Page 78

ASH

I wake up in a goddamn tree. Again.

But this time, instead of panic, I feel... grounded. The moss beneath my back pulses with gentle warmth, and the hollow’s living walls hum with magic that recognizes me. Warmth spreads through channels that have been dry for twenty-eight years, healing not just my body but something deeper.

Where memory holds the Truth Stone’s violation, now only gentle currents flow through my veins.

“Behold! Root-born awakens from her sylvan slumber!” Whispen’s golden light flickers nearby, his translucent form radiating satisfaction. “Tree healing works absolute wonders for royal blood, oh yes indeed!”

“Better than bleeding in Academy corridors,” I admit, testing my limbs. The magical exhaustion has lifted completely, but something else has taken its place—restless energy that makes my skin feel too tight. “Though I’m starting to think I have some kind of botanical recovery complex.”

“Trees remember what flesh forgets,” Whispen chirps before dissolving into sparkles. “Wild magic needs wild spaces!”

I stretch and start to emerge from the hollow, then freeze as my hand touches my face. My fingertips map cheekbones that cut sharper angles, and when I reach my ears, air stops moving in my throat.

Cartilage curves to delicate points where rounded edges used to be.

“The glamour,” I whisper, touching the delicate points with wonder rather than fear. “It’s really breaking down.”

But instead of panic, I feel... relief. For the first time since the trials began, I feel like I’m living inside my own skin instead of wearing it.

I emerge fully from the hollow to find Orion sleeping against the ancient tree’s roots, his massive frame curled around the base like a living barrier.

One arm flings across the roots where anyone approaching would have to step.

His flame-red hair catches early morning sunlight, and his broad chest rises and falls with deep breaths that mist slightly in the cool air.

Even in sleep, his body positions itself between me and the world.

The realization sends warmth spiraling through my chest like honey through my veins. After everything—the trial, the accusations, nearly being dragged away by Seelie forces—he stayed. Chose to protect me over his own comfort.

But it’s more than that. In sleep, his usual guardian intensity has softened, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the oath. Beautiful. Devoted.

Mine.

The certainty settles behind my ribs like truth finding its home. After having every feeling questioned, every choice analyzed, every emotion dissected for authenticity—this feels real. Bone-deep. True.

I step closer, meaning to wake him gently. But the moment my bare feet touch the earth around him, his amber eyes snap open with predatory alertness.

Guardian instincts. He goes from unconscious to combat-ready in a heartbeat, scanning for threats until his gaze lands on me.

Then everything changes.

His shoulders drop like he’s been holding his breath for hours. Something loosens in my chest watching the tension leave his face. His eyes darken from amber to molten gold as he takes in my appearance, nostrils flaring slightly as he scents the changes in my magic.

“Thorn. How do you feel?”

“Different,” I admit, settling beside him on the moss. My hand rises unconsciously to trace the new points of my ears. “Stronger. Like something that was buried inside me is finally free to breathe. And... changing. Physically changing.”

His amber eyes follow my gesture, taking in the subtle points of my ears with fascination rather than surprise. “The glamour The Morrigan wove into your essence. It wasn’t just hiding your appearance. It was suppressing your true nature.”

“You’re not surprised.”

“I’ve been watching the real you surface since you arrived at the Academy. Each time you choose authenticity over what others expect...” He traces the delicate point of my ear with reverent fingers. “More of who you really are breaks through the concealment.”

The touch sends electricity down my spine. Lightning strikes low in my belly as his massive hands frame my face with devastating gentleness.

“Does it bother you? Watching me become... whoever I actually am?”

“Not becoming. Liberation. You’re finally free to exist as yourself instead of some suppressed version.”

“I don’t feel muted anymore. I feel... restless. Like there are instincts under my skin that have been caged for twenty-eight years and now they want out.”

Something flickers across his expression—understanding mixed with careful restraint. His breathing changes, becoming deeper, more controlled.

“That’s normal when suppression breaks down. Your true nature reasserting itself after being artificially contained for so long.”

“What does my true nature want?”

“Depends, beautiful thing. What do your instincts tell you?”

I close my eyes, reaching for whatever’s stirring in my chest. The answer comes without thought, raw and honest: “Touch. Connection. Something real and primal after all that manipulation.”

When I open my eyes, his gaze has darkened to molten gold, pupils dilating with hunger he’s fighting to control.

“Ash...”

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say quickly. “That I’m not thinking clearly. That this is just magical overflow or trauma response or?—”

“No.” His massive hands completely encompass my ribcage, fingertips meeting at my spine. “I’m thinking that you’ve been through hell and you deserve to choose what comes next. All of it. None of it. Whatever feels right to you.”

The careful restraint in his voice—the way he’s fighting his own obvious desire to put my choice first—something loosens in my chest watching him hold back for me.

“What if I choose you?” The words slip out before I can stop them. “What if I want to feel claimed by someone who sees me as more than a weapon or a political asset?”

His breathing shifts. “Tell me what you need, little wildfire.”

“I need...” I struggle to find words for the ache in my chest, the restless energy demanding outlet.

“I need to feel like I belong to myself again. After twenty-eight years of being someone else, of having my real instincts buried... I need to know what I actually want when nothing’s holding me back. ”

“You’re free now. Trial stripped everything away. Glamour’s breaking down. Just you—completely free.”

“Then help me remember what that feels like.” I lean closer until our foreheads touch. “Help me discover who I really am.”

“How?”

The question hangs between us, weighted with possibility and careful restraint. This beautiful, powerful man asking permission instead of taking what he wants.

“Do you trust me?” I ask, echoing his words from before.

“Completely.”

“Then show me what it feels like to choose. Really choose, without hiding anything.” I press my lips to his jaw, tasting salt and something essentially him. “Show me what claiming feels like when there are no secrets left between us.”

The sound he makes is purely animal—a growl that vibrates through his chest and into mine. But his massive hands remain gentle as they frame my face.

“Are you certain? Because once we cross this line...”

“Fuck being contained. Controlled. Acceptable. I want to know what I’m really like when nothing’s suppressing my true nature.”

His smile turns absolutely predatory, revealing teeth sharper than they should be. “Then run.”

The word stops my heart. “What?”

“You want to feel wild? Then be wild. Let your instincts loose and run through these woods.” His voice drops to a predatory purr that makes my knees weaken. “Give me a chase worth winning.”

Understanding floods through me along with a bolt of recognition. The restless energy under my skin, the need for something primal and real—this is what it’s been building toward.

“And when you catch me?”

“When I catch you,” he promises, amber eyes blazing with hunger that makes my pulse spike, “I’ll show you exactly what choosing feels like. What being claimed by someone who worships you feels like.”

Something ancient unfurls in my chest—not fear but anticipation. The thrill of being pursued by someone I want to be caught by. Someone strong enough to match me, wild enough to understand me.

“Give me a head start?” I ask, already backing toward the tree line.

“Thirty seconds,” he agrees, rising to his full intimidating height. “Then I hunt.”

I turn and bolt into the forest.

Wild ground welcomes my bare feet like coming home. My body moves with inhuman grace, finding paths through undergrowth that shouldn’t exist. Branches part before me like the forest itself wants to facilitate this ancient dance.

But it’s more than physical—it’s personal. My bones settle into their true proportions with pleasant warmth. My senses sharpen until I can hear Academy bells tolling miles away, smell magic on the wind like ozone and honey.

This isn’t awakening. This is remembering. This is who I’ve always been underneath twenty-eight years of forced suppression.

Behind me, I hear his countdown reaching zero, followed by the most beautiful sound in the world—the beginning of pursuit.

This isn’t fear driving me forward but recognition. Every step strips away more of the artificial constraints I’ve lived under. Power floods through channels that have been artificially suppressed for years, and for the first time since my soul was flayed open by truth magic, I feel like myself.

Wild. Complicated. Flawed. Real.

The sound of his pursuit grows closer—not the careful stalking of a predator but the determined chase of someone who knows exactly what he wants. Heavy footfalls shake the earth, branches crack as they bend around his massive frame.

My heart pounds with excitement rather than fear. Every instinct screams that this is right—being pursued by someone strong enough to catch me, devoted enough to worship me, wild enough to match the fire burning beneath my skin.