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Story: Ashes to Ashes

“You’re taking your sweet time delivering the report. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“It’s been precisely forty-three minutes since the welcoming dinner ended,” I correct, handing him tea I know he’ll likelyforget to drink. “Some of us have duties beyond lurking in gardens and teaching students to hit each other with progressively larger sticks.”

“Lurking? Me?” He presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. His pupils shift from round to vertical—not entirely human. “I was conducting official Wild Court reconnaissance. Very different from lurking.”

“Ah yes, the subtle distinction between observation and lurking. I should have recognized such sophisticated tactical nuance.”

The familiar rhythm of our banter anchors me back in routine when everything else feels suddenly uncertain.

“Now stop deflecting with sarcasm and tell me everything about this human soldier,” he says, leaning forward. His eyes actually brighten with curiosity—a Wild Court trait that never fails to unnerve me. “Is she as dangerous as they say? Did she challenge anyone to a duel yet? Did she bring one of those explosive devices humans are so fond of?”

“Must you always assume violence is everyone’s first instinct?” I sigh, straightening a quill he’s disturbed.

“Says the man who once turned a philosophy debate into a three-hour dissertation on the strategic applications of ancient warfare tactics.”

“That was entirely different. The philosophical implications of military strategy are academically?—”

“Stop evading, scholar. You’re being suspiciously vague, which means she’s either terribly disappointing or exceptionally interesting.”

I sit across from him, fingers automatically steepling beneath my chin. I consider how much to share. Orion’s Wild Court allegiance makes him reasonably trustworthy, but his enthusiasm sometimes outpaces his discretion.

“Professor Morgan appears to be exactly what her credentials claim. A combat specialist with unusual experience in paranormal operations.” I keep my tone neutral, though my thumb rubs obsessively against my forefinger where I can still feel the phantom warmth of our contact.

“By the ancient roots, you’re boring when you’re being evasive.” He throws his head back dramatically. “I didn’t race across the Academy for a personnel file summary. What’s she really like? Did she swoon when you did that thing with your voice?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re implying.” But heat creeps up my neck.

“That scholarly seduction routine.” He adopts a ridiculously formal posture and speaks in an exaggerated version of my accent. “‘Observe, dear lady, how ancient wisdom illuminates the mysteries of modern existence.’“

“I do not—” My hand betrays me, rising to touch my cheek and finding it traitorously hot. “That’s a completely inaccurate representation of academic discourse.”

“Is it? Because you’re blushing like you’ve been caught reading romance novels in the restricted section.”

“I am engaging in no such activity.” My voice emerges more strained than intended.

“But really, what did you make of her?” he asks, growing slightly more serious. “Not every day we get a human combat instructor who doesn’t faint at the welcoming feast.”

“She is... observant. Adaptable.” I pause, then add reluctantly, “And remarkably composed for someone thrust into a completely foreign environment.”

“Too composed?” His expression sharpens with sudden interest. “For a human, I mean.”

“There is typically a strong fear or fascination response when humans first encounter concentrated Fae magic. She demonstrated neither.”

“So what did she do?” He leans forward, actually interested now.

“She seemed... curious. Vigilant but not fearful.” My voice drops slightly. “Almost as if...”

“As if what?”

“As if she found us strange but not unfamiliar.” The words feel dangerous once spoken aloud.

Orion lets out a low whistle. “Now that is interesting. Did you touch her? Any reaction to Fae contact?”

Heat slams through me at the memory. The moment our skin connected, the world shifted—not just around me but through me. Vision whites out.

“Finn?” Orion’s voice seems to come from very far away. “You’ve gone completely still.”

“She didn’t...” I force words through suddenly thick air. “The typical human response to glamour contact is fear or fascination. She experienced neither.”

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