Page 56

ASH

Dusk bleedsbetween trees like a wound as I trek toward the boundary.

The forest transforms—shapes writhing, neither fully tree nor entirely sentient. Shadows deepen with intent, night itself a starving predator stretching awake.

I should feel terrified. Everything inside me screams danger. But the patterns spreading beneath my sleeve don’t fear. They recognize.

Home.

The word bubbles up like blood from a wound. Not safe—hell no—but right in ways that make my throat tighten with longing I can’t explain. For far too long I traveled to all corners of the earth, never once feeling like I belonged anywhere.

Turns out all I had to do was simply...leave.

I’m halfway to the boundary when it hits me.

Tomorrow night. Dinner with Orion.

My steps falter. Stomach lurches.

Fuck.

Warmth unfurls in my chest at the memory. His easy smile. The way his eyes light up when he laughs. That heat radiating from him felt like standing near a bonfire.

All threatened by what I’m about to do.

And Finnian—tomorrow after the evening meal, he’d promised to show me the restricted archives. Real information about the Four Treasures. His amber eyes were serious as he made the offer, trusting me with secrets that could destroy him.

I stop walking, hands clenched into fists.

“What the hell am I doing?” I laugh bitterly at the trees. “Compromising a twenty-five-year mission record for dinner plans. Real professional, Morgan.”

The forest listens. I feel attention focus from multiple directions—not threatening, just... present. Like whatever lives here wants to hear what I’ll say next.

“I know you’re listening, so let’s cut the mystical bullshit,” I say to the watching shadows. “Help me figure out how to keep them alive while I work out what you’ve been hiding from me, or we’re all fucked.” A branch touches my shoulder—answer enough. “Then help me figure out how to save them without destroying everything we’re building.”

“I’m about to call in a report that could end everything.” My voice cracks. “Two weeks ago, that would have been easy. Mission first. Always. But now...” I press my palm against my chest where warmth spreads at the thought of amber eyes and flame-bright hair. “Now I’m choosing them over orders that kept me alive for twenty-five years.”

I walk slower now, feet reluctant.

“Orion makes me laugh—actual laughter that starts in my chest and escapes before I can lock it down. Not the tactical sounds I make in briefings.” My throat tightens. “When he looks at me, he sees past every lie I’ve ever told myself. And instead of running, I want to let him closer.”

A branch brushes my shoulder—too gentle to be accidental, too purposeful to be wind. I should feel terrified. I don’t. Instead,it feels right. Like showing up at Grandma’s house with cookies and milk sitting on the table.

“And Finnian...” His name tastes like honey and old books on my tongue. “He sees through every deflection I throw at him, every wall I build. It should terrify me. Instead, he offers to share secrets that could get him killed.” I breathe. “He trusts me with treason, and I’m about to prove he shouldn’t.”

The pendant grows colder against my skin, fighting the warmth spreading through my chest as I think about them. Even Kieran—dangerous, infuriating Kieran who makes my blood sing and calls me by a name that feels more real than any identity I’ve worn.

“If Davis comes, they’ll think I was just using them,” I realize aloud. “That none of it mattered.”

A tremor runs through my bones as the truth settles—their opinions matter more than mission success now.

“Twenty-five years of training, and I’m hesitating because of a dinner invitation and some ancient books.” I laugh, the sound bitter in the night air. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? It’s the way my body knows theirs. Like we’re pieces of something larger.”

But it is more than that. It’s the way my body responded to Orion in combat like we’d trained together for centuries. How Finnian’s touch sent warmth through me when I’d been cold for so long. The recognition in Kieran’s eyes when he looks at me, like he’s seeing someone I haven’t met yet.

“I could pretend the satphone won’t work,” I whisper. “Give myself more time.”

But Graves isn’t stupid. Three days of silence is already dangerous. Much longer and he’ll send Davis anyway. At least this way, I can control the narrative. Feed him just enough while I figure out what’s happening to me.