Page 145 of Ashes to Ashes

“Of what specifically?”

“Of hurting all of you. Of being forced to choose and destroying what we’re building. Of discovering I’m not brave enough to want what I want.” I press my hands to my face. “Of learning that loving multiple people makes me greedy instead of lucky.”

“Look at me, Ash.”

I drop my hands, meeting his intense gaze.

“Loving multiple people doesn’t make you greedy—it makes you honest about the heart’s actual capacity.” His voice takes on that tone he uses when passionate about a subject. “Perhaps we’ve been approaching love like scarcity economics when it operates more like... renewable energy. The more you generate, the more you have to give.”

“What if I’m not enough for any of you? What if wanting all of you means I can’t give enough to each of you?”

“Then we figure it out together.” His voice carries absolute conviction. “But that’s not today’s concern. Today’s concern is surviving a trial that will strip away every defense you have.”

The next questions come faster, more brutal.

“What’s your greatest weakness?”

“I care too much. I’ll destroy myself trying to protect people who matter to me.”

“Your greatest strength?”

“I survive. No matter what they throw at me, I adapt and survive.”

“What would you sacrifice to save those you love?”

“Anything. Everything. My crown, my power, my life—anything.”

“Including your integrity?”

That one stops me cold. “I... I don’t know.”

“The trial will know,” Finnian says quietly. “It will probe until it finds the exact point where your principles break. Where love trumps honor, or honor trumps love.”

“What’s the right answer?”

“There isn’t one. There’s only your answer, whatever it is.”

“Why do they get to decide if I’m worthy?” The question rips from somewhere primal. “Why do I have to prove myself to people who’ve spent centuries trying to erase what I represent?”

Finnian’s amber eyes sharpen. “What would you do instead?”

“I’d make them prove they’re worthy of me.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Now that sounds like a queen.”

By the end of three hours, I feel emotionally flayed. Every defense I’ve ever built has been examined, tested, catalogued. But instead of feeling vulnerable, I feel... clearer. Like I finally understand the shape of my own heart.

“I am not too much,” I whisper, the words feeling like an incantation. “I am a constellation this world forgot how to name.”

“You’re ready,” Finnian says, closing the manuscript.

“Am I?”

“You understand yourself now. That’s half the battle.”

“And the other half?”

“Finding the courage to speak that understanding aloud, regardless of consequences.”

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