious satisfaction. “The Trial of Power begins at twilight on the next dark moon. Until then, the candidate will remain in protective custody to prevent further magical contamination.”
I try to speak, to protest, but exhaustion crashes over me like a tidal wave. The Truth Stone’s magic has drained everything I have left.
Orion’s arms tighten around me as magical barriers spring up around the dais, separating us from the gallery where Kieran’s pale eyes burn with helpless fury and Finnian’s amber gaze holds desperate determination.
As Amarantha’s final words echo through the chamber—”We shall discover who she truly is beneath all that beautiful deception”—I feel Orion’s heartbeat against my back, steady and real and absolutely mine.
They think they can break me apart and rebuild me into something safer. Something that won’t fight back. Something grateful for the cage.
But I’m not glass that shatters clean.
I’m the kind of broken that leaves jagged edges.
And if they want to reforge me, they’ll have to survive the blaze.
They’re about to learn that some things, once broken, become infinitely more dangerous.
31
ORION
Ash layslimp against my chest, barely breathing.
The Truth Stone burned through her like acid through silk. Blood still seeps from her nose, her ears, staining the ceremonial white robes that cling to her unconscious form like a burial shroud.
The guardian oath burns between my thumb and forefinger like a brand pressed into living flesh, screaming that she needs Wild Court healing NOW.
But we’re not alone in these corridors.
Academy halls stretch ahead like a gauntlet designed by sadists. Behind us, I can hear Amarantha’s crystalline voice issuing orders that make my teeth ache, Seelie guards mobilizing with military precision. She’s not giving up on her “protective custody” bullshit.
Not while there’s still a chance to steal what doesn’t belong to her.
Ash stirs against my chest, thorns flickering weakly beneath skin gone pale as moonlight. “Orion?”
“I’ve got you, Thorn.” My voice goes rough, jaw clenching as I fight the urge to promise things I can’t guarantee. “You’re safe. No one touches you while I’m breathing.”
The words scrape my throat raw. Because we’re not fucking safe at all.
Even as I say it, shadows move in the corridors ahead—not Kieran’s controlled darkness but something else entirely. Seelie magic cutting off our escape routes.
“Where...” she breathes, voice barely a whisper.
“The old tree. The one where Whispen found you before.” My grip tightens as we approach a junction blocked by silver light. “Wild Court magic can heal what they did to you.”
If I can get her there. If they don’t intercept us first.
“How touching.”
Lady Amarantha materializes from silver light like a nightmare dressed in silk, blocking the corridor with a dozen Seelie guards whose armor gleams with malicious intent. Her violet eyes glitter with satisfaction.
“The candidate appears... distressed,” she continues with false concern that makes my flames flicker dangerously. “Clearly she requires immediate medical attention.”
Her smile turns razor-sharp, revealing teeth too perfect to be natural.
“The Seelie Court has the finest healers. We insist.”
“She’s Wild Court royalty, you pompous bitch.” Flames erupt around my shoulders, jaw clenching tight. “Wild magic heals wild blood. Your pretty light show won’t touch what she needs.”
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