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“Oh, many ways!” Whispen counts on his fingers. “Magical burnout, power overload, consort bond rejection, court war, assassination attempts, the usual royal heir complications.”

“Which we can discuss later,” I say firmly, cutting off the conversation. “Some intel’s too dangerous to share casually.”

Something flickers across Kieran’s face—surprise, then something warmer that he quickly locks away behind aristocratic control.

“You trust us,” Orion says, voice caught between hope and disbelief.

“I’m choosing to.” My correction lands with deliberate weight. “Despite recent evidence that trust might be misplaced.”

The barb hits home. Orion flinches visibly.

“Regarding the awakening process,” Finnian treads carefully, words chosen. “How did the manifestation occur? Royal Wild Court magic can prove... overwhelming without proper guidance and preparation.”

“I handled it.” I don’t elaborate on the territorial claiming, the circle of predators that bowed to royal authority, the way thorns erupted from the earth at my command. They don’t need to know everything. Not yet.

“Entirely alone?” Finnian’s voice carries dangerous quiet that suggests he knows exactly how reckless that was.

“With help.” I nod toward Whispen floating beside my shoulder. “I wasn’t completely alone.”

“I see.” Orion steps closer, movements careful and controlled. His magic flares with protective heat. “And he?—”

“Answered my questions honestly instead of setting up elaborate tests.” The words have more bite than intended, but I don’t take them back.

Orion’s jaw tightens. “Was trying to help you understand?—”

“You were trying to manipulate me into accepting something you’d already decided I needed.” I shake my head. “There’s a difference.”

“Was trying to protect you.”

“From what? The truth? My own choices?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m a soldier. I’ve spent my entire adult life making life-or-death decisions. Don’t treat me like a child who can’t handle reality.”

The words hang between us like a blade. Orion steps back, something broken in his expression.

“You’re right.” His voice is lower now, stripped raw. “Fucked up. Thought... if I could just get you to see what you are to us, maybe you’d stop running. From us.”

He steps back, distance deliberate. His fire dims, banked behind a wall of shame.

“Thought I could protect you by showing you who you are. Instead, pushed you away. That’s on me.”

He pauses, collecting himself as I stand there feeling every energetic blow.

“Want space? I’ll give it. But know—every instinct I have fights that decision.”

The careful distance he maintains speaks volumes.

“Apology accepted.” My voice softens slightly. “But it doesn’t happen again.”

“Understood.”

“Now.” I turn to include all three of them. “Since we’re apparently having honest conversations—what exactly do you want from me?”

The question hangs in the air like a challenge. They exchange glances, some silent communication passing between them.

“That proves... considerably complicated to articulate,” Finnian manages, running a hand through his hair in that gesture that says he’s overwhelmed.

“Uncomplicate it.” I cross my arms, aware of how the motion makes the thorn patterns beneath my skin pulse faintly. “I’ve just accepted that everything I thought I knew about myself was wrong. The least you can do is be direct about your intentions.”

Kieran steps forward first, shadows pooling around his feet despite the moonlight. “I wish to comprehend what you represent to me.” His voice carries rough honesty that clearly costs him, each word precisely chosen. “I wish to understand why contact with you feels like completing a circuit I was unaware had been severed.”