Page 99 of Ashes to Ashes

The admission sends molten silver threading through my veins. The memory of our training session—ice and shadows twining with thorns, recognition that burned deeper than desire.

“Want to protect you.” Orion’s amber eyes hold mine, words stripped to essential truth. “Want to stand with you, not behind you. Want to earn back the trust I threw away.”

His voice carries the weight of ancient oaths, blood bonds that pull at something fundamental in my DNA.

“I wish to understand,” Finnian says quietly, voice carrying equal weight despite its softness. “The magical implications, the historical precedents, what your return might mean for courts that have remained divided for centuries.” His amber eyes meetmine. “And I wish to prove myself worthy of the trust you have just placed in us.”

The honesty in their voices dissolves the knot of tension between my shoulder blades. Not forgiveness—that has to be earned—but acknowledgment that they’re trying.

“Better.” I nod once. “Though we’re going to need to discuss boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Kieran’s eyebrow arches with aristocratic curiosity.

“I just learned I’m magical royalty with apparent destiny to unite three courts.” I gesture between them. “Which apparently involves some kind of... connection with representatives from each faction.”

“Consort bonds,” Finnian says, his voice dropping. “Traditional Wild Court royal alliances typically involve magical partnerships with?—”

“I know what they involve.” I cut him off before he can give me the full explanation. “What I need to know is whether you expect me to just... accept that. Because I’m apparently destined for it.”

More silence. But this time it’s thoughtful rather than uncomfortable.

“I expect you to choose,” Kieran says, words measured with aristocratic precision. “If and when you desire to explore whatever exists between us.”

“Expect you to take whatever time you need,” Orion says, voice carrying careful restraint that clearly costs him. “And to tell me if I’m pushing too hard.”

“I expect you to maintain complete autonomy in all decisions,” Finnian delivers this with a firmness that brooks no argument. “Regardless of what ancient traditions or magical bonds might theoretically suggest.”

Warmth spreads through my chest like honey poured over exposed nerves. Not complete trust—that will take time to rebuild—but the beginning of belief that maybe, possibly, this could work.

“Good answers.” My shoulders drop from their defensive position. “Though we’re going to need to figure out logistics.”

“Logistics?” Orion’s mouth curves in the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him tonight.

“I have a mission to complete. A handler who expects regular contact. A life that exists outside of magical courts and ancient prophecies.” I shrug. “Destiny is great and all, but I still have responsibilities.”

“Your military handler,” Kieran observes, his voice staying carefully neutral despite the ice forming at his fingertips.

“Colonel Graves. He sent me here to gather intelligence on the Four Treasures.” No point hiding it now. “Though I’m starting to think he knew more about what I’d find than he let on.”

“The Four Treasures,” Finnian repeats, his features sharpening as alarm replaces casual interest.

“Which brings up another boundary.” I continue, watching their reactions. “I won’t be used as a weapon against any of the courts. Whatever information I gather, whatever power I develop—it doesn’t get used to hurt people.”

“Agreed.” The word comes from all three in perfect unison.

The synchronized response makes me smile despite everything. “Do you practice that, or does it just happen naturally?”

“Natural talent,” Kieran’s tone is dry, but there’s warmth in his eyes now.

“And obviously, we keep this quiet.” I gesture to myself. “The royal bloodline thing. No point advertising it until I figure out what I’m doing.”

The three of them exchange a look—one of those silent communications that speaks volumes.

“Ash,” Finnian’s voice carries careful warning. “I fear that particular ship has already sailed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The forest acknowledged you,” Orion explains, words gentle but devastating. “Every court within a thousand miles felt that.”