Page 155 of Ashes to Ashes

“Unseelie Court presents the second question.” King Moros’s voice cuts through my spiraling shame like a blade through silk. When he rises from his shadow throne, the temperature plummets ten degrees. This is the man who shaped Kieran into a weapon of controlled devastation, and now he’s turning that same precision on me.

“What lie have you built your identity upon?”

The stone flares again, silver fire tearing through my consciousness. This time, it reaches for a different kind of shame—not what I’ve done, but who I’ve pretended to be.

The agony is worse than before. The first violation broke through my defenses; this one tears through already damagedneural pathways like broken glass through open wounds. I scream until my voice goes hoarse, blood flowing freely from my nose and ears. My body convulses so violently I nearly fall off the dais, but my hands remain locked around the Truth Stone, magical compulsion forcing me to maintain contact no matter how much it destroys me.

The memory that emerges is devastating in its simplicity:

His wrists are raw from the silver restraints.

He doesn’t beg.

Doesn’t speak.

Just watches me with that uncanny stillness Lycans get when they’re deciding whether to kill or survive.

He’s not special.

Just another test subject with unstable readings, violent tendencies, unregistered lineage.

“Subject 42,” the handler says.

But I look at him and think: no, this one has a name.

We just haven’t earned it yet.

I ask the questions.

He doesn’t answer.

So I switch to pain.

It’s not personal.

It’s never personal.

At least—it wasn’t.

Until he growled it. Quiet. Controlled.

“You don’t even know what you are.”

That’s the first time I hesitate.

Not for long.

Just enough to wonder what he sees when he looks at me.

He never screams.

That stays with me.

The memory shifts, showing a different scene:

Sabina’s laughing in the courtyard—that soft, real laugh she doesn’t give to just anyone.

She’s with him.

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