Page 15 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

Love is a strange and extraordinary thing. It drives us to commit the most bizarre of acts. I never imagined I could love anyone more than I loved Hadrian. But the moment I discovered I was with child, I realised how little I truly understood love, and just how powerful it could be.

Tabitha Wysteria.

Ash Acheron did not relish the art of deception, but if a lie meant protecting the ones he held dearest, then he would carry the burden without remorse.

He knew, with unshakable certainty, that his sister still lived.

He had seen it, clear as day, etched into the unspooling tapestry of his visions after Mal had plunged the dagger into his heart.

Those visions had come not in whispers, but in torrents, flooding his mind until it felt as though his skull might shatter from the weight of them.

He had glimpsed the paths of those closest to him, each thread woven with precision, each ending preordained.

And whether he liked the outcomes or not, he understood one absolute truth: they must follow their destined courses.

If anything changed, if even one step veered from its design, the future would blur, shifting into a thousand uncertain paths.

Those around him would waver, each step splintering into a myriad of possibilities, and he would be left adrift, blind to which course they would choose.

He had to ensure they stayed true, bound to the single thread he wove for them.

The path he desired. The only path that mattered.

And so, with a heavy heart, Ash had told no one that Alina Acheron still drew breath.

He had said nothing, not even to Kai—especially not to Kai—knowing full well that the prince would rush to her aid without hesitation.

And if he did, Alina’s path would shift irrevocably.

In that rewritten fate, Kai and Alina would find one another, would carve out a life together.

A part of Ash, buried deep beneath duty and sacrifice, ached with guilt for keeping them apart.

But he knew that if he allowed them to reunite, everything else would crumble to ash and ruin.

No. He could not permit it. Their fates were threads meant to weave separate tapestries, never entwined.

Mal’s future, however, remained a mystery from the very beginning.

He had lied to her too, told her he had seen her way forward, had guided her towards her father and the Underworld with the careful hand of someone who knew the price of truth.

But Ash understood what others did not: one cannot trace the thread of a god.

And by lying to her, he had done something far more intimate. He had given her the illusion, however fleeting, of being just like the rest of them. Mortal. But they had both known it was a momentary fantasy.

She would not return the same.

In truth, none of them would ever be the same.

‘The servants managed to scrape together some food,’ came Kai’s voice as he entered the great hall, clad in obsidian armour that gleamed with the promise of war.

‘It’s not easy finding anything that isn’t half-rotten in this place.

’ He offered a smile, though it failed to reach the cold abyss of his onyx eyes.

‘Thank you,’ Ash replied, rising from where he sat, only to sink back down as Kai joined him.

Ash had never stepped foot in the Kingdom of Darkness until now, though he had imagined it countless times, especially when he had prepared Mal’s surprise chamber in his own palace. But the reality of it was far starker than anything he had conjured in his mind.

It was a kingdom draped in shadow. The sky hung perpetually grey, only to deepen into a bruised crimson under the gaze of a blood-moon.

Everything around him bled monochrome—blacks and greys with the occasional gleam of alabaster.

Floors and pillars were carved from volcanic stone, walls polished to a haunting sheen.

Even the hearths burnt differently with a blue fire that danced with a strange, mesmerising elegance.

Ash had spent the better part of half an hour mesmerised by those flames. It was said that they burnt hotter than drakonian fire. And watching them, flickering and eternal, he had begun to believe it.

‘Your parents?’ Ash asked, dispensing with the usual niceties. By now, such formalities felt irrelevant. He had never been one for titles or ceremony, and after all that had transpired, he hadn’t the strength to pretend otherwise.

‘My mother is resting,’ Kai replied, setting a heavy bottle between them, its glass dark as obsidian, concealing the liquid within.

Ash watched as the prince poured the drink into two finely crafted goblets, each one etched with wyverns and flames that shimmered beneath the firelight.

The artistry was meticulous, as though the glass itself had been forged in the breath of a beast.

‘Wyverian wine,’ Kai said. ‘You might find it a bit difficult to stomach at first. I know your people favour sweetness. We, however… are not fond of sweet things. A century past, this wine had once been famed across all the kingdoms. Strangely enough, it has not soured with time. It remains the only sustenance we can bear to stomach that is not rotten. A marvel, truly, though this wine is not merely aged but cultivated through decades of patient waiting, its flavour born of dust and silence, in our deep and dark cellars.’

Ash accepted the glass with a nod and took a cautious sip.

The bitterness hit him immediately. Sharp, almost caustic, like scorched bark on the tongue.

His first instinct was to spit it out. But the moment he caught the knowing gleam in Kai’s eye, he forced himself to swallow, the burn trailing like a brand down his throat.

And then, strangely, it changed. A rich warmth bloomed on his tongue, the bitterness fading into a complex, smoky sweetness that lingered like memory.

He took another sip, slower this time. Stronger than the honeyed wines of his homeland by a mile.

This was not a drink meant for frivolity. It was meant for war.

‘My father is writing to the cities,’ Kai said, reclining slightly with his goblet in hand. ‘We’re rallying our forces. The moment we’re ready, we march on the wastelands.’

‘We need to b-be careful, Kai,’ Ash said, taking another sip.

‘I am being careful,’ Kai said evenly. ‘I just happen to believe the careful thing is to impale every witch that breathes.’

Ash set the glass down with quiet deliberation. ‘They m-may not be there. The witches… they might’ve moved on. If they’ve truly taken my k-kingdom, they wouldn’t leave it unguarded.’

Kai exhaled through his nose. ‘It would be foolish of them to abandon the wastelands entirely. But you’re right about one thing.

It’s become harder to move between the kingdoms. Too dangerous.

Which is why we must seize control of their land first. When we hold the wastelands, only then can we take back yours. ’

Ash rubbed his eyes, exhaustion tightening his face.

‘My army… If I could s-sneak back into my kingdom and reach the s-soldiers, those loyal to the crown, I could rally them. The Red Guard in the city of Spark was overthrown, yes, but they’re spread throughout every ci-city in the realm.

I refuse to b-believe they’ve fallen entirely. ’

Ash knew far more than he let on, knew where the pieces were meant to fall and how the board was meant to shift. But the truth was a blade that could cut too soon, and timing was everything. So he would lead Mal’s brother wherever he needed him to go. And in the end, he would bear the weight of it.

Ash had told them he had seen things, fragments of the past and flickers of what was yet to come, but he had kept his answers deliberately vague.

When pressed for details, he had merely shrugged, feigning uncertainty.

Whether they believed him or not was of little consequence to him.

So long as they followed the path he set before them, their doubts could rot in silence.

‘When we reach the outskirts of the Kingdom of Magic and make camp,’ Kai said, ‘we’ll devise a plan for you to cross undetected and return to your lands.’

Ash inclined his head, though his gaze had drifted elsewhere, settling on the black ring circling Kai’s smallest finger. ‘And what happens now?’ he asked, nodding towards it. Recognition dawned in Kai’s expression, followed by the faintest tremble before he mastered himself again.

‘It’s a rare thing,’ Kai murmured, his voice distant. ‘Almost unheard of for a future queen or king to fall before the coronation. ’

Ash didn’t press him. He didn’t need to.

‘Will the throne pass to you?’

Kai gave a slow shake of his head. ‘It would be seen as a disgrace, an act of quiet betrayal. I was born second, Ash. My only duty was to protect her.’ His jaw clenched.

‘I failed.’ He paused, his thoughts caught between the weight of grief and the shackles of tradition.

‘Under normal circumstances, my name would be struck from every record. I’d be stripped of my title, cast out from the castle, told to forge a new life beyond these walls.

A punishment most would call just. After that, a high noble house would rise and claim the throne.

A vote would be held, the people would choose. It’s happened once before.’

Ash raised a brow. ‘And how did that end?’

Kai’s mouth twisted into something cold and bitter. ‘Let’s just say it didn’t end well for the royal family.’

Ash shifted, unease settled in his bones like the chill of winter. ‘Has any noble family stepped forward yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Kai replied. ‘But they will. They’re waiting, biding their time until the war is done and the bloodshed spent. They’ll make their claims when it's safe to do so, when it costs them nothing. And when that day comes, they’ll want me gone.’

Ash said nothing. He turned away, his jaw tightening, his expression unreadable. He could not speak of what he knew, what he had seen. Not here. Not now. Words could reshape the future, and he had no desire to fracture it further.

Knowing too much was its own kind of torment.

He was no longer the same man who had stood beside Mal Blackburn in the gardens of his scorched kingdom, no longer the Fire Prince who flinched and stammered through courtly speeches. The flames of war had burnt that softness from him.

Now, he wore his truth like armour. The stutter remained, but the shame had not. He no longer cared how they saw him. What mattered now was protecting his kingdom, preserving what remained of his people…

And above all else, safeguarding one fragile thread of the future.

The one that could save them all.