Page 77 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

‘I didn’t learn what I was supposed to,’ she muttered, her voice coloured with self-disgust. ‘I can’t do anything, Ash.

Whatever it is you saw… I’m not ready. All I’ve done is argue with gods and wander through half-truths.

I’ve gained nothing of use in this fight.

’ She let out a bitter laugh. ‘And if I’m to master magic, I need a witch to teach me. ’

‘I know,’ he said calmly.

Her focus lifted, wary.

‘You’ll have one,’ Ash said, a glimmer of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. ‘Vera’s sister. Allegra.’

‘Allegra?’ Mal’s voice rose in disbelief.

Ash nodded, reaching for one of the many goblets strewn across the table. He sipped the wine and grimaced as the bitterness curled across his tongue.

‘But my powers,’ she pressed, ‘they’re not even needed for this, are they?’

‘Not for this ba-battle,’ Ash agreed, his golden eyes fixed on the dark liquid in his cup.

Mal hesitated, then asked in a low murmur, ‘There will be others, won’t there?’

Ash’s nod was slow and grave.

Her voice grew softer still, laced with something he had never heard from her before. Fear. ‘It won’t be against witches, will it?’

That simple question held the weight of a hundred truths. Ash looked up at her then, meeting the uncertainty in those purple eyes, eyes that until now had never known how to tremble.

‘No,’ he said gently. ‘It won’t. ’

Mal nodded, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Ash’s voice turned to a whisper, edged with darkness. ‘What we face next… will be far worse.’

…

‘Did you know?’ Mal asked the moment he ushered her into the tent he’d been assigned.

It was modest in size, but someone had seen fit to arrange a double bed within.

Ash no longer cared for such luxuries. Yet, now that Mal stood beside him once more, he was quietly grateful he hadn’t turned such comforts away.

‘Did you know what my father was planning that day? What the dress was for?’

Ash made his way to the armchair tucked in the far corner, sinking into its worn embrace.

He tilted his head back, eyes sliding shut.

Whether the ache behind his eyes stemmed from the sheer weight of her return, or from the maddening flood of knowledge that constantly surged through his mind, he could not tell.

At times the pain was so sharp, it blurred his vision entirely.

He felt her movement before he saw it. Mal climbed into his lap without a word, resting her head against his chest, arms looping around his neck like a lifeline. His hand found her thigh, brushing gently along the softness of her skin, a touch that brought with it a sense of fragile peace.

‘I knew,’ he replied.

Her reaction was immediate. A sharp intake of breath, then the sudden withdrawal of her warmth as she pulled away.

‘You knew?’ she hissed. Anger crackled in her eyes. ‘You could have warned me, Ash! I walked straight into it. You knew what my father intended, what the dress was for and you said nothing! ’

‘I th-thought…’ His voice faltered with its usual stammer, but there was conviction behind the words. ‘I thought it would m-make it easier f-for you.’

‘Easier?’ Her laugh was cold, bitter as frost. ‘You know, then. About the curse. The one between Hades and Hecate. The one they passed down to me, their daughter.’

Ash inclined his head.

‘And still, you let me go with him . Knowing he meant to marry me off, to try and force me to love someone else.’

‘I did.’

‘Why?’ Her voice cracked as she folded her arms across her chest, staring down at him, bewildered and bruised by his betrayal. ‘Do you not love me anymore?’

Ash chuckled. A rich, disbelieving sound that rolled from his chest like thunder in a quiet valley. He stood, crossing the space between them in two strides, and took her face in his hands.

‘Not love you?’ he whispered, a soft, incredulous smile curling his lips. He leaned in, laughter still trembling in his throat. ‘Mal, I could never not love you.’

Mal turned her face away, but she didn’t retreat from his touch. ‘Do you love me only because of the curse?’ she asked quietly. ‘Is it twisting your will, shaping your feelings into something that isn’t truly yours?’

Ash’s jaw clenched, the question striking deeper than she could know.

‘I can’t say for cer-certain,’ he admitted. ‘But does it t-truly matter? Loving you was written in my stars. It was my f-fate.’

‘And what of mine, Ash?’ Her hands slid over his, her eyes searching his face with a desperate tenderness. She wanted the truth, longed for it, even if it fractured her world. Even if it shattered hers and his .

‘Yours is to save us,’ he said softly, the words heavy with sorrow.

‘Perhaps I don’t want any of it,’ she breathed, her shoulders folding under the weight of it all. ‘Perhaps all I want is to vanish. Just us, gone from this world.’

‘We could… for a while,’ Ash said.

As night fell like a velvet curtain across the encampment, the two of them disappeared into the sky, rising on the backs of their great winged beasts.

Mal patted Nyx’s scaled neck, the familiar feel grounding her as the wyvern beat her mighty wings, slicing through the clouds with elegant power.

Ash flew ahead on Ayaru, guiding the others with ease, ever the leader, ever the light she chased.

Daku and Nisha trailed behind, two shadows in the starlit heavens.

They soared over the wyverian castle, its towers carved into the very bones of the mountain.

Ash took his time to study his wife as she soared through the skies astride her wyvern, her black hair streaming behind her like a banner, wild and untamed.

A smile tugged at his lips at the sight of her laughter, her eyes alight with a happiness so fierce, so unburdened, it cleaved something deep within him.

Her wyvern dipped low, and she whooped with delight, fearless, radiant, a queen of the winds.

Ash seared the image into his memory, knowing with a hollow certainty that he might never witness her like this again.

His whole life had been a slow, silent march towards a crown.

He had learnt early that silence pleased kings; that obedience, not voice, would keep him alive.

His father’s clipped reprimands had taught him to hold his tongue until speaking itself became a labour, an unbearable weight.

But Mal, Mal had shattered those chains.

She had looked at him, and for the first time, he had felt strong, not in what he could do, but in simply being.

And then, then the truth had come, cruel and cold: he was not free.

He was a weapon shaped by fate, forged to torment the woman he adored, bound to her by a curse that made their love a prison.

And yet, selfish creature that he was, he did not care. The curse stripped them of everything but each other, and Ash clung to it with desperate, furious hands. Still, in the quiet corners of his soul, a whisper gnawed at him.

If not for the curse... would she have loved him like this?

Would they still find each other in the dark?

By the time they returned, the wyverns had grown noticeably calmer, soothed by the presence of one of their royals. Ash and Adriana had taken turns riding them in an effort to ease their restlessness, but none of their efforts had truly worked. Not since all the wyverian royals had departed.

‘They respond well to you,’ Mal observed, pausing to bid farewell to each beast, her hand brushing against their scaled hides with a reverence that made Ash’s heart ache. She murmured softly to them, secret words he could not hear from where he stood waiting.

‘I’ve always had a way with wild things,’ he replied.

She glanced over her shoulder, catching the deeper meaning behind his words. She had always been wild to him. Untamed and elemental, and he had loved her all the more for it.

‘Where is my father?’ Mal asked, clearing her throat as they made their way back towards the tent.

‘Travelling between the ci-cities, gathering support where he can,’ Ash explained. ‘Each day, more sol-soldiers arrive thanks to his efforts.’

Mal nodded, thoughtful.

Once inside the tent, she sank into the armchair with effortless grace. Ash lingered awkwardly by the entrance, suddenly uncertain of where to place himself. He hadn’t expected her to sit at all, least of all there, across the room rather than drawing close.

‘It’s still strange, seeing you dressed in wyverian garb,’ she said, gesturing with her chin at his black leather trousers, loose black shirt, and well-worn boots.

The garments suited him now, though at first they had felt foreign on his frame.

In truth, Ash had stopped thinking about it weeks ago. It no longer mattered.

‘Shall I take them off, then?’ he teased.

The way her cheeks flushed was utterly bewitching.

A dusky darkness bloomed beneath her pale skin, and Ash couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his mouth.

It was a quiet fascination, the way a handful of words could unravel her poise so completely.

He found himself wanting to spend eternity whispering such things into her ear, just to witness how beautifully her body reacted in response.

Ash did not linger for her response. In one fluid motion, he pulled his shirt over his head and crossed the room with quiet purpose, lowering himself to the ground before her.

Her purple eyes widened, just a fraction, as he gently parted her knees, his focus never straying from hers, as though memorising every shift of reaction.

His hands came to rest on her ankles, reverent and slow, before they began their journey upward, gliding over the soft coolness of her skin, disappearing beneath the folds of her slate-grey dress.

‘Ash…’ she whispered, breath catching on the syllable.

But he did not stop.