Page 27 of Ashes to Ashes

“I think nothing yet,” I interrupt, raising a hand in the traditional gesture for caution. “But I find it academically curious that her assigned quarters adapted to her preferences immediately, that her reaction to Fae contact was... unprecedented.”

“The Wild Court royal lineage was extinguished a millennium ago,” Orion says, but uncertainty colors his voice. “The last heir disappeared during the Shattering of the Courts.”

“Disappeared,” I emphasize, tapping the ancient page. “Not confirmed dead. There’s a significant distinction.”

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, this goes beyond curiosity, Finnian.” He uses my full name, something he rarely does except in moments of gravity. “This would be...”

“Politically explosive,” I finish.

“Does she know? Has she shown any signs of awareness?”

“Not explicitly,” I admit. “But there’s something about her... a way she holds herself, as if she’s containing something she doesn’t fully understand.”

“Like magic trying to awaken,” Orion murmurs. “Like Wild Court royalty coming into power.”

“Precisely.”

I’m halfway through explaining the implications when shadows thicken in the corner. Temperature drops five degrees. Someone’s watching through Unseelie magic. Only one person has that level of power.

Someone is watching.

My wards haven’t triggered, which means whoever observes possesses magic powerful enough to bypass centuries of protective spells.

Only one person at the Academy wields that level of shadow manipulation.

Fucking Kieran.

“So what’s the plan?” Orion asks, oblivious to our surveillance. “Do we tell her? Help her awaken? Hide her from the courts?”

The question hangs between us, weighted with centuries of consequence. I rise, moving to the window where moonlight spills across the Academy grounds. Shadows move below—some belonging to nocturnal creatures, others to beings that exist only in darkness.

“Telling her outright would be dangerous—for her and for us,” I say carefully, positioning myself to block the shadow’s line of sight to the ancient text. “If she truly is of Wild Court royal lineage, she’s been hidden among humans for a reason. Someone powerful went to extraordinary lengths to conceal her identity.”

“Graves,” Orion mutters, joining me at the window. “Her military handler. You think he knows?”

“I think he suspects something, at minimum,” I reply, my fingers tracing the ancient symbols etched into the windowsill—protection spells I’ve maintained for centuries. With a subtle gesture, I activate one specifically designed to disperse unwanted observation. The shadow in the corner evaporates likemist under summer sun. “Why else send a human operative to an institution renowned for its hostility to mortals?”

I pause at a particular passage about Wild Court population records, my blood running cold. The numbers don’t match. Census reports from the past decade show systematic... discrepancies. Villages that should exist, people who should be accounted for.

Disappeared.

I close the book quickly, as if the knowledge itself might be dangerous.

My gaze drifts to the Eastern Tower where I left her, its windows glowing with subtle light. Even from this distance, I can sense the energy emanating from her quarters—different from the ambient magic of the Academy, more volatile, untamed.

And then I see him.

Kieran Nightshade, Prince of the Unseelie Court, stands on the observatory balcony of the North Tower, his profile sharp as a blade against the night sky. His gaze is fixed on the same windows I’ve been watching, predatory focus unmistakable even at this distance.

“That’s not casual observation,” I murmur, studying his stance—perfectly still, predator-patient. “He’s... assessing.”

“For a coffin, perhaps?” Orion suggests, only half-joking.

Rage hits like lightning. The window glass cracks under my hands. I’m losing control. A possessive fury floods my veins, hot and cold simultaneously.

“Nightshade,” I bite out, the name tasting bitter on my tongue.

Orion studies my reflection, his eyes widening slightly. “Well now, that’s interesting. I haven’t seen that particular look on your face since the Starlight Ball incident three hundred years ago.”

---