Page 113 of Ashes to Ashes

“No. Ash, no?—”

But it’s too late. The Fae debt binding settles with finality that rewrites something fundamental in my chest, creating an obligation that burns like a brand around my wrist.

“What just happened?”

“You gave me a debt.” His voice is hollow with devastation and something that might be self-loathing. “Fae magic binds gratitude into obligation. You owe me now—one favor, to be collected when I choose.”

The golden thread around my wrist pulses once, acknowledging its presence with weight that makes my bones ache.

“If you call it in?”

His smile turns sharp as broken glass, eyes holding something like grief and terrible possibility.

“Then you owe me one favor, troublesome thing. Anything within reason. The question is what I will ask for—and when.” His thumb traces my jawline with gentleness that contradicts the power he now holds over me. “Some debts are worth more than others.”

I step back, putting distance that feels like tearing flesh from bone.

“I need to go.”

“Ash—”

“Don’t.” The word cuts through whatever explanation he was about to offer. “Don’t explain it. Don’t justify it.”

“What is this?” He gestures to the space between us, to the silver marks and golden debt that bind us in ways neither fully understands.

I meet his eyes one final time, memorizing the way they burn with hunger and regret and something that might be love if we were different people in a different world.

“A mistake I’ll learn from.” I pause at the door, hand trembling on the handle. “The debt. Once only?”

His silence stretches long enough to count heartbeats. Then, “The debt binds both ways, troublesome thing. Think about what that means.”

The door closes behind me with a soft click that sounds like finality.

I make it exactly three steps before my knees give out, the weight of everything crashing down like an avalanche.

The bond marks on my wrists pulse with silver light that anyone with magical training could recognize. The debt thread burns like a brand—visible as a thin golden chain stretching back toward his quarters through stone and darkness. One favor. One perfectly timed request that could destroy everything I’ve built or become.

But his words echo through my skull: The debt binds both ways.

What did he mean?

Five days until extraction. Five days to figure out how to live with the knowledge that I’ve bound myself to someone who holds my debt like a weapon.

Or perhaps, like something else entirely.

The silver marks pulse once more, and I swear I feel his heartbeat echoing mine across the distance between us.

22

ASH

The training arenafeels different this morning.

And by different, I mean everyone’s staring at me like I’m a bomb that might explode at any second.

Electric current races along my skin as Cassius straightens, his gaze tracking something beneath my sleeves while students shift positions with military precision—twenty-three faces watching me with predator intensity, each covering an exit or angle of attack.

Shit. They know.

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